The Heat Is On Read online

  “I know, but just think about it, okay? You have the place, you have the beach right here, it’s gorgeous weather, and you have a hot guy in your bed. What more could you want?”

  “How do you know about the hot guy in my bed?”

  “Well, because you’ve been wearing a just-got-some smile all morning. And because he’s standing right behind you.” Willow winked at Jacob, and grabbing a tray of fresh pastries, made her way out of the kitchen toward the front of the shop.

  Bella whirled around to face him, surprise on her face.

  “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said. “All the amazing smells coming out of here drew me in.”

  She tugged him out of the doorway. “I’ll feed you.”

  “I have to go to work.”

  “Food first.” She stared up at him for a moment, her mouth slightly curved.

  “What?” he asked, having no idea what she could be thinking when she looked at him like that.

  “You look…uncivilized,” she said.

  “Uncivilized?”

  “Yeah.” She was still staring at him, eyes warm. “You look sleepy and a little bit rumpled, and a whole lot hungry.” She eyed the bulge of the gun on his hip. “And armed. It’s a good look on you, Jacob.”

  He pulled her in and put his mouth to her ear. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll show you what I’m hungry for.”

  She bit her lower lip and slid a gaze to the closed pantry, making him both groan and laugh. “Bella.”

  “Hey, you put the suggestion in my head.” She gave herself a visible shake. “Food. I have fresh croissants that are, if I may say so myself, out of this world.” She grabbed one from a tray on the counter and took a bite, moaning softly as sheer bliss crossed her face.

  Last night, he’d seen that look directed at him.

  Smiling softly, she held out the croissant. Deciding one hunger at a time, he leaned in for a bite, purposely nipping the tip of her finger.

  She sucked in her breath, then let it out slowly while the croissant melted in his mouth, making him moan. She’d been right. Best croissant ever.

  Willow came back into the kitchen. Her dark hair was spiked around her head today, and she’d put in more piercings than he could count this early. “Bella, honey,” she said, taking in Jacob. “He’s wearing raspberry.”

  Bella looked at Jacob’s shirt. Dragging her teeth over her lower lip, she appeared to be fighting a smile. “Uh-oh,” she said. Grabbing Jacob by the shoulder, she nudged him into the tiny hallway between the kitchen and the dining area, and pushed him against the wall.

  “What—” he started, but she cut him off.

  With her lips.

  He wasn’t often surprised or caught off guard, but she kept doing both without effort. Staggered by the kiss, he slid one hand to the small of her back, the other to the back of her head, holding her to him while she kissed them both stupid, stealing conscious thought and detonating brain cells with equal aplomb.

  Breaking for air, she murmured, “Morning. And can I just say, casual has never felt so good.”

  He laughed softly. “No, it sure hasn’t.”

  “Come on.” She led him out to the dining area and with a pat on his ass, pointed him toward a bar stool.

  A few catcalls rent the air, and shocked, Jacob looked around.

  Most of the tables were full with the usual morning crowd seeking their sugar and caffeine rush.

  “Ignore them,” Bella said loud enough for every one to hear. “Sit tight and I’ll serve you. I had some trouble with the second batch of croissants, but the third batch is just about ready.”

  The closest table had four women of varying ages starting at around eighty, and they were cackling like a gaggle of hens.

  “Saw you come down the stairs,” the one with the candy-red lipstick said slyly, gesturing to the café’s side window, where there was indeed a view of the building stairs. “From Bella’s apartment.”

  Great. He’d made the walk of shame with an audience.

  The woman across from Red Lips arched a penciled-in brow. She had blue hair and her glasses were perched on the very tip of her nose as she looked Jacob over, giving him bad flashbacks to his Catholic-school days when he’d been regularly disciplined. He still twitched whenever he saw a nun.

  But this was worse, especially since he would have sworn the two of them were licking their lips over him.

  He shuddered inwardly and looked around for Bella. She’d deserted him.

  “You have a little something there on your shirt,” Blue Hair said, getting up and adjusting her reading glasses, pressing her face so close to his chest her nose brushed him. “Looks like fruit sauce.”

  Christ. He backed up, bumped hard into the counter behind him and rubbed at the stain, assuring himself they couldn’t possibly have any idea what he and Bella had done with that raspberry sauce, which he was pretty sure was illegal in several states.

  “Raspberry turnovers were yesterday’s special,” Blue Hair announced shrewdly, lifting a hand to touch.

  He ducked, dodged her, and then whirled around with a yelp when he felt a hand slide down his backside and pinch.

  “Nice and firm,” Red Lips said wistfully. “They don’t make ’em like that in my age group.”

  He refused to run. But he walked very fast into the kitchen, realizing what he was. “I’m a piece of ass.”

  “Yes,” Bella said, then came up behind him to whisper in his ear, “But you’re one fine piece of ass.” She offered him a taste of something warm and chocolate and mouthwatering from a wooden spoon. When his mouth was full, she leaned in close and pressed hers to his rough jaw.

  He sighed, having to shake his head. What the hell else could he do? “I really have to go.”

  She lifted a brown bag. “I know. Breakfast to go.”

  “Thanks.” He caught her before she could move away. “You’ll call if anything feels off or weird.”

  Her eyes laughed at him. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got the croissants under control now.”

  “Not that, smart-ass.” He tugged on her hair. “If you see anything odd, or someone so much as looks at you cross-eyed, you’ll call.” Unable to resist, he kissed her. He’d meant for it to be a light, easy kiss, but as usual, he’d underestimated her innate ability to drive him crazy.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been kissing her when he came up for air.

  Her eyes were closed and she was wearing a dreamy smile. “Um,” she said, and opened those gorgeous eyes, staring at his mouth as if she wanted another.

  “You’ll call,” he repeated.

  “Mmm, hmm.”

  He ran his thumb over her lush lower lip. “I’m going to assume that was ‘Yes, Jacob, I’ll call if anything seems off, or anyone so much as crosses their eyes at me.’”

  With a smile, she pulled him down and kissed him again.

  It was a diversion, but he couldn’t summon irritation when it was such an effective one. She’d been right about one thing—casual had never felt so good. It took a shocking degree of control to remind himself that he’d only meant to make sure she was okay, that it was time to go, and even then he took a minute to press his face against her hair before walking out the door.

  While he still could.

  “YOU EVER GOING TO TELL me about that kiss?” Willow asked Bella later that afternoon as they were cleaning up the shop after a day of brisk business. “What kiss?”

  “The one you laid on Tall, Dark and Drop-dead Sexy earlier, the one that looked like something right out of a movie.” She fanned air in front of her face. “Goodness, it was hot. That man is hot. The way he cupped your jaw and looked at you for a beat before molding you to every single inch of him…” She slid Bella a long look. “And I have a feeling there are a lot of inches to him—”

  “Willow!”

  She grinned, unrepentant. “Sorry. I’ll stop. It’s giving me a hot flash anyway. But just tell me this much—you going to keep him?”
<
br />   If I can, Bella almost said, but squelched it. Casual. They were going for casual. She’d agreed. And casual didn’t worry about things like keeping someone. “Undetermined at this time,” she finally said.

  “Seriously? Because if someone was kissing me like that, I’d keep him. I’d keep him naked and handcuffed to my bed.”

  Bella shook her head just as Trevor came in from the front room, carrying a heavy tray of dirty dishes. He looked like the typical California surfer boy with his deep tan and easy good looks. “Getting kinky again, Willow?” he asked with a wink.

  “Not me. Bella.”

  Bella rolled her eyes and headed to the door. “I’m out. I’m going for a swim.”

  “Hold up.” Trevor flashed a smile her way. “You shouldn’t swim out there alone,” he said. “I’m off, too, I’ll come with.”

  It wasn’t a hardship to have his company. He was a strong swimmer, plus he was just damn fine scenery, all tanned and buff and gorgeous. His quick grin didn’t hurt, either. But though she’d given some thought to him when she’d first come to Santa Rey, he was younger than her, and they worked together…and she’d decided against it. But no one could blame her for enjoying the view.

  Still, she found herself yearning for the view of another man, a big, bad, sexy detective named Jacob…

  After the swim, she and Trevor sat on the sand. “Dinner?” he asked, tilting his head back to the warm sun.

  She hesitated. Swimming as friends was one thing. But having dinner, too, might put it into another category. “Trev—”

  “Just dinner, Bella.” He smiled. “Unless you plan on breaking my heart over sushi.”

  “I’m taking a break from breaking hearts.”

  “Didn’t look that way this morning.”

  She grimaced. “Don’t ask me what I think I’m doing.”

  He shrugged. “Hey, sometimes the heart wants what it wants.”

  She sighed. “Yeah.” And sometimes the heart wanted what it couldn’t have…

  After they dried off, Trevor left to meet up with friends for that sushi he wanted, and Bella went back to her apartment to change out of her wet suit before going back down to the shop. She pulled on a halter sundress in deference to the heat and headed into the downstairs kitchen to make the dough for tomorrow’s shortbread, wanting to give it time to rise. She’d just finished when she heard a knock on the front door. Moving through the tables, she saw a face pressed up against the window.

  Tyler Scott, date number three. She knew his last name because he was a bookseller here in town. She’d been fascinated by his brains and sheer volume of knowledge, and just a little bit intimidated.

  But he was a good guy, a very nice guy, and so she opened the door with a smile. “Tyler, hi. I’m so sorry, but we’re closed.”

  “I know. I was just hoping…” He paused. “I know this is so rude of me to ask, but I’m heading to my mother’s in San Luis Obispo and I’m expected to bring the dessert. I guess I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind setting me up with something, but now I realize what an imposition it would be, and—”

  “No. No imposition,” she said. “Let’s go see what we have left over in the back.”

  Five minutes later, she’d sold him a small chocolate sandwich cake, and she walked him back through the shop to the front door.

  “My mom’s going to take one bite of this and start harassing me to bring you home,” he teased.

  Bella smiled. There was no doubt she enjoyed his company, but there was something pretty vital missing—the zing.

  She’d never really pondered the mystery of the elusive zing until Jacob. Because, holy shit, she and Jacob had zing. They had real, gut-tightening, goose-bump-inducing, brain-cell-destroying zing, and they had it in spades. She hated to compare men, but she could honestly say that not a single one of the other seven guys she’d dated during the Eight Dates in Eight Days had come even close.

  And while she was being so honest, she might as well admit that no man in recent history had come close.

  Maybe no man ever.

  And wasn’t that a terrifying thought all on its own?

  “Thanks again, Bella,” Tyler said, and stepped outside the door. She followed, wanting to see if the early evening had cooled down any.

  A loud shot sounded, echoing in the still air, and the glass window just behind them shattered. Before Bella could even begin to process any of it, Tyler grabbed her and knocked her to the ground.

  It seemed like forever, but it was probably only seconds before the glass finished raining down over them. Finally, Tyler lifted his head. “Bella?” When he sat up, his glasses were crooked on his nose. “You okay?”

  Her knees and palms were skinned, but that was nothing compared to being dead. “Yes. What the hell was that?”

  “Something exploded your window.”

  “Something?”

  “I think someone shot at us.” Tyler stood, then pulled her to her feet, as well, running his gaze down her, then down himself. “No injuries. No injuries is good. It means we can freak out now.”

  Bella stared up at the blown-out window of the shop. “A gunshot?” Oh, God. Not again. “Are you sure?”

  There were a few people gathering on the sidewalk, murmuring amongst themselves. “I phoned 911,” one of them called out. It was Cindy, who worked at the art gallery across the street and bought a croissant from Bella every morning without fail. She was still holding her cell phone. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a real gunshot before.”

  Bella was still staring at the hollow window, a matching hollowness sinking in her gut.

  Looking shell-shocked, Tyler sank to the curb. Just as shell-shocked, she sat next to him. “Can I borrow your phone?” she asked, and when he handed it over, she punched in Jacob’s cell number. It went straight to voice mail. “Hi,” she said. “Nobody looked at me cross-eyed, but I did get shot at. That probably counts as something you’d like to know, right?” She drew in air. “I’m okay,” she said, and disconnected.

  He would come. And that brought a now-familiar tingling that yesterday had started and ended in all her erogenous zones, but today…today nicked at a certain vital organ that clenched hard at the mere thought of him.

  She remembered how he’d looked this morning sprawled on his back across her bed, the sheets and blankets on the floor, revealing him in full glory.

  And then there’d been how he’d looked coming into the shop all rumpled and sleep deprived, a two-day-old shadow darkening his strong jaw, his eyes narrowed and probably already filled with thoughts of his cases, his shirt wrinkled, that raspberry stain over one pec.

  Armed and dangerous.

  And badass gorgeous.

  She might have dwelled on that, but there was the whole just-been-shot-at thing, and the police arrived.

  Then she heard the motorcycle. Jacob came off it at a dead run, slowing only when he saw her standing in the midst of the organized mayhem, clearly fine.

  Or as fine as she could be.

  Normally in a stressful situation—and she considered this pretty damn stressful—she’d already be out the door. Gone. Moved on. After all, she’d grown up in chaos, and it’d never suited.

  But she didn’t have the urge to run right now. It was the place, she thought. Santa Rey seemed to be making a home for itself in her heart. And so were its people.

  One in particular.

  Jacob came toe to toe with her. He removed his sunglasses and ran his gaze over her carefully, thoroughly, noting the scrapes on her hands and knees.

  “We’re okay,” she said. “Tyler pushed me down. Thank you for that, by the way,” she told him.

  Jacob flicked a glance in Tyler’s direction and nodded, then surveyed the damage around them with one sweep of his focused, sharp eyes before returning his attention to her. He pulled her to her feet, picked a piece of glass from her hair and shook his head, then slipped an arm around her, tugging her close enough to press his mouth to her jaw. “Ca
lls like the one I just got suck.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He murmured something too soft to catch and wrapped both arms around her, holding tightly now, as if he needed it as much as she. Snuggling in, she absorbed his warmth and strength. After a long moment, she said, “I’m really okay. You can let me go now.”

  “I’ll let you go when I’m good and ready.” But he sighed and pulled back, cupping the nape of her neck to look into her eyes. Whatever he saw must have reassured him because he nodded. “You good to talk to Ethan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Because he’s right behind you, giving me the evil eye, waiting for me to let go of you so he can ask you some questions. Also, just so you can brace yourself, we’re going to put a man on the shop.”

  “A man?”

  “A squad car. We’re talking murder, and now attempted murder.”

  “This is getting old.”

  Jacob looked deep into her eyes, his own dark and troubled. “There’s always Siberia.”

  “You want me to leave?”

  “I want you safe.”

  So did she. But she’d never felt as safe anywhere as she did right there, in his arms.

  8

  TWO HOURS LATER IT was finally just Bella again.

  Well, just Bella and the policeman assigned to watch over the building. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was around somewhere, and that was just fine with her.

  Feeling as calm as she possibly could, she stood in the shop kitchen and let out a deep breath, nearly screaming when she turned in a circle and came face-to-face with Jacob.

  Yeah, apparently her nerves were shot.

  He’d watched as the EMTs had bandaged up her knees, then helped board up the front window before leaving for a task-force meeting with Ethan, but apparently he was back, looking his usual big and bad and edgy.

  She did the first thing that came to mind. She walked right into his arms.

  They closed around her, warm and taut with muscle, tightening on her, surrounding her with his virility, the scent of him. The police had questioned her, Tyler and then Willow, who’d shown up when she’d heard. Trevor, too. The shooting might have been random and unconnected to the other shootings, but until the ballistics came through, no one would know for sure.