Wendy Etherington - The Eleventh Hour

“Join us,” she said to her new friend.

Dropping onto the stool, Cara shrugged. “For a few minutes. I have to get back to work.” She leaned forward and directed her attention to Steve. “And so does he.”

“How could I forget?” He raised his hand to the bartender, then asked Cara what she wanted.

“Diet Coke,” she said.

“One for me, too,” Laine added, pushing her martini glass aside.

“Ben got married recently, too,” Cara said.

“Really?” Ever since the death of Steve’s father, Ben had been the leader of the Kimball clan. Laine had never met him, but she’d gotten the impression that Ben was both reserved and revered. A longtime role model for Steve.

“Steve’s the last bachelor in the family,” Cara said, cutting her gaze toward her brother-in-law. “And likely to stay that way.”

“Certainly not from a lack of available candidates.”

“None of them seem to hold his interest for more than a couple of months, though.”

Laine nodded. “Been there.”

“No kidding? You and Steve?”

“Yep. About seven years ago. For a couple of months during the summer.”

Cara shook her head. “The story of his life.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Steve said, sounding annoyed.

Without looking at him, Laine patted his hand. “And we’re glad to have you.”

“Why do you think he never hangs around very long?” she asked Cara.

“You know men. They can never turn down a buffet.” She glanced at Steve. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

“Oh, right. Not mine either.” She slid off her stool and scooped her camera bag off the floor. Though she’d gotten caught up in her rapport with Cara, she didn’t have any interest in or right to Steve’s personal life. “I’d like to take some pictures of you both in action this week, if you don’t mind.”

“Laine is a photographer for Century magazine,” Steve said to Cara as he rose.

“I’d rather not have most of what I’m doing recorded,” Cara said, scowling. “Except by me. Sorry.”

Laine liked the idea of a female arson investigator in the middle of the disaster. And she thought Cara’s intense personality would come across dramatically in the pictures. “I’ll let you see any photos I’m considering for publication. You’ll have the opportunity to sign—or not sign—a release.”

“I’ll consider it,” Cara said.

“Great.” She looked up at Steve, ignoring the warmth flooding her body. “I’d like to shoot you and Josh and the others, too. When’s your next day on-site?”

“The day after tomorrow—Tuesday.”

Laine shook Steve’s hand. “I’ll see you then, I guess.”

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