“Ah…go where?”
He flicked an impatient glance her way. “To find your gun dealer. I thought we’d hit some of the local establishments. The pool hall, first. Then maybe the diner. And tonight, the bar.”
“Are you…dancing tonight?”
“No. I’ve got all weekend free. I only dance on Tuesdays and Thursdays, remember?” He noticed her sigh of relief and frowned at her. “But you will be there when I dance, Em. To pull this off, you’re going to have to be my biggest fan. Everyone will have to believe I’m yours. You can be as territorial as you like. Besides, I can use you as a smoke screen. If the ladies all believe I’m already spoken for, they might not be so persistent.”
Emily pursed her lips, her shoulders going a little straighter. “Are you certain that’s what you want? I don’t wish to interfere in your social life.”
“You know, Em, you don’t sound the least bit sincere.”
She looked totally flustered now, and it was all he could do not to laugh. “Come on, let’s get going.”
Holding her arm, a manner that felt as right as everything else he did with her, Judd hustled her down to the street and into his truck. He waited until she’d settled herself, then asked, “Did your brother mention what the guy who sold him the gun looked like?”
Emily shook her head. “He wasn’t in much condition to talk when I saw him last. I did get him to tell me where he’d bought it, though. But all he said about the man was that he’d grinned when he sold him the gun.”
Judd noticed she’d tucked her hands into fists again, and he reached over to entwine her fingers with his. “When was your brother hurt?”
“Not quite a month ago. I saw him right afterward and then my parents took him away as soon as the hospital allowed it. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
“So you have no idea how he’s doing?”
Emily turned away to stare out the side window. Her voice dropped to a low pitch, indicating her worry. “I’ve talked to him on the phone. He…he’s very depressed. Though my parents evidently refuse to believe it, the plastic surgeons have already done all they can. The worst of the scars have been minimized. But the burns from the backfire did some extensive damage to the underlying tissue around his upper cheek and temple. He claims his face still looks horrid, but I don’t believe it’s as bad as he thinks. He’s…he’s always been popular in school, especially with the girls. I guess he thinks his life is over. I tried to make him look on the positive side, that his eyesight wasn’t permanently damaged, but I don’t suppose he can see a bright side right now.”
Her voice broke, but Judd pretended he hadn’t heard. He instinctively knew she wouldn’t appreciate her loss of control. For such a small woman, she had an overabundance of pride and gumption, and he had no intention of denting it.
He squeezed her fingers again and kept his eyes focused on the road. “When will he be home again?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with my parents.” She sent him a tilted smile. “They’re blaming me for this. They say I’m a bad influence on him.”
“You?” Judd couldn’t hide his surprise.
“I work with the underprivileged. I don’t own a single fur coat. And I live in an old house that constantly needs repair.”
“Your house? I thought your house was terrific.”
She seemed genuinely pleased by his praise. “Thank you. But the plumbing is dreadful. I’ve had almost everything replaced, but now the hot-water heater is about to go. Either the water is ice-cold, or so hot it could scald you. I thought my father would disown me when he burned his hand on the kitchen faucet. But even more than my house, my parents hate that I refuse to marry a man they approve of. They want me to ‘settle into my station in life.’” Emily laughed. “Doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”
“Settling down? Not really. I think you’d make a fantastic wife and mother.” Dead silence followed his claim, and Judd could have bitten his tongue in two. It was bad enough that he still yearned for a real family. But to say as much to Emily? She was probably worried, especially after that kiss he’d given her, that he might have designs on her.
He slanted a look her way, and noticed a bright blush on her cheeks. Trying to put her at ease, he said, “You look like a domestic little creature, Em. That’s all I meant.”
Those wide brown eyes of hers blinked, and then she started mumbling to herself. He couldn’t quite catch what she was saying. Judging from the tone, though, he probably wouldn’t want to hear it, anyway. He had the suspicion she was giving him a proper set-down—in her own, polite way.
Judd was contemplating her reaction, and the reason for it, when they pulled up in front of the pool hall. It was still early, well before noon, so he didn’t expect the place to be overly crowded. Only the regulars would be there, the men who made shooting pool an active part of their livelihood.
Clayton Donner was one of those men.
Judd didn’t expect to see him here today, but he never knew when he might get lucky. And in the meantime, he’d find out a little more about Donner.
Emily was silent as he led her into the smoky interior. Unlike the lighting at the bar, it was bright here, and country music twanged from a jukebox in the far corner. Some of the men looked as if they’d been there all night and the low-hanging fluorescent lights added a gray cast to their skin. Others looked merely bored, and still others were intent on their game. But they all looked up at Emily. Judd could feel her uneasiness, but for the moment, he played his role and, other than put his arm around her shoulders to mark his claim, he paid her little attention.
Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he said, “Play along with me now. And remember, no matter what happens, don’t lose your cool.” Then he gave her a kiss on the cheek and a swat on the behind. “Get me a drink, will ya, honey?”
He gave a silent prayer she’d do as she was told, then sauntered over to the nearest table. “Hey, Frog. You been here all night?”
Frog, as his friends called him, had a croak for a voice, due to a chop to the larynx that had damaged his throat during a street fight. Frog didn’t croak now, though. He was too busy watching Emily as she made her way cautiously to the bar, careful not to touch anyone or anything.
Judd gave a feral grin. “That’s mine, Frog, so put your eyes back in your head.”
Frog grunted. “What the hell are you doing with her? She ain’t your type.”
Judd shrugged. “She’s rich. She’s my type.”
Frog thought that was hilarious, and was still laughing when Emily carried a glass of cola to Judd. He took a sip, then choked. Glaring in mock anger, Judd demanded, “What the hell is that?”
Emily raised her eyebrows, but didn’t look particularly intimidated by his tone. “A drink?”
“Damn, I don’t want soda. I meant a real drink.” Actually, Judd never touched liquor. He knew alcoholism tended to run in families, and after living with his father, he wouldn’t ever take the chance of becoming like him. Still, he handed the glass back to Emily, then said with disgust, “You drink it. And stay out of my way. I’m going to shoot some pool here with Frog.”
Emily huffed. She started to walk away, but Judd caught her arm and she landed against his chest. Before she could draw a breath, he kissed her. It wasn’t a killer kiss like the one he’d given her earlier, but it was enough to show everyone