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attracted to someone only to discover that, after kissing for the first time, they were no longer interested. Which seemed to suggest that there were unconscious mechanisms that had evolved to identify genetic incompatibility.
    The study went on to point out that women were less likely to agree to have sex with a bad kisser than men, who were willing to have sex with just about anyone of the opposite sex.
    Men were opportunistic breeders—ready, willing, and eager to spread their DNA.
    “Why are you looking at me that way?” Jake said.
    “What way?”
    “Like I’m a bug under a microscope.”
    She shrugged and looked down, nervously bouncing the straw up and down in her soda.
    “Occupational hazard, I guess.”
    “Sociologists see people as bugs?”
    “No, although there are certain group dynamics in the insect world from which one could draw parallels.” Shut up, Em. You sound like such a nerd.
    He raised one dark eyebrow. “One could, huh?”
    “Never mind,” she muttered.
    “Do I make you nervous?”
    “No.” Which was a lie, of course. Funny how she never used to lie until she met him. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a lot of work to do at home.”
    “I’ll walk you there.”
    “You don’t have to do that.”
    “I want to.”
    He held the door open for her and even held her backpack, making her feel like she was back in high school. Not that any guy had done either of those things for her in those days.
    She was always the brainy, geeky girl. She still was.
    If she was so smart, she shouldn’t be wondering if Jake thought she was a good kisser. The fact that he seemed ready to have sex with her on her fire escape didn’t mean much according to Evolutionary Psychology .
    When they reached her apartment, she mumbled, “Thanks. Bye.” She grabbed her backpack and raced up the stairs as if the devil himself were chasing her. The indoor stairway ended in a shadowy hall on top. When a figure stepped out of the shadows Emma didn’t think, she screamed.

Chapter Five

    “ Holy crap!” Emma’s father bellowed from the shadows. “You scared the hell out of me!”
    Emma stood there shaking. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay. She silently recited the words as a mantra of reassurance to herself. The man was her father, not a mugger.
    The sound of footsteps racing up the steps behind her had Emma turning, ready to face the next threat. When her father came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she jumped a foot.
    “Get your hands off her,” Jake growled.
    “Who the hell are you to be telling me what to do with my daughter?” her dad growled right back.
    “Your daughter?” Jake repeated.
    “That’s right. I’m Emma’s father. And you are?”
    “Jake Slayter. I heard her scream and I thought she was in trouble.”
    “She is in trouble for nearly causing her father to have a heart attack. Since when are you so jumpy, Sweet Pea?”
    Her dad’s gentle squeeze of her shoulders and use of her childhood nickname had Emma blinking away sudden tears. She was bombarded with the swirl of conflicting memories.
    The reassurance of her dad telling her a bedtime story about an Irish fairy named Sweet Pea.
    And the terror of hiding in the corner with Leena when her dad got drunk.
    That terror was compounded by a more recent memory: not long ago, she’d been attacked in Boston. Maybe the residual fear from being mugged had drudged up that solitary image of fear from her childhood. She didn’t remember much about her dad’s drinking. She’d been only six or seven at the most. A huge majority of her childhood memories were good ones.
    She wasn’t afraid of her father. She was just afraid in general, and she hated feeling so vulnerable.
    First she’d leveled Roy in the bar, and now she was screaming like a ninny. She felt like a total idiot.
    “Are you okay?” Jake asked her. His voice was unusually gentle.
    She nodded, still too unnerved and embarrassed to speak. “Sorry,” she