The Heat Is On

6

The man standing in front of her was faceless. He had a huge bullet hole where his forehead should have been, and he was reaching for her with a hand that held a bouquet of wildflowers. “Bella,” he said in a zombie voice. “Bella!”

She screamed and took a step backward, stumbling in shock when she realized that she held a smoking gun.

She’d shot him.

She’d shot his face off.

“Bella!”

She jerked away and fell out of bed. “Ow.”

Two big, warm hands scooped her up and pulled her into what felt like a wall of muscle.

Even with her eyes closed, she recognized Jacob by his scent and the feel of his arms, and she melted into him, pressing her face to his throat. He brushed the hair away from her damp face, his warm lips settling against her temple. “Bad dream?”

“Zombies.” She stayed there in his arms, the sound of her accelerated, panicked breathing and heart pounding in her ears all she could hear as the rest of the world stopped existing.

Moonlight came in through her shutters, slanting the room in glowing stripes. Jacob was on the floor with her, holding her, and there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

He pulled back enough to see into her eyes. “Better?”

Was she? She tried to figure that out. She was damp with terror sweat, wearing only a tiny tank and boy-cut panties. But there was no dead guy without a face, and she wasn’t holding a smoking gun. And she was in Jacob’s lap. “Really bad dream.”

“Zombies?”

She let out a shaky breath. “A dead guy. With no face and a hole in his forehead, carrying wildflowers. Chasing me.” She shuddered. “And I had the gun.”

With a low, wordless murmur, he hugged her closer. Chilled to the bone, she burrowed in. His hands grazed her arms, her back, her bare thighs-

He froze for a single beat as if just realizing only now how undressed she was. Then she shivered again, and a big hand cupped the nape of her neck. “When I heard you scream, I lost about two years of my life during the time it took me to get in here to you.”

She tightened her grip. “I didn’t put the key under the mat.”

“I know. You had it under the flowerpot. We’ll talk about that later.”

She pressed her face into his shoulder. “You smell good.”

“Yeah? So do you.” He buried his nose in her hair. “Like vanilla and sugar. Good enough to eat.”

She squirmed at that image. “I made cookies.”

“For the shop?”

“For me.” She sighed. “It’s a destress thing.” She knew she was wrapped around him like Saran Wrap but couldn’t make herself let go. He was strong and solid, and she could feel the even, steady beat of his heart. Hers was still racing. “I’m not dressed.”

“I noticed that.” If her voice was shaking from adrenaline, his was low and husky. His aroused voice, which added an entirely new element to her adrenaline rush.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she said. “But what brought you here?”

He didn’t answer, and it was her turn to pull back a little bit and look into his face. “Uh-oh.” She couldn’t see him clearly, but she could certainly feel the tension in him, tension she’d missed before because she’d been too busy recouping from the nightmare. “Jacob?”

“I was just leaving work.”

“This late?” It was ten-thirty. A long day by any standards, and she was quite certain his hadn’t been spent hanging out baking in a kitchen, or sitting and staring at the waves. He’d been out there, catching bad guys, and probably risking life and limb while he was at it.

“It was one of those days,” he allowed, in what was undoubtedly an understatement.

“Lots of bad guys?”

“Always.” He paused. “And a late call came in.”

More tension, she felt it in his thighs beneath her, in the chest she’d set her head on and in the arms he’d banded around her. She climbed out of his lap, stood and flipped on the light by her bed, because she had a feeling she needed to see his face.

From the floor, he blinked, adjusting to the light as his gaze ran over her from head to toe, slowing at all the places in between. “God, Bella.”

“I was hot.”

His eyes flared, letting her know exactly how hot he thought she was.

“I have to go downstairs in a few minutes and beat up some dough for the morning.” The fib popped out of her mouth automatically. But that’s how she operated, always giving herself a way out with a man. She called it her safety net.

Except at the moment, for the first time in memory, she didn’t want a safety net, and regretted the lie the minute it left her lips.

Jacob remained on the floor. He leaned against her bed, dropping his head back on the mattress and closing his eyes as if afraid to look at her too long. His dark silky hair was tousled, as if he’d shoved his fingers through it repeatedly. There was a grim set to his mouth, and fine lines of tension fanning out from his eyes.

“You look exhausted,” she said softly, and came back to him, curling up at his side, mirroring his pose but setting her head on his chest instead of against the bed.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in. “There was another shooting, Bella. The guy took a hit to the thigh, and should live.”

She looked at him, but his head was still back, eyes closed. “Who?”

“Banning Jefferson. You know him?”

She let out a breath. She didn’t, not that it made it any less horrifying. “No. The name doesn’t ring a bell.” She relaxed slightly, grateful this one at least didn’t involve her.

His fingers brushed low on her spine, against the bare skin between the hem of her tank and her low-cut panties. “Bullet type matches.” Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “In a big city, this wouldn’t be enough to connect the shootings, but here in Santa Rey, we don’t get shootings every day. Not even every month. So just having two in a matter of days is enough to possibly connect them.”

They were close enough to share air, and one thing she already knew about Jacob, he was good up close. Very good. He had a way of looking at her, of touching her, like now, that made her feel both safe and sexy, and that was a lethal combination.

Suddenly she wanted him to use those traits to help her escape, to forget the horror of finding Seth’s body even for a few minutes, and it was all she could do to resist setting her hands on his flat stomach, sliding her fingers over those hard muscles as she leaned in and took a bite of him-

“Look at me, Bella.”

She was. She was looking at his chest and wondering how long it would take to get him out of that shirt…

“At my face,” he said with what might have been amusement.

As if his face was any less dangerous…

Adding an assist, he cupped her jaw and tilted it up to his, looking her over carefully with that intense, all- seeing gaze that made her want to confess to state secrets, and also take off what little clothing she still wore. She squirmed a little, working her way even closer to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Working on it. Jacob?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I didn’t move to Siberia,” she whispered. “And I’m glad you didn’t move to