In Hope's Shadow. Janice Johnson Kay

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СКАЧАТЬ about the years that came before. Years that might explain why she’d chosen the work she did.

      “I’ll try again,” he said. “With Rachel, that is. Maybe buy her some better winter boots and mittens she can leave here.”

      “Good idea, except she’ll outgrow them fast.”

      Time for a segue into the reason for his call. “Eve, I’m hoping you’ll let me take you to dinner one of these nights.”

      Waiting through the ensuing silence, Ben felt about sixteen, asking out the girl he’d had a crush on for the past year. No, longer than that—since middle school. He felt light-headed and realized he was holding his breath. Stupid. It wasn’t as if this mattered so much. It was maybe a little more awkward than usual, because of Eve’s relationship to Seth and Bailey, but—

      “I’d like that,” she said simply.

      Yes! “I’m free any night,” he admitted. That was him, man about town. “But we can wait until the weekend if that would be better for you.”

      “No, as long as I don’t stay out late, a weeknight is fine.”

      He wished it wasn’t too late for tonight. “Tomorrow?”

      “Tomorrow is good.” Did she sound bemused?

      Stimson didn’t have a lot of fine dining, but he didn’t want to suggest they drive any distance given that they both probably had to get up early the next morning. “Any chance you like Thai?” he asked.

      She did. There might not be a decent Italian restaurant in town, but the Thai one was good. She gave him her address, and they agreed on six. “Just give me a call if you have to be late,” she said, surprising him with her understanding until he remembered she’d dated Seth.

      Damn it, had she slept with Seth? Man, he hoped not. Not only for his sake, he realized, but also for Eve’s and Bailey’s.

      He leaned back in his chair, suppressing a grin. He had a date.

      * * *

      “I ALMOST CALLED you today,” Eve confessed the next evening to Ben. The host, whose English was poor to nonexistent, had seated them in a booth, handed them menus and backed away. Eve didn’t reach for hers.

      Neither did Ben. His mouth kicked up at one corner. “Because you couldn’t wait for this evening?”

      She huffed, which had him smiling. “Seriously. Something happened today involving one of my kids.”

      “Your kids?” He looked startled.

      Despite her worry about Joel, Eve giggled at Ben’s expression. “Not literally! I’m sorry. I think of them that way. The kids I supervise.”

      “I had this sudden picture of children packed into bunk beds behind closed doors in your apartment.” Amusement laced that slightly gritty voice. “You sternly telling them to hush until you and the nice man were gone.”

      “Are you a nice man?” Lord, she was flirting. Where had her ambivalence gone?

      “Of course I am.” Giving her a lazy, sexy grin, he nodded at her menu and picked up his own. “We should probably order before we delve into why you needed to call a detective about one of your kids.”

      They both decided on jasmine tea and to share an order of spring rolls. He ordered a green curry with chicken, Eve a spicy eggplant in a chili paste.

      “Trying to scare me off?” Ben asked drolly.

      She blinked, and probably blushed. “Oh, dear. I didn’t think. It probably will, um, give me interesting breath.”

      He only laughed, although his eyes were heavy-lidded. “Curry might not taste so good secondhand, either.”

      Eve knew she was blushing now. He intended to kiss her. Thank heavens the lighting in here was dim and her skin didn’t show the warmth as obviously as someone much paler would.

      “Your kid,” he prompted.

      Kid? Then, embarrassed by what must be a blank expression, she said hurriedly, “His name is Joel Kekoa. His dad is Hawaiian and Joel looks it, too.”

      “Wait. Does he play football?”

      “Yes. You go to games?”

      “Sometimes. He’s good.”

      “So I’m told. I mean, I’ve seen him play, but I’m not a connoisseur. He’s a senior, and had the fun of being recruited by half a dozen major college programs.”

      “Yeah? Which one did he pick?”

      “The University of Oregon.”

      Ben nodded, then waited for her to continue. He must know that grades weren’t the problem; she wouldn’t have been tempted to call him about anything like that.

      So she explained about the grumpy old man next door to Joel’s foster home, and about the smashed rose canes. She surprised herself by also sharing her unease with the new foster mother and her son.

      “Then I had a call in the middle of the night from a Deputy Pruitt.”

      Ben nodded.

      “Somebody threw a rock through the guy’s bedroom window. I guess it just missed him. It was big enough, it could have done some real damage. The deputy says it was thrown hard. It skipped off the bed and smashed into the closet door, scarring it. Mr. Rowe—that’s the neighbor—insists it had to be Joel who threw it. He’s big, athletic, has a good arm, and supposedly was mad because Mr. Rowe complained to the foster parents about the damage to his roses.”

      “Was he?”

      “No. He was more upset that the stepmom seemed to doubt him when he said he didn’t have anything to do with it.”

      She felt—and sounded—troubled. She’d only talked to the deputy on the phone, not in person, but from his tone she’d suspected he was rolling his eyes at her defense of Joel, the obvious culprit.

      Their spring rolls arrived, and she spooned dipping sauce to her small plate and took a roll, mumbling, “Ouch,” when she discovered how hot it still was.

      Ignoring the food, Ben asked, “Did the kid get arrested?”

      She gaped at him. “No! How could anybody prove he’d thrown the rock? There were no witnesses.”

      Expression inscrutable, he didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Why me? This doesn’t sound like anything that would normally be referred to a detective.”

      Was she imagining his restraint? Or was it that she’d imagined his sympathy the other night when she talked about the plight of foster children?

      “Just...to get your take.” She shrugged. “I had the feeling the deputy instantly agreed Joel was guilty. Foster kid, minor feud going on between him and the neighbor.”

      “Who do you СКАЧАТЬ