by Cathie Linz
“I don’t.”
Jake stared into her wide brown eyes and wondered if this chick was for real. She seemed younger than she probably was. How long did it take to be a sociologist anyway? She looked like an academic with her smart-girl glasses and sedate blue polo shirt tucked into her prim khaki skirt.
Not that he had much experience with that kind of woman. He was more accustomed to babes than bookworms.
She had great legs, though. From what he could see of them. Imagining her kicking ass in stilettos and black leather got him hard and hot. He’d clearly been without a female for far too long.
Time for some sex.
But not with smart girl Emma Riley.
Jake didn’t need any distractions in his life right now. He had his own reasons for coming to Rock Creek. Private reasons he wasn’t about to share with anyone.
Not that he was a man who made a practice of spilling his guts. Not in this lifetime. He’d learned early that showing any vulnerability was the kiss of death. Growing up in the foster care system, being moved from place to place, had taught him early to be self-sufficient. No one else was going to look out for him. No one else was going to protect him. The tougher he was, the better.
Not so Emma. He had her pegged as a total heart-on-her-sleeve type, mixed in with a big dose of intellectual nerdiness. His total opposite. Having sex with her was definitely not a smart idea.
All very logical, but Jake was an adrenaline junkie and a rebel. There was no satisfaction in playing it safe. If he had played it safe, he wouldn’t have survived the climbing accident that had ended his career.
The more he told himself that he should send Emma packing, the more tempted he was to keep her around.
“Why are you studying newcomers to town?” he said.
Her entire face lit up as she leaned closer. “It’s part of my project about the rebirth of Rock Creek.
I’m conducting a study on the recent societal influences and changes here. In the past year the town has gone from a past-its-prime location to becoming a New Age center for the arts.”
Jake couldn’t help wondering if her face lit up like that when she was having sex. He wasn’t really paying attention to her words, but he still said, “Tell me more.”
“Sure.” She beamed at him. “I’d be delighted to.”
“Start at the beginning.”
“Well, as you probably know, sociology is the study of human society and social behavior.
Sociologists are mainly interested in social interaction. You know, how people react.”
Jake sure knew how he was reacting. It didn’t take a sociologist to figure out that his body was primed and ready for hers.
“What’s going on in Rock Creek is a social phenomenon of sorts,” she continued. “I’m here to observe the facts and events, to examine group behavior, to unravel the hidden meanings behind the human actions. Are you with me so far?”
“Oh yeah.” The human actions he was picturing were all X-rated and probably illegal in several Southern states.
“I can show you more if you’d like.”
He imagined her showing him plenty—undoing the buttons on her polo shirt, shimmying out of her prim skirt before stepping up onto the bar and doing a striptease just for him, showing him every inch of creamy skin on her entire body.
“As I said,” Emma continued, “what’s going on here is very exciting.”
Oh yeah. Jake was past excited at this point and rapidly approaching ready to launch.
“What made you pick Rock Creek?” she asked. “Do you have family here?”
Emma saw the change that instantly came over Jake’s face. She also saw her chances of getting him to agree to participate in her study slipping away before her very eyes. Why, oh why had she asked him that personal question? It was too soon. She should have stuck to facts and figures.
She’d totally messed up and he’d totally shut down.
Just when Emma thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did: her mother sauntered into the bar and plunked herself onto the stool beside her.
“Sweetie, what are you doing in here?” Maxie, aka Maxine Riley, asked. As a retired hairdresser, she prided herself on the style du jour she devised for herself. Today’s version featured seashell combs holding her artfully colored red hair atop her head. The combs matched her seashell top and cropped pants. Maxie eyed Emma with disapproval. “Why are you hanging around a bar in the middle of the day?”
Emma felt like sinking through the floor. She wasn’t a child requiring parental supervision.
“I’m working, Mother.”
Maxie leaned toward Jake. “She only calls me ‘Mother’ when she’s really peeved with me.
Otherwise it’s always ‘Mom.’ But you can call me Maxie,” she told him before returning her attention to Emma. “I overheard some inebriated man outside claiming you beat him up.
Is it true? Is that part of your job, Emma? I didn’t think sociologists were supposed to assault people.”
“They’re not. He started it.” Great. Emma momentarily closed her eyes. Now she did sound like a nine-year-old.
“Hmm.” Maxie switched her attention back to Jake. “I’ll have a Diet Coke with a slice of lime, please.”
“What are you doing?” Emma said, her eyes popping open to gaze at her mother in horror.
“Ordering a drink,” Maxie replied.
“You can’t stay here,” Emma said a tad frantically.
Maxie turned and eyed her from head to toe. “I thought your sisters were going to help you with your outfit.”
“I don’t need their help.”
Maxie’s raised eyebrow indicated otherwise. She smiled at Jake as he placed her Diet Coke and lime in front of her. “You may have noticed how tan I am. That’s because I live in Florida. I’m up here for my daughters’ weddings. Not this daughter, of course.” She tilted her head toward Emma.
Emma wondered why the of course. Was it so far-fetched that she would find the man of her dreams and tie the knot?
“I mean my other two daughters,” Maxie blithely continued. “They’re both getting married.
Only two weeks apart, can you believe it?”
Emma had to stop this runaway train somehow. “Mother, I’m sure Jake isn’t interested in the family’s wedding plans.”
“You should come,” Maxie told Jake. “We really don’t have enough good-looking men attending.
You could be Emma’s date.”
“She’s kidding,” Emma quickly assured Jake. She had to get her mother out of there before she said or did anything else to embarrass her. “Come on, Mother, we’ve got to go.”
“Go where?” Maxie protested. “I’m not done with my drink.”
“Yes, you are.” Emma tugged her mother off the stool and put a five-dollar bill on the bar.
“We’ll talk again soon, Jake.”
“Of course you will. He’s bringing you to the wedding,” Maxie said. “Right, Jake?”
“Don’t answer that,” Emma told him.
“I raised her to have better manners,” Maxie told Jake.
“I’m sure you did,” he said solemnly.
Maxie shook her head. “Emma has never been a troublemaker before.”
“She’s having a bad day,” Jake said.
“A very bad day,” Emma muttered.
“A very bad day, hmm? So what are you going to do about that?” Maxie aimed her question at Jake.
His smile was deliciously wicked as he said, “Why I’m going to take Emma to the weddings, of course.”
Chapter Two
Emma glared at Jake. “That’s not funny,” she said.
“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Jake said. “What makes you think I’m not serious?”
“Why would you want to take me to my sister’s wedding?”
“Why not?”
“Because you hardly know me, for one thing.”
“I know you’re a kick-ass sociologist with a mom who lik
es Diet Coke with a slice of lime,”
Jake said.
Smiling widely, Maxie inserted herself into their conversation. “You’ll have to excuse my daughter. She’s not a pro at accepting invitations from handsome men.”
Gee, thanks, Mom. Could you make me sound any lamer? “No, I’m not a pro at accepting invitations from handsome men. I’m a pro at turning them down.” A total lie but at least it made her sound like less of a loser. Only a few minutes earlier she’d assured Jake that she didn’t lie, yet here she was, bending the truth completely. Where her work was concerned, she was honest, but when push came to shove, she apparently lost that quality where her personal life was concerned.
Emma’s glare at Jake was intended to send the message that she no longer wanted to continue this line of conversation.
Being a male, he totally ignored her visual request. He clearly wasn’t about to give up the chance to have some fun at her expense and his gotcha look told her so.
Maxie looked from Emma to Jake and back again. “Uh, maybe I should leave now and let you two work things out.”
“That would be a good idea,” Emma agreed. She waited until her mother had actually exited the bar before telling Jake, “Forget everything she said about the wedding.”
“Why? Was she making it up?”
“No, my sisters are getting married. Two weeks apart. But that’s not your problem.”
“Is it your problem?”
What, Jake was suddenly turning into Dr. Phil on her now? Why was he asking her stuff like that?
“I just meant that you don’t have to worry about me taking your comment seriously.”
“Which comment exactly?”
“The one about taking me to the weddings.”
“Why do you have a problem with that?”
“I already told you. You don’t know me.”
“Taking you to your sister’s weddings is a good way of fixing that.”
“Why would you want to know me better? Never mind.” She hurriedly stuffed her laptop into her backpack. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was a personal question.”
“You don’t think asking me why I came to this town is a personal question?”
“Not in the same way.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was asking you out of professional curiosity. No, curiosity isn’t the right word.”
Come on, Em, she told herself. Get your act together here. Be coherent. Be precise. Be the totally in control academic you pretend to be. “I was asking as part of my study.” When he said nothing, she added, “What I mean is my interest in you isn’t personal.”
“What if mine is?”
She frowned in confusion. “What personal reason could you have in wanting to go to my sisters’ weddings?”
“Are a lot of people coming?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s a chance for me to get to know some of the citizens of Rock Creek.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who is a people person.”
“Bartenders have to be good with people.”
If that was the case, then why had he growled at her when she’d first walked in the bar? Not exactly the mark of a friendly extrovert.
“Why that look?” he said. “You don’t think I’m good with people?”
Far be it from her to make that judgment call. She was a bit of a social misfit herself. Okay, maybe more than a bit. She’d definitely gotten all the nerdy genes in her family. “You’re probably great with people,” she said.
“Probably?” He leaned closer and fixed those intense Irish poet eyes of his on her. “Sounds to me like you have some doubts on the matter.”
Emma was unable to reply given the fact that her tongue suddenly seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. He was like some hottie scrambling device that messed up her internal communication system.
He raised one dark eyebrow. “If you don’t think I’m the type to be a people person, what type of guy do you think I am?”
The type to make a woman think of orgasms. Not that she could share that extremely intimate opinion with him.
“I don’t know.” That would apply to orgasms as well. She was no expert in that department.
“Aren’t you interested in finding out?”
“I, uh . . .” Could she possibly sound more tongue-tied? The problem was she absolutely was interested in finding out more about him . . . and orgasms.
“I’m interested in finding out more about you,” he said. “You definitely managed to get my attention.”
Probably because she’d kicked Roy in the bar. Dumb move on her part. She was still unsettled from that incident. Maybe that’s why she was feeling so susceptible to Jake’s sex appeal. “I don’t want your attention, I want your demographic.”
“Then accept my invitation.”
“Are you saying that if I let you come with me to the weddings, you’ll agree to participate in my research study?”
“I’ll agree to consider it.”
“Only consider it?”
“That’s my best offer. Take it or leave it.”
She desperately wanted to leave it. She couldn’t figure out Jake’s motivation in wanting to come with her. She wasn’t buying his story about wanting to meet more citizens of Rock Creek. He had a reason that had nothing to do with her. And he wasn’t about to tell her what it was.
She certainly didn’t believe that he was interested in her. Hotties like him never went for plain-Jane brains like her. No, he had some other agenda.
She was dying to ask him what made him go from not interested to a possible yes. Was he just stringing her along? Probably. But again, she didn’t have much choice here. She needed him. His participation was pivotal to her research. And he had seemed to pay attention when she’d been talking about the details of her study. Which reminded her . . .
“Listen, before I forget, my friend’s son is a big fan of yours,” she said. “You’re one of his heroes or something. Would you be willing to sign an autograph for him? His name is Liam.”
Slam. Jake’s expression closed up tighter than a drum. “I don’t do autographs.” His tone was downright rude.
“Fine.” He made her feel like pond scum for asking the question in the first place. She returned her laptop to her backpack and pointed at the five-dollar bill still on the scarred bar.
“How much do I owe you for my mom’s drink?” Her voice was almost as curt as his had been.
His expression was stone-cold. “Is this study of yours some kind of smoke screen to get me to do an interview?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
She chose her words carefully. Otherwise she’d singe his sexy eyebrows off with her anger.
“Do you want me to be completely honest with you?”
“That would be a good idea.”
“Then the truth is I’d never even heard of you before I started the research for my project.
You may be some big extreme sports guy in your world, but it’s not like you’re a quarterback for the Steelers or anything. You’re not from PA or you’d know this is football country. Liam just happens to follow that extreme sports stuff for some reason. I don’t know why. He also likes the music of The Roots and Vampire Weekend. I don’t know much about them either.”
“How do you know I’m from out of state?”
“I looked you up online. Just for the basics. You grew up in California, as I recall. I only got the bare minimum on you and then stopped, because I didn’t want any preconceived notions ruining my research. The bottom line is that I don’t care how many races you’ve won or trophies you have. I’m only interested in you in regard to Rock Creek and your reasons for being here.”
Jake had no intention of telling her his real reason for landing in Rock Creek. He was here on a personal mission—to track down his b
iological mother. He’d taken a temporary job as the bartender at Nick’s Tavern while trying to put together a list of likely female suspects who might have given birth to him. The only clue he had was that she’d lived in Rock Creek. The private investigator he’d hired hadn’t given him much else to go on. The adoption had been a private one, the records sealed. The agency that had handled it had gone out of business after a fire destroyed most of their records. So here he was, scrounging for information.
Trust had never been an easy deal for him. Not given his background. None of the information about him online said anything but the briefest of references to his years in the foster system, and he liked it that way. There was no mention of his running away at seventeen, of crossing the border into Mexico to work as a bartender for a summer when he turned eighteen, of his returning to the States a few months later, returning to the slopes and snowboarding.
Jake’s love of snowboarding had been ingrained in him at a young age, before those dark years in foster care. He’d had loving adoptive parents back then; his dad had given him his first snowboard when he was four. Both his parents loved the mountains around Lake Tahoe, and he’d spent his early childhood flying down those trails, the wind in his face, the exhilaration of freedom in his veins.
Those days had abruptly ended with his parents’ death in a car accident one icy night.
Snowboarding wasn’t in the foster care system’s program so he made do with a used and battered skateboard instead. But he’d always known he’d return to the mountains someday.
And he had.
He’d become the Tom Brady of extreme sports, from snowboarding to mountain biking to developing new ways to fly faster down a mountain. He’d dominated his competition. He was known as Slayter the Slayer. He was invincible, always in search of the ultimate thrill.
“Do you want me to show you my sociology degree?” Emma’s exasperated question brought him back to the present.
“Do you carry it with you?”
“No. But I have my business card. Will that do?” She slid it across the bar to him.
The card was as prim and proper as she was. So were her fingers. No fancy manicures for her. Yet there was a fire beneath that controlled exterior that made Jake wonder what she’d be like in bed.
