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Jaw set, he snapped photos with his cell. He dialed local law enforcement, asked for Jillian’s cop neighbor Officer Ray to respond to the call if he was available, then silently strode back inside.
Smiling, Jillian hurried in from the laundry room. “What did you forget?” she again whispered.
“Kitchen,” he murmured, pointing.
He followed her into the other room, and she turned to face him, honeyed brows knit. “Zane, what’s the matter?”
“Someone slashed your tires. All four.”
She gasped. “What? How is that possible? We were right here.”
“I know. I’ve taken photos and called Officer Ray. I figured he’d have a vested interest, seeing as how he lives next door.”
“Yes. Good idea.” Wide, troubled violet eyes met his. “Who would do such a thing and why?”
“Damned good question, I was hoping you’d know the answer. You also got a hang-up call right before that. Anybody you’ve pissed off lately?”
White teeth worried her plump, pink lower lip, and she tugged at her hair.
“Jillian?”
“Well … Our new gang intervention program is picking up steam, and we’re starting to make inroads in diverting high-risk kids into healthier, more productive activities. We’ve heard secondhand rumblings that the leaders aren’t too happy about it, but nobody’s made actual threats or approached the center, or any of our employees. Difficult to imagine they’d bother to come all the way to my home and attack my car. They’d be more likely to hit the center, or lash out at Loucinda, our director. It’s probably just a random case of spur-of-the-moment vandalism.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “Little pink Cooper tends to inspire antagonistic reactions in the male population.”
The thought of Jillian at the mercy of gangbangers iced his blood. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go back outside and wait for Officer Ray.”
“Let’s try not to wake up Casey, though. He needs his rest, and this might upset him.”
“The cops won’t tear in sirens blaring for a tire slashing. When you see them arrive, you can come out and give a statement. I’ll handle everything else, including replacing your tires. Then I’ll eventually get to the grocery store.”
Her eyes sheened. “Zane, I can call my dad. You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t, but I’m going to. Tell you what, I never did get that promised dessert from the other night.” Cocking a brow, he smiled. “I’m partial to peach pie, if it’s not a hassle.”
Her endearing grin made his heartbeat kick. “Yours for the asking. A la mode, even. I have peaches, but add vanilla ice cream to the grocery list.”
Now tormented by visions of stretching her out on the kitchen table, stripping off her clothes, and slowly, meticulously licking ice cream off every inch of her beautiful curves, Zane stalked outside, barely remembering at the last moment not to slam the door.
* * *
Three hours later, Zane parked the Barbie Car in Jillian’s driveway and reached into the backseat for the grocery bags. Officer David Ray had turned out to be a burly K-9 cop, packing no-nonsense efficiency along with a big, scarily intelligent police dog named Axel that looked like a German Shepherd had crossbred with a semi-truck.
When Zane introduced himself, Ray’s sharp cop’s eyes had glinted with speculation that told Zane the officer remembered Jillian’s earlier requested background check. But Ray had followed Zane’s lead and avoided small talk, sticking strictly to procedure. He’d expedited Jillian’s report, summoned an auto club truck bearing new tires, and assured Zane he’d be keeping a closer watch on the neighborhood.
Both bags gripped in one hand, Zane opened the front door. The homey scent of chicken broth teased his nostrils and mingled with the fruity fragrance of cooked peaches. AnotherStar Warsmovie flickered on the TV screen and Casey was sitting up on the sofa, still hugging Han Solo.
Anxious brown eyes in a peaked little face blinked owlishly at him. “Hi. Sorry I throwed up on ya.”
“Hey, sport, don’t worry about it. I got you some stuff that’ll make you feel better. Where’s Jillian?”
“Right here.” She strolled in from the kitchen, creamy skin flushed from baking, her sweet feminine scent more delicious than the pie. She confiscated the bags. “Thanks again, I owe you. I made chicken noodle soup, want some?”
His stomach growled ferociously, and she chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. Breakfast was ages ago, and it’s been quite a day. I’m sure you’re more than ready to sit down and relax. Casey, you want to try some soda crackers and a sip of Pedialyte now? If you keep that down, you can have some soup.”
“Yes please, Aunt Jelly.”
Jillian strolled out and Zane edged toward the kitchen. “Ah, I think I’ll just eat out there.”
Casey’s chin wobbled. “Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad, Zane. I didn’t mean to barf on ya, everything just gushed up inside me before I could stop it.”
