Jake had discovered in the wee hours of the morning—after waking up from an intense and disturbing dream about Emily—that under no circumstance did he want a basic sexual relationship with her. Then, after hearing about her running away from home, he'd reinforced his decision and made a vow to himself that before they advanced into the bedroom scene they would have the foundation for something more.
Something more than a friendship and more than a romp in the sack. He'd gone so far as to suggest to himself that there might be the potential for a commitment of some sort between them.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that Emily thought that she didn't need anyone. But she was wrong. Emily was very wrong. She needed something more than a friendship. And so did Jake. At some point during the past two days, his biological clock had done the unthinkable and woke up. He was thirty-three years old and ready to settle down with sweet, sexy Emily.
Jake groaned inwardly. He couldn't believe he actually admitted that to himself. It was bad enough that he was acting like a gentleman instead of doing what his instincts and ol' Johnny screamed for him to do. He was seriously looking for a relationship? And commitment? Instead of hot, no-strings attached sex?
"Damn. I must be getting old," Jake mumbled under his breath.
Commitment? His guts knotted at the word, but didn't invoke the usual nausea. Actually, the more he thought of it, the less the side effects were. This morning, he'd nearly lost his cookies thinking about it, but now… it was more like a fear of the unknown. A fear like the moment before jumping out of a plane or the second before pulling the cord for the parachute and wondering, 'Is this the pack I put the 'chute in or the one I packed my clothes in?'
Jake turned his head and, after receiving a heated kiss from the tormentor in his dreams, asked, "Bored, yet?"
Emily shook her head and nuzzled up to his ear. "I asked one of the guys in the band to save us a song for later. He said he'd do it, if I give him a couple of lessons."
Jake tensed. "What kind of lessons?" There it was again. The knee jerk jealousy reared up and punched him in the gut. He attempted—unsuccessfully—to squash it.
"Dance lessons. The only kind I'm even remotely qualified to give."
Jake experienced a rush of guilt for keeping her behind the bar, when there were hordes—literally—of guys who had asked her for a dance. "You don't have to stay back here the whole time." He forced his jaw to relax and added, "I won't mind."
Emily slapped her hand against his chest. "Liar."
Jake caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "You don't know me well enough to call me a liar."
"But I'm beginning to." Emily propped her chin on his shoulder. "Do you see the red head over there in the blue dress?"
"Where?" He scanned the room.
"Near the door."
Jake spotted the woman she referred to. "What about her?"
"She just picked that guy's," Emily pointed a guy talking to a table of women, "pocket."
"She did what?"
Jake felt her shrug behind him. "She's pretty good, but she wasn't fast enough. I don't think anyone else saw it. The guy certainly didn't feel it."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. I've seen the same move done a hundred times."
Jake didn't like the idea of a thief pillaging his customer's pockets and pushed off from the chair.
Emily immediately pulled him back. "Where are you going?"
"To take care of the thief."
Emily shook her head and hooked her hands in front of him. "Can't let you do that. She'll scream bloody murder and that'll be bad for business. You don't want anyone to know there is a thief in their midst." Her voice took on a decidedly excited tone. "She's got her eyes on the Ralph Lauren special over there." Emily motioned to a yuppie who looked like he belonged in a New England country club. "If I'm right, she'll rub up against him and do the I-want-you-to-take-me-here-and-now-on-the-table routine, then when he's distracted by his apparent good fortune, she'll slip her hand into his back pocket and remove the bulging wallet."
Jake frowned. Emily knew far too much about this thief's routine. "How do you know what she's going to do?"
"I told you. I've seen it done a hundred times. How do you think Marilyn met Booker?"
"Marilyn picked Booker's pockets?"
"Yep. Then when she wasn't looking he picked her pocket right back. She's been on the straight and narrow ever since. Oh and don't tell Marilyn I told you. If she ever finds out I told you, she'll tell you every secret she knows about me and then some."
Jake tugged her closer until her breasts were invitingly pressed up against his back. "If the secret doesn't come from your mouth, I don't want to hear it."
"Whew. Glad to hear it, because Marilyn can come up with some real humdingers."
Jake shut her up with a hard, quick kiss which—as always it seemed with this woman—left him aching and wanting more. "Damn, I've got to stop doing that."
Her breathing quickened. "You do and I'll make you start again."
"Keep that up and I'll take you back into the walk-in."
"Cruel, evil, wicked man."
"That I am. What do you propose we do with the thief?"
Her smile was the essence of mischief. "Leave that to me. The way she's been chugging beers, she's got to be about ready to powder her nose. When she goes, I'll follow and right the wrongs of the world. Conquer injustices and do the American moral thing."
"No."
"Don't worry, I can handle her."
Jake shook his head. "No. I'd rather risk losing the business than have you put yourself in that kind of situation. Forget it, Emily."
"But—"
"No."
"Jake," she said far too sweetly. Instantly he was on guard. Her fingers moved in swirls on his chest. "I promise I'll be safe. You can stay outside the bathroom and stand guard for me."
"No."
Her nail grazed the side of his nipple and his conviction wavered. "I'd be doing it for you. Once she gets busted, she won't come back again and chances are she'll spread the word that she got busted here."
"How many times have you done this sort of thing before?"
Her eyes drifted to where the red head was purring and sidling up to the Ralph Lauren special. "As many times as I've had sex," she muttered absently. "Watch her left hand."
Jake did and what he saw outraged him.
The guy let the thief put her hands all over him. She touched his chest, then coyly trailed her finger down his chest to tap suggestively at the waist of his khaki pants. The guy, holding a drink in one hand and nothing in the other, responded to something the red head said and hauled her up against him. She ground her hips against him and with her left hand caressed his back, then his buttocks. Slowly and effortlessly, she removed the man's wallet and, while driving her tongue down his throat, slipped it into her purse.
"Well, I'll be damned. The little biddy picked his horny assed pockets."
The red head broke the kiss as soon as the wallet was secured in her purse.
Emily pushed a dazed Jake forward. "I'll be right back." She hopped down and lifted the countertop door.
Jake snapped from his musings of what to do with the little thief and caught Emily at the counter. "Not without me, you don't. Anything happens to you and Booker kills me. Anything happens to you and I kill the little, thieving—"
"Well, then hurry up. There's bound to be a line and I need to get in there the same time she does."
Jake turned back to Alex. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes." He didn't want for Alex to respond but cupped Emily's arm and ushered her towards the bathrooms. "What do you need me to do?"
She chuckled. "Hold my hand while I—"
Jake cut her off with a look.
"Just kidding. Stand guard in case she tries to bolt."
"That's it? Stand guard?"
"Well, if you need to go to the—"
"Emily," he warned. More and more he wasn't liking the idea of her going up against a criminal. Alone. In his bar. In the damned bathroom of all places. "I don't like this."
"Relax, Jake. Marilyn taught me everything she knows and Booker improved upon it. Who do you think I got to train the security guards in my store? Everyone who works for me has to go through this kind of training. My shoplifting rate is practically nil."
"I'd feel better if Marilyn were with you," he grumbled.
"Jacob!" A voice called from behind him.
Jake glanced over his shoulder and dragged Emily to a halt. His mother, sister, and—to his everlasting surprise—father were heading their way.
Emily looked up at him, then to his encroaching family. "Jake?"
"Mom, Dad, and Katie."
"Your sister?"
His dark mood lightened immensely. "Why? Afraid she might be competition?"
"I don't know you well enough to be worried about competition."
"Liar." Jake slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. He glanced over at the red head who was weaving her way through the crowd at a slow rate towards the bathrooms. "I'll introduce you, then you can play cops and robbers. But if she pulls anything, scream bloody murder. No buts, Emily."
"Yes, sir. No buts. Scream bloody murder. Got it, sir."
"Smart ass."
"Thanks. I do try, you know."
Jake squeezed Emily's waist before releasing her as his family—all three of them had that expectant, 'Oh and what is this? Jake's got a girlfriend. When did this happen?' expression on their tanned faces—approached.
"Mom." Jake swallowed his mother in a bear hug, then reached out to ruffle his sister's hair. Katie ducked his hand. "Hey, brat. You're wearing too much makeup and that dress is too tight."
Katie stuck her tongue out at him. "You bought me the dress."
"I must have been drunk." Jake released his mother and gave his father a half hug-male-slap-on-the-back, half handshake sort of greeting. "How did they drag you down here?"
His father smiled good naturedly. "Your mother threatened to divorce me if I didn't take her out and show her a good time. She called me every name in the book, then got all gussied up and… damn if I could let her walk out the door looking like a woman on a mission." He flicked a thumb at Katie. "That one put her up to it. After tonight, she's grounded for a month."
His mother elbowed his father in the stomach. "Oh stop it, Jed. You were the one who suggested it. Stop telling fibs. Jacob, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" The word 'friend' carried a great deal of not-so-subtle emphasis.
Jake ushered Emily in front of him and did the introductions. "Mother, this is sweet Emily. Emily this is my mother, the veritable saint of the Grayden family and luckiest mother in the world—lucky because she has me as a son."