Karen Rose - Have You Seen Her?

"Depends on who's asking," she said saucily.

"I'm asking," Brad said dryly, appearing at his side, and Steven choked back a laugh at the guilty expression on Jenna's face. Like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again when Matt breezed through the front door carrying four plastic bags bearing the Colonel's bearded face. "No, the Colonel is," she said, recovering admirably. "It's for the best, really. I'm not much of a cook."

Matt shook his head. "Then I say you're out of here. I will permit no potential stepmothers into this house without the appropriate culinary skill."

Steven watched Jenna's face go bright red and knew his had done the same.

"Then it's a good thing you're not dating her," Brad said and pushed past Steven to grab two of the plastic bags from Matt's arms. "Anything in here but bones?"

Matt straightened, affronted. "I didn't touch anything."

Brad looked at Jenna who appeared still on the verge of apoplexy. "Wouldn't let him, huh?"

Jenna shook her head. "Threatened him with loss of arcade privileges."

Brad looked amused. "I knew you were too smart for him," he murmured. "Come on, Matt."

Steven watched his sons walk away. "I wonder if he was talking about me or Matt."

Jenna looked up at him, her eyes smiling. "Does it matter? Brad's back. What happened?"

Steven shook his head. "No idea." He hesitated, then went with his gut and cradled the back of her head in the palm of his hand, threading his fingers through her silky hair. She seemed to unwind, right before his eyes. "How's Casey?" he asked and was relieved when she smiled.

"She's going to be all right. They took out the breathing tube this morning, so her throat was still too sore to talk. I gave her a pad and pen and I left her cussing a handwritten blue streak at how long it was going to take her to grow her fingernails back. She'll go to a regular room tomorrow."

"Good." He lowered his face a few inches. "Jenna," he murmured.

Her eyes smiled. "Yes?"

He came an inch closer. "Can I kiss you?"

"Are you planning to run home again?"

"Can't," he murmured against her lips. "I live here."

"Then in that case…" Her words drifted off when he kissed her in earnest and when he lifted his head she followed, lifting herself on her toes, prolonging the contact another moment longer.

A delicate "ahem" made them both turn. Matt stood behind them with a wide grin on his face. "I have been asked to inform you that the chicken is nearly gone. If you wish to partake, you'll need- to move your butts. No offense meant, Jenna."

She chuckled. "None taken."

Steven slid his arm around her waist, amazed how easily she'd slid into his life. "I say we eat."

Saturday, October 8, 9:30 P.M.

Steven moved restlessly in the bench seat, bumping Jenna's head as he readjusted the arm he'd stretched out behind her. "I'll give Davies another fifteen minutes, then we can go."

Jenna relaxed, enjoying Steven's strong arm behind her neck as they sat in the booth of a sports bar. They were waiting for Detective Davies to show up with something Steven would only say was 'important.' "I'm fine, Steven. It actually feels good to just sit and relax like normal people."

He smiled at her and she felt herself go all gooey inside. "So now we're normal people?" he asked, one golden brow lifting in teasing question.

Jenna snuggled closer, rubbing her cheek against the solid muscle of his chest. He smelled so good. Felt so good, so healthy. "Yes. For right now we are two people on a date, hav-ing beer and hot wings. Casey's safe, we're safe, Helen's home with the kids who are safe. For right now there are no crazy teenagers or serial killers. Just us normal people having a normal date."

Normal people . God knew he wanted to believe her. Except he knew that there was indeed a serial killer who happened also to be a crazy teenager. That was the problem with the job. It never went away. But for right now he could pretend to believe her. It was the closest he'd get to being "normal people." He brushed his lips across her hair. "So we're on a date?"

She looked up at him, suddenly serious. "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

Emotion hit him right in the middle of his chest and he knew at that moment there was no other place he'd rather be. And that the place itself didn't matter. It was being with her. Wherever that might be. "No," he whispered, his voice husky. "Not a single one."

"Good. Because I decided that we will have dates."

He had to smile. "Dates? Plural? So we'll do this beer and hot wings thing again?"

She nodded firmly. "Many times. Because I decided it was time to get on with my life."

She wasn't teasing, he realized. "So when did you make this momentous decision?"

"At five o'clock this afternoon. I looked down at my watch and saw the date. Then I realized it was two years ago today that Adam died and I hadn't thought about him once. For a second I felt guilty, you know? Then Cindy Lou knocked Nicky down in some leaves and started licking his face. Nicky started to giggle and I started to laugh and then…" Her voice trailed off.

He grazed his knuckles along the line of her jaw. "And then?"

She looked him in the eye as if challenging him to disagree. "And then I decided I was tired of watching calendars and measuring time."

He realized he really knew very little about her ordeal. "Jenna, what happened with Adam?"

She shrugged. "You know how it is. Your wife died, too. You grieve. You cry. You swear at God. You say you're sorry to God so He doesn't take anybody else you love." She sighed. "I guess the hardest part was going back to our apartment after he was gone. Going through his things. Knowing he'd never use them again."

"Was that the apartment you live in now?"

"No, I moved into where I am now after I dealt with all his things." She downed a mouthful of beer. "Adam's sister wanted me to move in with her." She shuddered. "That was not a good idea."

He pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Did Adam die in the hospital?"

"No, he died in a hospice."

"The one you visit on Sundays? Nicky told me Jim is a therapy dog. He was very impressed."

"I only go once a month. I swear it's one of the hardest things I do."

But she did it. Here was a woman who didn't back down from adversity. He lifted up her chin and looked into her eyes. "1 have to say I'm very impressed, too."

Her smile was wry. "Then you're as easy to con as Nicky," she said. "I'm not that special, I just did what I had to do. Just like you did when your wife left you with three kids. That had to be hard."

It was, but not the way she thought The hardest part was pretending to grieve a woman he'd come to hate. To look at his boys and know if Melissa hadn't died, he'd be explaining why she hadn't loved any of them enough. Mike was right about most things, but he was wrong about telling his boys the truth. It wouldn't have helped anyone. "Yeah," he finally said. "That was hard." He took a drink of his own beer. "So tell me about these dates we're going to have," he said, looking to change the subject. "Where would you like to go?"

Jenna watched the shadows cross his face and wished she could make them go away. Forever. "I don't know," she said playfully. "Hawaii wouldn't be bad." His brows shot up in surprise. "I'm just kidding," she added hastily. "I'm actually a pretty cheap date. Beer and hot wings is fine."

"I've never been to Hawaii," he said thoughtfully.

Jenna rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking to go to Hawaii. Nobody can afford a trip like that."

Steven sipped at his beer. "I can."

She looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean? Cops don't make that much money."

He grinned at her and his eyes crinkled at the corners and her heart flip-flopped. "I'm not an ordinary cop," he said. "I'm a special agent."