To Love a Cop (17 page)

“Don’t be silly. You think I didn’t notice the bags under your eyes? Shoo,” she said, flapping her hands. “You might even want to think about going home and getting a good night’s sleep.”

Laughing, he pushed back from the table, circled it and kissed her cheek. Her arms came around him in a hard, compulsive hug. “Love you, Mom,” he murmured.

“Of course you do.” She let him go, smiling.

Dad walked Ethan out, but didn’t say a lot more. A back slap took the place of the hug, and “Thanks, Dad” replaced “I love you” but the actual meaning was understood by both parties.

Ethan felt pretty damn good about life as he drove home.

* * *

E
THAN STAYED ALMOST
all day Sunday. Jake responded to his presence the way a flowering annual did to a dose of fertilizer and a stretch of sunny weather. Whatever had made him grumpy seemed to be forgotten.

Because a bunch of the guys from school had said they were going to be playing on the outdoor school court, after lunch Ethan and Jake decided to go down there, too. Although she’d have loved to watch, Laura cheerfully waved goodbye, changed into her grungiest clothes and took advantage of semi-decent weather to paint the back porch boards. As such jobs went, it was fun. She had to be careful where the porch met the house, but otherwise she could just slap the paint on. It went fast enough, and she was almost done when she heard their voices in the kitchen. As the slider opened, she turned in alarm.

“Don’t come outside!”

With his broad shoulders, Ethan filled the opening. “Wouldn’t think of it.” His smile was slow and sexy. “You might put me to work.”

Laura made a face at him. “Hard to do when you managed to go out the door right when I would have recruited you.”

The smile widened. “Yeah, don’t know how that happened.”

Jake peered past him. “Awesome, Mom. Except I see a spot you missed.” Scanning, he pointed out two or three more.

“Oh, gee. Thanks. I did plan a second coat. I’m going to do it first thing in the morning. I can afford to take a few hours of personal time.”

“You still have to do the railing, too,” her son reminded her.

“I’m well aware. It’s going to be a different color.”

“Oh. Cool. Like to match the trim around the windows?”

She smiled at him. “Exactly. Did you two have fun?”

They had. They waited until she finished and circled the house to come in through the garage, having put the lid on her paint can and wrapped her brush in a plastic bag. Then they told her with great enthusiasm about this pickup game they’d played, which was
awesome
—a current favorite word when Jake was high about something—because a couple of high school guys had come by, and when they saw Ethan they wanted to play, too.

Ethan’s enthusiasm, Laura saw, was tempered by amusement he gave away with crinkles beside his eyes. Fortunately, there was no sign Jake had noticed.

Since Laura had made lunch, he wanted to take them out to dinner. She went off to shower, returning to find the TV on and the two of them seemingly absorbed in a Mariner baseball game. What she ought to do was leave them to it and go pay bills, but she had this greedy desire to spend as much time as she could with Ethan.

Ethan and Jake were seated at opposite ends of the sofa. Seeing her, he shifted to the middle cushion and patted the one beside him. She settled down with a sigh, keeping her gaze on the TV but oblivious to what was happening. All her awareness was focused on Ethan. She’d have given almost anything to be able to snuggle against his side and feel his arm come around her. For him to kiss her.

He was so big, so male. With an apologetic glance at her, he stacked his enormous feet on her coffee table, an act that Jake immediately copied. The well-worn denim of Ethan’s jeans didn’t disguise the powerful muscles in those long legs. Below the short sleeves of his faded Portland State T-shirt, his forearms were tanned, strong and dusted with dark hairs. She fixed on his hands, both splayed on his thighs. As she watched, the one closest to her curled into a fist and, when she turned her head, it was to find him watching her. His eyes were knowing and heated with the glow that was becoming familiar to her.

Very casually, still holding her gaze, he lifted his left arm and laid it along the back of the sofa behind her shoulders. “Hope I’m not too ripe,” he said, in a rueful undertone.

She’d reached the pathetic stage where she loved the smell of his sweat. It aroused her. Feeling his warmth so close aroused her. Looking at his big long-fingered hands—one now dangling so close it was
almost
touching her—aroused her.

When his fingers lightly brushed her upper arm, she jerked, and then saw the corner of his mouth curl.

“What?” Gaping at the TV, Jake half rose to his feet, then sank back down. “That’s such crap. He was safe!” He turned to Ethan. “You saw it.”

Laura certainly hadn’t, even if she was ostensibly watching.

“Looked safe to me, too,” Ethan agreed, then flicked a half grin at her that told her, no, he hadn’t been paying any more attention than she had.

Blocked from her son’s sight by Ethan’s big body, his fingers started playing with her. Sliding up beneath the cap sleeve of her knit shirt to stroke her collarbone. Squeezing her upper arm. Skating along the sensitive skin of her neck, making her shiver.

He twined a lock of hair around one finger, tugging gently, then smoothed it behind her ear, after which he traced the outline of her ear. She couldn’t do anything but sit there, frozen, hoping she was hiding the tiny shivers, that her bra was doing its job and her nipples weren’t too obviously poking out.

To all appearances, Jake missed the byplay, enjoying the game, coaxing Ethan into talking about players and the Mariners’—probably nonexistent—chances of making the play-offs.

Just before the game ended, Ethan very casually removed his arm, using the chance to trail his fingertips across the back of her neck, then leaned forward and reached for the remote on the coffee table.

“How’s pizza sound?” he asked. “I made reservations at Apizza Scholls, just in case.”

Jake cheered. Laura was so turned on by that time food was the last thing on her mind, but said, “We love it.”

“I figure I can kick your butt at some video games,” Ethan told Jake as he rose to his feet and stretched, his hands touching the ceiling. Laura got an up close and personal view of his partial erection, nicely cupped by denim.

She stood and brushed that erection with her hip not-quite-accidentally as she said, “Let me grab my purse. Who’s driving?”

His expression was pained but amused, too. “Me.”

“Control freak.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, straight-faced.

If Matt had had his way, she’d have never gotten behind the wheel of a car. When they went somewhere together or as a family, she’d had zero chance of driving. So, okay, Ethan
did
have something in common with Matt besides the job. Which, come to think of it, shouldn’t come as a surprise. Cops might come in a variety of configurations, but “laid-back” probably wasn’t one of them.

And...Ethan had an innate sense of confidence that contrasted with what she had eventually realized was a smidgeon of swagger in her husband that hid some insecurities. She blamed Mama Vennetti for those. She’d had a gift for tiny pinpricks that smarted. Laura would put Ethan, however, up against Mama any day.

She joined in the video games at Apizza Scholls, enjoying the experience of trouncing Jake, who was stunned, and Ethan, who flexed his fingers and said with determination, “Rematch.” The humor in his eyes told her she’d been right about his ego, though; it could stand up to losing to a woman.

When he beat her the second time they played, she just smiled and said, “Had to let you win to regain your sense of masculine prowess.”

Jake hooted.

They all agreed on a plain pie with ricotta, garlic and fresh basil added. Ethan ordered a second one. “It’ll give me dinner for a couple of nights.”

“But...aren’t you having dinner with us Tuesday?” Jake sounded momentarily bewildered.

Ethan’s eyes, heavy-lidded, met Laura’s. “I haven’t been invited yet.”

She smiled at him. “Consider yourself invited.”

“And I accept,” he said in a low, husky voice.

“Wow, it’s the last class,” Jake exclaimed, apparently unaware of anything going on beneath the surface.

Thank goodness, Laura thought. What was she
doing
, flirting in front of her eleven-year-old son?

Having more fun than she’d had in years?

Well, yeah.

Ethan declined to come in when he pulled into their driveway. Jake had ridden in front with Ethan on the way to the restaurant; on the way home, Laura had claimed the front seat. Now, impatient that she didn’t move fast enough, Jake reached over her shoulder and snatched the keys out of her hand. Apparently there was something he wanted to watch on TV, and she wasn’t about to object although she did call after him, “Did you finish your homework?”

“Duh,” he said over his shoulder, and then raced away.

Neither adult moved until he disappeared inside. Then Ethan groaned and reached for her. “I had a lot of fun today, but,
damn
, I want to be alone with you.”

“Ditto.” She pressed an openmouthed kiss to his throat.

That spurred him to grip the back of her head, tilting it up so he could devour her mouth. Nope, this was
not
a laid-back man, not right now anyway. He wanted her, and if they hadn’t been sitting in the driveway not far from a streetlight, if her son hadn’t been liable to pop out of the house to find out why Mom hadn’t followed him, if the steering wheel didn’t keep Ethan from dragging her onto his lap, she thought things might have gotten really serious. His tongue wasn’t playing, it was thrusting in a mimicry of what he really wanted to be doing to her, and the hand that wasn’t positioning her to suit him was kneading her breast. That hand felt so good, she arched to push herself at him, which had him growling—she thought—and finally wrenching his mouth from hers.

Panting, he rested his forehead against hers. “We can’t do this,” he said hoarsely.

“No.” Had she ever even made a decision that, yes, she was going to make love with Ethan?

Maybe not consciously, but there seemed no question the decision had been made. If it had been possible, right this minute, she’d have been reaching for his belt buckle.

“Damn,” he muttered.

They stayed like that for a good two or three minutes, their breathing slowly becoming something approximating normal. She hadn’t realized how tense his body was until she felt the muscles easing.

Finally he lifted his head, his eyes dark in the dimness. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“You don’t have to.” She had the presence of mind to release the seat belt, which, come to think of it, had been slicing between her breasts and across her belly. “Jake would notice.”

“Don’t you think it’s time we tell him we’re, uh...”

“What? Making out behind his back?”

He smiled at the old-fashioned term. What should she call it? Getting it on? To her regret, they hadn’t yet managed that.

“Let’s call it dating,” he said. “Tell him I’m your boyfriend.”

“Are you?” Dismayed, Laura heard how breathless she sounded.

“Yeah.” He kissed her again, quick and firm. “If that’s okay with you.”

She had to close her eyes against the unexpected sting. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

“Good.”

He straightened away from her, and she opened her eyes to see him unfastening his own seat belt and opening his door. Laura grabbed her purse and got out. He gently put her in front of him instead of trying to stay beside her on the narrow, concrete walkway, but kept his hand resting on her shoulder.

“You don’t mind if I wait to tell him until, I don’t know, it feels like a good moment?”

“Nope. I won’t say anything until you do.”

Climbing the few steps to the porch, they both saw the flicker of the television. Ethan kissed her one more time. “Lunch tomorrow?”

“Are you taking the day off?”

“I don’t think so. Too much going on. So I can’t promise, but I’ll call, okay?” At her nod, he reached past her to open the front door.

Laura smiled shakily. “Good night.” It felt as if they’d just crossed some threshold, and not the one in front of her.

She loved his smile. “’Night,” he murmured, then raised his voice. “See you Tuesday.”

“Yeah!” Jake called back.

Laura couldn’t help turning to watch Ethan lope back across the yard to his SUV. She saw the flash of white that was his grin when he got there and saw her.

Clutching a very warm, fuzzy feeling to herself, she went in.

* * *

M
ONDAY,
S
AM
C
LAYTON
and Ethan divided up tasks. Sam took Ethan’s lists and continued making calls in pursuit of the stolen mannequin. He agreed with Ethan’s belief that they’d find a connection between the store from which it had been taken and their perp.

Meantime, Ethan made the round of synagogues in search of disaffected boys. He found rabbis reluctant to disclose names, but a few did and others inadvertently gave away enough that he was able to speak to temple members who were willing to talk. Back at his desk, he researched fourteen names, a couple of whom he decided were worth speaking to personally. No one name lit up for him.

Pomeroy was frustrated because he couldn’t offer any useful information. If the fires had been set inside the homes, they’d be more likely to find some kind of trace evidence. Any kind of device would give them something to work with. But anyone could splash a little gas and toss a match or lighter. Of course, those same somebodies were taking a serious risk of getting burned when the vapor in the air caught fire, but so far that apparently hadn’t happened. Pomeroy had checked with emergency rooms across the city in search of burns treated the night of the fires or the following days, with no leads.

“The idiots have just gotten lucky so far,” he growled, and Ethan agreed.

Unfortunately, he, Clayton and Ethan all had other investigations competing for their attention, and Ethan wasn’t sure what they could do but hadn’t already. The simpler a crime, the more likely the perpetrator was to get away with it. Their best hope was an honest-to-God witness, somebody who got a license plate number, for example, but the fires were being set in middle-class neighborhoods where few people were out and about at night.