He drained the last of his shake and closed the spout on the lid with a snap. “Definitely not. The underfunded, lucky-to-have-enough-textbooks-for-each-kid kind.”
His voice was matter-of-fact, and she struggled to imagine this shiny, healthy example of manhood growing up in a hardscrabble neighborhood. “Really?”
“Yeah, I did it all. Begging for scholarships, working every part-time job I could find, constantly worrying about helping Mom make rent so we didn’t get booted from another apartment.” He shrugged. “It was incentive to work hard. To not get distracted.”
Something from their conversation that first week clicked into place. “To drive an old Jeep. To make partner,” she said softly.
His eyes found hers. “I want my mom and my sister to have a safety net if they ever need it.” His expression darkened. “They refuse to let me send them checks directly anymore, so everything I don’t need for living expenses goes into three savings accounts: one for me, one for Mom, and one for Finn.”
“Wow. Generous.” She pulled her legs up and crossed them underneath her. “My dad covers my Starbucks expenses when I’m home for a visit. Says it’s all he has left after four years of out-of-state tuition.”
Woof. Privilege, party of Mabel.Thankfully, Jake smiled at her upper-middle-class joke, which returned him to his previously relaxed expression.
“Hey, coffee expenses add up. You don’t want your dad to go broke.” Then he leaned back in his chair, and his tone shifted to confessional. “Anyway, it’s almost more of a habit than anything else. Mom and Finn are both settled and happy, and if all goes well, this is my last assignment before I’m promoted to partner, and then Ireallywon’t have money concerns.”
She tilted her head, searching his face for excitement at the prospect but seeing only grim determination. “Will that makeyousettled and happy?”
“It better,” he said immediately. Then his brow creased. “I mean, of course it will. It’s the only thing I’ve had in my sights for as long as I can remember.”
He fell silent and stared down at his closed laptop, leaving her to sort through the Jake Carey pieces she’d uncovered: impoverished childhood, expensive suits, solitary lunches, utilitarian vehicle, laser focus on work. And did she dare add a hint of loneliness to that list? Did he also know what it was like to be busy and fulfilled at work while also feeling like you were missing somethingimportant?
“Whoareyou?” The question slipped out as she tried to fit all the pieces of him together.
“I’m Batman.”
He growled it in a Christian Bale voice, and she replied without thinking. “Nope. Superman.”
“Superman?”
Damn. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but now she couldn’t ignore his arched eyebrows. So she tossed her hair and brazened it out with her best smirk. “You just seem like the kind of guy who accidentally wears his underpants on the outside.”
His lips twitched. “Not even once. Try again.”
Oh hell. She’d already called cupcakes orgasmic and asked him to a social event that he couldn’t have turned down faster. What did she have to lose? “When I saw you through the studio window for the first time, I… thought you looked like Superman.”
A slow grin spread across his face, and he lifted his chin, giving her a delicious view of that sharp jawline. “It’s the hair, isn’t it? Dark-haired guys always get the Clark Kent comparison.”
She sighed, resigned to spilling her whole tawdry thought process. “It’s the hair. It’s the jaw. It’s the shoulders.” She waved her hand from the top of his head down his torso. “You’ve got the whole superhero package.”
His grin widened, and he rubbed his chin in a show of deep thought. “Superhero, huh? I don’t know about that. It’s probably only alittleabove average.”
Mabel looked at him blankly, then mentally reviewed what she’d said.
Oh God.Package. She slapped a hand over her mouth with a giggle. “What are you, twelve?”
“Guys are gonna guy.” He shrugged. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re used to a more sophisticated level of conversation on a date.”
The worddatedid something funny to her nether regions. What kind of woman did Jake spend his free time with? Whomever she was, Mabel would bet she’d never schlep to work in beat-to-hell gardening clogs. As she was picturing what kind of posh creature he’d probably escort around Chicago, he rolled his empty shake bottle between his palms, smile gone.
“Not that this is a date, of course,” he said gruffly.
“Of course not. I don’t date people I work with,” she said automatically, grateful for the reminder. He was so easy to talk to that she could almost forget everything, including her hands-off rules and the fact that she was sporting last night’s bedhead.
When he looked at her curiously, she followed his lead and shared more than she normally would with someone who wasn’t Dave. “Actually, I don’t date, period.” She pressed her lips together and considered how much she should share. “Bad experience at my last job. It’s… hard sometimes for women in the public eye.”
His face softened for a split second before he saluted her with the bottle. “Here’s to not dating. I don’t take the time for it either.” The statement was said matter-of-factly, with no more emotion than he might say “It’s supposed to rain today” or “Curling’s my favorite sport,” and she felt a burst of pity for the singles of Chicago at being denied Jake’s devastating smile lit by candles across a white tablecloth at a fancy restaurant.
“Ah, that explains why you picked such a disappointing restaurant for lunch.” She gestured around the low-ceilinged room, and he laughed.
