“Mowing the lawn,” Ethan replied, giving himself a leisurely look at her from head to toe. It had taken her long enough to wake up. He’d been working for over an hour, trimming and clipping, trying to get as much done as possible before the day got too hot.
It hadn’t strictly been time for him to see to the yard work, but considering what had happened last night, he figured he should have an excuse to check on things over here. Joe Cap had called him after he left the house last night to assure him all was secure and calm, and Ethan trusted him.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t wonder and worry a little bit. And it didn’t mean he hadn’t taken a walk over after midnight, when Bax left, just to make sure everything seemed all right.
He’d seen Diana in the kitchen, outlined by the glow of light. She was staring out the window; he could tell from her expression it wasn’t because she saw him, but because she was thinking.
Nevertheless, he made certain he stuck deep in the shadows so she didn’t see him—the last thing he needed was her to be accusing him of spying on her (which he was, sort of) or coming back to break in. Again.
Now, when she pulled the nightshirt down in a vain attempt at modesty, it did nothing but tighten over her chest. Moratorium or no, he wasn’t about to deny himself the pleasure of looking at the pretty apple-sized breasts with outlined nipples.
“Did I wake you?”
She seemed to struggle with how to respond: irritation or frustration or gratitude—he could almost see the emotions march over her face, one after the other. Ethan grinned to himself, realizing he was still in a mood to stir things up. When she poked at things like that, Fiona would say the imp had gotten hold of her—and it seemed that Ethan was possessed by his own contrary imp as well. Must be a Murphy trait.
“As a matter of fact, you did wake me.” Diana must have realized that drawing the edge of the t-shirt down did nothing to preserve her modesty because she let go of the hem. The shirt boinged up, giving him a better view of her smooth white thighs.
“I’m sorry,” he told her with some sincerity. After all, he was doing this for Genevieve—in her memory. And because he’d been raised to do the right thing.
Diana was a woman living alone in a remote house. Someone had broken in—at least once, and, Ethan suspected, possibly more than that. He’d been certain he saw someone in the window that day he’d come over for his beer—and he’d mentioned it to Joe Cap last night when they talked later.
Regardless of his reason for being here, he didn’t have to like the woman. Though it sure as hell wasn’t a hardship to look at her, dressed as she was, all rumpled and heavy-lidded from sleep. His fingers itched to touch those thick, full curls that tumbled in a riot about her head, leaving her long, slender neck bare.
“I thought you’d be an early riser,” he added, but with more sincerity this time. “But to answer your question, I’m upholding my end of the bargain your aunt and I have had for years—and I’ll do so until you can make other arrangements for having the yard work done.”
“Bargain?”
“Yeah. She never would accept any payment from me for all the time I spent working with her, so we had an agreement that I would take care of her lawn work in the summer, and make sure the plowing was done in the winter.”
“Work you did with her? You wanted to pay her?” The consternation on her face would have been more gratifying if he hadn’t seen the wheels turning in her mind—considering whether she should believe him or not. She really does think I’m a shyster.
Despite the anger rising in him, he kept his voice even and well modulated. “Yes, I compensated her—or tried to, anyway—for the time she gave me over the last two years. Because, you see, Diana, regardless of what your lawyerly, ambulance-chasing brain might think, I don’t need money. I’m tenured at U of C and have other sources of income. Go ahead—check me out. It’ll be easy enough.” He flashed her an arrogant smile, one that was sugarcoated with niceness, but had the underlying steel of his outrage at her accusations. “Start with the U of C website—under Staff. Picture and all—although they haven’t updated it since I shaved.”
“I certainly will check it out.” Her voice was frosty, although he saw the waver of uncertainty in her eyes.
He wondered if she’d apologize when she found out how wrong she’d been. Unlikely, he thought, taking in the cool facade of her beautiful but stony face and defiant stance. Why would someone like her bother to eat crow?
Diana took a step backward, obviously trying to find a way to excuse herself politely. “Well I do appreciate your taking the time to come over here and do this. I have to run into town in a little while to file my report with Captain Longbow, so I may be gone when you get finished. But—uh—could I get you something to drink before I go?”
Although he’d have liked to continue teasing her, Ethan decided against it. Perhaps it was time to call a truce—for Jean’s sake, at least. “I don’t mind doing the yard work because I know you probably have your hands full and I don’t teach classes during the summer, so I have the time. I probably won’t be much more than another hour—I have to finish mowing, then run the mulcher over it.”
“All right. Thank you. If you’d like to stop in for something cold to drink before you leave, that would be fine. Just holler when you come in if I’m still here.”
He felt one eyebrow lift. She was inviting him to just walk in the house?
“Thanks. That’d be great. I’ll take you up on it.” And now, you rumpled sleepyhead, you’d better get in the house and get some clothes on before I forget I don’t like you.
But the problem was, he was beginning to wish he did.
As it turned out, Diana didn’t make it into town before Ethan finished the lawn, because Mickey called and there was a long list of things to review.
Diana was still on the phone with her when she heard Ethan’s “helloooo!” reverberate through the house.
“Who’s that?” her sharp-eared legal assistant asked.
“One of the neighbors. He just finished mowing the lawn,” Diana explained. “In the kitchen,” she called to him.
“Is he a young neighbor or an old neighbor?” Mickey asked with a sly tone in her voice.
“Young,” Diana whispered as she heard Ethan walking down the hall. “Take off your shoes, please,” she called to him.
“How young?” Mickey demanded. “Please tell me he’s legal.”
“Already did,” Ethan said as he came into the kitchen.
He’d put on a t-shirt, but he must have taken a swim, for the cotton clung to his shoulders and the front of his chest, and his hair dripped onto its shoulders. She noticed bare, tanned biceps rounding smoothly from under the cuffs of the sleeves. Somehow, the shirt made him look even less decent than when he was bare-chested outside.
Diana realized Mickey was talking to her. “I’m sorry, what did you say? The phone lines are kind of staticky up here.”
Ethan tossed her a grin. “I’ve never had any trouble with my phone,” he told her, turning one of the chairs around and straddling it backwards. The teasing look in his eyes held a second layer of some other emotion.
Heat.
“I’ll bet they are,” Mickey said in a tone that surely had a smirk attached to it. “Anyway, I just got another batch of documents from AXT. We’ve got bankers’ boxes lined up all over your office—good thing you aren’t here. You wouldn’t be able to find your desk.”
“What sort of documents are in this batch?”
“Ugh. Everything and nothing important. Mostly paperwork from the ’20s and ’30s, when it was the Woodstock Tool and Die shop, but there are some other files that look like they’re later. I don’t know whether they’re important or relevant, but Fran, Aziz, and I are poring through them.”
“Thanks. Let me know if you find anything important or strange. I’ll be back a week from today.”
As Diana hung up the phone, she found Ethan watching her with warm, interested
eyes. When she caught his gaze, he blinked and the heat disappeared—replaced by easy friendliness. He’d propped his chin on hands that rested on the back of the chair.
Diana’s stomach was filled with hot butterflies—and not just because of the way he was looking at her. Owning up to her mistakes and shortcomings was something she would not neglect.
“I owe you an apology, Ethan,” she said, meeting his gaze. “More than one, as a matter of fact.”
The warm surprise that rushed over his features was a bit of a balm to her raw emotions. “I take it you did some research on the U of C website,” he said.
She certainly had—and what she learned made her completely mortified.
How could Diana have not realized that Ethan Murphy was Ethan Murphy, PhD, author of The Welcome Blue Light: Stories of Death and Moving to the Other Side.
The book, which described the experiences of hospice workers, nurses, first responders, and others who’d witnessed death and near-death experiences, had been a popular topic of conversation and in the media last year. It had been on the New York Times bestseller list for weeks, and the author—sitting right at her kitchen table—had even been on Late Night With Colbert and NPR to promote the book. There was even talk of a television special to be aired on the National Geographic channel.
Thus, he definitely was, as Captain Longbow said, a bigwig in cultural anthropology at U of C.
And he definitely didn’t need Aunt Jean’s money.
Diana continued, for he deserved every bit of her humbleness. “I jumped to conclusions and made assumptions about you—and acted on them. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.” She drew in a deep breath and continued to look him in the eye. “Quite truly, it’s very unlike me. I usually require much more solid evidence before making judgments. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was completely out of line in my behavior and suspicions of you.”
He blinked, and appeared to be pleasantly stunned. “Thank you for apologizing. I have to admit, I didn’t think you would—and especially with such grace.” He smiled the most genuine smile she’d seen since the first time they’d met. “Apology accepted.”
Diana drew back, a little offended at his bluntness, and yet chastised at the same time. “I don’t have any issue with admitting when I’m wrong. And if everyone else did, there’d be a lot less strife in the world.”
Nodding in agreement, he took the tall glass of iced tea that she handed him. “Very true.” As their fingers brushed, he commented, “As your aunt used to say, ‘Diana has to see it in black and white before she believes anything.’”
She stared at him, an uneasy feeling rising inside. “Aunt Jean used to talk about me?”
“All the time.” A chill tinged his words and that smile faded. “She missed you. She talked about you as though you were her daughter instead of her great-niece.”
Shame and deep sadness crested over her, and she had to blink back a sudden welling of tears. With an impatient hand, she brushed them away, hoping he didn’t notice.
“I feel so guilty about it. It’s been more than ten years since I’ve been here, and though she came to Chicago several times and we talked regularly on the phone…well, that doesn’t really make up for me not coming up to visit. I always intended to, but then another case would come along, and I’d get busy, and then the months and years went by…There’s no excuse. I should have made the time.” Her eyes were still wet. “I wish I had. She called me the week before she died. I called her back, but didn’t get her…and I didn’t have the chance to try again before I found out….” Diana wasn’t ready to put her suspicion of murder into words. “I’ll live with that guilt forever.”
Ethan looked at her contemplatively, and for the first time, that faint hint of accusation in his eyes was gone. Instead, she thought she saw sympathy and understanding there. “Then I owe you an apology as well,” he said. “For thinking that you ignored your aunt, and only came back into her life for the money.”
Diana opened her mouth to say something sharp, then closed it. “All right. I can see that,” she conceded. “A little. We were actually quite close, even if I didn’t physically get to see her very often.”
He smiled, a little sadness warming his eyes, and settled back in his chair. “I really enjoyed your aunt. She was like a mother figure as well as a good friend of mine, as odd as that might seem considering our age difference. Besides being an inspiration for my next book, she helped me through a very rough time.”
Diana nodded and sipped from her iced tea, realizing she was more relaxed around Ethan than she’d been so far. “Aunt Jean as a mother figure?” She gave a little laugh. “Much as I loved her, I never really thought about her in that way. More of an eccentric, interesting character with a warm heart, tons of common sense, and lots of color.”
He looked at her for a moment, then said, “I got the impression your mother and Jean didn’t get along very well.”
She gave a short laugh. “Not at all. They were very…different. Jean was my father’s sister, and once he died, my mother saw no reason to keep in touch with her. She’s very—well, my mother likes things to be neat and perfect, and she has always had very high expectations. Of—of me, I mean. Aunt Jean was…more laid back, I guess you’d say.”
“Well, I love my mother, but she’s more of an eccentric, interesting relative to me,” Ethan said dryly. He seemed to realize the topic of Melanie was not a good one on which to dwell. “My mother—she insists we call her Claudia instead of the more accepted title—is a modern day flower child. My sister and I were raised in a commune in Western Pennsylvania abounding with free love, marijuana plots, a nude beach, and lots of other earthy things. The Whole Earth Catalog was our bible.
“Now Claudia lives off the grid down in Costa Rica with her partner—a man at the moment, though that could change. She was with a woman for two years when I was in my twenties.” He gave a wry smile. “She makes hemp baskets to sell on Etsy and draws henna designs on the tourists. She makes a pretty good living doing so, believe it or not. So next to Genevieve Fickler, I think of my mother as the eccentric.”
“You were raised by a flower child in a commune with free love?”
“Yes, indeed—free love.” His voice had dropped to a low rumble as he caught her gaze…and held it. “And nude beaches.” He lifted his brows in a sort of silent, teasing challenge.
Suddenly self-conscious and unaccountably warm, she stood abruptly and walked over to refill their glasses. Surely he wasn’t flirting with her.
“What sort of rough time was it?” she asked, hoping to turn the conversation to something less intense. At least for her. “That you went through. If you don’t mind saying.”
He stilled, then began to move his glass in small circles on the counter. “My wife and I split up a little more than two years ago. Just as I was finishing Blue Light.”
“Oh, Ethan. I’m sorry to hear that. Really sorry.”
“She was sleeping with one of my friends—but somehow the divorce was my fault.” Bitterness flattened his tone.
“Because she was sleeping with one of your friends?” Diana repeated, allowing full irony into her voice. “That sounds logical.” Now she regretted bringing it up, for it clearly bothered him. And aside from that, it was a situation too close to home for her comfort.
“Yeah. Well, as it turned out, Jenny figured she’d get out of our marriage since I was screwing around with one of my students, even though she’d been sleeping with my friend for months. Maybe even before we got married. I don’t know for certain. So it was my fault. Except that I wasn’t screwing around with Lexie, even though Lexie, a student and one of my teaching assistants—are you following this?—made everyone think that’s what was going on.”
“Nice,” Diana said.
“Yeah, my life was like a soap opera around that time.” He grimaced. “And that was even before my book took off. I suppose I could be grateful for that—the success of the book came after the di
vorce.”
Diana nodded with sympathy. “Thankful for small favors. How did she set you up? Lexie, I mean.”
“Oh, she was very smart, and I walked into it like a complete idiot. Lexie had been trying to get my attention for awhile, taking every class she could—as either student or TA—stopping by at the end of every office hour session so she could walk with me to wherever I was going next. She made sure we were seen together. A lot. By everyone. It was the perception, you see. Like I said, she was smart.
“Anyway, I wasn’t having any of it—not only was I married for Christ’s sake, but she was a student—and ten years younger than me, and I wasn’t into that.
“So she got desperate, I guess, and one night, she locked her keys in her car outside a place she knew I’d be. She got me to give her a ride home—with witnesses, of course—and then when we got there, she tried her best to get me to come in.” He looked up sharply at Diana, as if expecting her to accuse. “I didn’t. Not even to see her safely inside. I didn’t even step onto the porch.”
She was staring, listening in disbelief. “That does sound like a soap opera. I take it your wife heard about it and didn’t believe you when you told her what happened.”
He shrugged, his mouth a hard, flat line. “It wasn’t only my wife who heard about it—it was the whole damn anthro department and half the campus. You know what they say about a woman scorned—and Lexie considered herself scorned.
“She made a lot of noise, and a lot of trouble otherwise because of the way she’d set things up by always being seen with me. She didn’t actually come right out and accuse me of anything—fortunately—but she’d set the stage well enough that people made their own inferences. And of course, she didn’t deny anything. It was a very difficult time, and instead of defending and supporting me, like you’d expect a partner to do, Jenny used it as an excuse to end the marriage.”
“Jenny sounds like a real winner.”
“Yeah. I really know how to pick’em. Friends, wives, teaching assistants.” He gave another one of those wry smiles, but she recognized hurt lingering in his golden-brown gaze. He lifted his glass to take a long drink. “So, when I walked by the den just now, I noticed you had some of those Tarot cards out on the desk.”
Sinister Summer Page 12
