Turn Up the Heat (18 page)

No matter how gut-fluttery the thought of him made her.

 

 

In the three hours since he'd gotten home, Shane's phone had morphed into something roughly the size of a moose, and it did everything but dance and sing and scream
pick me up and dial, buddy
! every time he so much as glanced at it.

He'd stuck around the garage for more than half the day, fielding a handful of phone calls from people who'd been in fender benders or needed to be dragged out of ditches. Grady's wasn't set up to do body work, which was a damned shame considering that was the extent of what the fender bender people needed. Still, Shane was happy to keep his body and brain occupied so they wouldn't gang up on him and drift back to the rush of Bellamy's skin on his, and how what he really wanted to do was call her even though he had nothing to say.

Eh. Scratch that. He had plenty to say, it's just that he was pretty sure “I dig you way more than I should and I can't for the life of me forget the incredible way you smell and would you
please
shut me up by saying you'll let me take you out to dinner” would make him look like the biggest idiot on two legs.

But something had clicked inside him the minute his lips found hers at that workbench, something seamless and daring and good. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it all day, even though he'd eventually given in and let himself linger on his thoughts of Bellamy in an effort to get it out of his system. It finally hit him on his way back to the cabin, and he hadn't been able to shake the idea since it had popped into his mind.

She felt right.

“That's just fucking ridiculous,” Shane said to the moose-phone, giving it a petulant glare. “I've known the woman for all of five days. Yes, she's pretty . . .”

She's downright stunning,
the moose-phone interrupted knowingly.

“And yes, she's nice . . .”

Screw nice. You
like
her, and you know it.

“But let's be realistic. Bellamy lives in the city. She has an Ivy League degree and leads an Ivy League life. And I'm not that guy.” Shane's voice went cold over his closing words.

But you slept with her, and she's expecting you to call. You're not
that
guy, either.

Well, shit. The moose-phone knew what the hell it was talking about. Shane had never had a one-night stand in his life, but even if he had, he knew enough about women and sex to know that what had happened between him and Bellamy was definitely not that.

Plus, the stupid moose-phone was right. As much as he didn't want to say it out loud, Shane really couldn't deny the fact that he did like Bellamy. In exactly the way his inner voice implied.

“Fine,” he grumbled, swiping the receiver from its base. “But I have the feeling I'm going to regret this.”

“Hello?”

All it took were two tiny syllables for Shane to realize that his inner voice had his number, big-time. Man, the sound of Bellamy's voice was like honey, velvety sweet and so damned good.

“Hey. It's me. I mean, it's Shane.” He swung the phone away from his mouth to clear his throat in his sleeve.

Her laugh could've melted butter. “Hey, me. What have you been up to on this fine evening?”

“Truth?” He sank into the Barcalounger, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder while he kicked up his feet into the long shadows cast off by the fresh sunset.

“Of course.”

“I'm sitting at home in the dark in a nasty old chair, talking on the phone with you. What're you doing?”

“Taking a bath.” Bellamy's voice was so smooth that Shane questioned his hearing.

“Sorry, what?” Nah. He had to have misunderstood. Surely, there was no way she was naked on the other end of the phone.

“I'm taking a bath. You know, the big, oblong thing in the bathroom, usually full of hot water and bubbles. Well, probably not bubbles in your case, but still. You get the idea, right?”

Oh, he got the idea loud and clear and in Technicolor. Shit, he needed to
not
be lying here in the dark, listening to the purr of her voice and thinking about her hot, naked body in a bathtub. “Do you like burgers?” he blurted, trying like hell to think of his battle-ax of a third-grade teacher, the sludge that came out of an engine when it was way overdue for an oil change, anything other than Bellamy's perfect breasts playing hide and seek with a bunch of bubbles.

“Ohhhkay. A little random, but still a good question. Sure.” She paused to laugh again, and Shane could swear he heard the soft trickling of water in the background.

He tried to focus, but his mind—and a couple of other parts of his anatomy—were still stuck on the idea of the bubbles. It wasn't his fault that she had such fantastic breasts, really. Who could blame a guy?

Bellamy cleared her throat at the exact moment a voice from deep in Shane's mind screamed
burgers, dumbass
! but he faked flawless composure as he replied.

“Well, your trip to Pine Mountain wouldn't really be complete if you didn't have one of Lou's burgers. They're a culinary masterpiece.”

That got her attention. “Reeeeeally?”

Shane could all but hear her grin over the word. “Scout's honor.”

“Shane Griffin, are you asking me out on a date?” Although Bellamy's voice teased its way over the phone line, it tightened his gut with its implication.

Oh, fuck it. The moose-phone was never wrong.

“I believe I am. What do you say, Bellamy Blake?”

“I say how fast can you come and get me? I'm starving.”

 

 

When she'd asked Shane how fast he could come and get her, it had kind of been metaphorically speaking, although she wasn't kidding about being beyond hungry. When he told her he could be at the resort to pick her up in half an hour, she'd had to eat her words and scramble her butt out of the bathtub, but not before she gave herself a good scrubdown with her favorite yummy-smelling shower gel and shaved her legs with careful (albeit quick) precision.

A review of what was left of her clean clothes told her she'd better figure out a way to hit a Laundromat, because all she had left was a pair of black yoga pants and a matching turtleneck. Thank God her mother had drilled it into her to bring extra underwear on a trip, “just in case,” although the unmentionables in question were the one dreaded thong that Bellamy owned. Sometimes necessity, or in this case, yoga pants, dictated the use of such torture devices, and in order to banish weird bum lines, she'd just have to take one for the team.
Not
that anyone would be looking at her butt, per se. It was really just a general rule.

She made her way down to the lobby exactly thirty minutes after she'd gotten off the phone with Shane and was surprised to see him in the archway of the main entrance. The scattering of stubble that had graced his jaw earlier was now gone, and the rhythm of his body as he walked over to her suggested casual purpose. It was probably a bad sign to start the evening so hot and bothered, but unless a cold front came whipping through the lobby right then and there, Bellamy would have to chill out on her own.

“Hey! Wow, you weren't kidding about the thirty minutes, huh?” She clasped her hands together in front of her, not quite sure what to do with them.

“I don't kid when it comes to women who say they're starving. You look great.” Shane leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, just as easy as could be, and the simple gesture sent her nerves packing. This wasn't some awkward date with forced conversation or false pretenses. It was just her and Shane, going out for burgers.

And it felt good.

“Thanks. This is my burger-getting outfit. Glad you like it.” Bellamy gave a little twirl before putting on her coat.

Shane laughed. “Well, I hope your friends don't mind too much that I'm stealing you away for the evening. I promise to have you back by midnight.”

They walked out to the main entrance of the resort, and Bellamy steeled herself as they got to the front door and Shane pushed it open for her.

“Oh, they left to go back to the city about four hours ago.” She jumped when the cold air slammed into her like a brick wall, wrapping her arms around her body in an instinctive maneuver. “God, do you ever get used to that?”

“In a weird way, yeah. Your friends left?” Shane put his arm around her shoulder and they walked in sync through the parking lot, his hip in her side and her imagination going full throttle.

“Oh, ah, yeah. They both had to get back to work. I decided to stay and wait for my car.”

“Hmm. That might be just as well, because I didn't really have any intention of getting you back early.” Shane nudged her with his hip.

She bumped him right back. “At least you're honest about your bad intentions.”

He fixed her with a look that arrowed right into her chest in a white-hot streak of
oh my God
before responding. “They might be good intentions, depending on how you look at it.”

They arrived at his truck all too soon, in Bellamy's opinion, and he let her go to open her door so she could climb in. She was met by the faded scent of cedar and pine, and it made her wonder if everything he touched was left smelling all wonderful and Shane-like.

He popped the driver's side door open and started the truck, which warmed up quickly since he'd just been in it. “So you're staying at the resort by yourself?”

“Yup. I don't have a job, so staying in that suite was out of the question if I couldn't split it with Jenna and Holly. But I talked to Jenna's friend, Chase, who's the events coordinator, and he got me an extended stay rate since I'll be here for more than a week. Plus, the weekday rates go down pretty significantly anyhow, so I decided to stay rather than go home and come back.”

Shane winced as he pulled away from the front gate of the resort. “I feel really bad about your transmission being stuck in Ohio. I put in a call to the distributor after you left today and told them I needed it ASAP. The guy said if we're really lucky, it'll get here Thursday, but I wouldn't bet on that.” He kept his eyes on the road, but his remorse was clear even in the orange glow of the dashboard lights.

“It's not your fault it snowed, Shane. In fact, it might be a good thing. Sticking around gives me some time to figure out what I'm going to do and explore all of my options. If I job search in the city, I'm afraid I'll be guilted into something because it's in front of me rather than picking it because I want it, you know?”

Shane creased his brow, but kept his gaze on the windshield. “Do you always have a plan?”

Bellamy let out a
doesn't-everybody
laugh. “Well, yeah. I started by ruling out the definite no's, namely staying unemployed and going back to work for Attila the Boss. I bit the bullet and called the head of HR at the bank after I got back today, but it turned out okay. Apparently, my ex-boss has quite the track record.” She paused to give her eyebrows a provocative raise.

“Well, that's not really shocking. What, did she get caught eating her young in the break room or something?”

Bellamy was in danger of working her laugh right into the embarrassing snort that popped out only for the really good stuff. “No, but let's just say I'm not the first employee to have issues with her ‘questionable management skills.'” She put air quotes around the words and sighed. “In the end, it wasn't just her that made me miserable there, so I politely declined HR's offer to move to another team. At least I know my résumé isn't trashed over the whole thing, though.” Having the reassurance of a good reference despite her showdown with Bosszilla really did go a long way toward easing her mind.

“Okay, so what's next then, if you're not going to stay there?” Shane's eyes flicked over her for a second before returning to the road.

Bellamy ran her teeth over her bottom lip in thought. “I'm not sure. My strengths are definitely on the management end, but the idea of sitting in another cubicle with a stack of papers equivalent to nine miles of rain forest makes my skin crawl. I guess I could do something more hands-on, or even go work for my parents, but I'd have to see what's out there to get a better idea of what I'm qualified for.”

Shane pulled into a familiar parking lot and scratched his head. “Jeez, this place is packed.” He scanned the snow-packed gravel. “I don't see a parking spot anywhere.”

“Not to ask a stupid question, but why are we at the Double Shot?” She squinted at the spotlit side of the building, where faded paint boasted the name of the bar just as it had four nights ago when she'd last seen it.

“Oh, sorry. I didn't tell you? Lou works the grill out here. The burgers are incredible.” He muttered an indis-criminant curse under his breath as they circled the lot again, coming up on a group of people rushing toward the building.

“Excuse me,” Shane called, rolling down his window and catching the attention of someone so bundled up, Bellamy couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. “Do you know what's with the crowd?”

A high-pitched giggle left no doubt as to the gender of the outerwear mummy. “Yeah. The Screaming Taste Museum got snowed out of the city last night and they needed a place to do their show. It was this or nothing.” She giggled again, giving Shane a long look like she wanted to eat him. “See you inside, sweetheart,” she finished before skipping off to join her friends.

Bellamy stifled a laugh of her own while Shane shot her a wry glance. “Do I even want to know what the hell a Screaming Taste Museum is?”

She grinned. “I doubt it, but if you figure it out, I don't think I need to know.”

He released a slow exhale. “I'm really sorry. It seems I promised you something I can't deliver.”

“Well, that leaves you in a jam, my friend, because I am still starving,” she said gravely.

God, that whole serious-face thing he did back at her was really endearing. And sexy. Did she mention wildly sexy? He looked borderline worried, and guilt kicked her mouth into gear.

“Shane, I'm kidding. Well, not about being hungry. But this is no big deal. We can always pick something up and go back to the resort if you want.”

He shook his head and laughed, pulling to the exit. “Bellamy, this isn't Philly. You can't just hit up Pietro's for a couple of calzones on your way home. Unless you like McDonald's, your options for eating out around here are slim and none, and slim is having a weird rock concert in its dining area right now.”

Bellamy pulled away to look at him, and despite the niggling voice in the back of her mind that told her not to, she let her question off the tip of her tongue. “Did you go to school in the city or something?”

It would explain how he knew about Butcher and Singer the other day, and the reference to Pietro's. God, everybody who had ever lived in Philly had horked down a pie or two at Pietro's. The pizza was legendary.

Shane's body went rigid in the driver's seat. “Why do you ask?”

Well, she'd taken a step and landed smack in the middle of what looked like Shane's biggest sore spot. She decided to tread carefully, but tread nonetheless. “Not too many people know about Pietro's unless they've been there. I just thought . . .”

“No, I didn't go to school in the city,” he said, cutting her off.

“But you've been there.” Her gut told her it hadn't been on the occasional weekend jaunt down the mountain, either.

“It's been a while.” His voice made the weather outside look downright balmy.

“Do you want to talk about why you hate it so much?”

“No.” Silence stretched around them like a blanket of thorns.

When he didn't elaborate, Bellamy nodded. “Okay.” After a minute that felt more like an hour and a half, she decided to go with her gut. “Shane, I'm not really sure what I said to make you uncomfortable, but whatever it was, I'm sorry.”

He snapped his gaze to hers, his eyes looking almost black in the diffused streetlight from the parking lot. “Jesus, Bellamy. I'm the one who should be apologizing. It's not you, I just—”

Before he could finish, she snatched up his hand and squeezed it hard enough to cut him off. “Let's make a deal, you and I. I won't say anything about the city until you feel like talking about it if you don't ever, ever utter those three words to me again. Fair?”