Dying To Play. Debra Webb

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      Chapter 9

      Elaine managed to scarf down half her burger before she told Callahan they had to go. She had neither the time nor the inclination to drop him off at the station considering how traffic would be backed up at that time of day. Instead, she told him she had to stop by to see her mother a moment and he could wait in the car…if he didn’t mind.

      He shrugged that indifferent gesture so characteristic of his personality and didn’t argue. He’d managed to shovel down his burger by that time, anyway.

      Elaine parked her Jeep in the long curved drive that cut through the elegant landscape of her childhood home. The yard instantly brought back dozens of memories of touch footfall and tree-climbing exploits. There was scarcely a tree on the property that Elaine hadn’t scaled at least once. With three macho brothers, she’d learned the art of playing hard and fast very quickly. Her only sister, Judith, two years older, had preferred baking and curling hair to playing with her brothers and tomboy sister. Elaine couldn’t help smiling. She’d had the perfect childhood with the epitome of the all-American family and wonderful parents. They’d done everything together and had always been there for each other. Both her mother and her father had been heavily involved with their children’s lives. Still were for that matter.

      “I’ll be quick,” she promised as she unbuckled her seat belt. Guilt nudged at her but she ignored it. This wasn’t about the case. This was personal. She didn’t want him anywhere near her personal life.

      “No problem.” He surveyed the yard and the house beyond. “Nice place.”

      Elaine abruptly wondered where Callahan had grown up. Did he have family? What did they think of the shambles that appeared to be his career and personal life? She frowned, shook off the foolish thought and stared out at the classic Georgian home that stood a proud two stories and a roomy five thousand square feet.

      “Thanks.”

      She’d just gotten the driver’s-side door open when she heard her mother’s voice.

      “I didn’t know you were bringing a guest!”

      Elaine cringed. Her mother was a typical Buckhead socialite. No way would she ever stand for anyone waiting in the car. Atlanta’s home of the wealthy, socially and politically prominent, Buckhead residents strictly adhered to certain codes.

      “Mom, this is Special Agent Trace Callahan.”

      Callahan emerged from the vehicle, offering her mother that megawattage smile, which charmed her in two seconds flat. “Mrs. Jentzen, it’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He took Lana Jentzen’s outstretched hand and brushed a kiss to the knuckles. Her mother pressed her free hand to her chest and giggled. Giggled!

      Elaine’s jaw sagged in disbelief. Any possibility of damage control went out the proverbial window with that line and showy display. She would need to know where Callahan hailed from in order to determine if he’d just put on the dog for her mother or if he’d been raised a true Southern gentleman. She seriously doubted the latter, though the conclusion could very well be based on nothing more than her intense dislike for the man. Or was she confusing distrust for dislike? If one considered the way he could make her shiver in awareness…forget it. She wasn’t going there.