The Heat Is On (12 page)

He said nothing.

Lifting her head, she looked into his face.

His eyes were closed, his face relaxed. “Jacob?”

Nothing. The happy pills had done their job and knocked him out.

J
ACOB WOKE UP SLOWLY,
groggy and disoriented. He blinked at the ceiling. It was
his
ceiling. He was in his own bed.

That was good.

He closed his eyes, trying to figure out what he remembered last.

He'd been shot.

Yeah, he remembered that really well. He remembered Bella holding his head on her lap and crying softly over him.

He remembered her begging him not to go to sleep, and remembered staring into her eyes and wanting to promise her anything, his motorcycle, his bank account, his life, if only she wouldn't cry.

He didn't remember the ambulance ride or the E.R., but he remembered Bella sleeping at his side, and Austin and Cord coming to see him, the two of them looking at him with dark, worried eyes, and
Austin saying that if Jacob was going to be stupid enough to stand on the back stoop of a woman who tended to get her men shot, then the least he could do was wear a vest. Point taken.

He needed protection when it came to Bella. Unfortunately the kind of protection he needed was a heart guard, and that hadn't been invented yet.

But he was home now…

How had he gotten here?

His bedroom door opened and Bella slid in, carrying a pitcher and a glass. She set them down very quietly then turned to smooth his covers, and nearly jerked right out of her skin when she saw that his eyes were open.

“Oh! You're awake! Are you in pain? Do you need—”

“You. I need you.” With his good hand, he tugged her down to the bed. The shift nearly killed him, but he sucked in a breath and managed a smile. “You're a sight for sore eyes.”

She visibly softened and cupped one side of his jaw, pressing her mouth to the other side. “Right back at you. Do you need another pain pill?”

“Yes, but don't give me one. I can't even remember getting here.”

Her eyes widened. “You don't remember the…um, couch?”

He went still as it came back, her kneeling between his spread legs, her mouth on him, and the
memory had pleasure suffusing his body. “I thought that was just a really great dream.” He met her gaze. “Thank you, by the way. But I still don't remember getting into bed.”

She nodded and looked away, and he'd swear that was relief crossing her features. He stroked a thumb over the backs of her fingers. “What did I do, Bella?”

“Nothing.”

“Did I say anything to upset you?”

“No, nothing like that.” She sagged a little. “It was me, okay?
I
said something I shouldn't have.” She bit her lower lip and stared at him.

He blinked. “What was it?”

She groaned and pressed her forehead to his good shoulder. “Never mind. Are you thirsty? I brought you water, the doctor said not to let you get dehydrated.”

“Bella—”

“Here.” She sat up at his hip and poured him a glass.

He lifted a hand to her wrist and she shook her head. “Please?”

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded his reluctant agreement to let the subject go. She held the glass to his lips and, looking over the edge at her, amused, he sipped.

“Hungry?” she asked. “I can cook you up some breakfast before I have to go.”

He smiled. “In your apron?”

She arched a brow.

“Sorry. That was fantasy number two. We never got to it.”

“You have a fantasy about me in an apron?”

He shook his head, feeling a little fuzzy. “I'm sorry. It's a guy thing.”

“Huh.” She got off the bed. “Breakfast. I'll get it.” And then she was gone.

He went back to studying the ceiling.
Way to go, Madden. You had her in here, warm and smiling, then you scare her off with some stupid, sexist, subservient-male fantasy—

She came back into the room, and holy shit. If he hadn't been lying down, he'd have fallen. She was wearing a black bra and matching panties, low on her hips and sexy enough to put him into heart-attack danger. She'd created an apron out of one of his kitchen towels and used another to create a little cap on her head.

“At your service, sir,” she murmured throatily, giving him a little curtsy. “What can I get you?”

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I was going for a French-maid thing, but I can't pull off the accent.”

He could only stare at her as she sashayed across the room and sat perched at his hip with a small, warm smile. Leaning over him, she lightly brushed her lips to his.

He was afraid he was drooling. “God, Bella,” he said on a low, baffled, bewildered laugh. “I—”

Austin walked into the bedroom and stopped short with a choked breath at the sight of Bella sitting on Jacob's bed, leaning over him in nothing but her underwear. “Um,” he said brilliantly.

“Jesus, Austin,” Jacob snapped as Bella squealed and dived under the covers with him, hiding her face in his armpit. “Get out.”

“Sorry,” Austin said, then just stood there with a broad grin on his face. “I came to see if you needed anything, but I can see that you are being extremely well taken care of.”

From beneath the covers, Bella squeaked again.

Austin just continued to grin like a jackass. “Fantasy number two.
Nice.
”

Still out of sight, Bella punched Jacob in his good arm.
“You told him?”

Jacob shook his head. “No. I—”

“Yeah,” Austin said. “You told us at the hospital. Don't be mad, Bella,” he said to the lump under the sheet. “We totally took advantage of him being high.”

While Jacob was appreciating—and loving—the feeling of Bella wearing only her panties and bra all pressed up against him and squirming, he figured he had about three seconds to get his brother out of here before she killed him. “Austin?”

“Let me guess. Get the hell out?” With a grin, he said, “Going. But next time you play dress up, you really should lock the door.”

“Maybe next time you should knock.”

“And miss out on all the fun?” With a laugh, Austin turned toward the door. “I'll be in the kitchen making myself something to eat. Loudly, so I can't hear you two do your thing.”

Jacob decided it was worth the pain and reached for the phone on the nightstand to chuck it at his brother's head, but Austin laughed again and hastily shut the door behind him.

Leaving a stunned and awkward silence.

For a beat, the only thing visible of Bella was a few strands of wild hair, then suddenly she was in motion, leaping out of the bed, her makeshift cap all askew, the apron half on, half off, one of her bra straps slipped to her elbow.

She looked hot as hell.

“So,” he said. “Where were we?”

She whirled, eyes reflecting her disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“He said he'd make lots of noise so he couldn't hear you—”

“Oh, my God.” She hauled open his closet door. Her underwear was riding up in back, giving him a heart-attack-inducing view. “He said he'd make lots of noise so he couldn't hear the
two
of us. He didn't specify
me.
”

“Honey,” Jacob said with a smile.

She went still, then turned on him in her half-naked glory, eyes narrowed. “Honey, what? And be careful here, because it seems like you might be
suggesting that only one of us makes a lot of noise in bed.”

Jacob wisely wiped the smile off his face. By the look on hers, he wasn't entirely successful.

She yanked off both the cap and the apron and helped herself to a pale blue button-down from his closet. It came to her thighs and she looked just as hot as she had in only her underwear. “Sweats,” she demanded.

“Third drawer down.” He pointed to his dresser.

“I can't help it if I'm…noisy,” she said, helping herself to a pair of dark blue air force sweats that dragged on the floor. She pulled them up with a hip shimmy that made his eyes cross.

“Bella?”

“What?”

“I love the noises you make,” he said. “Especially when I'm—”

“Shh!”
She rolled the sweats at her waist a handful of times, shot him another indecipherable look and stalked barefoot to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I promised Willow I'd pick up some supplies and fill a couple of restaurant orders.”

“Bella, I don't want you to go into the building—”

“I know. But they have a unit watching the place, and they said it was okay. I'll be very careful. I just have some things to take care of.”

“I thought I was one of the things you were going to take care of.”

She slid him a bemused look. “Are you saying you need me to stay, or you want me to stay?”

Okay, he knew a trick question when he heard one. Problem was, he didn't know which was the right answer, the one that would have her stepping out of his clothes and sliding into his bed.

And this wasn't about fulfilling a fantasy. He really needed to keep her here so that he would know she was safe. But his mind was fuzzy with meds, and the emotion he'd almost let slip right before Austin had walked in. If his brother hadn't shown up and Jacob had said, “I love you,” Bella already would have gone running for the door. And running from him. “Um…”

At his lack of response, something came and went in her eyes, and he got the very bad feeling that he'd somehow hurt her.

“I think Austin can handle anything you need,” she said.

“Yeah, but he won't look nearly as good in that apron.” Even to his own ears, his words rang hollow. Why couldn't he just say what he was thinking? Jesus, he was pathetic.

She stared at him, then stared at her feet a long moment. “Nice try.” Leaning in, she kissed his jaw. “Bye, Jacob.”

She was going to walk away, and his heart skipped
a beat. “Hey,” he said, snagging her hand. “Forget the apron thing. I shouldn't have—”

“It's okay. It's not that.”

“Then—”

“Forget it. It's all good.” She smiled, but it didn't quite make it to her eyes, and he knew for sure that he'd hurt her. Dammit. “Wait—”

But she was already gone from the room. He lunged out of the bed after her, and gray spots danced in his vision from getting up too fast, dropping him to all fours, where he struggled to stay conscious. It took a long thirty seconds for the spots to fade before he could stagger to his feet. He stumbled down the hall in time to hear a car rev, and whipped his front door open. It wasn't until he felt the chilly morning air that he realized he was naked.

“Hey,” Austin said, coming around the corner from the kitchen. “Do you want eggs— Holy shit, man. Put some clothes on.”

“Why did you let her go?”

“Um, because they frown on unlawful detainment in this country?”

“She left upset.”

Austin gestured to Jacob's nudity. “Yes, well, have you seen you?”

“Austin?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” Jacob took his sorry, naked ass back to bed, where he called Ethan and asked him to double
the watch on Edible Bliss. He called Bella, who surprise surprise, didn't pick up. “Please come back out here when you're done,” he said to her voice mail. “And call me when you're leaving the shop, okay?” Then he laid back down, pensive and unsettled, knowing he'd in all likelihood just ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.

 

B
ELLA WAS DROPPING OFF
the supplies in the shop's kitchen when Willow came in. “Honey, you should be playing doctor with Sexy Cop.”

“I wanted to get us set up for when we reopen.”

“Or you wanted to outrun your guilt.”

“How do you know I feel guilty?”

“Honey.”

Bella shook her head. “It's not that. I mean, I feel…” She closed her eyes. “I am devastated over the shootings, but I know it's not my fault. I'm—”

Willow raised a brow.

And Bella let out a long breath. “I'm in this fight with myself. My head and gut are telling me to go, to leave town and move on, but—”

“But your heart is telling you to stick.”

“I don't know.” Bella had to purposely draw in another breath and let it out again. “Maybe. A little. Santa Rey was supposed to be nothing more than a pin on my map. A quick stop. But—”

“But you want to grow roots.”

Bella had to smile. “I like the finishing-my-sentences thing.”

“Yeah? See if you can finish this one for me. You're in the shop, worried about my business, maybe risking your life to be here instead of nursing your man because…?”

“Because he's
not
my man. Because he doesn't know what he wants. I mean, he wants me, but he doesn't
want
me.”

“Huh?”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Forget it. Even I don't understand me.”

“Hey, I saw him kiss you. Lord, I need a cold shower every time I think about it. Yeah, he wants you bad, but it's more than lust. You're not alone in this.”

Bella wanted Willow to be right, but the fear of not being loved and accepted was an old one. Logic didn't seem to be able to make a dent against it. Hell, even stone-hard facts didn't have a chance against an irrational decades-old fear like hers.

Willow helped her put things away. Afterward, the cop on duty escorted Willow to her car where she planned on heading to her mom's, with Bella agreeing to follow as soon as she put a bag together.

The cop then escorted Bella upstairs, where she took a quick moment to grab her mail, going still when she came to a plain piece of paper, folded in thirds.

“What?” the cop said.

Silent, she handed him the note.

“Shit,” the officer said, and pulled out his cell phone.