She’d said that until she hit on his secret. He evidently hadn’t noticed clean sheets were still appearing on his bed.
“You can finish if you’d like,” she said casually, dropping the still folded top sheet and pillowcases on the bed. “I’ll go do my own.”
“Sure,” he said with suspicious willingness. “Ethan’s gonna be here pretty soon. You didn’t forget, did you?”
As if. “Nope,” she said over her shoulder. “Dinner’s in the oven.”
“Oh, okay. ’Cuz tonight’s my class.”
“I’m well aware.” If her tone was dry, he didn’t seem to notice. A glance back told her he was clutching the top sheet and waiting for her to leave the room before he continued making his bed.
Not more than ten minutes later, the doorbell rang, followed by another thunder of footsteps and then Jake’s eager voice. Laura looked at the casserole she’d just removed from the oven and grimaced. Her pulse had rocketed at the sound of the doorbell. I’m as bad as Jake, she thought in dismay. Maybe worse, because her interest in their guest wasn’t nearly as innocent as his.
Carrying the casserole to the table, she felt a spurt of anxiety on top of everything else. If he didn’t like her cooking, he might not want to keep coming back. This was a favorite of hers and Jake’s, but, well, it was just a hamburger, cream cheese, tomato sauce and noodle bake. An everyday meal.
Too late to worry.
“Hey,” he said behind her. “Smells great.”
Pinning on a smile, Laura turned, to find he was as big and impressive and male as ever, shortening her breath. “It’s nothing fancy,” she warned.
His eyebrows rose. “It’s not out of a can or the freezer case.”
Her smile became more genuine. He had that effect on her. “You can’t tell me you never cook.”
“I know how, but I don’t very often.” He grimaced. “Don’t tell my mother.”
“That’s an easy promise, since I’ve never met her.”
“You will,” he said in a low voice imbued with...something.
They stared at each other for an unguarded moment, before a hissing sound recalled her to what she was supposed to be doing. She hastened back to the stove where the asparagus was boiling over.
Taking the pan off the burner, she poked the asparagus to find that, thank goodness, she’d rescued it in time. Jake popped into the kitchen then, wanting to know when dinner would be ready, and after she poured drinks they all sat down.
Jake dominated the conversation at first. His mood was almost hectic. He bragged about how much better his outside shots were getting, and how Mr. Nichols the PE teacher had let him choose teammates today, because they were playing basketball right now. Had he told Ethan that? “So it’s really great that I can practice whenever I want.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Ethan said easily.
Having gobbled his dinner, though, Jake got twitchy and wanted to know when they were going to leave.
Seemingly unperturbed, Ethan glanced at his watch. “Not for half an hour. We can’t have the room early, so there’s no point in getting there.”
“We could use the range, couldn’t we?”
Ethan shook his head. “It would take too long to set up. And, to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind taking it easy for a little bit. I’ve been on my feet most of the day.”
Jake’s face fell.
Ethan just grinned at him. “Go play a computer game or shoot some baskets, since you’re so full of energy. Let me talk to your mom for a bit and have a cup of coffee.”
Laura kept her expression pleasant with an effort when she was thinking, Yes! Go away. Did that make her a terrible mother? She didn’t care.
“Oh, fine.” Jake dragged out.
The front door closed a minute later. Laura took a bite.
Thump.
Ethan chuckled. “That one wasn’t all air.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish they all were. Although if he was too quiet, I’d have to go check on him, and this way I know he’s alive and present.”
Thump.
He winced. “Yeah, I’m acquiring new sympathy for my parents.”
They smiled at each other, another of those lingering moments that had her heart thudding loud enough in her ears to drown out the basketball ricocheting off the backboard.
“Things going okay?” Ethan asked quietly.
“Yes, except...” She found herself telling him about the damn magazine, grateful to have someone in whom she could confide. Most things she’d talk to her sister about, but not this.
Ethan listened, his gaze never leaving her face. He listened really well, never seeming restless. Maybe it was a skill he’d developed on the job, it occurred to her. God help her, maybe his mind was wandering the whole time she vented her worry aloud.
But he frowned a little at the end, and then said, “Giving him time makes sense. I’m not seeing any lessening of his interest in guns. That’s one reason I didn’t want to get there early tonight. Given an extra minute, he heads right for the case that holds the handguns for sale and pores over them. I don’t like the way he looks at them. He’s still pretty obsessed.”
She hated to say this, but had to. “You don’t think the class and you offering to shoot with him is, well, condoning his obsession?”
“I don’t know, but ignoring it wasn’t working.”
After a moment, she sighed. “You said that to him.” About the gossip at school, but the principle was the same. Sticking your head in the sand was pretty useless as a strategy.
Now his eyes held a smile. “And you nodded approvingly, as I recall.”
That called for her to make a face at him, and he laughed. “Don’t you hate it when you have to admit someone else is right and you’re wrong?”
She drew herself up haughtily. “Did I say anything like that?”
“You didn’t have to.” His smile faded and his gaze became...intent. “I kept thinking about you today.” His mouth twisted. “Yesterday, too.”
“Really?”
“Really.” His expression softened. “Maybe I shouldn’t complicate things, but...I guess I need to know whether you’re thinking about any of the same things I am. I’d really like to kiss you, Laura.”
She couldn’t have looked away from him to save her life. “I’ve...been thinking about that, too,” she admitted, in a voice that was soft and shaky.
“God.” Ethan shoved back his chair and surged to his feet, the heat in his eyes searing her. “I want to kiss you now.”
Her knees weren’t sure they wanted to hold her, but she managed to get to her feet, too. All she could say was, “Oh, Ethan,” but it was enough.
His arms closed around her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ETHAN STILL DIDN’T know if this was a good idea or not, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He had it bad for this woman, and when he’d heard her tremulous admission that she’d been thinking about the two of them together, too, that was it. He had to find out what she tasted like, whether her response was as shy as her eyes sometimes were, her skin as soft as he imagined.
His mind registered a distant thump, identified and dismissed it.
Laura got to her feet, only then all but fell into his arms, as if her legs didn’t want to hold her. That was fine by him. He wrapped her tight, savoring the feel of her body leaning into his, and bent his head to kiss her.
Leashing the need roaring through him wasn’t easy, but he was determined to take this slowly. There had to be a reason she often seemed shy about her response to him. A single mother, who knew how often she dated?
So he brushed her mouth with his, loving the way her lips quivered. He gently nipped her lower lip, and then stroked it with his tongue. She made a tiny, surprised sound. Ethan smiled and kissed her again, slow and careful. Only when he felt her relax did he stroke his way inside with his tongue.
She tasted as good as he’d dreamed. He was hardly conscious of the dinner they’d
both eaten, or the milk she’d drank with it. The something indefinable was what he sought. It was woman; it was her.
He teased her with his tongue until she teased him back, and then deepened the kiss, a rumble rising in his chest. Laura answered eagerly, going on tiptoe as if she’d found her strength. Her arms had come to be wrapped around his neck. One hand gripped his nape, kneading like a cat. God, that felt good. His hands were busy exploring and positioning her to suit him. He was too tall for her, of course; his erection pressed her belly instead of being cradled by her thighs the way he wanted. If the table had been cleared, he’d have lifted her onto it so he could move between her legs. As it was...Damn, it was too soon, he knew it was, but urgency had grabbed him and felt hot and sweet, running through his veins.
And he had some of his answers. The skin he’d found beneath her blouse was pure silk, the muscles taut and her vertebrae delicate. Her response was...not shy, but a little clumsy, as if she didn’t have a lot of experience. A widow with a child. He’d have to think about that when he could think.
He came up for air and looked down at her flushed cheeks, pink, slightly swollen lips and dazed blue eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely, then went back for more.
They moved in a slow circle, a kind of dance. Instinct had him searching for a surface to back her against. A way to lift her higher. He wanted her legs around his waist, her riding him—
A sharp sound brought his head up. Hell—it was the front door opening.
Laura looked startled by the interruption but uncomprehending. Part of him reveled in knowing he could make her forget her own son.
“Jake,” he murmured, and forced himself to let her go. Ethan managed to resume his seat just before the kid burst into the room. He might be young enough not to notice when a man was blatantly aroused—but he might not, too.
Standing where Ethan had left her, Laura blinked at her son as if her brain still wasn’t working.
“What’s wrong?” Jake asked, gaping at her.
Oh, hell, Ethan thought, seeing her cheeks not only flushed but rasped red by his stubble. His body hardened even as he knew he had to distract the kid.
“Anxious to get going, are you?” he asked, hiding his wince when his voice came out with a little extra gravel.
The boy tore his gaze from his mother, whose eyes widened in alarm as her brain resumed function.
“Oh!” she said. “I just need to clear the table. Darn, I meant to offer you some cookies.”
“Cookies?” Jake said hopefully. “We could take them with us.”
“We could.” Ethan mimicked the hopeful tone, although he could care less about food right this minute.
It gave her something to laugh about, though, and she scurried to grab dirty dishes to carry to the sink. Apparently she got a look at the clock on the microwave because she said, “Oh, my. You do need to be on your way.”
Think about cookies, Ethan told himself grimly. Handling guns. Shooting at the familiar paper target as a herd of kids watched. Kids whom he would soon be certifying as safe to handle hunting rifles even though he was inclined to think the words kid and rifle qualified as an oxymoron.
Thank God, his erection was subsiding as long as he could keep his eyes off Laura.
Even when he didn’t look directly at her, he remained conscious of her bustling around, though, her delicate face as pink as if she’d been standing over a hot stove instead of being kissed blind. God, he thought—what he felt was more than lust. He’d just stepped into dangerous territory.
“You look weird, Mom,” her son proclaimed.
“Well, thank you very much.” Her laugh sounded artificial to Ethan, but then he was in the know.
She handed Jake a ziplock plastic baggie full of obviously homemade cookies. Okay, they did look good now. As Ethan rose, she said, “Hold on, let me get you a cup of coffee since we never got around to having any. I’ll send you with one of my travel mugs. Jake, pour yourself some more milk if you can take it without spilling it in Ethan’s truck.”
“Mo-om!”
Only once, as she saw them out the front door, did Ethan let himself meet her eyes. What he saw there was pretty much what he felt: astonishment edging into shock, aching regret that they’d been interrupted and yearning.
His instant attraction to her hadn’t been one-sided. And, despite his profession and her initial hostility, she was willing to act on it.
Yeah, triumph was part of the mix he felt, too. That, and a deep ache in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever.
“I’ll have him home at the usual time,” he said, a little gruffly, lifting the travel mug in an abbreviated salute. “Uh...thanks for dinner.”
“You’re very welcome,” her lips said while her eyes begged him to tell her when she’d see him again.
Or so his ego decided.
“Come on,” Jake whined, and Ethan perforce followed him toward the street.
“I’ll call,” he said over his shoulder, not caring if the kid wondered why.
She waved in acknowledgment and shut the door.
Kids, he reminded himself. Guns.
Damn it.
* * *
EVEN AS HE sank his teeth into a cookie, Jake cast a suspicious glance at Ethan. Something had been weird with Mom and Ethan. Had they been talking about him? Or were they fighting? Or—
He choked on a piece of cookie and had a coughing fit. One hand still on the steering wheel, Ethan whacked him on the back.
Once he could suck in air again, Jake reverted to the thought that had made him breathe at the wrong time. Did Mom like Ethan? Did he like her? Boyfriend/girlfriend kind of liking?
He couldn’t imagine. Mom never even went out with guys. Cody’s mom was divorced, and she did all the time. Jake hadn’t told Mom, but once when he was spending the night, a strange man had come out of Mrs. Boone’s bedroom in the morning. Jake could tell Cody didn’t like it, but he’d shrugged and said, “Yeah, guys stay sometimes.”
What if Ethan started staying overnight and coming out of Mom’s room in the morning?
Oh, gag. Some of the girls at school were starting to whisper about boys, but Jake couldn’t imagine ever wanting to kiss one or anything. He knew he would; guys not that much older than him said they did. And Ron had stolen a Playboy magazine, and the two of them had stared for a long time at the pictures before Ron finally hid it in a drawer and said, “Big deal.”
Sometimes, after he turned out his lights, Jake found himself remembering those pictures and feeling...he didn’t know. Restless, maybe. And sort of fascinated.
But...Mom naked? No way!
He sneaked another look at Ethan. Had he thought about Mom naked?
No, he decided, that was dumb. More likely they’d been arguing about him. Mom was probably saying he shouldn’t be going to the gun range and Ethan had disagreed. That would explain the tension Jake had felt in the room. Sometimes it was like that when he and Mom had a fight. His skin would prickle, like during a lightning storm.
When he and Ethan walked into the range, most of the kids were already there. He wished they’d come earlier so he could at least look at the guns in the glass case. There were some majorly cool ones there. He’d recognized some from his magazines. But all Ethan had wanted to do was sit and talk to Mom. He could at least have come out and played basketball with me, Jake thought, feeling resentful.
So maybe Ethan did like Mom.
Tonight, a couple of mothers and a dad hung around the back of the small room used for classes. If their kids minded, Jake couldn’t tell. If Mom had insisted on coming, he’d have been pretending for all he was worth that she wasn’t there. But maybe the girls, especially, didn’t feel that way.
The talking part of the class was boring. Jake slumped in his seat and didn’t really listen. They were supposed to spend most of the session on the range, but really it only ended up being, like, half the time. And then Ethan only let them shoot .22 rifles, which was fun b
ut not what Jake wanted. What he really wanted was to try Ethan’s Glock, which he wore on his hip as he went from student to student, correcting their stance or the way they held the rifle. Because Jake was in the next lane, despite wearing earplugs and earmuffs he heard Ethan talking to a girl who shut her eyes every time she pulled the trigger. Since they were all wearing eye protection, too, Jake didn’t know how Ethan could tell except she wasn’t hitting the target.
Something else Jake didn’t like: the targets were sort of vaguely deer-shaped. He wanted to use the ones he’d seen in movies, a man’s torso and head, because he knew that was what cops would be shooting at.
Tonight was the first time since the day of the gun show Jake had seen Ethan with the Glock. He hadn’t even worn it to the other two classes, and because Mom was so freaked about guns, he didn’t when he came to Jake’s house. But tonight, as soon as they left the house and he got in his big honkin’ SUV, he’d used a key on his ring to unlock the glove compartment and taken the gun and holster out of it. He took a moment to snap his holster back on his belt even before he started the engine.
Jake had wanted really bad to hold the gun. Just looking at it made his chest feel tight in a way that was good and bad, both. He couldn’t remember exactly what Dad had carried. He’d only been five, too young to pay attention to stuff like that, but knew Dad’s had looked a lot like Ethan’s. And Ethan said the Glock was a common weapon for cops to carry. There was no way Jake could ask Mom what gun it was he’d fired that day.
So part of him was thinking now with a kind of horror, Was that what I used to kill Marco? And part of him was conscious of how powerful that gun was. The memory of the way it had leaped in his hands as if it was alive was embedded in his very bones. But he’d been little then. Now he was almost as tall as Mom. He could control it. He’d be powerful holding it.
He didn’t know why, but he badly wanted to relive the experience of holding a gun like that. It tangled him up inside sometimes, because Mom would never understand. He wasn’t sure anyone would.
Having run out of his allotted ammunition, he stepped back from the counter, leaning the .22 pointing down against it, and started to lift off his earmuffs.
To Love a Cop Page 11
