The Heat Is On

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.