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will."
     
    "I'm not likely to ever forget it." Jake lifted the trapdoor and slid out from behind the bar. He had to endure the congratulatory comments from every Bud and Frank who wanted to make the bar their home, but he managed to make his way through the crowded room to Emily.
     
    She was smiling and talking to Bud and Frank. The two regulars were blushing like school boys and remarkably enough on their best behaviors.
     
    Jake finally noticed the couple who sipped double whiskeys and stood directly behind Emily. The man—he figured was the uninvited Booker—was a good three, maybe four, inches taller than Jake and about that much wider all around. The woman, who had to be Marilyn, was curvy, luscious, and enough of a distraction to keep Alex and Nick occupied while Jake and Emily got better acquainted.
     
    Jake slipped his arm around Emily's waist and drew her close. She leaned into him and he bent down to tell her and her alone, "When I get you alone, you are going to tell me exactly what just happened."
     
    "It was rather indescribable."
     
    "You've got an hour or so to come up a description," he told her.
     
    "I'll try, but Marilyn and Booker will probably keep talking about it all night long."
     
    "Then it was an…?"
     
    Marilyn rested her chin on Emily's shoulder. "The word you are looking for is—"
     
    "Marilyn," Emily snapped.
     
    "Just trying to be helpful, darlin'," Marilyn drawled with a sweet grin and a Southern accent. She turned that charm on Jake and extended her hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Jake."
     
    Jake took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Marilyn." He tightened his grip on Emily's slender waist, his fingers rested on her warm midriff. He was effectively holding Emily upright with one arm. He turned his attention towards the large man with an empty glass of whiskey. "And this must be Booker."
     
    "That I am." Stiff handshakes were exchanged. "Nice place you've got here. It reminds me of a place I used to work in after I got out of the Marines. Except, it's a hell of a lot cleaner."
     
    "Thanks. Alex and Nick, behind the bar, share The Brigade with me."
     
    "Hi," Nick said with a polite nod to Booker.
     
    "Hello," Alex said with a salute to Marilyn.
     
    Jake looked down at Emily. "How about a drink, sweetheart?"
     
    "Anything with a lot of ice."
     
    Booker chuckled. "That is an excellent idea." He set his glass on the bar and said, "One more whiskey and I should be back to normal." His eyes slid to Emily. "As long as you don't do that thing that you do all too well… again."
     
    Emily shrugged. "I make no promises, Booker. Tell me, are my cheeks still as red as I imagine them to be?"
     
    Jake tensed as Booker caught her chin and turned her face from side to side, scrutinizing every minor detail. "Baby doll, it's going to take a lot more than one drink with a lot of ice to make that blush disappear."
     
    Baby doll? This mammoth creature called his sweet Emily… baby doll?
     
    Emily stuck her tongue out at Booker.
     
    Booker returned the gesture.
     
    "Ah, children, children," Marilyn murmured. "I thought you got that out of your system in the car."
     
    "She started it."
     
    Marilyn rolled her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "Lee is younger than you, Booker. I expect such juvenile behavior from her. She's practically a baby compared to you."
     
    "Thanks a lot, Marilyn. I love you, too," Emily said wryly.
     
    "Yeah, thanks a lot, Marilyn." Booker picked up Emily's jacket from the bar. "Come on, baby doll. Let's find you a safe place to perch before the sex crazed maniacs start flocking to the scene of the crime. You can come, too, Jake. It's about time somebody relieved me of guard duty."
     
    Jake motioned for Booker to lead the way to a couple of chairs at the end of the bar. "She should be safe right over there."
     
    Marilyn planted her hands on her hips and glared at Booker's massive back. "It's not my fault, Booker. It's not