On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

*

    As he waited for their drinks, Max felt restless and irritated. Emma Callaway always got under his skin, and tonight was no exception. Usually, he could keep the attraction between them at bay. Usually, he saw her in uniform or in firefighting gear, her blonde hair covered by a helmet, her slender body in thick, shapeless overalls, but tonight, in a short turquoise dress, her sexy legs bare, her feet encased in high heels, her blonde hair styled, and her blue eyes sparkling under thick black lashes, she'd stolen the breath right out of his chest.
    Damn ! He really shouldn't have followed up on Burke's invitation. But he'd been tired of his own company, and he'd wanted to see Emma outside of work. Now that they'd seen each other, now that his pulse was racing, and his entire body was on edge, he realized his mistake. It was too late to retreat, but he could make this a short night. He'd buy her a drink and then he'd head home. She wouldn't miss him. She had her huge family to keep her company, not to mention all the single guys in the bar.
    It would actually be easier if she were dating someone. He didn't poach other men's women. But she was single and so was he. And as much as she annoyed him with her stubbornness and independence, she also impressed him. Besides being beautiful and sexy, she was strong, courageous and smart.
    He needed to stay away from her. They couldn't hook up; they had to work together. And they couldn't have a deeper relationship, because he wasn't a relationship guy. So the only option was to take a hands-off approach, which would be a lot of easier if he didn't want to touch her so badly. For a second earlier, he'd had the strangest feeling that she wanted to kiss him. He'd probably imagined it.
    Max glanced across the room. Emma had made her way to her father's table and was giving her dad a hug. There was a lot of love in the warm smile they exchanged, and for some reason, that shared look tugged at Max's heart, reminding him of a connection he'd lost a long time ago.
    The bartender set down his drinks. He was grateful for the interruption. He handed over cash and then headed across the room feeling oddly nervous. He'd never been good at meeting the parents, and even though this wasn't that kind of moment, he still felt tense.
    Emma accepted her drink with a cautious smile. "Thanks."
    "No problem." He could see various members of the Callaways giving him curious looks. He had a feeling Emma's family was as protective of her as she was of them.
    "Let me introduce you," she said. "Dad, this is Max Harrison. He's an inspector with the SFPD. My father, Jack Callaway."
    Jack got to his feet to shake Max's hand. His gaze was sharp and direct. "Nice to meet you. Hank Crowley speaks very highly of you."
    "I have the utmost respect for Captain Crowley," he replied, at the same time wondering why his mentor had been talking to Jack Callaway about him. Hank knew he preferred to stay under the radar, and if there was ever a man who wasn't under the radar, it was Jack Callaway.
    "How do you know Emma?" Jack asked.
    "We worked on an arson/homicide case last month."
    "Max is a recent transfer from Los Angeles," Emma added. "But maybe you already knew that if you've been talking to Captain Crowley." Emma shot her father a speculative look.
    "Hank mentioned that. How does it feel to be home?"
    "Home?" Emma interrupted, glancing from her dad to Max. "You're from San Francisco? You never told me that."
    "You never asked," he replied.
    "Where did you live?"
    "On Noriega Street in the Sunset District."
    "I had a place on Noriega Street once," Emma's grandmother said.
    Max looked across the table at Eleanor Callaway. She had white hair and blue eyes that seemed a little hazy, dreamy almost, as if she wasn't quite present.
    "When did you live on Noriega, Grandma?" Emma asked.
    "A long time ago," she said. "When your father was in high school. It was such a pretty house." She turned to her husband. "You painted the wall behind our bed blue, remember?"
    "Just like your eyes," Patrick said, his loving gaze on his wife.
    There was clearly a strong connection between the two, Max thought, wondering what it would be like to be in love and married to someone for fifty years. He couldn't even imagine it.
    Eleanor smiled at her husband. "We had so much fun in that house, big dinners with all the kids around the table. I was happy." She paused, her smile fading. "But then we had to leave. We had to move after that bad,