And, yes, she should probably be relieved that he didn’t want to talk endlessly about his ex. All she had to do was remember the tedium of an evening out with a guy who did exactly that.
“Dance?” Ben mouthed.
They’d sat the last two out. Ben only wanted to take the floor for the slow dances, which was okay by Eve. She liked swaying in his arms, her own wrapped around his waist or his neck, her body plastered against his lean, powerful length.
Even so, when she stepped close, she rose on tiptoe to tease him, her mouth next to his ear. “Big tough detective afraid he’ll look foolish gyrating to nineties’ rock?”
His hand settled on her lower back. “Afraid?” His breath tickled her ear and neck. “Big tough detective will look foolish. Trust me, you’re safer sticking to the slow dances.”
She laughed but felt her cheeks heat at the glint in his eyes. With his erection pressed against her belly, she felt anything but safe.
Tempted was more like it. She knew Ben was hoping she’d invite him in tonight instead of kissing him goodbye at the door. She wanted to. She did.
But she also didn’t.
She’d never been quick to jump into bed with a guy, not even in college. She craved at least the illusion of something besides down-and-dirty sex. But she also knew she was dragging her feet even more than usual with Ben, and she knew why, too. She wanted more than an illusion from him.
And this week, she’d begun to suspect he didn’t have any intention of letting her get to know him on any very deep level. He might tell a story about playing football in high school, but he didn’t talk about his parents, his marriage, his daughter. Any nonpersonal subject was fine; they had spirited debates about politics, movies, books, ethics. Any topic edging into what made him who he was, a door visibly closed.
Having her own sore places, Eve understood. She guessed that part of her discomfort came from the fact that he knew a whole lot more about her than she did about him. The other part came from her slow realization that he wasn’t asking her the kind of questions that would make her think he was really curious about her, either.
Maybe she was expecting too much too fast. Or maybe she’d been right when she told him she was too messed up to have a serious relationship.
Of course, that hadn’t seemed to give him pause, possibly because he didn’t want serious.
Although his wandering hand felt quite serious. It had left her butt, moved up the curve of her waist, and come to rest beneath her armpit, very, very close to her breast. Brooding hadn’t stopped her from tingling as that hand advanced.
She sighed, and felt Ben tip his head to try to see her face, tucked on his chest. She had a very nice view into the V of his shirt where he’d left the top couple buttons undone, exposing a hint of sleek skin stretched over impressive muscles.
“Want to sit down?” he asked.
Eve shook her head. “No. Just...” She didn’t finish, and he didn’t ask.
That big hand roved downward again, leaving her breasts aching with a desire to be touched.
I could invite him in.
Maybe sex with him would be nothing special. She knew him better than to think he’d be a completely selfish lover, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be left feeling...let down.
If so, she could get over what was probably just a crush. So going to bed with him was probably the smart thing to do, right?
Eve grimaced. It was like persuading herself that a pint of chocolate mint ice cream would rev her up, help her get more work done, make her boobs bigger, whatever. Amazing how the mind could justify something unhealthy that you really, really wanted anyway.
The music slowed to a whisper, then ended. For a moment, neither she nor Ben moved. She let herself relax against him and feel the security of the arm that still held her close. He was nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head. The hard ridge against her stomach did not subside.
But, at last, his chest rose and fell on a deep breath that vibrated against her breasts as if he’d stifled a groan, and his hold on her loosened. Eve made herself straighten and step back, then turn to walk back to their table.
In the lull before the band launched into another song, Ben murmured, “Maybe we should call it a night.”
She nodded. “This was fun, but I think I’m ready to go.”
He signed to pay for their dinner, pocketed his card and half encircled her with his arm again to keep her close to him as they made their way out. That entailed winding between blackjack tables and rows and rows of slot machines with people perched on stools in front of them.
She and Ben retrieved their coats and stepped outside, both pausing to breathe in the crisp air and, for her at least, to sag a little in relief at the relative silence. His fingers wrapped her upper arm, as if he thought she’d take a tumble without his support. The way he always touched her when they were walking made her feel protected and...feminine.
Ben gave her a gentle nudge to start her walking. “I liked dancing with you, but I’ve got to tell you, I’m not much for nightlife.”
She pretended to gasp. “No! Really?” Then she chuckled. “Somehow I guessed that when you wouldn’t jump around and pump your arms to the fast songs.”
His grin flashed. “And you would have?”
Eve’s mouth curved. “A few years ago. I actually haven’t been dancing in ages. When you’re the one watching and not doing, though... Um, people were clearly having a good time, but...”
“They looked ridiculous.”
She laughed. “I guess so.”
The smile still lingering on his face and deepening the crease in his cheek, Ben told her, “I was hot stuff in high school, you know. Jock, student body vice president—did I ever tell you that? Had the prettiest girlfriend in the school, too. But I guess I don’t have any rhythm. I’d wham people in the chin, bump into them. Once I knocked Nicole down. Real romantic.” He shook his head. “Haven’t dared cut loose since.”
There—he’d said his ex-wife’s name. That meant something, didn’t it?
He let her go to remove his keys from his pocket and point the remote at his SUV ahead to unlock. At the same moment, she heard a faint buzz. The remote...? But then she realized it was her phone, dropped in her coat pocket. She was right beneath one of the tall, glaringly white lights that illuminated the parking lot, so she stopped where she was and took her phone out.
Ben was a few steps ahead when he realized she was no longer with him. He turned. “Eve?”
“I think somebody just left me a message.”
She’d missed two calls, both from Joel Kekoa, and discovered she’d received a text, too. That was probably what she’d heard coming in.
She opened it.
Need u.
Oh, God.
She hurried toward Ben. “I’m sorry. This sounds urgent. I need to listen to my messages.”
He only nodded and said, “Hop in.” He started the engine and backed out, heading toward the exit as she put in her voice mail password.
Joel’s first message was almost incoherent. “There’s been a fire and that policeman’s here again and, shit, I think he’s going to arrest me! Where are you?”
The second one wasn’t any better. “This is really bad, Ms. Lawson. There was a fire at Mr. Rowe’s house, so of course everybody is sure I set it. Please will you call?”
She did, but he didn’t answer and she ended up with his voice mail. “Joel, this is Eve Lawson. If you don’t call me back, I’ll come over there. I’ll be, oh, about half an hour. Okay?”
Clutching the phone, she looked at Ben. “If you can take me home, I need to go out again.”
“The same kid? The football player?”
“Yes. He sounds freaked. Evidently there was a fire at the grumpy neighbor’s house, and Joel th
inks he’s being blamed for it.”
“I could try to reach Pruitt.”
She thought about it, but finally shook her head. “I need to go over there anyway, if only to talk to Joel. If it looks like it’s all over and everybody has gone to bed, I’ll go home.”
“We can go straight there, if you’d like.”
Eve hesitated, oh so tempted in a different way, because she really wanted Ben with her, but she knew she shouldn’t drag him into something he couldn’t do anything about.
“It sounds like Officer Pruitt is there again. I can’t imagine he’d like having you show up.”
“As long as I make it clear I’m there strictly as your friend, I can’t see that it would matter.”
“You wouldn’t rather go home?”
He reached across the console to close his much larger hand over hers, still clenched around the phone. “No, Eve. It wouldn’t sit real well with me to wave as you drive away in the middle of the night to what’s probably an upsetting scene. Do you really think I’d go home and hit the sack without giving you another thought?” The edge of anger in his voice belied the comfort of his touch.
Her sinuses burned. Refusing to cry, she breathed in and out, in and out, calming herself by will alone. Finally she was able to say, almost steadily, “Thank you, Ben. If you’d take me, I’d really appreciate it.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before returning his to the steering wheel. “You go dashing out into the night like this very often?”
Eve’s chuckle sounded a little tremulous to her ears. “Probably not as often as you do. I don’t know, maybe every couple of months some crisis erupts in the middle of the night.”
He was quiet for a minute. His hands flexed on the wheel, then loosened again. “I didn’t realize.”
“No. Um, Joel’s foster home is in the one subdivision out past the high school that isn’t brand-new. Right off Sanders Road. Do you know it?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I know damn near every road in this county. I patrolled for a couple of years before I made detective.”
“Oh. Right.”
It turned out he did know what development she was talking about. They had almost reached it when a fire truck took a turn out of the development right in front of them. The lights were no longer flashing.
“If it was arson, you know a fire marshal will be called in,” Ben said, interrupting what had been a prolonged silence.
“I’ve never had anything to do with the fire marshal’s office.”
Once in the neighborhood, Ben asked for directions.
There was no need to tell him the exact address. Lights blazed down the block on both sides of the street. A few neighbors still stood on porches, as if hoping for another burst of excitement. A sheriff’s department sedan blocked the driveway at Joel’s house.
Ben rolled to a stop behind it. He’d barely set the emergency brake when Eve leaped out. She inhaled the pungent smell of charred wood, although it was fainter than she’d anticipated. Relief almost made her sag when she saw that Mr. Rowe’s house still stood, no obvious evidence of damage to be seen. She hurried toward the Carters’ house, but Ben still caught up with her before she could ring the doorbell.
It was Lynne who came to the door, wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe and matching slippers. Her surprise showed at the sight of Eve. “How on earth—” Her “Oh” came out flat. “I suppose Joel called you.”
“That’s right,” Eve said pleasantly. “May we come in?”
Remembering herself, Lynne said, “Of course,” and beamed a warm smile at Ben. “And you are?”
“Detective Ben Kemper.”
“Detective? Oh, I assumed you were with Eve.”
“I am.” He, too, sounded pleasant but not gushing with sympathy despite Lynne’s charming smile.
Eve was more pleased than she should be. It was dumb, of course, but she wanted him on her side.
No, Joel’s, she corrected herself quickly.
With their arrival, the living room immediately felt crowded. In fact, the only remaining place to sit was the middle cushion of the sofa. When Joel saw her, his face momentarily contorted and he scooted over so she could take the place at the end. Eve patted his arm and saw his throat work. Ben took up a bodyguard stance directly behind her, shaking his head when Pruitt began rising to his feet.
“I’m fine,” he said. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him nod at Pruitt. “I’m not here in an official capacity. Eve and I had gone out to dinner when she got a message from Joel.”
“I see.” Not looking entirely reassured, Pruitt ran a hand over a head that was starting to bald, then transferred his gaze to Eve. “Ms. Lawson, I’m not sure why Joel dragged you out. We’ll be investigating this incident further tomorrow, and I was about to take off and let everyone go back to bed.”
She couldn’t imagine Joel would be able to sleep. Everyone else... Eve let her gaze wander from face to face. Rod, typically a good-natured, open man, appeared disturbed. He wore sweats and a faded T-shirt. Lynne had the expression of a good hostess and had somehow managed to brush her hair, while Gavin, barefoot but in jeans and sweatshirt, lounged in a recliner with the footrest up, gaze roving just like Eve’s. Their eyes met, and he held her gaze. The small smile he allowed to play on his mouth instantly sharpened her dislike. She looked away deliberately, dismissively.
Officer Pruitt began talking, giving a synopsis of events, theoretically for her benefit, but he looked at Ben more than he did at her. Of course, she thought, wanting to roll her eyes.
Mr. Rowe fortunately was not a heavy sleeper, Pruitt said. He had smelled smoke, and rushing through the house discovered a fire leaping up through his back deck. It had become fully engaged, the boards of the deck burning, flames licking against the house siding. He had called 911 then hurried out and turned his hose on the blaze. By the time firefighters arrived, it was mostly out. Although the damage was minor, because they were sure they smelled gasoline, the crew chief had notified the fire marshal’s office. Mr. Rowe had insisted “that boy” next door had to be responsible, and indeed the firefighters had observed a gas can abandoned by the side door into the Carters’ garage. Mr. Carter confirmed it was his, and was usually in the garage next to the lawn mower. Tonight, leather gardening gloves had been sitting atop it, which ensured there’d be no fingerprint evidence. Both boys, when summoned, had come out of their respective bedrooms. Joel claimed to have been asleep, Gavin to have been listening to music with his earbuds in. The screen on Joel’s bedroom window was not fully clipped on. Except for Rowe’s accusation, that seemed to be the sole indication he might be the culprit, although she could understand why he’d panicked. Rod said he hadn’t walked around the house that way since the last time he’d mowed, in early November, so the screen could have been knocked askew weeks or months ago.
Pruitt continued, telling them he’d spoken to the nearest neighbors. All had either gone to bed or were watching TV. Nobody saw a thing.
“Fortunately, not a lot of harm done,” he concluded. His glance settled meaningfully on Joel. “A couple more minutes, and it would have been a different story. This was no prank.”
Eve stayed mute, unable to disagree. She looked back at Gavin, whose face was now creased in what to all appearances was real concern. Gut instinct told her he was acting for all he was worth. She hoped Ben had seen the earlier smile.
Eve rose. “Joel, is there someplace we can talk for a minute?”
“Uh...” His head turned. “I guess my bedroom.”
Lynne spoke up. “Why don’t you just go out to the kitchen?”
“That’s fine,” Eve said.
Joel followed her, Ben remaining behind. Eve heard Gavin saying, “There’s no way Joel did anything like this,” and she gritted her teeth. Mr. Sincerity.
Since she
could still hear part of the conversation from the living room even once they reached the kitchen, she didn’t kid herself she and Joel had real privacy. Careful to lower her voice, she asked, “Joel, did you hear anything tonight?”
At six foot four, he towered over her. She imagined him doing weight lifting and seriously filling out, and could see why college programs had been eager to sign him. She also wondered if his sheer size had anything to do with Lynne’s dislike. Gavin’s, too, assuming her instincts were accurate. At five-ten or -eleven, he wouldn’t be able to physically challenge Joel. Was this nasty little campaign the alternative?
Joel shook his head in answer to her question, his very dark eyes fixed desperately on her. “I really was asleep. Somebody else did this.”
“Who do you think?” she asked, trying to sound nonjudgmental.
“I don’t know!” He shot a telling look toward the living room and said more softly, “Lynne and Gavin...you know. But it’s not like... I mean, I’ll be gone in not that long.”
Eve nodded. He was right; a normal kid in Gavin’s situation would console himself that Joel might be gone as soon as school let out, if he found a decent job. His eighteenth birthday was in May, ending Rod’s responsibility to him as a foster parent. At most, Rod would let him stay until he left for college—and that would be by the first of August if not sooner, given that football players must begin workouts well before the opening day of classes.
On the other hand, she felt really unsettled tonight. The crushed rosebushes—prank. Unpleasant, sure, but still something an unthinking kid would do. The rock through the window—more dangerous, but still a kid might not think about the possibility of it hitting someone in bed. The fire, though, was another story. Given a little more time, it could have consumed the house and killed an elderly man who loved his roses and, yes, was grumpy.
But if someone, say, Gavin, had sociopathic tendencies, he might not care if Mr. Rowe died, not if he achieved his ends. He also might not be willing to wait four to six months for Joel to be gone. Or he wanted to ensure Joel was gone for good, instead of being invited back for holiday breaks.
In Hope's Shadow Page 8
