Turning Up the Heat (Friends With Benefits)

by Tanya Michaels

  “And the flight isn’t until three,” he added. “The ticket is well worth it if it allows me to use you as a human shield. Cam is gifted in the kitchen, but I don’t want to spend four days with only him for company. What if he asks about ‘us’? And you know the first time we pass a street-food vendor, I’ll have to listen to him rhapsodize about his fantasy of leaving the ‘complicated restaurant world’ and taking off in a food truck.”

  “Not that again. Doesn’t he know how unsuited he’d be to something less superficially glamorous? The man loves having a big staff—”

  Heath coughed and muttered, “Overcompensating” into his hand. It was more than the size of his staff that gave a man control.

  She shot him a “what are you, twelve?” glare. “And he wants diners to savor his food, linger over it and pay him compliments at the end of the meal. He’d hate the hectic pace of a food truck.”

  “You’re so intuitive. Which is why I need your input on the new restaurant possibilities. Oh, and did I mention the Braves will be in town playing the Marlins? I have two tickets. When was the last time you got out to a game?”

  “You don’t play fair, do you?”

  “Hell, no.” He winked at her over his coffee cup. “I play to win. Come with me to Miami. Please.”

  She glanced around the apartment, lips pursed as she considered the invitation. He tried not to stare at her mouth, remembering the kiss they’d shared at Bobbi’s party, when he’d caught her off guard and she’d enthusiastically kissed him back. He wanted more of that heat and enthusiasm.

  When she sighed and said, “I could use a vacation,” he wanted to pump his fist in triumph.

  “Maybe you should think of it as a vacation from real life,” he coaxed. “An opportunity to explore.”

  Her eyes widened at his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about South Beach sightseeing?”

  “Because you know me well. You asked me to teach you to be sexy,” he reminded her softly. “How hands-on do you want those lessons to be?”

  “I...” When her gaze dropped to his hands, it took every ounce of his willpower not to reach for her. But if he came on too strong, she might change her mind about the entire trip. “The way you kissed me, the way you made me feel at your apartment—it was all wonderful, addictive even, but you’re one of my closest friends. If we take this too far...”

  “You’re worried it will get complicated. It could, unless we both agree on clear parameters from the start.”

  She shifted her weight, looking equal parts intrigued and wary. “You mean like, what happens in Miami stays in Miami?”

  “To borrow a cliché, yeah. There’s a lot I could show you in four nights, Phoebe.” He gripped the mug in his hand, momentarily overcome by all the ways he wanted to touch her. Pleasure her.

  Color rising in her cheeks, voice breathy, she promised, “I’ll think about it.”

  That makes two of us. He doubted he’d be able to think about anything else between now and when their plane landed next week.

  * * *

  “WELCOME TO VIVIEN’S ARMOIRE.” A blonde in vertically striped jeans and a horizontally striped blouse stepped forward. “I’m Wren. Can I help you find anything today?”

  Phoebe didn’t get a chance to answer. Next to her, Gwen grumbled, “Yeah—point us toward the chastity belts.”

  Wren blinked. “Um...”

  “I’ll be browsing lingerie,” Phoebe said, “but I also wanted to look at your swimsuits. I need a bikini.”

  “You need a suit of armor and a Taser.”

  “Gwendolyn! When I agreed to let you come with me, you promised to be helpful and keep your opinions about Heath to yourself.”

  “Sorry,” her friend said unconvincingly. “I just worry that you’re getting in over your head. A lot could happen on this trip.”

  Gwen’s warning conjured Heath’s words. There’s a lot I could show you, Phoebe. She shivered. The more she thought about his offer, the more sense it made. Undoubtedly she was rationalizing, but who could blame her when a man that hot wanted to expand her sensual horizons?

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” she told Gwen. “I’m an adult.” She had no misconceptions about who Heath was. Frankly, the four nights they spent in Miami might qualify as one of his longer relationships.

  Wren leaned toward Phoebe, her voice a stage whisper. “I empathize. I have two bossy older sisters.”

  “Hey,” Gwen objected, “I’m not older. We’re the same age!”

  Phoebe smirked. “Guess I just seem like the younger, more carefree one.”

  Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Wren, be my new best friend and tell me you have some booze hidden behind the counter?”

  The other woman laughed. “No. But if you pull a flask out of your purse while you shop, I’ll pretend not to notice. Best I can do.” To Phoebe, she said, “Swimsuits are in the back left of the store, pajamas in the back right. Lingerie, as you can see, takes up the entire front half—if you need any fitting help, just call for me or Meg, my boss. And in case you’re interested, our...specialty items are in the side room.” She pointed to a closed door.

  Phoebe’s eyes widened at her impish tone. “I take it specialty isn’t your fancy code for clearance racks.”

  “Hardly. Our specialty items make fun bachelorette party gifts. Or lively additions to romantic weekends away.” She lowered her voice to a more confidential tone. “I have a brochure, if you’d like to look through it.”

  Gwen gripped Phoebe’s shoulders and began propelling her forward. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Relax,” Phoebe whispered to her roommate. “I didn’t come here to buy sex toys.”

  Although, now that the topic had arisen, she couldn’t help wondering about Heath’s opinion on toys. Cam had known she owned a vibrator—she’d shyly mentioned it over drinks after they’d been together for months. His somewhat disdainful response had been, “What do you need that for, babe, when you’ve got me?” She’d never broached the subject of bringing it into bed with them.

  Somehow, she suspected Heath would be more open-minded.

  She grinned inwardly at the memory of him telling her he was unshockable. Gwen thought he was a bad influence—which was true—but he was also a wildly liberating influence. Promising not to judge, he’d encouraged her to be shameless in her pursuit of pleasure.

  In the past, most of the sensory pleasure in her life had come from food. But in Miami, that was going to change.

  CHAPTER 6

  “LAST CHANCE FOR an intervention where I talk some sense into you,” Gwen said as her car rolled to a stop in the passenger drop-off lane outside Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.

  Phoebe chuckled, enjoying the role reversal where she ran off with a man of questionable morals while Gwen was the one overthinking the situation. After the double shift Phoebe had pulled yesterday because she felt guilty for leaving James and the hours she’d spent this morning assembling multitiered wedding cakes at their respective reception venues, she should be exhausted. Instead, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so exhilarated. “Just tell me to have a good time.”

  “It better be a protected good time! Do you have condoms?”

  “Heath and I have kissed.” And would be doing that again soon. Anticipation rippled through her. “It’s not a foregone conclusion that we’ll be having sex. Necessarily.”

  Gwen arched an eyebrow.

  “Okay, yes. I packed condoms.” Many more than any two normal human beings could need for a four-day trip. Just in case. She blew Gwen a kiss. “Heath will drive me home when we get back Wednesday. If you’re not working late, I’ll fix us something yummy for dinner.”

  Inside the airport, she spotted him immediately. They’d agreed to meet by the ticket counter. He looked ready for the beach in white slacks and a boldly printed rayon shirt that was unbuttoned at the top; he hadn’t shaved that morning, and the slight shadow made his already stron
g jaw look even more ruggedly masculine. It was difficult to pick a favorite between restaurateur Heath in his urbane suits and this Heath, who looked ready to buy a lady a drink at a tiki bar and have his way with her behind a sand dune.

  Although she’d worn a simple jewel-toned tunic over capris for the flight, she looked forward to showing off some of her own beach attire in Miami—including the brand-new push-up bikini that had made even Gwen say, “Damn, girl, spectacular boobs.”

  Boarding passes in hand, they headed for the security line. “Want me to get your suitcase for you?” Heath asked, nodding toward the roller bag she planned to stick in an overhead compartment.

  She gave him a perplexed look. “Why?” It wasn’t as if she was carrying something heavy—and, even if she had been, her arms were toned from habitually lugging five-pound bags of sugar and industrial-size sacks of flour. “It has wheels.”

  “Exactly.” His eyes twinkled. “Making it easy to pull. With almost zero effort on my part, I still get to look chivalrous. Win-win.”

  After passing through the checkpoint and body scan, they retrieved their belongings from the conveyor belt and took an escalator down to the trams that carried passengers to their terminal. Looped straps hung from the ceiling, and a mechanical voice advised them to “hold on.”

  Heath shot her a grin, his gaze traveling down her body in an almost palpable caress. “The recording just said hold on, it didn’t specify what I’m supposed to hold on to.” Leaning against a metal pole, he dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her close, his fingers grazing her butt.

  A sense of gratification filled her, as if she’d been waiting for this moment—for his touch—ever since she woke up. She cupped the back of his head and tugged him toward her, sucking lightly at his bottom lip before sliding her tongue into his mouth, twining it with his. Heath groaned softly, his grip on her ass tightening.

  “I want that vacation from reality,” she whispered. Four nights to explore each other, to discover her sexier side and indulge in pleasure. “But do we have to wait until we get to Miami to start it?”

  In answer, he kissed her again. It was intense, but brief, in deference to the handful of passengers at the other end of the train and the fact that their tram was stopping.

  “This is us,” Heath said, his eyes gleaming hungrily as he stared down at her. “Unless you want to do another loop around the airport and make out some more?”

  Yes, please. “We should get off.” Her cheeks burned. “Of the tram, I mean.”

  His laugh was a husky promise. “Tram exit now. Later for the other.”

  As they walked to their gate, he shifted his tote bag so that he could hold her hand. The simple, innocent gesture left her grinning like an idiot. Wait—you’re too happy. The nagging inner voice sounded a lot like Gwen.

  Happy is good, Phoebe told herself.

  Happy is an emotion, a risk. You’re supposed to keep it physical. A rebound fling. Sexual tutoring. No developing feelings! She couldn’t just unpack emotions after the trip and shove them in a drawer alongside her bikini and new lingerie.

  “Phoebe, Heath, you made it.” Cam stood under the gate number sign in a polo shirt and starched khakis. His greeting turning to a glower when he noticed their joined hands.

  She’d seen the two men together so many times, but now she felt as if she was viewing them with new eyes. Cam’s hair was, as usual, gelled to perfection, and it looked as if he’d done some spray tanning since Bobbi’s party. He was a very handsome man, but where Heath was sexy in a raw, natural way, with his defined jaw and bold features, Cam’s attraction seemed calculated. In an up-close comparison, he looked as if he was trying too hard.

  Heath raised Phoebe’s hand to his lips and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “I’m going to grab a bottle of water for the flight. Want one?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  He turned to his business partner. “Cam?”

  The other man flashed a tight smile. “No, I think I’ll wait and get something stronger on the plane.”

  As Heath jogged toward the nearest gift shop, heavy awkwardness descended. She searched her mind for something to say. “How’s Dana?”

  Cam blinked. “Who?”

  “Your date to the party?” The woman you invited to one of my closest friend’s birthdays less than two weeks after dumping me?

  “I haven’t spoken to her since Bobbi’s.” His tone was rueful. “I’m afraid I didn’t make a very good impression on her, since I spent most of that evening staring at you. You looked incredible.”

  She made a note to tell Gwen her makeover efforts had been a success. Cam might not be “crawling back,” but he looked like a man with regrets. Was it cruel what she was doing, coming along on this trip as Heath’s date? If Cam hadn’t ditched you, you could be here now as his date. Try as she might, she couldn’t imagine having kissed him so enthusiastically on the tram.

  “So.” He cleared his throat. “You and Heath. I didn’t see that development coming.”

  She thought about the moment Heath’s mouth had met hers at the birthday party. “No one was more shocked than me.”

  “Are the two of you...serious?”

  Serious. Hardly a word that was applicable to a fake relationship with a serial-dating commitmentphobe. “We’re having fun. I need some of that in my life right now.” There was an edge of anger in her voice, and she didn’t try to temper it. While he’d never been obligated to stay in a relationship that made him unhappy, there were less duplicitous ways he could have ended things. Was he even sorry? “You hurt me. And you cost me a job I loved.”

  “But I heard that things are going well for you over at Notes.”

  “What if they weren’t? Why weren’t you just honest with me, Cameron? I’m a professional. You didn’t have to give me a song and dance about us having a future together.”

  “Maybe I was just worried that future was coming at us too fast. Maybe I panicked.”

  There was a vulnerable note she wasn’t used to hearing in his tone. For a second, she almost felt bad for him. Then she remembered that he’d spent a couple of weeks convincing her that their “long-term” relationship would be healthier if they didn’t spend every waking hour together, sending her on a job search that might not have worked out as fortuitously as it had. Days on end of deliberately misleading her wasn’t panic; it was self-serving premeditation.

  “I won’t blame you if you say no,” he said, “but, after this trip, can I call you sometime?” He gave her a smile that was sad and sweet and reminded her of why she’d fallen for him in the first place. Cam was not without his charms. But then he added, “I could cook for you! I have new dishes that need your feedback.”

  Any lingering sympathy she’d felt hardened. Two years together and her main role to him was still taste tester? “Call if you want, but I might be busy.” Busy moving on with my life.

  * * *

  PHOEBE GLANCED OUT the small rectangular window, watching as the plane sped down the runway. “I still can’t believe I let you buy me a plane ticket.”

  “It’s not like I splurged on first class,” Heath said.

  “Feels pretty luxurious not having to share our row with anyone.” Their side of the plane included only two seats, without a passenger crammed into the dreaded middle. If she thought too hard about it, she’d wonder how the other side of the aisle—with three people in every row—didn’t unbalance the plane. She preferred not to dwell on that while they were taking off. “Plus, even if we’re not in first class, the service has been excellent.” Had that observation sounded acerbic?

  Honestly, it was almost insulting how the flight attendant doted on him. Phoebe could certainly understand Heath’s appeal, but wasn’t it unseemly to flirt with a man who was traveling with a girlfriend? Not that I am his girlfriend. But the flight attended couldn’t know that. He played the part of affectionate lover beautifully. At the gate, Cam had looked livid every time Heath casually touched her or sm
iled in her direction. She was relieved Cam’s seat was in a different section of the plane, giving her a two-hour reprieve from his dour mood.

  The plane sharply ascended, and she sucked in a breath.

  “You okay?” Heath asked. “You should have warned me you were a nervous flyer.”

  “I’m not really any kind of flyer. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been on a plane.” She and Gwen had grown up in south Georgia and come to Atlanta together after high school. Most places Phoebe had visited outside the state she’d reached by driving.

  “Guess it makes sense that when I asked about the most adventurous thing you’ve done, the mile-high club wasn’t on your list.” He grinned. “Lack of opportunity.”

  “And extreme lack of interest. Having sex in a tiny lavatory that’s been used by countless strangers is not a turn-on for me.”

  “Not as tempting as, say, a man watching—”

  “Hey!” Her face heated. Could any of the surrounding passengers hear what they were discussing?

  “I didn’t bring it up to make you uncomfortable. I wanted to know about your other fantasies. Do you have a...like a bucket list of sexual activities you want to try someday? A ‘fucket’ list, so to speak.”

  She pressed her hand over her mouth to smother an unladylike burst of laughter. She wouldn’t want the overly solicitous flight attendant to rush over and ask Heath if the noisy redhead was bothering him.

  “There is something,” Phoebe admitted. Maybe what she yearned for didn’t qualify as a fantasy in the way Heath meant—this wasn’t about a crazy location or a battery-operated sex toy—but she’d just had a revelation about her own desires.

  Growing up, she’d been conditioned to be modest and demure. In college, she’d had hushed sex because the dorm walls were thin. And Cam was...almost too airbrushed for real life. He was a considerate lover, taking her orgasms as his responsibility, but he wasn’t spontaneous or uninhibited. She understood wanting to brush his teeth before they kissed in the morning—could even applaud it—but was it really necessary to floss and gargle mouthwash for exactly three minutes before they could consider morning sex? To rationalize his fussiness, she’d told herself she was glad he cared about hygiene and personal maintenance. But it was impossible to get lost in sex when she was worried it would be gauche to sweat on her partner.