Unashamed, Mavis sighed lustily. "Isn't he mag, Dallas?"

Leonardo chuckled, nuzzled Mavis's ear. "Your friend is worried, my dove. She think I'll wrap her in electric pink and spangles."

"It sounds wonderful."

"For you." He beamed back at Eve. "So you're going to marry the elusive and powerful Roarke."

"It looks that way," Eve muttered.

"You met him on a case. The DeBlass case, correct? And intrigued him with your tawny eyes and serious smile."

"I wouldn't say I – "

"You wouldn't," Leonardo continued, "because you don't see yourself as he does. Or as I do. Strong, valiant, troubled, dependable."

"Are you a designer or an analyst?" Eve demanded.

"You can't be one without the other. Tell me, lieutenant, how did Roarke win you?"

"I'm not a prize." She snapped it, then set her glass aside.

"Wonderful." He clasped his hands together and almost wept. "Heat and independence, and just a little fear. You'll make a magnificent bride. Now to work." He rose. "Come with me."

She stood up. "Listen, there's no point in wasting your time, or mine. I'm just going to – "

"Come with me," he repeated and took her hand.

"Give it a chance, Eve."

For Mavis, she allowed Leonardo to lead her under and around falls of material and into an equally cluttered workstation on the far side of the loft.

The computer made her feel a little better. Those she understood. But the drawings it had generated, which were pinned and tacked to every available space, made her heart sink.

Fuchsia and spangles would have been a relief.

The models with their long, exaggerated bodies looked like mutants. Some were sporting feathers, others stones. A few were wearing what could have been clothes, but in such outrageous styles – pointed collars, skirts the size of washcloths, unisuits snug as skin – they looked like participants in a Halloween parade.