The Heat Is On (14 page)

She knew what would come next.

Her clothes would fall away again and then he'd put that mouth on her, that talented, greedy, knowing mouth, and she'd never leave.

She'd never want to.

Which was why she was going, dammit. Sleeping with him was doing something to her, making her want things she had no business wanting, not from him. Knowing it, she forced herself to pull away, forced her hands into her pockets and her eyes off his. “If you keep that up,” she quipped, “I'll never go.”

“Maybe you've discovered my evil plan,” he murmured, his naked body calling to hers.

Maybe,
he'd said.

Did that mean he wasn't certain? She wasn't sure, but it sounded to her like he wasn't ready to admit that he wanted her to stay. Not because he needed help, not because she was in danger, but because he wanted
her.

That settled her mind as nothing else could have.

Dammit.

It was her hang-up, not his, but she couldn't ignore
it. Not when her flight reflex was suddenly screaming. At the door, she turned back to look at him, and found his dark eyes on hers, silent and assessing. Her throat tightened, her eyes burned. “I'll see you later,” she said, and left before he could touch her again with his magic body and change her mind.

T
HEY DID A WASH AND
repeat for three days, with Bella coming over to Jacob's after work, and then leaving late at night.

There'd been no more shootings and though Edible Bliss hadn't reopened to the public, they were still operating the kitchen for their direct-to-restaurant customers. Willow was back in her apartment, being watched over by the cops, but she'd asked Bella to be around whenever possible.

Which is how Jacob once again found himself lying on his bed, watching Bella gather her things to leave. Two minutes ago he'd come so hard he'd been rendered blind, deaf and dumb.

Hell, he still couldn't feel his legs. Somebody had taken out all his bones.

Not Bella. She'd put herself back together with alarming ease.

Jacob didn't move or change his breathing because
if he did, he'd sit up and ask—beg—to know why she had to go.

Why she seemed to want his body plenty, but didn't want to sleep with him.

At first, he'd shrugged it off. They'd said casual, and she'd certainly kept it that. Besides, how could he complain? He was getting fantastic, mind-blowing sex without the worry or awkwardness of the morning after.

And given their typical humiliating morning after—what he referred to as the Raspberry Incident came to mind—he should be fine with that.

Which in no way explained why it was bugging the hell out of him. Maybe because it meant he was far more vested in this than she, and he hated that. She was happy enough to see him, hang out with him, he knew this. In fact, she seemed more than happy.

She glowed.

But just how content could she really be if she couldn't wait to leave him at the end of the evening in spite of the looming, omnipresent danger?

There had to be a reason. He just didn't know what. He was missing something, something big. But for two nights in a row, he'd let her go without a word because it was embarrassing that he wanted more than she did, and also because he didn't want the inevitable confrontation that might facilitate their end.

The end of the happiest he'd been in too damn long.
But he couldn't do it any longer, couldn't keep quiet. “Why do you always go?”

She went still for a beat, then turned back from the door. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“It's late, Jacob.”

“But that's the very reason you should stay.”

She was quiet a moment, just looking at him, and he knew right then—he'd most definitely missed something, but hell if he could figure out what. “I'll come with you.”

“Not necessary,” she said. “I have to get up really early.”

It was his turn to be quiet a minute. “Are you afraid to let me go to your place because we haven't caught the shooter?”

“Partly.”

“Then stay here.”

“Another reason I leave is because I don't live here,” she said. “Actually, I don't really live anywhere.”

“What does that mean?”

She turned back to the door, which frustrated the hell out of him because now he couldn't see her face. “It means maybe I've been thinking it's time to move on again.”

“You've been thinking about moving on?” Listen to that, listen to him sounding all cool and calm, when he suddenly felt anything but. “Since when?”

“I always think about it.”

He pushed off the bed and moved toward her,
taking her purse out of her hands, backing her to the wall. “Where will you go this time?”

“Don't know yet.”

“Why now?”

“Why not? There's really no reason to stay….”

He cupped her face with one hand and made her look at him. “No reason?”

“It's not like I have my own shop, or a real relationship. I mean, we're just messing around…”

Jesus. He stared at her, his thoughtless words to Austin coming back to haunt him.
Hello, missing piece to the puzzle.
“You know what I meant by that, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “I believe it's fully self-explanatory.”

He shook his head as unaccustomed desperation welled up from within him. Not knowing what to do with it, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her. He kissed her until she softened and slid her hands up his chest, around his neck and clung.

He'd never been one to crave physical closeness, but having Bella in his arms suited him.

It suited him a lot.

Only, Bella had changed the rules, the game,
everything,
turning it all upside and sideways on him.

And she was leaving.

Right now, unless he said something to fix it, to bridge the big, gaping hole between them. He opened his mouth and let out the first thing that came to
him. “Santa Rey has a lot to offer you. Your pastries are already gaining fame, and Willow told me she suggested you create a Web site. You could go huge, Bella. Right here.”

“I don't think this is about my job,” she said.

“Is this about
my
job?”

She just looked at him.

Quick, Madden, think quick. “I've never been with a woman who could handle my work.”

“A woman who chooses to be in your life should accept you, Jacob, just as you are.”

“Should. But they don't. Look at you, running for the door.”

“My leaving has nothing to do with your job. Or changing anything about you.” She cocked her head and studied him. “Would you ask me to change?”

Would he? Would he get down on bended knee and beg her not to leave here when the time came, simply because he needed her?

“Because I'd never ask you to change who and what you are, Jacob. Never.” With that, she went up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his temple. “'Night.”

“Bella—”

“It's late,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his other temple, his jaw, and then far too briefly, his lips. “Gotta get some sleep. You're starting work tomorrow, you should get some sleep, too.”

And then she was gone.

 

T
WO DAYS LATER
, B
ELLA
and Willow were just closing up the kitchen when Jacob came in the back door with two cops, one on either side of him. He thanked them and they went back to their perch outside.

One look at Jacob had Bella's heart taking a good, hard leap. She could tell herself that she was good and fine and well with everything that had happened until she was blue in the face.

But she was one big, fancy liar.

She wasn't good and fine, not when every muscle in her body tensed with the urge to run across the kitchen and throw herself at him.

He'd gone back to work, and for two days had been buried under by the backlog, hardly coming up for air. Or so he claimed when he called her at night.

As for her, she'd been…well, she'd been thinking entirely too much.

But no matter how much she'd been remembering and reliving, the reality of Jacob in the flesh was so much more potent than the memories.

He wore a dark suit and tie and his splint, and he looked disturbingly…hot.

“Wow,” Willow murmured, leaning back against the sink, looking him over with heated eyes. “You clean up nice, Detective.”

“Thanks.” He didn't take his gaze off Bella. And those eyes were filled with frustration, temper, hunger and so much bafflement that Bella didn't know whether to laugh or get rid of Willow so she could have him right here in the kitchen.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Not for food.

Those words went unspoken, but they shimmered in the air between them.

Willow had a bag of popcorn, her favorite lunch, and was dividing a curious stare between them as if they were the latest number-one movie at the box office.

Finally, Bella looked at her, brow raised.

“Oh!” Willow let out a little laugh and grabbed her purse. “I'm out.” She looked back at them. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do and just so you know, that doesn't cover a lot of ground.”

Jacob smiled at her, then turned his attention back to Bella, not saying a word, just giving her that look that never failed to make her nipples hard and her panties wet. “So,” she murmured. “A suit?”

“I was due in court this morning, had to testify on a case.”

“Did it go well?”

“Yes.” His eyes never left her face as he reached out and slowly pulled her in. “Missed you, Bella.”

Her heart took another hard leap against her ribs. At this rate, she'd be in heart-attack territory in under five minutes. “You did?”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Yeah. I'm hot and starving. Come with me, let's get a pizza and go to my house. It's going to be a full moon. We can take the horses out on a moonlight ride.”

“The moon doesn't come up until late.”

He slid her a long look that said
this again?
“So stay, instead of driving back.”

Her throat tightened. No. No, dammit. She wasn't going to go through this again. She couldn't. Not when she knew she was hopelessly, pathetically falling for him. “I can't.” It took her another extremely long minute—where she pressed her nose into his throat and just inhaled him as if maybe it was going to be the very last time—before she forced herself to pull free. “I can't tonight.”

“But—”

“I can't,” she repeated. “Listen, I have to go. Let yourself out.” And grabbing a wet cloth, left him to go wipe down the tables in the front room, even though they were perfectly clean since they still didn't have walk-in customers.

She ended up just standing there, staring sightlessly at nothing.

When, finally, she heard the back door close, she sagged into a chair and covered her face.

The front door opened and Trevor popped his head in. He was wearing surf shorts and a weather-guard tee, and his usual contagious smile. “Hey, what are you doing? I'm going sailing. Come with, it's gorgeous outside—” He broke off, looking her over. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.” He took the towel out of her hands,
crouched at her side and cupped her face. “You know what you need?”

“A one-way ticket to the South Pacific?”

“A sail,” he said gently. “With no worries, no plans, nothing but a few waves. Come on, baby, let me show you a good time.”

It was such a cheesy line that she managed to laugh, as he'd intended, and he smiled into her face. “Attagirl.”

 

J
ACOB WENT HOME AND
stared at his empty house. He looked at his living room and pictured Bella standing before the huge windows, eyeing the view. He saw her sitting on the couch with that light of wicked intent in her eyes. He saw her sitting on his kitchen counter.

He couldn't even look at his bed.

Or his shower…

Her presence was here in every room of his house, and in every part of his heart.

He was such an idiot. He wasn't just messing around with her. Why hadn't he told her that?

He could say this was casual until he was blue in the face, he could pretend with the best of them that he was okay with her walking away from Santa Rey, away from him, but he wasn't okay with it and he never would be.

And he owed it to her to at least have the balls to say so.

Undoubtedly, he'd get his stupid heart broken for the effort, but hell if he'd let her go without at least
putting it all out there on the line. That decided, he whipped out his cell phone and called her. It went right to voice mail, and he absently rubbed his aching shoulder as he left her a message. “Call me, Bella. I'm coming back to the shop, I need to see you, we need to talk.” He paused, wondering if he'd sounded too scary and would maybe cause her to bolt before he could get there. “I told you that I miss you,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “But what I should have also said was that I love you.” Hoping that would cover everything, he started to close his phone, then added, “I'm on my way. Please—” He closed his eyes. “Please be there.”

 

B
ELLA'S PHONE WAS ON SPEAKER,
so both she and Trevor heard the message.

“Sweet,” Trevor said. “A little too little too late, but very sweet.”

She was driving, but she took a quick look over at him. How had she never seen the menace just beneath his surface before? And now that she had, how the hell was she going to get out of this without getting hurt? Or worse. “If I don't call him back, he's going to come over.”

“Yes. And find you already gone.” He affected a regretful expression. “So sad.”

“He'll look for me.”

“No, he won't. He'll see that your duffel bag is gone—thanks for staying packed, by the way, I've got your bag in my trunk. Face it, Jacob is going to
assume you've done what you've been talking about, that you've left town. Which you are doing. He won't try to come after you. He has far too much pride and testosterone for that.”

She'd have thought so, too, until that phone call. In his voice had been bare, heart-wrenching emotion. For her.

“Turn right at the marina, Bella.”

She didn't want to.

She wanted to turn left and get back on the freeway and head north to Jacob's house. She wanted to reverse time, to the time before she'd told Jacob to let himself out, the implication being that he should let himself out of her life while he was at it.

She wanted to plant both her feet in the ground and make roots. She wanted to tell him she loved him, too, so very much.

Why hadn't she told him?

“Turn right,” Trevor repeated softly, and gestured with the gun he had pointed at her.

She turned right.