me.”
“Marisa,” Julia said, stepping forward. “Joey and I wanted to invite you to join us for dinner, to celebrate our engagement.”
“Really?” She could barely hide her surprise. “Whose idea was that?”
Julia glanced nervously at Joseph. “Um, both of ours.”
Boy, was she a lousy liar. Marisa knew Joseph wouldn’t have voluntarily asked her to join him for a meal. Still, she had no reason to be rude to Julia. “I’m sorry, I have plans tonight. But thank you for the invitation.”
“You will come to the wedding, won’t you?”
She’d never attended one of her father’s weddings. Well, not since his second marriage when her mother had sent her to the formal reception decked out in a ratty old dress and scuffed shoes. She had wanted all of his guests to see how poorly he cared for his daughter. She’d given no thought to how mortified Marisa would feel.
“Your father doesn’t love you,” her mother had said. “He only cares about himself, and now everyone will know it.”
It never escaped Marisa’s attention that her mother had a closet full of designer clothes and shoes. But when Marisa needed money for school clothes, or the rent was due, the well was always dry.
“It’s August eighteenth,” Julia was saying. “Can you make it?”
Marisa scrambled for an excuse to decline.
“It would mean so much to us,” Julia pressed. The look she gave Marisa was nearly pleading. “Please come.”
Pity for the girl overshadowed reason. Julia seemed nice enough. Clueless—but nice. “Sure, I’ll come.”
“Oh good!” she said excitedly. Joseph stood next to her, his face solemn. “I’ll send you an invitation.”
“We should go,” Joseph said, taking her arm. “We’ll miss our reservations.”
“It was so nice meeting you.” Julia took Marisa’s hand again, this time squeezing it firmly. “I hope we see each other again soon.”
Joseph nodded in her direction. “Take care of yourself, Marisa,” he said, guiding Julia to the door.
“It was nice meeting you, too, Lucy and Jake!” Julia waved as the door jangled shut.
“Whoa.” Lucy leaned against the counter next to Jake. “That was tense.”
“Very tense,” Jake agreed. “On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a sphincter level of about ninety-nine point nine.”
“Your father is gorgeous,” Lucy said.
Marisa grabbed her purse from the file-cabinet drawer and pulled out her keys. “Don’t think he doesn’t know it.”
Lucy switched the lights off and they started toward the door. “Are you really going to go to their wedding?”
“I might. I’m a little curious, I guess.” They stepped outside into the stifling heat and Marisa locked up behind them.
“Your family is so scandalous,” Lucy said. “I envy you. I’ve got a family full of practicing Catholics. It’s so dull.”
They wove their way down Main Street toward the bar. As was the case every Friday night, the streets of the trendy town were clogged with people. “Lucy, trust me when I tell you it’s not as exciting as you may think. Especially for the people directly involved.”
Jake only nodded silently. Having grown up in an equally dysfunctional family, no one had to explain the concept to him.
When they reached the bar, they walked past the long line of customers waiting for a table and the bouncer motioned them through the door.
They negotiated through a sea of people to the table marked Reserved just to the left of the dance floor.
“I’ll see you after the set,” Jake said, and headed for the stage, instantly encompassed by the usual preperformance harem.
Having been so distracted by the pain and her father’s unexpected visit, Marisa barely noticed Jake’s appearance. Not that he looked any different than usual. Under the dim, smoky lights he looked unbelievably handsome. Well, actually, he looked unbelievably handsome all the time. And it wasn’t just good looks that made him so attractive. There were endearing little things that added to his appeal. The hair that was always a little messy. The slightly crooked nose—a battle scar from one of his father’s rages—and the way his mouth lifted a fraction higher on the left when he smiled.
He turned and flashed her that crooked grin and a funny little flutter danced through her stomach.
From across the table, Lucy nudged her.
She tore her eyes away from the stage. “Huh?”
“I said, Jake looks good tonight.”
A rush of heat claimed her cheeks when she realized she’d been caught staring. She tried to sound casual. “Oh, yeah, I guess he does.”
“You need a tissue?”
“What for?”
“The drool on your chin.”
Before she could embarrass herself further with a denial Lucy would most surely see right through, a waitress appeared to take their drink orders. A moment later Jake introduced the band and began the set with a rich, lazy rhythm, rendering a hush over the entire bar. Marisa propped her chin on the back of her hands, gazing up at him, lulled by a haunting tune she didn’t recognize. Then he sought her out, his eyes locking on hers, and she had the irrational, almost thrilling sensation that they were the only two people there. That he was playing for her alone. A slow, melodic seduction. She’d never heard him play more soulfully.
It went on that way throughout the forty-minute set and by the end, she felt as if she’d been picked apart, dragged out emotionally and left raw and exposed.
A burst of wild applause snapped her back to reality. His music had touched everyone there, not just her. Although, he had been watching her…
Jake thanked the crowd, passed the entertainment over to the DJ, then eased his way past a throng of eager young women. Between autographs and words of praise, he slowly made his way to Marisa and Lucy’s table. As Marisa rose to greet him, a tall, leggy blonde seated at the table behind them body-slammed her out of the way. Marisa stumbled, catching her balance on the edge of the table.
The blonde attached herself to Jake like a leech, whispering in his ear. He laughed, whispered something in return and when she handed him a business card he tucked it into his shirt pocket. It occurred to Marisa that Jake hadn’t been looking at her.
He’d been fixed on the blonde sitting directly behind her.
Humiliation blistered Marisa’s pride. What had she been thinking? Why would she let herself believe that Jake could look at her as anything but a friend? How could she have ever even considered that he would agree to be her baby’s father? That the thought of making love to her might not be such a bad thing after all. She should have known better.
Though she wanted to deny it, something had happened between them today. Something had changed and she didn’t know how to reverse it. How to fix it.
“Sorry about that.” Jake folded himself into the chair opposite her and signaled the waitress for his usual soda. “The longer I’m in this business, the more aggressive they seem to get.”
“Poor baby,” Lucy teased, and he pinched her playfully, making her squeal.
Holding in the tears of humiliation burning behind her eyes, Marisa grabbed her purse and rose from her chair. “I’m going home.”
“Already?” Disappointment twisted Jake’s gut. He had hoped she would stay for a while, so he could see if the connection he’d experienced, the charge of electricity