Full Bloom

Jacob."
    Drake's eyes narrowed. "I didn't say that. And it's not what I meant. I like Jacob. You know that."
    "But you don't think he's good enough to be my lover?"
    Drake met her eyes. "I think," he said slowly, "that Stone is dangerous. He lives up to his name, Emily. You've never really seen the hard, tough side of him. I have. Believe me, if you think we Ravenscrofts are ruthless at times, you should see Jacob Stone when he goes after something he wants."
    "You're trying to scare me off, aren't you, Drake?"
    "I'm not trying to frighten you, I'm trying to give you a few facts."
    Before Emily could respond to that remark, the study door opened again to admit Catherine and Gifford Ravenscroft. They walked into the room with serious, intent expressions, their eyes going instantly to their daughter.
    "Ah," said Emily, "Reinforcements have arrived. You're not alone any longer, Drake. Mom and Dad are here to explain to me in great detail why I should get Jacob out of my life."
    "You don't have to act as if we represent the Inquisition. We all like Jacob," Gifford said coolly as he closed the door behind himself and his wife. "I'd trust him with my life."
    "But not with your daughter?" Emily asked.
    Catherine sat down in one of the wing chairs, the skirts of her peach-colored silk dress swirling gracefully. "Now, dear, you must know how startled we all were to find out you're, uh, dating Jacob. Why didn't you say something on the phone the other morning? It was Jacob who was with you, wasn't it?"
    "I didn't feel like talking about my private affairs the other morning and I don't feel like it now. My love life is no one's business." Emily eyed the members of her family, gathering her nerve. What she was about to do was going to require all her courage and fortitude.
    "Emily, there's no need to be rude to your mother. You've given us all a shock this evening and I think you know it." Gifford shoved one hand into his pocket and walked over to the teak bar to pour himself a drink. "We had no idea you and Jacob were interested in each other."
    "If we had," Catherine murmured regretfully, "we would have handled things differently a couple of weeks ago when we asked him for help in dealing with Morrell. Jacob's not the right man for you, Emily. I don't even understand why you're interested in him."
    Feeling besieged, Emily held her ground by the window. The forces of Ravenscroft disapproval were gathering around her. Soon she would be in the center of a whirlwind. She had to keep her head as her family marshaled its assault.
    "I'm the one who's surprised," she said mockingly. "I thought you all liked and trusted Jacob. I assumed you'd all be delighted that I'd finally started dating someone you approved of."
    Catherine sighed. "Don't be deliberately dense, Emily, dear. We are very fond of Jacob and, as your father says, we trust him. We've trusted him with Ravenscroft secrets for years. That's not the point."
    "What is the point?" Emily challenged softly.
    Catherine waved her hand in a graceful, vague gesture. "Well, dear, to tell you the truth, although Jacob has always been quite useful and loyal to RI, he's not quite what we had in mind for you. His background is, well, murky, to say the least. He's led a rather rough-and-ready life, you know. Quite a different background than your own. Then, too, there was that nasty business at the time of his divorce…"
    "I'm not marrying him, Mother. Jacob made it clear a long time ago he's not interested in marriage. You don't have to worry about having him for a son-in-law, if that's what's troubling you."
    She could not have made it any clearer that she was involved in an affair, Emily thought. But perhaps if she defused their fears of her marrying Jacob right at the beginning, she could gain an edge. As she scanned the faces of the other three, she realized they were not exactly reassured. In fact, they all appeared more concerned than ever.
    "Emily," Catherine tried again, "Jacob has many fine qualities, but he's not exactly your type. It would be kinder not to encourage him."
    "What is my type, Mother?"
    Gifford frowned forbiddingly at his daughter's tone. "You know what your mother is trying to say. Jacob comes from an entirely different background than you do. He grew up the hard way and it shows. He's got some rough edges, and you'll never succeed in polishing him to the point where he'll fit into the sort of crowd we have here tonight."
    "You've found some of his rough edges