She glanced around. “Got everything?”
God forbid he left any trace of his presence. “Yeah.”
His tone must have been forbidding, because Eve didn’t say anything on the way to the door.
There, he pulled her to him for a hard kiss, lifting his head to see her blinking a couple of times, as if he’d befuddled her. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he grumbled, even though he hadn’t meant to say that.
“I wish you didn’t, too,” she said softly, erasing his irritation and what had felt uncomfortably like fear.
Fear? Of course he wasn’t afraid. What a stupid damn thought. He’d felt some uncertainty, that’s all. But this was good. They’d had amazing sex, and she didn’t want him to go, which meant she’d want him back in her bed. The fact that she was fine with him going home...that was good, too. It meant she wasn’t getting overly sentimental, imagining love and forever.
Perfect, he told himself, shrugging on his coat and hunching against the cold rain that trickled down his neck as he hurried out to his SUV.
If he noticed how uncolorful his apartment was when he walked in, how unhomey, how quiet, how empty, well, none of that was exactly news, was it?
* * *
“DO YOU JUST have a booth, or have you entered any quilts?” Eve asked, phone held to her ear while she manipulated the computer mouse with her other hand.
Her mother did machine quilting for people who liked to piece quilt tops but weren’t into hand-quilting and didn’t have a sewing machine capable of handling the multiple layers and wide surface of even a twin-size bedcover. Karen’s machine quilting was superior, too: intricate and original, always perfect for the design.
But she also pieced and quilted her own work, which qualified as art in Eve’s opinion. Not just Eve’s opinion—Karen Lawson quilts frequently won contests at quilt shows and the county and state fairs. They’d been featured in magazines and sold for hefty prices.
She’d been a kindergarten teacher until her own six-year-old child was abducted. Then, she always said, she couldn’t work with children, especially ones so close in age to Hope before her disappearance. So she’d quit and sought a way to bring in a second income and yet allow herself the time she was compelled to devote to the never-ending search for Hope. Quilting had been a hobby. She decided to make it a business. Eve suspected she earned more now than she would have as a teacher.
Plus, she’d given Eve a couple of glorious quilts, including the one on her bed, and, more recently, had given Bailey one that Eve happened to know was on Seth’s bed. Bailey had said she’d buy a bigger bed so she could use Mom’s, but decided not to bother since she’d be moving in with Seth as soon as she graduated from the University of Southern California in May. Which was...less than two months away, Eve realized in surprise.
She tuned into what Mom was saying, and was able to replay enough to know she had entered a couple of quilts in the show as well as having a booth, but she’d be home by late afternoon Sunday and wanted Eve to come to dinner.
“You can help me celebrate.”
“Such confidence,” Eve teased, and her mother laughed. “Of course I’ll come to dinner. I can even get there early and cook, if you’d like. With you having such a busy weekend...”
“You know I love to cook. I’ll spend the whole weekend sitting, manning the booth. Doing something else will be a relief.”
Arguing never did any good, so Eve didn’t bother.
“Why don’t you invite Ben?” her mother suggested, her tone warm, cordial and elaborately casual. “We’d love to get to know him better.”
Alarm zinged through Eve like static electricity. “Mom, it’s too soon.” But, oh, she wished it wasn’t. Yearning filled her. Bringing Ben home to her parents felt so right.
“Why?” Karen asked reasonably. “It’s not as if we haven’t already met him. I used to see him when I stopped by the station to find out if Seth had any news. With Ben and Seth such good friends, we’re bound to see more of him. It would be lovely if his daughter could come, too. I bet she’d like to see my quilts.”
Eve bet she would, too. Some of Mom’s best sellers were crib quilts, the kind kids would treasure and save for their own children and grandchildren.
“This isn’t his weekend to have Rachel,” she said.
Her mother clucked her tongue. “Oh, what a shame. Another time, then.”
“Mom...”
“What’s the harm in asking? Unless this, well, isn’t that kind of relationship?” her mother asked delicately.
I want it to be. The surge of longing took her aback. It was way too soon to let herself dream. The fact that she already was...well, that took her aback, too. It wasn’t like her.
No, but he had invited her to spend the day with him and Rachel, and that meant something, didn’t it? And...even though he hadn’t talked about how he felt, surely he couldn’t have made love to her with such heart-stopping passion and tenderness if this was just sex for him.
And I am being an idiot, she thought. Such an idiot that she heard herself tell her mother she’d ask him.
“But he may not want to come,” she warned, “or he might be tied up. If he gets called in to work. You know.”
Mom knew. She had become something of an expert on the topic of child abduction and abuse during her long campaign to not only find Hope, but to raise public and legislative awareness and increase tax dollars spent on weaving the kind of connections between agencies that brought children home.
“Of course I understand,” she said.
Eve promised to let her know, then heard about how Dad’s back was bothering him, but he was so stubborn, refusing to go to the doctor. Stubborn was hardly an adequate description of Dad. He was like a stone letting water drip down on him, knowing how slow any impact would be. Dad would listen, nod without comment, then do whatever he wanted anyway. Mom surely knew her nagging was wasted.
Eve hung up the phone and did some deep breathing to combat a brief panic attack. Ask him, or not? I said I would.
Doesn’t mean I have to follow through.
Go with the moment, she finally decided.
* * *
ALTHOUGH THEY’D TALKED briefly on the phone a couple of times, Ben didn’t plan to see Eve again until Friday night. That was a deliberate choice. Sooner made him look too involved. Too...eager.
God, yes, he heard himself saying.
He frowned as he strode out of the courtroom where he’d just finished testifying. The defense attorney, one of his least favorite, was the kind of slime whose go-to strategy was to blacken any victim’s reputation. Make a woman look like a slut, the jury would buy the defendant’s insistence that the sex had been consensual, that she liked it rough and that’s why she had all those bruises afterward. Unable to shake Ben, he’d kept his cross-examination short. Ben was still pissed.
As he stepped off the elevator, he saw a woman wearing a snug black suit and three-inch heels hurrying across the lobby toward him.
He stopped dead. “Eve?”
Damn, she looked good. She always did, but in heels her legs appeared even more sensational. Whatever she had on beneath the jacket was fire-engine red, and small gold hoops swung from her earlobes.
“Ben.” She smiled. “Testifying?”
“Unfortunately.”
She laughed. “Best part of your job, huh?”
“Safe to say.” He shook his head to rattle his brains back into place. “What are you doing here?”
“On my way to a hearing in juvenile court. I’m probably here as often as you are.”
“I’ve never noticed you before.” And he couldn’t believe he hadn’t, especially if she usually looked as she did today. Except he liked her hair better loose, not woven into some kind of complicated braid and bundled at her nape.
“Just chance.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to run. See you Friday.”
“Yeah.” His feet didn’t move, and neither did hers.
“Sunday I’m having dinner at Mom and Dad’s. Mom was hoping you might like to come.”
Dinner with her parents? Dread filled him.
This smile looked forced. “Mom wanted you to bring Rachel. I think you’re incidental to her main goal. No grandkids, you know. Plus—” a shadow crossed her face “—Rachel looks a lot like Hope did. You know. Before.”
God. He hadn’t thought of that.
“I told her you wouldn’t have Rachel this weekend, though,” she said hurriedly, “so don’t worry about it, Ben. Listen, I’m going to be late. Friday, right?”
Shit. Annoyed to have been put on the spot, Ben had felt his resistance crack when she said that about Rachel. It hadn’t occurred to him, but she was right; Seth had had the last school picture taken of six-year-old Hope Lawson posted everywhere when he mounted his search. And, damn it, there was a resemblance that went beyond the superficialities of age, hair and eye color. If you studied them feature by feature, it wouldn’t be there, but at first glance...yeah.
And now he felt guilty for something that wasn’t his fault. Even so, it was enough for him to say to her back, “Eve?”
She paused and turned, her expression pleasantly inquiring. It was her professional face, the one that revealed nothing of what she was really thinking.
“I can come Sunday.”
She studied him for a long, thoughtful moment. Then she said, “That...would make my mother happy. Thank you.”
Would it make her happy? He was afraid so, and was concerned now that she’d read something into his acceptance that wasn’t meant.
He nodded curtly and walked away, not liking his agitation. What had she been thinking, pushing like this? Using the sadness that always clung to her to manipulate him?
He stalked across the parking lot, hardly aware of his surroundings. When he reached his car, his head cleared enough for him to look around and feel a jolt. He was a cop. Cops didn’t walk around with their damn heads fogged.
The agitation had finished its job, leaving his emotions balled in his belly. What he mostly knew was, he didn’t want to go with Eve Sunday and have her beaming parents evaluate him as her guy. But he couldn’t hurt her by canceling, either.
He’d have to hide his irritation—but he’d also have to find a way to let her know anything else like this was off the table. Dinner with the parents suggested something that wasn’t happening, and she needed to know that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“WHEN IS RACHEL’S BIRTHDAY?” Karen Lawson asked brightly. “Eve said she’s six?”
“That’s right. She turns seven in April.” Ben didn’t look at Eve. He was not enjoying himself. He couldn’t call what her mother was doing an interrogation, but it was damn close. Maybe this was normal; he wouldn’t know, since neither he nor Nicole had mothers. No matter what, he resented being set up for this.
“What a doll.” Karen beamed at him. “And so poised for her age.”
“She is.”
“Why, she reminds me of—”
Her husband gave his head a shake so abbreviated, you had to be looking to notice it.
She didn’t finish, although the resultant silence was awkward.
Damn, Ben thought, Eve had been right. Her mother was drawn to his daughter because she looked like her own child before she’d been snatched.
He risked a glance at Eve to see that her head was bent. She was using her fork to make swirls in her mashed potatoes.
Karen’s smile might have been a little forced. “I hope everyone has room for dessert. I made my Kahlúa-almond cheesecake.”
The temptation was too much, even if Ben had planned to plead a need for an early night. “That sounds really good,” he admitted. “Count me in.”
Eve popped to her feet. “Let me clear the table, Mom.” She’d done little but push her food around on her plate, which explained why she was whisking it out of sight so fast. She grabbed her father’s empty plate, too, and carried both to the kitchen without so much as glancing at Ben. Karen took his and her plates and followed her daughter.
“That was some fine work you and Seth did, arresting the two who robbed the jewelry store,” Kirk remarked with the air of a man who felt he had to fill the silence.
“Thank you, Mr. Lawson.”
“Kirk, please.”
Ben nodded. “The owner was injured badly enough he’ll be left with some disabilities. Solving that one was a real priority for us.”
Ben hadn’t heard Karen returning until she said, “It was so awful, and to think both men were local residents.” She clucked.
Why that made it worse, he wasn’t sure. Pretty well every zip code counted some scum among the residents, he felt sure.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Please.”
Eve returned and, without saying a word, removed serving dishes from the table. Her father’s worried gaze followed her as she retreated to the kitchen again.
He asked a few questions about the investigation, which Ben answered. From their brief acquaintance, he liked Kirk Lawson.
“Have you ever had a break-in or suffered a significant theft at your shop?” he asked, suddenly curious.
Kirk shook his head, smiling crookedly. “Don’t keep much money on the premises, and I’m careful about who I hire. One of my guys has been with me fifteen years or more.” He seemed to ponder. “One about ten, I guess. I’ve added a couple of young guys this past year or two, but so far they’re working out fine.”
Ben studied the craggy face of Eve’s father. He’d seen how Kirk listened to conversations, hearing what wasn’t said as well as what was. “You have good judgment.”
His blue eyes met Ben’s. “I’d like to think so.”
Ben tensed. What did that mean? Take it at face value, he told himself. Didn’t matter if Kirk liked him or not anyway; contrary to what Karen seemed to believe, Ben was not here to gain the approval of Eve’s parents.
He was here because he hadn’t been able to say no.
Eve set a cup of coffee in front of him, her smile pleasant but not in any way intimate. She’d been reading the vibes, he had already realized. He hoped her parents hadn’t. They were nice folks; he didn’t want to offend them.
The coffee and cheesecake were both extraordinary. Karen was a fine cook. Ben told her he couldn’t remember a better meal, and her cheeks turned pink with pleasure.
“Eve’s just as good a cook as I am,” she claimed, smiling at her daughter.
“Gee, Mom, do you want me to show him my teeth, too?” Eve said tartly.
“What?”
“You don’t have to try to sell Ben on my fine qualities.” She softened her acerbic statement with a smile that held genuine affection. “Either he’s smart enough to notice them, or he isn’t.”
Ben gave a huff of laughter. “Now, what am I supposed to say to that?”
Her gaze met his coolly. “Absolutely nothing.”
His momentary humor evaporated. She looked angry. Had he really been such a jackass tonight?
He couldn’t tell if her mother was oblivious or trying to intervene when she said, “We’d love for Eve to go with us to Hope’s graduation in May. We’re so excited!”
“I understand why you’re proud of her. It’s pretty amazing Bailey—ah, Hope—managed to put herself through college.”
Karen was pleased. She talked at length about everything Hope had accomplished, while Eve listened with a smile that never wavered. Ben asked where Eve had gotten her BA.
Her gaze touched his. “Whitman College.”
He knew Whitman to be a nationally r
anked private liberal arts college and was impressed. It had to be tough to get into.
“Were you happy there?” he asked.
“Yes. Very.”
He tilted up his cup to take the last swallow of coffee, and hadn’t even set it down when Eve said, “Mom, I hope you’ll forgive me for leaving you with the mess, but I have an early morning tomorrow.”
“Oh!” Her mother looked startled, but said, “You’ve already loaded the dishwasher, for goodness’ sake. There’s not much else to do. I’m just sorry you have to run off.”
Weirdly, Ben felt some disgruntlement. He’d been wondering if he might not be offered a second slice of that cheesecake, for one thing. For another...damn it, he was the one who should be trying to cut the evening short, not Eve.
But before he knew it, he was helping her with her coat, shrugging into his own and thanking Karen for dinner. He shook hands with Kirk and walked with Eve in silence down the driveway to his SUV.
Once they were both buckled in and he had the engine running, Ben cleared his throat. “Your mother really is a good cook.”
“I’m glad the evening had an upside for you.”
Uneasiness stirred. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Really?” She slanted a look at him he was just as glad he couldn’t see well out here in the dark.
Driven to it, he asked, “You don’t think this was a little too soon for a ‘meet the parents’ deal?”
“That’s not what it was!” Eve fired back.
“Uh-huh.”
“You’ve met them before.”
He unclenched his jaw. “That’s not why I was there tonight, and you know it. I was given the third degree because I’m dating their precious daughter.”
There was an odd moment, then he heard her breath hitch.
“If I really am, I’ll count myself blessed. And that wasn’t the third degree. It was pleasant conversation.”
“Sure it was.”
She shook her head. “Why didn’t you say no?”
“Because—” Shit. He knew better than to say this. Midstream, he switched gears. “I didn’t think much about it until I saw the way your mother was looking at me.”
In Hope's Shadow Page 12
