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Authors: Barbara Freethy

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BOOK: So This Is Love
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"Is my brother hitting on you again, Emma?" Jarod asked.

"We're just talking," she said. "How are you doing? How's the construction business?"

"It's picking up." He cocked his head to the right, giving her a thoughtful look. "I don't think I've seen you since you became an arson investigator. How's that going? Are you working the fire at St. Andrew's?"

"Yes, I am." She paused. "I need to say hello to my dad. I'll talk to you guys later, all right?"

"Don't forget to call me," Tony said as she walked away.

As she moved through the crowd, her gaze drifted across the room. Max had gone to the bar, and she felt relieved that he was no longer watching her. She didn't need any more tension in her life, and that's what Max brought with him every time he came around. Hopefully, he wouldn't stay at the party long.

* * *

As he waited for their drinks, Max felt restless and irritated. Emma Callaway always got under his skin, and tonight was no exception. Usually, he could keep the attraction between them at bay. Usually, he saw her in uniform or in firefighting gear, her blonde hair covered by a helmet, her slender body in thick, shapeless overalls, but tonight, in a short turquoise dress, her sexy legs bare, her feet encased in high heels, her blonde hair styled, and her blue eyes sparkling under thick black lashes, she'd stolen the breath right out of his chest.

Damn
! He really shouldn't have followed up on Burke's invitation. But he'd been tired of his own company, and he'd wanted to see Emma outside of work. Now that they'd seen each other, now that his pulse was racing, and his entire body was on edge, he realized his mistake. It was too late to retreat, but he could make this a short night. He'd buy her a drink and then he'd head home. She wouldn't miss him. She had her huge family to keep her company, not to mention all the single guys in the bar.

It would actually be easier if she were dating someone. He didn't poach other men's women. But she was single and so was he. And as much as she annoyed him with her stubbornness and independence, she also impressed him. Besides being beautiful and sexy, she was strong, courageous and smart.

He needed to stay away from her. They couldn't hook up; they had to work together. And they couldn't have a deeper relationship, because he wasn't a relationship guy. So the only option was to take a hands-off approach, which would be a lot of easier if he didn't want to touch her so badly. For a second earlier, he'd had the strangest feeling that she wanted to kiss him. He'd probably imagined it.

Max glanced across the room. Emma had made her way to her father's table and was giving her dad a hug. There was a lot of love in the warm smile they exchanged, and for some reason, that shared look tugged at Max's heart, reminding him of a connection he'd lost a long time ago.

The bartender set down his drinks. He was grateful for the interruption. He handed over cash and then headed across the room feeling oddly nervous. He'd never been good at meeting the parents, and even though this wasn't that kind of moment, he still felt tense.

Emma accepted her drink with a cautious smile. "Thanks."

"No problem." He could see various members of the Callaways giving him curious looks. He had a feeling Emma's family was as protective of her as she was of them.

"Let me introduce you," she said. "Dad, this is Max Harrison. He's an inspector with the SFPD. My father, Jack Callaway."

Jack got to his feet to shake Max's hand. His gaze was sharp and direct. "Nice to meet you. Hank Crowley speaks very highly of you."

"I have the utmost respect for Captain Crowley," he replied, at the same time wondering why his mentor had been talking to Jack Callaway about him. Hank knew he preferred to stay under the radar, and if there was ever a man who wasn't under the radar, it was Jack Callaway.

"How do you know Emma?" Jack asked.

"We worked on an arson/homicide case last month."

"Max is a recent transfer from Los Angeles," Emma added. "But maybe you already knew that if you've been talking to Captain Crowley." Emma shot her father a speculative look.

"Hank mentioned that. How does it feel to be home?"

"Home?" Emma interrupted, glancing from her dad to Max. "You're from San Francisco? You never told me that."

"You never asked," he replied.

"Where did you live?"

"On Noriega Street in the Sunset District."

"I had a place on Noriega Street once," Emma's grandmother said.

Max looked across the table at Eleanor Callaway. She had white hair and blue eyes that seemed a little hazy, dreamy almost, as if she wasn't quite present.

"When did you live on Noriega, Grandma?" Emma asked.

"A long time ago," she said. "When your father was in high school. It was such a pretty house." She turned to her husband. "You painted the wall behind our bed blue, remember?"

"Just like your eyes," Patrick said, his loving gaze on his wife.

There was clearly a strong connection between the two, Max thought, wondering what it would be like to be in love and married to someone for fifty years. He couldn't even imagine it.

Eleanor smiled at her husband. "We had so much fun in that house, big dinners with all the kids around the table. I was happy." She paused, her smile fading. "But then we had to leave. We had to move after that bad, bad day."

"No one wants to hear about that," Patrick told his wife, his tone sharp and purposeful.

"It's going to be okay, isn't it?" she asked, worry in her eyes as she gazed at her husband. "You said it would. You promised."

"It's fine," he assured her. "It was a long time ago."

"What was a long time ago?" Emma asked.

"Don't add to the confusion with questions," Patrick said, giving Emma a harsh look.

Emma quickly apologized. "I'm sorry."

"I'm Patrick Callaway," her grandfather said, his attention turning to Max. "And this is my wife, Eleanor."

"I'm very happy to meet you both." He wondered how he could extricate himself from a situation that seemed to be turning more awkward by the moment. He had no idea what Emma's grandmother was talking about, but her odd comments seemed to have left everyone at the table speechless.

Eleanor suddenly stiffened, confusion in her expression as she pointed her finger at Max. "You're not Emma's boyfriend. You're not Jon."

"No. I'm Max."

"I like Jon." She gave Emma an annoyed and bewildered look. "Why aren't you with Jon? He always brings me those hard candies."

"Jon and I broke up, Grandma."

"But he loved you. You loved him. You were going to get married and have babies."

Emma cleared her throat. "We decided it wasn't right."

"So this man is your new boyfriend?" Eleanor demanded, not looking at all happy about it.

"No, he's a colleague. We work together sometimes. That's all." She looked relieved when Burke arrived at the table, interrupting their conversation "Burke," she said with relief. "You're here. And Max is here."

"So I see," Burke said, shaking his hand. "Did you meet everyone?"

"Emma was just introducing me," he replied.

Emma waved her hand toward the other members of her family. "My mom, Lynda, sister, Shayla, brother, Colton."

Her mother and siblings said hello. Colton appeared more interested in whatever he was reading on his phone than the conversation at hand. Shayla gave him a very curious look. Fortunately he did not have to talk to anyone as a group of people approached the table to offer Jack congratulations.

To give the newcomers more room, Max moved a few steps away. Emma did the same.

"Sorry about that," she said. "My grandmother is in the early stages of Alzheimer's, and we never know what is going to come out of her mouth."

"I'm sorry to hear that she's ill."

"It's hard to watch her deteriorate. She was a very sharp woman when I was younger. I couldn't get anything past her." Emma frowned. "I can't believe she remembered Jon. He hasn't been around the family in months."

"Apparently, the candies he brought her stuck in her head."

"I brought the candies for her birthday. He just took the credit." Emma's gaze drifted back to her grandmother. "I don't know what she was referring to when she alluded to some bad, bad day. It was such an odd thing to say."

"It sounded like your grandfather knew what it was about. He was quick to cut her off."

Her gaze swung back to him, her eyes questioning. "I thought so, too. It's the second time in the last few weeks that Grandma has mentioned a secret, and the second time Grandpa has changed the subject. But I can't imagine what secret she would be keeping.

"Have you asked your grandfather about it?"

"No. You don't ask my grandfather things like that. To be honest, I've always been a little scared of him. He's the only one in the family who ever made me feel like a stepchild."

Her comment surprised him. Emma seemed so confident, so sure of her place in the world, but in this moment he could see uncertainty in her eyes, and he wondered if she had to be good, had to be right, in order to prove herself to her family because she wasn't a Callaway by blood. It might explain why she was so determined to win, to succeed, to be the best at everything.

"Anyway," she said, turning her focus back to him. "How come you never told me you grew up here, and don't say it's because I didn't ask. I spoke to you about Los Angeles and your reason for transferring, and you never said anything about the fact that you were actually coming home."

"I haven't thought of this city as home in a very long time. I left when I was eighteen. That was fourteen years ago."

"Is your family still here?"

"Some of them."

"Why did you leave and why did you come back?" she asked, as she took a sip of her water.

"I left to go to college, and I came back because it was time."

"That's deliberately vague, Harrison."

"Maybe you should take a hint and drop the subject, Callaway."

She gave a dramatic sigh. "Another person with a secret. I seem to be surrounded by them tonight."

He smiled. "I don't know about that. Your Italian boys seemed up front and outgoing."

"The Moretti twins? I've known them forever. They're not to be taken seriously."

Her dismissive words made him feel oddly better about the interaction he'd witnessed earlier. "Are you sure about that? The first one looked really into you."

"Tony is a huge flirt. He's that way with everyone."

"If you say so."

"I do say so," she said firmly. "What about you? No date tonight?"

"Not tonight."

"You do like to be the man of mystery, don't you?"

"I've heard it adds to my charm."

"Charm? You think you have charm?" she asked doubtfully.

He couldn't help but grin at her disgruntled expression. "Apparently, you don't think so."

"Tonight is the first time I've ever seen you smile. So maybe there's more to you than I thought."

"Maybe there is."

She stared at him, then said. "Well, I don't have time for mystery men. I have my hands full at the moment."

He should be relieved by her answer, but he found himself oddly disappointed.

"I should go and mingle," she added.

"You should," he said, downing his drink. "I have to take off."

"So soon?"

"I have an early morning. Have a good night."

"You, too."

He set his empty glass down on a nearby table and moved quickly through the crowded restaurant. When he stepped outside, he was surprised to see a guy peering into the windows of the bar. He wore jeans and a big sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head. The man jerked when he realized Max was looking at him. He turned quickly and walked away.

Uneasiness ran down Max's spine. His car was in the opposite direction, but something made him follow the guy down the street. The man picked up his pace when he reached the corner. Max did the same, but when he jogged around the block, the guy was gone.

Max stopped, frustrated that he'd lost him, even though he didn't really know why he was in pursuit. But he'd trusted his instincts for a very long time, and most of the time his gut did not steer him wrong. Maybe this time, however, his instincts were off. He was on edge. His life was about to change in a big way, and he didn't know if he was ready.

Turning, he walked back the way he'd come. When he reached his car, his phone rang. He pulled it out and saw his mother's number. His stomach muscles clenched.

"Mom? What's up?"

"I just want to make sure you're going to pick me up at eight o'clock tomorrow," she said.

"I promised I would," he replied.

"Don't be late. Your brother has waited long enough for this day."

"I won't be late," he promised. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and then opened his car door and slid behind the wheel, his heart racing a little too fast as he thought about the next morning—about the sixty mile drive north to the prison where he would pick up his brother.

Chapter Two

The fire call came in at three o'clock in the morning on Monday, three hours after the Callaway party ended. Emma had been asleep, lost in a crazy dream that involved her ex-boyfriend, Jon, the annoying Inspector Harrison and her grandmother, when she'd been awoken by the sound of her cell phone.

It had taken a minute for the bad news to sink in. This wasn't just any fire, it was a fire at Brady's Bar and Grill, and first responders on the scene had determined the fire to be suspicious.

She threw on her clothes and drove back to the bar. She had to park a block away; there was a line of fire engines and police cars blocking the street. As she walked toward the fire, she saw flames shooting out of the roof and through the broken windows. She felt sick to her stomach. The warm, cozy, neighborhood bar where she'd spent so many hours was totally engulfed with fire. It seemed a bitter irony that a place so special to the firefighting community was now going up in smoke. A few hours ago there had been dozens of firefighters celebrating her father's promotion. Now there were dozens fighting the blaze.

BOOK: So This Is Love
11.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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