Free Waking Up with the Boss by Sheri Whitefeather Page B

the tabloids or take unauthorized pictures.
    Of course, Jake wasn’t a big-time celebrity. His “Beefcake Bachelor” status wasn’t enough to make him a star. No one followed him around, the way they did Lena and some of her other guests. But thank goodness this weekend was private, either way.
    â€œDo you want to eat outside?” he asked.
    â€œSure. Why not?” Carol thought it sounded nice and relaxing.
    He carried the tray onto the veranda, and they sat across from each other at a glass-topped table. She gazed out at the view. The pool area was vacant, almost eerily quiet.
    â€œI wonder if anyone else is even up yet,” he said.
    â€œSome of them are probably hungover from the party.” She cut into her eggs. She’d chosen poached, topped with cheese, tomatoes and pesto. “And the rest of them might just be lazing around like we are.”
    â€œYeah.” He was eating a sausage and egg scramble. “We haven’t even gotten dressed yet.”
    She nodded. Both of them were in their robes, and her towel-dried hair was still slightly damp. She’d combed it straight down, though. He’d only run his fingers through his, barely taming his thick dark locks. But his unkempt look was a part of who he was.
    â€œSo,” she said, still curious to know about his youthful rebellions, “what did you get caught doing when you were young?”
    He made a face. “I stole things. Mostly video games and DVDs and stuff like that. Sometimes I would nab a bottle of booze, just for the hell of it.” He frowned at his food. “But my biggest thrill was lifting trinkets for the girls I liked. I’d have them show me what they wanted, then I’d go back on my own to steal it. That’s what I got popped for. Taking this little diamond necklace from a department store.”
    She studied him in the balcony light, the way the shade played over his face. “The store pressed charges?”
    â€œYep. I was arrested for shoplifting.”
    â€œAnd now you buy women pricey gifts to make amends for what you did?”
    He glanced up from his plate. “I never really thought about it that way, but I suppose I do.” He paused, fork in hand. “Or maybe it just makes me feel good, being able to afford to give them pretty things.”
    Like the jewelry he’d given her, she thought.
    â€œI started stealing about six months after my family died,” he said. “I was so freaked out in foster care I could barely stand it. I needed something that made me feel alive. That gave me a sense of purpose, even if I knew it was wrong. I was fifteen when I got busted, so it had been going on for a while before I got caught.”
    Carol questioned him further, piecing his past together in her mind. “Did Garrett and Max know what you were doing?”
    â€œYes, but they didn’t say anything to me about it. They had enough problems of their own.”
    â€œWhat happened after you got arrested?”
    â€œI was put on probation. But I stopped stealing. Not because I got busted, but because my caseworker said that if I didn’t get my act together, I would be moved to a group home, where the setting would be much more restrictive. And I didn’t want to go someplace where I would be separated from Garrett and Max.”
    She sipped her orange juice. “So in a sense, they saved you? Just by being there?”
    â€œThey definitely did. We had our heritage in common, too, which also helped us stay together. We were placed in Native American foster homes, and there weren’t all that many, compared to nonnative ones. The only way we were likely to be separated or never see each other again was if I screwed up and went to a group home.” Jake had a thoughtful expression. “Soon after that, Max came up with the idea for us to band together. To work toward becoming megarich someday.”
    Carol considered the situation.