Smart Girls Think Twice Page 9

  “It’s a college, not a nunnery,” Emma said.

  “Of course it’s not a nunnery,” Maxie said. “If it was, you’d be a nun like Cole’s aunt Sister Mary.”

  Emma gritted her teeth. It had been a long day. She had survived strangers calling her a spinster, her mother ranting about her looks, and a parade of nearly naked firemen. Well, that last bit had definitely been more enjoyable than the previous two.

  The muscle-bound bodies of the stripping firemen made her think about Jake again and his sexy lean build. She remembered the way he’d looked in that black T-shirt when she first walked into Nick’s Tavern. The sculpted muscles, the barbed-wire tattoo. He’d held her in those powerful arms when he’d kissed her on her fire escape and later on her futon. There was no escaping the memory of those moments.

  But Emma could escape her family, and she did so by slipping out the front door while they were distracted. Emma was still thinking about Jake as she walked to her apartment a block away.

  That’s why she didn’t see the runner barreling out from the narrow alley until he almost rammed into her.

  “Whoa.” Jake steadied her. “Sorry about that. I didn’t see you.”

  Yeah, Emma knew how that went. People frequently didn’t see her. That had never bothered her before. It was starting to now.

  Also bothering her in an entirely different way was the warmth of his hands on her upper arms.

  The floral dress she’d worn to the bridal shower was sleeveless. She could feel each of his fingers on her skin.

  “Nice dress,” Jake noted, his eyes wandering over her with blatant appreciation.

  “Nice running shorts,” she replied, her eyes wandering over him with discreet appreciation.

  He was wearing more than the stripper firemen, but he affected her ten times as much. Not that he was wearing that much more. His chest was bare, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. She watched one rivulet trail down from his collarbone all the way to his navel.

  He smiled in that slow sexy way that made her knees go weak. “I’m glad I ran into you. We still haven’t settled on when I should pick you up for your sister’s wedding. It’s next Saturday, right?”

  “Right. I just came from the bridal shower.”

  “And how did that go?”

  “I survived it.”

  He brushed his right thumb up and down her upper arm. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  She shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, rubbing her arms.

  Considering the fact that it was in the mid eighties she could hardly say yes.

  “Is that better?”

  She licked her lips. Better would be him kissing her senseless and peeling her dress off.

  What was wrong with her? Why was she having these thoughts in the middle of town?

  With a man she’d only met a few days ago? Maybe she was having a meltdown. Maybe the stress of dealing with her sisters’ impending weddings and her mother’s constant nagging had finally fried her brain.

  Emma clenched her hands to prevent herself from reaching out to him.

  She looked over his shoulder to see her mom on the sidewalk in front of the Tivoli. Her mom flashing her the thumbs-up sign and motioning for Emma to get closer to Jake.

  She leapt away from him as if he’d caught fire.

  Her mom shook her head in vehement disapproval and made a shooing motion for Emma to return to her former position. Maxie then had the nerve to make a kissie face.

  “I’ve got to go,” Emma muttered, totally mortified by her mom’s antics.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake looked over his shoulder to see what had caused the sudden change in Emma.

  Her mother waved at him and came closer.

  “Run for it.” Emma gave him a shove to get him started. “Go. Save yourself.”

  “I’m not afraid of your mother,” Jake said.

  “You should be. Very afraid.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Riley,” Jake said.

  “I thought I told you to call me Maxie,” her mother said coyly.

  “Well, Maxie, you’re certainly looking lovely this afternoon.”

  Emma did a combo eye roll and face scrunch. Jake tossed out compliments the way the Tastykake factory tossed out desserts. She’d be a fool to take any of them seriously. Or to take him seriously. Maxie batted her triple-mascara-coated eyelashes. “Why thank you, Jake. We just finished up the bridal shower. The wedding is only a week away, you know.”

  Jake nodded. “Emma and I were just talking about that.”

  “You’re not backing out, are you? Oh please, please tell me you’re not backing out.”

  Just kill me now. Emma closed her eyes and bit her lip to prevent herself from screaming out loud.

  “We were just talking about the details,” Jake said.

  “Yes, Mother, we were just talking about the details.”

  “Right.” Maxie nodded knowingly. “The details. Maybe you should discuss the details somewhere private. But before I leave you two, I just have to say, Jake, that you look better than any of those male strippers we just saw.” Having made that statement, she returned to the Tivoli.

  Jake turned to Emma. “Male strippers?”

  “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “Did you enjoy their show more than you did mine?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Wait, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “No?” He reached out to cup her cheek before trailing his fingers down to the corner of her mouth. Yes, yes, yes was humming through her entire body, a fire kindled by the touch of his hand. There wasn’t a no molecule left inside of her.

  “Woof.”

  Startled, Emma looked down to see Jake’s dog sitting beside him. “Hi there. What’s his name?”

  “His name is Mutt and he’s a pain in the butt.”

  “Woof.”

  “Surely not,” Emma said. “He’s kind of cute now that you’ve got him cleaned up.”

  “You must have a strange definition of cute.”

  “Yeah, I probably do.” Physical appearance had never been a big deal to her. She did find odd things to be cute. Which was why her reaction to Jake was so unusual for her. She’d never been one to fall for a hunky guy. There wouldn’t be any point in doing so, since they weren’t the type to appreciate a plain Jane.

  She really needed to dissect her attraction to Jake and work on overcoming it because there was no logic in continuing to practically melt at his feet. She might be something of a geek, but she did have her pride.

  So no more kissing Jake, no more melting in his arms like ice cream on a hot day. From now on she was taking the cool, restrained approach. The newly revised, totally in control Emma told Jake, “I’ll meet you at the Serenity Falls Country Club at five for the reception.”

  And then she walked away.

  You rock, her inner academic diva raved.

  Don’t stumble and fall, her inner dorky geek warned.

  Monday morning, Jake checked his text messages to see if the private investigator he’d hired had any additional news. Dan had already answered his earlier message several days ago regarding Nic, who was indeed the owner of Nick’s Tavern. As to her being his birth mother, well that was still unknown at this point.

  Too much stuff was unknown. Like the reason Emma had gone all cool on him the other afternoon. All he’d said was that she must have a strange idea of cute. What was wrong with that?

  There was nothing in his in-box—no new text messages. Just the last list that Dan had sent him with a narrowed down list of possible names for his birth mother.

  One thing he had discovered yesterday was that he needed help with the mutt. That was his mission for today. He walked into Cosmic Comics and found her. Lulu.

  A number of the rednecks who hung around Nick’s Tavern spoke of her in respectful terms because of her granddad, who sported even more tats than she did and had the nickname
Animal.

  Lulu was tough but fair. Bluntly honest. Or so he’d been told. He was impressed by the intricate spiderweb tat on her neck and shoulder. She wore a T-shirt with the words GOT

  BRAINS? on it and a pair of black jeans tucked into biker boots.

  “I hear you might be interested in making some extra money,” Jake said.

  “Doing what?” Lulu asked suspiciously.

  “Walking the dog when I’m at work.”

  “Your dog?”

  “He’s not really my dog.”

  “Then why are you willing to pay me to walk him?”

  “It’s only temporary.”

  “So is the planet Earth if we don’t do something about global warming.” She paused to snap her gum in aggravation. “So how much are you paying?”

  Jake named an amount that made her pierced eyebrow rise.

  “You must be rich. You’re the new bartender, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why are you working as a bartender if you’re the Bill Gates of extreme sports.”

  “I’m no Bill Gates. Are you interested in the job or not?”

  “I need more info on my employer.”

  “Why?” Jake demanded.

  “Because I’m nosy. Don’t you have any friends who can walk your dog? Like Emma? I heard you two are friends.”

  Jake had no intention of asking Emma, not after she’d gone all weird on him the other day.

  “Did you guys have a fight?” Lulu asked.

  “No. Emma is too busy with her academic stuff to walk the dog.”

  “Yeah, right.” Lulu gave him a speculative look. “I’ve heard about you and Emma.”

  “From Emma?”

  “No way. She’s—” Lulu made a zip motion across her lips. “I’ve just heard about you, picked stuff up around town. You used to be some kind of extreme sports competitor. I read on the Internet that you were a big deal until you were in a serious climbing accident in Peru. They’re talking on

  the message boards about you, saying that you . . .” She paused at the look he gave her.

  “Don’t stop now,” he mocked her.

  “That you’ve lost your nerve. That you won’t be back on the circuit. That you were one of the best. Always pushing the envelope. Until the accident that killed your best friend. Is it true that he died because of you?” “Lulu!” Emma appeared out of the blue, stepping in front of Jake as if to protect him from the slings and arrows that the young goth might fling at him. “Leave him alone!”

  Chapter Eight

  “I am capable of sticking up for myself, you know,” Jake told Emma.

  But Emma was clearly in fierce protective mode and wasn’t about to back down. “I know, but you shouldn’t have to.”

  “Not when I’ve got a kick-ass sociologist to protect me, huh?”

  “I don’t know about kick-ass, but Emma is a good listener,” Lulu said. “I spilled my guts to her the other day, and she really helped me reach a decision. I had family issues.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Jake said.

  “You don’t,” Lulu said. “Your bio said your parents died when you were a kid and you grew up in the foster care system. It must be depressing not having any family. Although it can also be depressing having some people as family.”

  As if on cue, a woman walked into the comic-book store and headed straight for Lulu, who clearly was not pleased to see her.

  “What are you doing here?” Lulu demanded.

  “I came to see you. Listen, Baby Doll, we need to talk.”

  “Do not call me that,” Lulu growled.

  “Why not? It’s my nickname for you. Don’t you remember?”

  “I remember you walking out when I was five years old and never coming back,” Lulu said.

  “I’m back now.”

  “A decade and a half too late.”

  Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “Don’t say that, Baby Doll.”

  “Maybe we should leave you two alone—” Emma began.

  “Don’t you dare.” Lulu reached across the counter to grab Emma’s arm and hang on to her.

  “Let me introduce you. This is Zoe Malick. My grandfather’s selfish daughter.”

  “Your mother,” Zoe said.

  Jake had been watching the goings on with his typical removed attitude. But that name caught his attention. Zoe Malick was on his short list of PBMs—possible birth mothers.

  “Right,” Lulu scoffed. “A mother who deserted her only child without a word.”

  Her only child? Jake wondered. Or did Zoe have another one, a male baby she gave up for adoption? Him?

  “I came back to make it up to you,” Zoe said.

  Lulu’s eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t you get that there is no way you can make it up to me?”

  “I refuse to believe that, Baby Doll.”

  “Your problem, not mine.”

  Jake looked from one woman to the other. He could see some resemblances between the two of them. They both had the same upturned nose and similarly shaped eyes. Did he look like them? Hard for him to say since they were both females and he wasn’t.

  “Why are you being like this?” Zoe asked.

  “Me? You’re the one . . .” Lulu sputtered, temporarily unable to go on.

  “Maybe it would be a good idea if you two got some outside help from a counselor to help you work out some of these very emotional issues,” Emma suggested.

  “You mean you?” Lulu asked.

  “No, I’m not a therapist. I’m a sociologist. I came here today to give you your questionnaire for my research study, Lulu. And to leave one for Algee as well.” Since Lulu still had a steely grip on Emma’s arm, she reached into her backpack on the floor with her free hand and pulled out two manila envelopes. “I’m only here because of my research study.”

  “And to defend me,” Jake added.

  Zoe turned to face him. “Who are you?”

  Your son. Maybe. Who knows?

  “He’s an extreme sports guy who wants me to walk his dog,” Lulu said.

  “I can walk your dog, Jake,” Emma said.

  “No way.” Lulu released Emma’s arm. “He asked me first and I accept.”

  “But I don’t mind doing it—” Emma said.

  Lulu interrupted her. “Yeah, well I mind.”

  Jake recognized Lulu’s stubbornness. That was something they shared. That didn’t mean they shared the same mother, though. Did it?

  He’d been stupid to think that he’d somehow recognize his birth mother when he met her, or that she’d recognize him. A fool to think that there’d be some sort of bond there.

  Maybe his birth mother was one of the other women on the short list and not either of the two he’d met. Not Zoe and not Nic. Fine by him. Both women seemed to be head cases.

  Not exactly Mother of the Year material. Not that Jake was looking for that. No, he was looking for answers, and so far he was finding damn few of them.

  “Do you think it’s safe to leave the two of them alone in there?” Emma asked Jake after he’d hauled her out of Cosmic Comics with him.

  “I think we should mind our own business.”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “They don’t need our help. And I didn’t need you coming to my rescue.”

  “Fine.” She yanked her hand out of his. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

  “Wait a second.” He slid his hand down her bare arm to twine his fingers through hers. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

  Emma didn’t reply because she was too distracted by his touch. Did he know the effect he had on her? Did he have this effect on all women? Why her? Why touch her? She wasn’t gorgeous or even close to beautiful. On her best days, which today wasn’t, she might be called cute. On her bad days the description was just plain or nothing special.

  She was wearing jeans and a navy blue T-shirt. Hardly seductive attire. So what was going on here? Why had she leapt to his defense in that store? Yes, she
had a track record of supporting the underdog, but Jake was hardly your run-of-the-mill underdog. He wasn’t your run-of-the-mill anything.

  Usually Emma was good at figuring out interpersonal dynamics. But not when they involved her own personal life. So how had Jake gone from being a sociological study participant to being part of her personal life?

  When he kissed you on the fire escape, her inner academic diva replied.

  “What do you know about Zoe?” Jake’s unexpected question interrupted Emma’s self-examination.

  “Zoe? Not much.”

  “Is Lulu her only kid?”

  “As far as I know. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  She noticed Jake was looking down when he replied. Did that mean he was hiding something from her? Why should he care about Zoe? And why ask Lulu to care for Mutt instead of asking her?

  Emma studied his profile and was again distracted. The man looked good from every angle.

  But she really didn’t have time to stand here drooling over him. She had things to do, places to go, and people to interview. “I’ve got to go.” She tugged free of his hold on her, at least his physical hold. Emma had yet to discover how to free herself from the sensual hold he had on her.

  Emma had scheduled an interview with recently elected Rock Creek mayor Bart Chumley at his home in the Regency Mobile Home Community—formerly known as the trailer park.

  Her trailer park. Bart had bought it a few years ago when he’d retired after years spent as a circus clown.

  Emma heard the familiar sound of classical music as she stepped out of her Prius. Bart sat out on the covered deck of his double-wide trailer with a pitcher of iced tea on the small table beside him. He had the build of a slightly thinner Santa Claus—short and portly. He was also bald, and he appeared to be conducting the music with one hand.

  “One of Bach’s cello suites, right?” Emma said.

  He smiled. “Right. Played by my favorite, Yo-Yo Ma. Are you a fan of Bach?”

  “I enjoy various classical composers. Bach, Mozart, Rachmaninoff.”

  “That’s interesting.”