The Heat Is On

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.

Tyler had left, completely unnerved. Probably he wouldn’t be a returning customer, Bella thought with a sigh.

“You okay?” Jacob asked.

She’d had to ask herself that several times now, and she wasn’t used to not being sure. She was always okay, it was her M.O. And if she wasn’t, well, then, there was always someplace new. “Aren’t you getting tired of having to ask me that?”

Silent, he stroked a big hand up and down her back.

“For two people who aren’t involved,” she murmured, “we sure are seeing a lot of each other.”

She felt him smile against her hair, and pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’ve always felt so safe here,” she said. “It’s why I stayed. I never thought of it before, but I like feeling safe. But now someone’s shooting at me. I know we joke about Siberia, but holy shit, am I really going to have to go?”

“Would you?”

When she thought about leaving, she felt a clutch in her gut. “No.”

He nodded, clearly already guessing as much. “We’re going to figure it out.”

“We? You mean, the police?”

He made a vague response deep in his throat and pulled her out of the kitchen’s back door, carefully locking up.

Then he led her upstairs toward her apartment.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” she said to his broad back. “But fair warning, it’s going to take an act of Congress and possibly hypnosis to get me in the right frame of mind for sex.”

He glanced back at her, his mouth slightly curved. “I’ll keep that in mind, but that’s not what we’re doing. I want you to pack an overnight bag.”

“Excuse me?”

His hand tightened on hers when she tried to pull free. “You’re not staying here tonight, Bella. Maybe not tomorrow night, either. Not until we know what the hell is going on and why you nearly took a hit today.”

“Jacob-”

“This is nonnegotiable, Bella. We have a man here but for tonight at least, you’re gone.”

She looked into his eyes, fierce and protective and utterly stubborn.

“I’m not saying you have to stay with me,” he said, bringing their joined hands to his mouth so that when he spoke, his lips brushed against her fingers. “I’m not trying to exert power or authority over you, just common sense. You can stay in a hotel, you can stay with a friend or you can stay with me. I don’t care, but you’re not staying here alone. Please,” he said very softly when she opened her mouth.

She had a feeling he wasn’t a man to say please very often. Touched, she nodded her head, and turned to go into her place.

He stopped her and moved inside first, once again thoroughly checking it out, giving her the go-ahead when he deemed it safe.

Normally she liked watching him do his cop thing. It was macho and alpha and on any other day it would have made her knees weak and other parts quiver.

But not now. Now she wanted the nightmare to go far, far away.

He was helping with that just by being here for her instead of running off soon as he was done being questioned, like Tyler. Willow and Trevor had both left rather quickly, too, soon as they were able.

Not Jacob.

He wanted her safe. He was willing to do whatever it took to keep her that way.

She racked her brain to try to remember the last time someone outside of her family had truly cared and worried about her, and she couldn’t come up with anything. This was easy enough to explain. Until recently, she hadn’t stuck around long enough for such ties.

She would have to decide if she liked it.

She filled a small backpack, and then realizing Jacob probably had his motorcycle, she slid on a pair of denim shorts beneath her halter sundress.

They left her apartment, locked up, and in the lot, Jacob nodded to a guy walking the alley between the shop and the building next door.

He nodded back.

“My bodyguard?” she asked.

Jacob actually smiled. “Tonight, I’m your bodyguard.” And he handed her a helmet.

“What about Willow?”

“Didn’t she tell you? She went to her mom’s.”

No, she hadn’t mentioned that…

“Where are we going?” she asked, getting on his bike behind him, hiking her dress up until it looked like a loose summer top over her shorts. She slipped her arms around him, her hands sliding across his washboard abs.

“For food. You smell like sugar and vanilla and you’re making me hungry.”

“I have-”

“Your desserts are heaven, Bella, but I need real sustenance. And so do you. You’re pale.”

And that was new, too. He was a guy who said what he meant, no sneaky charm to try to get her into bed, no pretty lies just to make her feel better. He told her what was on his mind and expected her to be mature enough to deal with it.

Her first grown-up relationship, she realized, “casual” as it was-

She broke off the thought with a startled squeak when he revved the bike and hit the throttle. The engine roared between her legs and suddenly, blessedly, just like that, her mind was off murder and bullets and she couldn’t decide which was better, hugging up to Jacob’s hard body, or the way he maneuvered them through the streets as if he were a part of the bike.

She was still trying to decide when he pulled up to a small diner, where they were greeted by yet another smiley-faced waitress ready to serve his every need.

After they’d ordered, Bella looked at him. “Must be tough, being so hated everywhere you go. Have you dated them all?” Slept with them all…?

He looked at her for a long moment. “Who?”

She rolled her eyes. “The women who fall all over themselves to make you smile.”

“People in Santa Rey like cops.”

And he was all cop. He was also all man.

He pulled out a pad and pencil from his pocket and looked at her. “I want to hear about your eight dates,” he said, clearly done discussing women, his or otherwise.

“Nice subject change.”

He looked at her, torn between amusement and irritation. “Do you want to discuss the waitress-who, by the way, used to babysit me-or whoever’s screwing with your life?”

Well, damn, when he put it that way… “I’ve already gone over all of this with Ethan. Twenty-five million times.”

“So let’s do it twenty-five million and one. Maybe we’ve all missed something. Names and impressions.”

“You think one of my dates is a crazy stalker.” She shivered at the thought. “Which doesn’t explain the second guy who got shot, the one across town.”

“True, but there are a lot of possibilities here. Let’s work at narrowing them down.”

He was all focused and fiercely intense, and when he was really concentrating-like now-he got that deep furrow in his brow.

She wanted to forget the hell that was her current life and kiss that furrow away. What could she say. Yes, her sexual thoughts were inappropriate considering the moment, but it was a defense mechanism. And an easy one to cling to. For God’s sake, just look at him. Still watching him, she reached for her soda and sucked her straw.

Immediately his eyes homed in on her mouth. Huh. Maybe she’d been wrong about needing an act of Congress to want sex. She smiled.

And he raised a brow.

She sucked some more soda down. “About that hypnosis I mentioned, to get in the right mind for sex…”

His eyes dilated. “Distracting me isn’t going to end this conversation,” he said, voice husky. “You sure?”

His gaze never left her mouth. “Positive. I can’t be distracted. It’s one of my gifts.”

She was in a position to know that he had other gifts… Lightly, she ran her fingers down the straw, then sucked some more.

Jacob let out a shaky breath. “Okay, new plan.”

“Which is?”

“You talk fast, and then we’re going back to my place.”

“To…watch a movie?”

“Guess again.”

A little frisson of heat raced up her spine, something she’d have thought impossible tonight. “Play a game?”

He smiled, and it was filled with so much fire, she nearly had an orgasm on the spot. “Sure, we can play a game. How about Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“I might need more than seven minutes.”

“You can have as many minutes as you want.” He pulled the soda away from her, and the straw popped out of her mouth with an audible sound that made his eyes darken even more. “But this first.”

“Damn. You’re so strict.”

“You know,” he said, “I was hoping I could get you out of that quiet, protective shell you had going, but I didn’t think it would happen at my expense.”

She sipped more of her soda.

Now he out and out grinned, looking so freaking sexy she could hardly stand it. She had no idea what was wrong with her. She didn’t go back for seconds, much less thirds, and yet she had a feeling she could have this man every night until she left for her next destination, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Jacob gently tapped her forehead with the end of his pencil. “Anyone home?”

“Sorry.”

“The dates,” he said.

Right. “Number one was Bo. Cute, nice, sweet. And too young for me.”

“How young?”

“Like five years.”

“Huh.”

“Huh what?” she asked.

He lifted a broad shoulder. “I doubt he feels too young for you. Next?”

“Seth was number two.” She let out a low, pained breath and fell quiet for a minute, remembering him with an ache in her chest. “Date three was Tyler, the bookseller. You saw him today.”

“Yeah. What did you think of him?”

“Sweet. Nice. And so smart as to be a little intimidating.”

He was making notes. “A dweeb.”

“That’s not nice.”

“Good. Remember that when you’re describing date eight, cuz I don’t want to hear I’m sweet or nice. Date four.”

She shook her head. “A guy named Brady. He seemed…” She nearly said nice but bit it back. “Harm less.”

Jacob lifted his head. “Brady, the guy who owns the coffee shop on Third?”

“I think so, yes.”

“You think Brady is harmless.”

“I do.”

He shook his head and kept writing.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to read what he was writing. “What’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with him? He dates a different woman every night of the week. He drives a scooter, which for some reason, women think is…nice. And he looks like a poet.”

“He is a poet.”

Jacob did a palms up, like see?

She held back a grin. “I liked him.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Is that for your notes?”

Frowning, he wrote something on his pad, pressing hard enough on the paper that his knuckles turned positively white. “Date five.”

Okay, so they were moving on. Worked for her. Their food arrived and she dug in. “Juan Martine,” she said around her BLT. “I know his last name because I recognized him.”

Again he lifted his head and looked at her, that furrow firmly in place. “The model.”

“Do you know everyone in town?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with him, too.”

“He wears hair product.”

She burst out laughing.

Jacob’s furrow deepened. “He does.”

“Are you going to find something wrong with each of them? Because it’s cute. And yeah, that’s going in your description.”

This did not help his mood. “I am not cute.”

She grinned. “You think the word insults your manhood.”

“Jesus.” He tossed down his pencil and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Forget it.”

“Fine. Forget that I think you’re cute. I’ll never say cute again. Let’s go with…” She paused, considering him carefully. “Edgy, grumpy and…”

“We’re supposed to be talking about you. About your dates. Not me.”

“Sexy.”

He stared at her. “You drive me crazy.”

“Ditto. Can we get back to the rest of the dates, or are you too jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Whatever.”

“I am not jealous, Bella.”

“Date six. B.J. Sorry, I don’t have a full name, but he works in sales, and is a really nice guy.”

“What is it with you and nice?”

She ignored that. “Date seven was Lorenzo Ramos, and though I shouldn’t know his last name, I do because he’s a chef, and works at the Hilltop Lodge.”

Jacob wrote the name down and remained silent.

“What, no comment on Lorenzo?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on,” she said with a laugh. “You know you want to.”

“Hey, it’s none of my business if you want to date a guy who drives a twenty-year-old Rabbit.”

“It saves gas, a lot of gas. And what is it with you and a guy’s ride?”

He didn’t answer.

“I think this brings us up to date number eight,” she said.

“Yeah. Him I’ve met.” By this time they were done eating. He stood and dropped some cash on the table.

“What, you don’t want my impression?”

He flashed her an unreadable look, then grabbing her hand, pulled her up and toward the door in one smooth movement.

“What are we doing now?”

“Going home to discuss your impressions of date number eight. In detail…”