Her roommate had been her best friend for over a decade, the person Phoebe had confided in about everything from her first kiss to slow dancing at the prom to losing her virginity in college. Though Phoebe had never been quite as free with the details as Gwen usually was, she at least wanted to tell her friend how incredible last night and this morning had been. Maybe it would be easier to silence the whisper of doubts if she could share her happiness with someone.
Assuming Gwen would even be happy for me. Her bestie had been pretty vocal about Heath’s reputation. She was not a fan. Besides, Gwen was probably on set right now anyway. She could hardly chat about Phoebe’s sex life while giving one of Hollywood’s most popular young starlets fangs and vampire eyes.
Phoebe walked back outside to evaluate her lunch options. There were several food trucks parked on the periphery, and they made her chuckle, reminding her of Cam’s occasional declarations that he was going to pack up his knives and hit the open culinary road. The year that Piri had opened, she’d thought that Cam was very focused, which she’d respected. Her entire adolescence had been focused on leaving home and what she wanted to do with her life once she did. And although she’d held several different jobs in the past few years, she’d been steadily building her own business, which she hoped would be self-sustaining within the next five years. It was only in retrospect that she realized much of Cam’s seeming concentration came from Heath keeping him on track.
Truthfully, Cam was indecisive. He vacillated on everything from monthly menus to his love life, convincing himself that Phoebe hadn’t been enough to make him happy and now acting as if he missed her. In contrast, Heath lived life deliberately. Some people might look at his dating patterns and think that he just hadn’t found the right partner. But a person didn’t accidentally date eleven women in a month. He’d admitted as much last night, saying that his no-strings lifestyle was a conscious choice. Phoebe needed to keep that in mind.
It was okay to get temporarily swept away by her craving for him, just so long as she didn’t let it sweep her into delusion.
She purchased a couple of tamales and a bottle of ice-cold water, then made her way to a shaded picnic table. As she was setting down her lunch, the phone in her pocket vibrated and she had an unrealistic flare of optimism that Heath might have concluded his business hours ahead of schedule. But when she pulled out her phone, she was thrilled to see Gwen’s name on the screen.
“Hey!” She sat on the bench, grinning from ear to ear. “You must be psychic. I was thinking a couple of minutes ago about how much I wanted to talk to you.”
“Best-friend ESP,” Gwen said sagely. “Our connection is a finely tuned vibration in the universe, and—Nah. I was calling to gush about this stand-in I intend to jump who’s even hotter than the actor he’s blocking for. So, Gwen sexy times. The usual.”
They both chuckled, but before Phoebe could respond, her friend’s tone turned serious.
“I also called because I owe you an apology,” Gwen said unexpectedly. “You know who I ran into yesterday? Alisha Tulloch, one of Heath’s former playmates.”
Phoebe tensed. Was this going to evolve into a legitimate apology, or was Gwen working up to a bait and switch where she once again explained why Phoebe shouldn’t sleep with Heath? Because it was a little late for that lecture.
“I remember Alisha,” Phoebe said cautiously. She was a high-powered attorney, unaccustomed to losing. That breakup had been one of Heath’s more memorable because Alisha had been convinced she could wear him down if she kept arguing her case. To demonstrate his resolve, Heath had finally threatened to ban her from Piri.
“Yeah, well, she’s engaged now.”
“Wow, that was fast.”
“They’ve been together four months and Alisha claims love at first sight. I saw them together and, for a brilliant, successful woman...” Gwen gave a low whistle. “She is hella clingy. It didn’t seem to bother her fiancé, but I found myself thinking that if I’d been Heath, I would have kicked her to the curb, too. Maybe I’ve been too hard on him. After all, it’s not like I’m the poster girl for monogamy, right?”
Phoebe actually pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, as if searching for clues that this was a high-tech prank. “Who are you and what have you done with Gwendolyn Yeager?”
“Regardless of what I think of Heath, I should have been more supportive of you.” Gwen’s voice was laden with remorse. “I know better than anyone how you were raised, how you were basically taught to feel ashamed for any physical impulse you might have. It occurred to me while I was making plans to jump the hot new stand-in that you’re entitled to some sexy times, too. Who deserves it more than you? Go forth and boink with my blessing. Not that you need it—you’re a consenting adult—but I wanted to offer it anyway.”
Phoebe smiled, filled with affection for her friend. “Go forth and boink” wasn’t the most poignant sentiment, but Phoebe found the words oddly touching. “Thank you. I may not need your permission, but I do need your friendship. You mean the world to me.”
“Are you grateful enough for my friendship that you’re willing to share lurid details? Because it occurs to me, the number of infatuated lovers must mean Jensen is doing something right in bed.”
“Many, many things.” Phoebe sighed happily.
“Spill!”
“Um...” Her cheeks heated as she recalled their fiercely carnal encounter that morning. She darted her glance around at the couple dozen people in the area. “You’ll just have to use your imagination.”
“That’s not—Oh, crap, they need me for touch-ups. Gotta go! But we aren’t finished with this conversation.”
By the time Phoebe’s phone rang again, she had returned to her hotel room and was trying to decide whether to change into her new bikini and go for a swim, or read a book on the balcony and enjoy the breeze and the gorgeous beach view. This time, the caller was Heath and she flopped across the bed to answer, bending her knees and kicking her feet up behind her the way she used to do when she and Gwen talked on the phone as teenagers.
“Whatcha wearing?” he asked.
A turquoise sundress that tied behind her neck. “My smile and a pair of stilettos.”
There was a charged silence as he processed that answer. “Damn, woman, are you trying to kill me?”
“Of course not—I’m not finished having my way with you yet.”
His response was half laugh, half groan. “I’ve created a very sexy monster.”
“Are you calling to tell me you’ll be back to the hotel soon?” Her pulse accelerated, and she resisted the urge to snuggle with his pillow and see if she could detect his scent on it. “I’ll make a list of monstrous things I want to do to you when you get here.”
He groaned. “Oh, how I wish I was headed back to you. Unfortunately we’re doing our complete examination of Albert’s books, and everything has taken longer than it should have today. Cam—Well, never mind about Cam. We’re going to have a working dinner, but it should be early, maybe five thirty or six? I’ll be back after that. Tomorrow I have more free time to spend with you,” he said apologetically, “and we have the ballgame on Tuesday. But for this evening, I’m afraid you’re on your own for dinner.”
“No problem. There are plenty of food options at the hotel.”
“Just promise me something,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Save room for dessert.”
* * *
A PEAL OF laughter escaped Phoebe when Heath carried two small coolers into the room. A uniformed hotel employee followed behind with a room service cart that included a stack of small plates, utensils and chilled champagne in a bucket of ice.
After tipping the man, Heath looked back in her direction. “What’s so funny?”
“I just realized you were being literal,” she admitted. “When you mentioned dessert earlier, I kind of thought it was a euphemism.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Why, Phoebe Mars, you hav
e a dirty mind. Nice to see I’ve corrupted you. But no, I actually need your opinion. Not only are Cam and I working on the potential menu for the new restaurant, we’re auditioning potential employees. I brought back a variety of tasting-size samples and thought we could enjoy them on the balcony and watch the sunset. Want to open the champagne while I change?”
She laughed. “Isn’t slipping into something more comfortable the woman’s line?”
“Good point.” A devilish gleam entered his eyes as he studied her loose-flowing maxidress. “That looks terribly constricting. You should take it off.”
Tempting. “If I do that, we’ll miss the sunset. And what about dessert?”
“Who needs dessert when I have you?” He took a step toward her, then paused. “Although, to be perfectly honest, there are a few things in those coolers that will melt if we don’t get to them.”
She made shooing motions. “Go change. We can revisit how binding my dress is later.”
When he went around the corner to the bathroom, she opened the sliding glass door and wheeled the cart out between the two padded chairs that sat on the balcony. It was a very romantic setting. An evening breeze was coming from the water, leaving the night sultry but bearable. Red and orange streaked the darkening sky. The desserts deserved an equally picturesque presentation. Rather than eat them out of take-out containers, she took the small stack of dishes room service had delivered and made a circle. Then she began plating the selections. The first cooler included truffles, pomegranate mousse, dark chocolate wasabi bark, cream-filled pastries and watermelon mint sorbet.
Catching sight of the sorbet, she was suddenly reminded of an article she’d glimpsed in one of Gwen’s magazines. She’d forgotten all about it, not thinking to include it when Heath had asked about her fantasies, but now she was intrigued.
She glanced around, checking the balcony’s privacy. The terraces were staggered so that a person had to stand at the very edge and peer around the corner to see onto a neighbor’s, and the high concrete safety ledge afforded a bit of seclusion. Her lips curved in anticipation. When she’d first come outside, she’d noted that the breeze was keeping the heat at bay. But the night was about to get a whole lot hotter.
* * *
HEATH STEPPED OUT into the fading light, dressed in a pair of linen shorts and a rayon shirt he hadn’t bothered to button. The casual clothes were comfortable but he was regretting suggesting the balcony instead of feeding each other the desserts while naked in bed.
He grinned at the professional arrangement of desserts on the table. Ever the pastry chef. It all looked wonderful, but the redhead handing him a flute of champagne was the most delectable of all.
“Quite a selection,” she said.
“I felt bad that we couldn’t have dinner together.” Heath had always loved the challenges of his work—the long hours usually felt more like a familiar refuge than a dreaded inconvenience. But this afternoon, not even the excitement of opening a new restaurant had been able to keep his mind off Phoebe. “Providing dessert was the least I could do.”
She picked up one of the small square plates. “Do you like pomegranate?” At his nod, she dipped a finger into the mousse and held it up for him. “It’s rumored to be an aphrodisiac.”
As far as he was concerned, there was no more powerful aphrodisiac than her smile, but he raised her finger to his lips, swiping his tongue over it for a quick taste before sucking it clean. Her eyelids fluttered, and she gave a soft sigh of pleasure. To hell with the desserts. He wanted to lay her across the rolling table and sample her until he’d wrung a dozen more sighs from her.
Then she kissed him, leisurely exploring his mouth before pulling away to grin up at him. “Tart. I like it.”
He leaned into her so that she could feel his growing erection. “Guess its aphrodisiac qualities are legit.”
She palmed his hardness through the shorts, giving him a look of mock pity. “Poor Heath. These bottoms seem to be very constricting.” Then she surprised him by deftly undoing the drawstring and sliding the shorts down in one fluid motion.
He stepped out of them and pitched them onto the chair behind him.
Phoebe trailed her fingers over the fly of his boxer briefs in a maddeningly light touch. “These, too.”
All he was left with was an unbuttoned shirt, while she was fully dressed. “This isn’t going how I imagined,” he said wryly. “One of us is overdressed.”
“Give me five minutes,” she said seductively, her eyes flashing mischief, “and I bet you won’t be complaining. Have a seat.”
He sat in the chair, not entirely sure what she was planning but willing to follow her lead. Especially when she pulled the cushion off the other chair and set it at his feet, nudging his thighs apart.
“Next up is the watermelon-mint sorbet,” she told him. She bent at the waist to offer him a spoonful, her long hair tickling across his lap.
He couldn’t think about menu options right now. Or about anything, really. All the blood in his brain was rushing south. But he obligingly tasted the sorbet. “Nice.” The bite of mint kept it from being too sweet—much like Phoebe, who, for all her sweetness, had a lot of hidden zing.
She sank to her knees on the cushion, her fingers tracing figure eights over his thighs. “I thought of something I want to add to my fucket list.”
“Really?” His voice caught as she gripped his shaft. “Because, I gotta be honest, this seems more like my fantasy.”
Smiling, she held his gaze as she bent down, not breaking contact until the very last minute when she licked across the tip of him. Then she ran her tongue along the ridge encircling the head. Sensation shivered up his spine, and he gripped the arms of the chair. Hard.
All too soon, she rocked back on her heels and he considered begging for more. She shot him a wicked smile and picked up the sorbet again, taking a spoonful into her mouth before lowering her head. This time she didn’t stop with gentle licks. She closed her lips over him and sucked. The jolt of cold made him gasp, but almost immediately he felt tingles of pleasure as she slid along his length, her mouth and hand tight around him.
She repeated the sorbet trick two more times, then increased the suction around him while he tangled his hands in her hair, babbling fragments of praise and curse words and her name. It felt so fucking good that he hated for it to end, even as he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer, not against this onslaught of ecstasy. She was swirling her tongue around him while pumping him with her hand, and he caught his breath long enough to warn her.
“I’m so close. I’m about to—”
She tightened her hold on him and brushed her hair over her shoulder, giving him a good look at her while her head bobbed along his shaft, and then it was all over. His hips came off the chair and there was a roaring in his ears and it felt like it went on forever. Afterward, he rested his head against the back of his chair, wondering if he would ever recover and not really caring if he didn’t. Either way, it had been worth it. She gave him one last affectionate lick, then reached for her flute of champagne.
“So.” She sipped her drink, then flashed him a smile over the rim. “Think you’ll put watermelon-mint sorbet on the menu?”
“Hell, no. Every time I saw it, I’d be too hard to walk straight.” He wiggled his toes, testing to see if he still had full use of his limbs. When she passed him his own glass of champagne, he drained the contents. Then he slowly stood. “I think we should go inside now.”
She glanced at the desserts they’d yet to try. “Are we done?”
“Not at all.” He picked up the plate of éclairs and cream puffs with some very definite ideas about licking chocolate and cinnamon custard off her skin. “We’re just getting started.”
* * *
PHOEBE CRACKED ONE eye open, looking to see if there was any water left in the bottle on the nightstand, then came fully awake when she saw the clock. “Holy crap! What time are we supposed to meet Cam downstairs?” Any thorough restaurant
evaluation included both weekend and weekday visits, as well as an idea of the area’s traffic flow at different times of the day. They’d made plans for an early lunch.
Next to her, Heath snuggled deeper under the comforter and mumbled something unintelligible.
She jabbed him in the shoulder. “Time to look alive, Jensen. It’s almost eleven.”
That got his attention. He sat bolt upright. “Are you messing with me? We’re supposed to be downstairs in fifteen minutes.” He grabbed his phone off the other nightstand. “I could have sworn I set—oh, here’s the problem. Nine p.m.”
“A.m. might have worked better,” she teased. “Alarm or no alarm, I can’t believe I slept so long.” When was the last time she’d stayed in bed this late? Then again, she rarely had such a compelling reason to be in bed as the man beside her. “You obviously exhausted me, keeping me awake all night.”
His lips curled in a satisfied smile, and he looked ridiculously sexy for a man with bed head and stubble. “You don’t expect me to apologize for our active night, do you? I mean, I can. But it would be insincere as hell.”
She grinned back at him. “I don’t want an apology, just coffee. Can you brew some while I jump in the shower?”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I have a better idea.”
“No! Any more of your ideas and we won’t make it out of here in time for dinner, much less lunch.”
“Why say that like it’s a bad thing? The hotel has room service.”
Chuckling, she climbed out of bed, wearing only the T-shirt of his she’d pulled on around five o’clock in the morning because he’d stolen the blankets. She could feel his gaze on her as she scooped clothes out of her suitcase.
“You should just keep that shirt,” he said. “It’s never going to look as good on me as it does on you.”
She froze, startled by the words. Keeping something—even an old cotton shirt—sounded so permanent, so the opposite of what they’d agreed on. Was it Heath’s way of preparing for goodbye, giving her a memento of the time they’d had together? A parting gift. Or did it mean something else?
Turning Up the Heat (Friends With Benefits) Page 11