To Love a Cop

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Deflated, she realized that of course this was why he’d called.

  “Yes.” She made her tone bright, unconcerned. “Don’t worry. As soon as I saw the article in the paper, I guessed you would have to work tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I hope you hadn’t already gone to bed.”

  “No, I was just thinking about it.”

  “I shouldn’t have dumped all this on you. I wanted—” He went quiet.

  “You wanted?” Her voice was so hushed, it was nearly a whisper.

  “To talk to you. That’s all. Thanks for listening to me.”

  “You’re very welcome. I...kept thinking about you today.”

  “Did you?” he said huskily. “Any chance I get lunch Sunday once the backboard is up?”

  Fingers tight on the phone, she felt herself smiling. “Even if it isn’t up.”

  “Deal.” He sounded satisfied. “Ten o’clock okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Good night, Laura.”

  “’Night,” she murmured, and ended the call. She let her head fall back and thought again, Oh, I am in such trouble.

  But...Ethan Winter wasn’t like Matt. She did know that. They might do the same job, but they were very different men. So...it might be all right. Mightn’t it?

  He was amazing with Jake. Her forehead crinkled as she thought about that. He’d said he didn’t have kids and was divorced. Otherwise... Wow, it was a fine moment to realize how little she knew about his personal life. He lived in an apartment. His father was a US marshal whose upcoming retirement would be a relief to his mother. That was about the extent of it. What if he had a girlfriend? She might have kids.

  Not my business.

  Yes, it was. He knew so much about her. Everything. Anxiety trickled through her bloodstream at the very idea he could be the kind of man who would spend time with her and Jake and deliberately fail to mention the really significant people in his life.

  Along with something close to panic, Laura felt like a fool, because she had made some big assumptions. She could blame him for them, but she bore some responsibility, too. She hadn’t been treating him like her new best friend, whatever she’d said; she had been acting as if they were starting a relationship. One that wasn’t all about Jake, no matter what she’d told herself.

  Now she was mad, and ashamed, and— Wait. If he had a woman waiting at home for him, why would he have called tonight? And said that, about wanting to talk to her? As if...he didn’t have anyone else?

  The relief was profound. Flooded with it, she drew her knees up and bumped her forehead against them. Too many emotions, too quick. This was like being on a roller coaster, and she didn’t like it. She wanted off, but she’d probably stagger if she tried to stand up.

  She moaned before she could stop herself.

  I could fall in love with him, she thought in shock. With a man who carries a gun every day.

  A man who hadn’t carried it into her house since she’d told him how she felt.

  Matt had scoffed at her fears about his carelessness with his gun.

  Ethan, she knew without question, would listen to what she said, not belittle it. Moreover, he would never have been careless to start with.

  Still.

  He was good for Jake.

  And I can’t seem to help myself.

  As she turned out lights, got ready for bed and finally lay waiting for sleep to take her, it was Ethan she kept seeing. Ethan, with a long, utterly controlled stride, huge hands that felt so gentle when he touched her, tousled brown hair, warm eyes.

  Speculation on what kind of lover he’d make forestalled any hope of sleep. Instead, her body was rigid, tingling. Heat pooled between her thighs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way, or so much as thought about what it would be like to go to bed with a man. Either anger and grief numbed all sexual response, or she just hadn’t met the right man.

  Yep. She was officially in trouble.

  * * *

  ETHAN SPENT SATURDAY interviewing and reinterviewing the Fischmans’ neighbors. Sam Clayton was tied up working an ugly gang rape, so Ethan was on his own for the moment. He also went by gas stations in the area, hoping someone had noticed a couple of tough-looking teenage boys filling gas cans. And, damn it, he called a dozen more clothing stores, department stores and boutiques, hoping to nail down where the mannequin had come from.

  No cigar.

  Despite his other investigations, he found himself eating, breathing and dreaming the swastika arsons. He had moments feeling as if the stench of smoke clung to him. Waking up Sunday, he realized how much he needed a real day off. Spending time with a sexy woman and a kid whose problems were still fixable.

  He’d half expected Jake’s enthusiasm for helping hang the backboard to wane partway through the job, but it didn’t. He listened carefully to instructions, followed them well and understood Ethan’s explanations.

  When they were done, happiness all but blazed from Jake as he gazed up at the newly installed basketball backboard and hoop above the garage door. “This is so cool!”

  Smiling, Ethan folded his tall ladder and leaned it against the house out of the way. It had to hang out the back of his Yukon, and he didn’t want to leave his vehicle unlocked when he was in the house. Especially since he now made a habit of leaving his gun in the glove compartment. A locked glove compartment, but he suspected anyone determined enough could break into it.

  “Go get your ball,” he suggested. “We’ll try it out.”

  “Yeah!”

  Calling excitedly to his mother, the boy disappeared into the house. When he reappeared, Ethan was glad to see Laura accompanying him. She wore snug jeans and a pretty sweater with a deep U-neck that bared the uppermost swell of her breasts. He completely approved. The promised rain had yet to happen, and when he first arrived she’d told him of course she couldn’t paint if there was any possibility at all that it might rain.

  “Absolutely not,” he’d agreed, straight-faced.

  Her smirk made him smile even in retrospect.

  Now she came to Ethan’s side and gazed worriedly upward. “Is it the same height as one in a gym?”

  His mouth quirked. If only she knew how many times he and Jake had measured and remeasured before drilling the first holes. “To the fraction of an inch. Conceding that the driveway isn’t as flat as a gym floor. Wouldn’t do Jake any good to practice his shot if this hoop was off. All he’d do then is throw clunkers when he got to the gym.”

  “Oh.” She beamed at him. “That makes sense. So, have you tried it out yet?”

  “Nope.” He lifted a hand. “We needed a witness.”

  Jake bounced the ball to him. Without thought, Ethan dribbled it a couple of times, bent his knees and rose to lob in an easy jump shot. The ball swished through the net. Laura made admiring sounds that would have had him blushing if he hadn’t caught her amusement. So, okay, he was showing off again.

  Jake had grabbed the ball and laid it back up. Swish.

  Laura retreated onto the lawn, and man and boy began to play more seriously. Ethan shot from everywhere but the middle of the street and every one went in. He had the golden touch today. Jake started rougher but became more assured. Ethan kept having flashbacks—himself playing in front of the family home. The smack of the ball on concrete as he dribbled, the thud of it hitting the backboard. Dad often coming out to play with him, undismayed when his kid started beating the crap out of him. Dusk deepening the sky, and Ethan playing on long after his father had gone in. Eventually Dad had installed a floodlight so Ethan could keep playing well into the evening. Yeah, he thought, I might have to do that for Jake, too.

  He’d wait, though, to see if the boy spent anywhere near the time out here that Ethan had as a kid. Days were lengthening; night lighting wouldn’t be necessary until the shorter days of autumn anyway.

  Disconcerted by the long-range planning, he had to ask himself whether he’d still be around that many months away. No, h
e wasn’t going to disappear from Jake Vennetti’s life, no matter what happened with Laura. Too many people had already done that to him. It could get awkward, though, if things went sour with her.

  Then don’t do anything stupid, he thought.

  Question was: What qualified as stupid? He wished he knew. Wished he thought he could resist the temptation she represented.

  She went inside, and then popped out to call them in for lunch. She’d whipped up some really great black bean quesadillas, followed by a peach cobbler.

  “I froze a bunch of peaches last year. This was my next-to-last bag, so you’d better appreciate what you’re eating,” she informed them.

  Mouth full, he made some incoherent sound meant to express a great deal of appreciation.

  Jake had just finished scraping his bowl clean when the phone rang. In Ethan’s experience, kids tended to outrace their parents to grab a ringing phone, but this one ignored it. Laura answered, said, “Just a moment, please,” and handed it to Jake, who stared at her in astonishment. “Ron,” she murmured.

  He took the phone from her, handling it as awkwardly as if he’d never used one before, then mumbled into it, “Uh, yeah, hi.”

  Both adults eavesdropped unashamedly until he looked up, taking in his audience, and stood, his chair lurching back. “Yeah” was the only other thing he said before he left the room and, a moment later, firmly closed his bedroom door.

  “Ron is the friend who was hanging out at the school last week when Jake and I were there,” Ethan said.

  Laura grimaced. “Part of me wants Jake to tell him where to go.”

  Ethan grinned. “Really? After hearing my affecting speech on forgiveness and understanding why his friend might have reacted the way he did to the rumors?”

  She blew a raspberry and he laughed.

  Poking at the remnants of her cobbler, she said, “You know, I was thinking.”

  Intrigued by her overly casual tone, he cocked an eyebrow. “Do that sometimes, do you?”

  This time, she stuck out her tongue. Then her gaze lowered to his bowl. “Would you like more?”

  “I’m going to be sorry, but I would love more.” Only good manners had kept him from licking the bowl.

  He watched as she spooned another heap of cobbler into his bowl and added a scoop of ice cream. The whole while, he had an ear out for Jake’s return, hoping he wouldn’t.

  “You were thinking?” he prompted, after she’d set his second helping in front of him and resumed her own seat.

  “Oh... Only that I don’t know much about you.” She sounded unexpectedly hesitant. “You’re so good with Jake, it occurred to me that...I don’t know, you must have spent time with other kids.”

  Comprehension blinked into existence. She wasn’t really asking whether he had...who knew? stepchildren or something of the kind. Or at least he hoped she wasn’t. I’m an idiot, he thought.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE’D SAID HE wasn’t married, hadn’t he? But, of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with a woman, and one who might even have children. No wonder that hint of shyness was in evidence.

  “No kids,” he said. “I haven’t even been in a relationship for a while. I told you I was married once, right? It’s been...” He had to think. “Seven years since the divorce. No, six. It wasn’t that long before—” He screeched to a stop. Before your son shot another boy to death, was what he was thinking. Before I shot a man to death. Good God. Was it possible the two events had happened the same year? He cleared his throat. “Before I met you the first time.”

  “You mean, at the funeral?” She frowned. “Why hadn’t we met before that?”

  “I can’t swear we didn’t, but I don’t think so. I’m...good with faces.” You, I’d remember.

  “Jake said you played fast-pitch with Matt. I did go to a couple of those games, so I must have seen you, at least.”

  He nodded. He’d suspected as much. “You might have met my ex-wife, then. Erin.”

  “If so, I don’t remember her.” She moved a shoulder. “Did you two think about having kids?”

  “By the time we got to where we’d have wanted to start a family, our marriage was on the skids.” He watched her carefully in turn. “She had trouble with my job.”

  “Were you already a cop when you met her?”

  “Yeah, but in theory turns out to be different than in practice.”

  Laura nodded her understanding. “Back then, I’d hear other wives—and a few husbands—complaining. I’d have sympathized more if they worried about the danger instead of the inconvenience of having to change plans at the last minute too often.”

  He grunted his agreement. “In the early days, Erin claimed to worry about me. As she got pissed because I missed dinner parties or couldn’t get off in time even though we had concert tickets or reservations or whatever, she quit worrying and started resenting instead. It’s a pretty common pattern. Cops have one of the highest divorce rates of people in any profession.”

  “I’ve read that, even though I don’t understand it.”

  Surprised, he waited for her to finish the thought.

  “Either you love someone, or you don’t. Isn’t that what it should come down to?” She looked at him as if she really wanted him to answer.

  “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “That’s the way it should be. In fairness, though, marriages fail because life wears us down. Little irritations mount. Cops do work long and erratic hours. It’s almost worse when you become a detective. Forget end of shift. If you just caught on a case, you work until you’re too tired to think logically, and then all you want is to go home and crash, not listen to someone else talking about her day or, God forbid, go out to dinner with your wife and another couple.” He tipped his head and studied her. “You weren’t ever aggravated at Matt because he didn’t make it home when you were counting on him?”

  “No.” Grief darkened her eyes. “I was aggravated when he tossed his gun on top of the refrigerator or in the drawer beside our bed instead of putting it in the safe.”

  “I’m sorry.” He covered her hand where it lay on the table with his. “He did it often?”

  “Yes. It became...a battlefield, in a way. He dug in his heels at my nagging. If I’d handled it differently—”

  “Whoa!” Angry at her husband, long dead though he was, Ethan stopped her. “What he did was on him, not you. I don’t understand how he could leave a weapon out when he had a kid in the house. There’s no excuse. Not a one.”

  She bit her lip and gazed searchingly at him again. “No,” she whispered, finally. “Thank you for saying that. There isn’t.”

  “Thank you for saying what you did, too.” His voice came out husky. “Implying Erin’s the one who didn’t love me enough. I still ask myself whether it wasn’t the other way around. If I’d cared enough, I could have quit the job and found something else to do. In the end, I guess I didn’t.”

  “No, it wasn’t the same thing,” she said stoutly. “She was asking you not to be the man you are. The man she knew you were when she met you. Do you really think your marriage would have survived the resentment you’d have felt if you’d given up the job you loved for something that would always pale in comparison?”

  He was shaking his head before she finished. “No. I know it wouldn’t have. That’s one reason I refused.”

  Her lips curved into a soft smile that made his heart go bump. “Then you were smart.” Before he could say anything, she frowned. “I wonder why Jake didn’t come back?”

  “Still on the phone?”

  She gave him a look. “Come on. You were his age once upon a time.”

  Oh, yeah. Eleven-year-old boys weren’t given to chatting at all, and especially not on the phone. Calls were reluctantly made when required to set up a meet. Having to make conversation with a parent, however momentarily, was torture.

  “I’ll go find out,” he said, pushing back his chair. “Assuming I can still heave myself to my feet.”r />
  She chuckled. “I have faith.”

  Carrying the picture of that last smile in his head, he went down the hall to her son’s bedroom and rapped his knuckles on the door. “Jake?”

  “Yeah?”

  Well, at least he hadn’t sneaked out.

  “I might take off now,” he said.

  “Oh.” The door swung open. “I didn’t think you were going yet. I just, uh, was thinking. You know.”

  Ethan propped a shoulder against the door frame. “About your friend?”

  “Yeah. I told him about you putting up the hoop. He wants to come over and try it.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “That I’d ask Mom.”

  “I see. So what’s the conclusion?”

  His face screwed up in a pained expression. “I don’t know! I’m still mad, but—” He shrugged.

  Ethan clapped him on his shoulder. “Tell you what. Call him back and say sure. If you want, I’ll hang around a little longer. I’ll blow him away by dunking the ball a few times. I won’t go home until the little snot is worshipping at your altar, because clearly you have way more amazing friends than he does and don’t need him anyway.”

  Jake’s big grin made Ethan blink. The kid looked so much like Matt, it was rare when an expression echoed Laura’s instead.

  “Can I?”

  “If it’s okay with your mom.”

  The boy rushed to the kitchen to find out if he could ask Ron over. “Ethan says he’ll stay for a while. You know, to shoot some more baskets with us.”

  Having meandered after Jake, Ethan reached the kitchen in time to see her smile at her son. “We have no plans. By all means, put Ethan on display.” Her dry tone and the laughter in her eyes had him smiling.

  Jake hurried back to his bedroom to get the phone, leaving the two of them momentarily alone.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m sure you had better things to do with your afternoon.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t think of a one.” Realizing how true that was came as a hammer blow. Yes, I want to hang around with two eleven-year-old boys, maybe give them some tips to make them better ball players. Hope one of the boys’ mothers comes out to watch.