“I don’t care where you say you got this card, young man. My daughter has a fiancé and she is not, I repeat, not, going out with you tonight, tomorrow, or ever.” In typical Raymond Fairchild fashion, her father made to shut the door on Jake.

Lucy surged past her momentary frozen state.

“Wait!” She flew out of the library and slid across the slick tiles, coming to a stop next to her father.

Graceful, thy name is not Lucy Fairchild.

How embarrassing.

Raymond peered down at her over his glasses, his blue eyes sharp as ever despite the fact he was now sixty-four years old. His formerly dark hair had turned white, which just made him look more elegant and refined than he had when he was younger.

She’d loved and worshiped him for as long as she had memories. But right now he irritated the heck out of her.

“I do not have a fiancé, Father.” She glared at him before turning her gaze to Jake.

“I’m sorry, Jake. My father didn’t know you were coming. Please, come in.” When her father didn’t budge, she backed against him and gave him a slight nudge with her hip before opening the door wide for Jake to step in.

“Thanks.” Jake swept a look from her father to her, then grinned.

Amused, was he? Well, she didn’t find this entire, awkward situation humorous at all.

“Lucille, please explain.”

Lucy set her shoulders back and inhaled sharply. “Nothing to explain, Father. I have a date.”

Raymond raised a patrician brow and scanned Jake before frowning back at her.

“A date.”

“Yes.”

“With him.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I think not.”

“I think so.”

“Lucille.”

“Father.”

Jake’s snort interrupted what easily could have been an hour long war of very short sentences.

“You find something amusing?” her father asked Jake.

“Yeah. You two are funny as hell. You should take this show on the road.” Lucy hid the smirk that threatened to erupt. And despite the fact she’d had her reasons for canceling their date, her father’s arrogant attitude toward Jake had her making an about turn in her decision.

“Let’s go, Jake.”

“Lucille, you are not going out with this man. I forbid it!” She turned to her father, carefully controlling the fierce anger that threatened to boil into a sure-to-be-regretted-later eruption. “You do not get to tell me what to do, whom to see, or how to live my life. I’m an adult and capable of making my own choices. Goodnight, Father.”

She grabbed Jake’s arm and literally hauled him out the front door.

Jake opened the door on what looked to be a new, cherry red Chevy truck. Even had the back seat with the extra doors. And, my, was it tall. He held out his hand while she stepped onto the side rail and hoisted herself up.

“Lucille?” Jake asked with a chuckle as he hopped in on the other side.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, the adrenaline rush brought about by the argument with her father still zinging through her nerve endings.

He gunned the engine loud enough for her father to hear. It roared in her ears and vibrated her seat. Massive, powerful, the truck was like barely contained testosterone on wheels.

Which pretty much described Jake Dalton. He slipped the car into gear and peeled away from the curb, burning rubber in his wake. Lucy hid the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth as she spied her father’s rigid stance at the front window.

“Fiancé, huh?” he asked.

“No. No fiancé.”

“I guess we’re lucky you got out of there when you did.”

“Why?”

“You might have been grounded and we’d have had to cancel our date tonight.”

“Very funny.” She was not in the mood for laughs made at her expense, since she was mortified at her father’s behavior, and Jake wasn’t making it any easier. “Can we just drop it?”

“Why? Don’t you think it’s funny?”

“Not in the least.” Now she wished she hadn’t agreed to the date after all. It was clear he was going to tease her all evening.

“Lighten up, Lucille,” he said, accentuating her name.

“My name is Lucy.”

“Is it?”

“All right. It’s Lucille.”

“After?”

She turned to him with a frown. “After?”

“Yeah. Surely your parents wouldn’t name you that on a whim.” Now he hated her name. Lovely. “What’s wrong with Lucille?”

“Nothing. It’s just not…”

“Not what?”

“I dunno. Doesn’t seem to suit you, I guess.”

“I was named after my grandmother.”

“Ah. Figured it was something like that. But I like the name Lucy. It fits you.”

“Fits? How?”

When they stopped at a red light, he reached out and grasped an escaping tendril of her uncontrollable hair, letting it slide slowly through his fingers. She shivered at the brush of his knuckles against her cheek. “Short and sassy. Like you.”

“Oh.” She studied him, looking for signs of some joke at her expense, but he only turned his eyes back to the road. Wow, it was really warm in the truck now.

The radio played softly in the background. Country music. She stole glances at him, watching as he tapped his fingers in time to a song about lost love and broken hearts.

“Where are we going?” She noticed they’d headed over the Bay Bridge into the east bay.

“It’s a surprise,” he answered, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Um, am I dressed appropriately?”

He glanced at her briefly, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “You look fine.”

Fine? What did that mean? Could there be a more nondescript word than fine?

For all she knew that was manspeak for hideous. She leaned against the door and rubbed her forehead with her index finger, feeling the beginning strains of a headache. This whole night had been a disaster so far. She’d be glad when it was over.

They pulled into Robbie’s Ribs, a one frame building that looked more like a farmhouse than a restaurant.

“You like ribs?” Jake asked as he opened her door.

“I don’t know.”

He tilted his head and expertly cocked one brow in question. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve never had ribs.”

Jake shook his head. “Figures.”

“What figures?”

“Nothing. Come on.”

He grabbed her hand and started off. His hand was warm, his fingers entwined with hers. The simplest gesture and it probably meant nothing to him, but Lucy felt tingles all the way to her toes. His grip was firm and he walked very close to her, his shoulder brushing hers all the way inside.

He held the door open for her, put his hand on the small of her back to lead her inside.

He liked to touch her. She noticed that.

She liked it.

She didn’t want to like it.

But she did.

Interesting choice of restaurant for a date. The place was packed. And loud.

Unlike anything Lucy had ever experienced. Entire families ate here, at tables that looked like dark picnic benches. Out of little plastic baskets lined with paper. And they ate with their fingers.

It smelled both sweet and spicy. Warm, and full of laughter. A family restaurant.

She followed Jake to a cafeteria style counter where they slid trays along, telling the person behind the glass what to scoop on their plates. Not knowing what to choose, she relied on Jake’s suggestion and ended up with a huge pile of ribs, beans, coleslaw and bread. They grabbed one of the smaller picnic tables and sat.

Okay, now what? Ribs and barbecue sauce, which she was supposed to eat with her fingers. The white sweater she’d chosen was fast looking like a bad choice of attire.

“Are you going to stare at the food all night or are you going to eat it?” She looked up at Jake. “Um, how?”

He grinned and shook his head. “Lost without twelve utensils on each side, aren’t you, honey?”

“Smartass.”

He laughed, clearly not at all insulted. “They’re ribs. Pick them up and eat with your fingers.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Everyone gets messy. It’s allowed.”

He dug into his meal, sauce lined on the sides of his mouth, seemingly unaffected by her dilemma. She couldn’t very well try to cut a centimeter-sized piece of meat off the bone, now could she? With as much decorum as she could manage, she picked up a rib and bit into it.

She bit back a moan. Dear God, it was delicious. The meat was tender and fell off the bone into her mouth. The tangy sauce tickled her taste buds with its sweet and spicy flavor, and she found herself devouring the meal. She even licked her fingers. By the time she’d finished and wiped her hands, she looked up and found Jake watching her.

Intently.

“What?” she asked, sliding her tongue across her lips in case some barbecue sauce had failed to be swept away by her napkin.

“Don’t do that.” His gaze never left her mouth.

“Don’t do what?”

“Lick your lips like that.”

She stopped in the middle of her frantic tongue swiping and looked around. The only person who had an eye on her was Jake. “Why not?”

“It turns me on,” he said with a wicked grin.

In an instant her throat went dry and her toes curled in her tennis shoes. “It does?”

“Yeah. Don’t you know what a woman licking her lips like that does to a man?”

“Um, no.” To the best of her recollection, no man had ever told her she turned him on. Especially not during dinner.

“You want me to tell you what kind of image that conjures up in my mind?” Did she ever. She had her own visuals going and wondered if hers would match his.

“No.”

Desire flamed hot in his eyes. “You sure?”

No, she wasn’t. She was dying to know. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Too bad. You ready to go?”

Since she couldn’t indulge her fantasy about licking lips and Jake in this crowded, family style restaurant, she supposed she was ready to leave.

She had never enjoyed a meal so much in her life. No one paid attention to where her napkin sat in her lap, or for that matter if she even had a napkin there. No one raised an eyebrow at the occasional slurp of her soft drink, and no one told her to take her elbows off the table. In fact, she was fairly certain it was a requirement here.

She probably could have burped and not a single soul would have batted an eyelash.

The thought was appalling, yet made her want to giggle.

All in all, the evening hadn’t been as bad as she’d anticipated. Granted, they hadn’t talked much, but at least she’d survived it. And she hadn’t had to make up some lame excuse to cancel out on him. Now he’d take her home, and that would be that.

Except he didn’t. They drove a few miles down the road and Jake pulled into a gravel parking lot. The only building was a shack emblazoned with the name Murphy’s.

A bar. A tiny little bar no bigger than a one room house.

She glanced at him and he smiled, turning off the ignition. “How about a beer?” Beer. Now that was something she hadn’t had much of in her life. “Okay.” There were only a handful of cars in the parking lot. Several neon signs blinked on and off in the window. Jake grasped the handle of the paint scarred wooden door and held it open for her.

It was completely dark inside, with the exception of a few lights over the bar and single pool table in the middle of the room. A few men sat at the bar watching a baseball game on television, and another two men were playing pool. Everyone turned to look as they walked in.

She was the only woman in the place. And these guys looked like they hadn’t seen a female in years.

“They won’t bite,” he whispered into her ear and propelled her forward with his hand on the small of her back. “Unless you ask them to.” She shivered, whether from that suggestion or the feel of his palm on her back she wasn’t sure. Either way, she felt comforted by Jake’s presence. He seemed like the kind of man who could handle himself in a place like this.

He led her to a table in the back of the small room and left to get them drinks.

Lucy sat ramrod straight in the hard wooden chair, her hands clasped on the table.

Strains of soft oldies music played from the jukebox, and apparently her appearance in the place wore off quickly, because the men ignored her.

Jake returned with two bottles of beer. She sipped the cool liquid, sighing at a long forgotten pleasure. She hadn’t had a beer since college.

“Not quite the elegance you’re used to, is it?” he asked, arching a brow.

Was this some kind of test? A challenge? She shrugged in response. “It’s fine.” He laughed and she bristled, knowing he was having some sort of fun at her expense.

So she wasn’t used to eating at barbecue joints and having drinks in a one room bar. That didn’t make her a snob.

“Are you having fun?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he mimicked.

She let out a huff, knowing she should never have agreed to this date. It was obvious they had nothing in common. She glanced at the clock on the wall above the bar, counting down the minutes until Jake would take her home.

“Why did your dad tell me you had a fiancé?”

The question threw her off kilter, and she found herself unable to answer.