Detroit Combat by Randy Wayne White

must seem like to you!”
    Hunched over, she was rubbing her hands together.
    â€œOut slumming, Detective Riddock?”
    She started to say something, then shook her head in exasperation. “God, I can’t believe myself sometimes!” She paced to the fireplace and tried to warm her hands over the few remaining coals. “I can be such a nerd!”
    Hawker shrugged, went to the kitchen, poured Johnnie Walker into two small tumblers, and carried one to the lady. “Tell me what you did—I’d like to yell at you too.”
    She threw her head back and made a whispered growl of disgust. “I left here at just after eleven. All the way home I kept thinking that I wanted to—” She looked at him briefly and swung her head back toward the nonexistent fire. “I kept thinking I wanted to talk to you some more.”
    â€œOh?”
    She was very careful not to look into his eyes. “Yeah. I’m not sure we covered everything. You know. There are a lot of details to discuss.”
    â€œOh, right,” said Hawker. “Details.”
    â€œAnyway, I paced around the house for a while, then got back into my car and drove back here, hoping to catch you before you went to bed.”
    â€œAnd you live close, so that doesn’t explain the lost hour—”
    â€œI missed the turn, tried to stop when I shouldn’t have, and went into a snowdrift. I felt like such an idiot. I promised myself I wouldn’t come and get you no matter what. I kept waiting for someone to stop and offer to help. But we’re pretty out of the way here. There isn’t much traffic on Sunday nights, and the cars that did pass didn’t offer.”
    â€œThat’s not so bad—”
    â€œWait. I’m not done. When no one stopped, I tried to get the car out myself. I put wood behind the wheels and spun the tires and rocked it—and nothing worked. Finally I shut off the engine and started to dig the snow away with one of the hubcaps. I left the headlights on so I could see.” She made her little sound of anguish again. “That ran the battery down, and now the damn car won’t start.”
    Hawker put his arm around her. She resisted for a moment, then allowed herself to be drawn to him. “Do you know why I didn’t want you to leave tonight?” he said into her ear.
    â€œUm-uh.”
    â€œIt wasn’t because I wanted to discuss details.”
    â€œNo?”
    Hawker brushed her cheek with his lips and rubbed his face against the shampoo softness of her blond hair. “No, I wanted you to stay because I’m cold and lonely, and I like you very much.”
    She stretched her arms up to him and Hawker kissed her full lips, feeling the warmth of her hips press through the thin cotton warmup suit.
    She took a step backward and took off her heavy jacket. There was a new glow in her gray eyes now; a glow brighter, more demanding, more feverish than he had expected. “James,” she whispered, “the fire, it needs wood.”
    â€œWhat? The fire … right.” He turned and added a stack of kindling and three chunks of oak in a heap. It smoldered, then began to crack and whoosh, blazing.
    He turned back around to see the woman carrying a heavy blanket from the bedroom. The hiking boots added length to the long legs, and her breasts were full beneath the ski sweater. She spread the blanket on the floor and held out her hand.
    â€œNot many people know what a clutz I really am. I’ve spent my whole life trying to camouflage it—the B.A. degree, the law degree, the cold businesswoman facade. They’re all just disguises. Beneath the facade, I’m still a gawky, flat-chested adolescent too shy and awkward, and much too sensitive.” She nuzzled him. “What? You still like me even though you know the truth?”
    Hawker took her hand and pulled her to him. He kissed her softly. “I had a workout tonight that set