numbed all sexual response, or she just hadn’t met the right man.
Yep. She was officially in trouble.
* * *
E THAN SPENT S ATURDAY 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
Yep. She was officially in trouble.
* * *
E THAN SPENT S ATURDAY 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
Similar Books
