“Be ready.” J.D. didn’t give the kid a chance to worm out of the chores. He found Tiffany in the kitchen, wearing a soft yellow bathrobe and slippers as she poured pancake batter onto a griddle already sizzling with oil. At the sound of his footsteps, she glanced over her shoulder. Hot color washed up her neck and cheeks, and her eyes, gold in the morning light, slid away from him.

“Morning, Jay,” she said as if he’d come down her stairs at eight in the morning every day of her life. She plucked a few fresh blueberries from a colander and dropped them onto the heating griddle cakes.

“Hi. I stopped by Stephen’s room and tried to nudge him out of bed.”

She smiled and cleared her throat as if neither of them were thinking about last night and the kisses they’d shared on the bench outside. Just at a whiff of the memory, his damn crotch tightened.

“How’d that go over?”

“Oh, you know, like the proverbial lead balloon.”

“I’ll bet. He usually sleeps in on Sunday. No summer school.” She smiled and showed the hint of a dimple. “Stephen’s not known for being overly enthusiastic in the morning.”

“Is any teenager?”

She shook her head, the dark strands gleaming in the morning light that streamed through the windows of the nook. “There’s coffee in the pot if you’re interested.”

“Thanks.” He poured himself a cup from the glass carafe and tried not to notice how her hips shifted invitingly beneath the terry cloth. “I’ve been thinking, Tiffany.”

“Always a dangerous sign.”

“About Stephen.”

All her muscles tensed and her spine stiffened slightly. “What about him?”

“We both know he’s not involved in Isaac Wells’s disappearance.”

“Of course he isn’t,” she snapped testily. “He’s only thirteen, for crying out loud! How could he be involved?”

“He’s not. You’re right. But my guess is that he knows more than he’s saying.”

“Knows what?” She kept her back to him as she worked, but he knew he had her undivided attention. “Oh, this is ridiculous. He’s just a boy.”

“Then why didn’t he come clean weeks ago?”

“What are you saying, Jay?”

“It could be he’s protecting someone.”

“Who?” she asked, looking over her shoulder, her eyes darkening to the shade of amber he found so mesmerizing. In the terry-cloth bathrobe with her hair piled haphazardly on her head and the barest touch of makeup, she was damned near irresistible.

“I thought you might have the answer to that one.”

Sighing, she blew her bangs from her eyes. “Stephen doesn’t confide in me all the time.” She flipped the pancakes deftly. “You know I think this is all a wild-goose chase on your part and the police’s, but I’ll ask him.”