If You Can't Take the Heat

by Melissa Brown

  “I’d die a happy woman.” She ran her fingers through his stubble. “Hey.” She paused. “You make me happy . . . like really happy.”

  His eyes met hers, and his brow tightened. “Whitney, I didn’t think I could feel this way again. I really didn’t. But you woke me up.”

  Her voice softened, knowing there was a story there. A story she was ready to hear. “Why were you asleep?”

  Her feelings were unwavering, she knew what and who she wanted, no matter the story he had to tell. She could accept his past, and hoped he’d accept hers in return. Nolan and now Charlie were part of her past, and she only wanted Wes. And at her first opportunity, she’d end things officially with the Brit to focus on her cowboy.

  “I was single for a long time, but about ten years ago, I met a woman. A woman I thought was my future.”

  “What happened?” Normally, Whitney would be jealous hearing of women from the past, but this time, her heart sank at the idea of someone hurting Wes. He was changing her in so many little ways . . . little ways that, upon further reflection, weren’t so little after all.

  He cleared his throat. “I proposed about a year after we met and even though she said yes, I had this weird feeling, like a boulder in the pit of my stomach. Ever have that feeling?”

  Whitney thought back to the many times Nolan proclaimed his love, a love that never actually existed. Not really. She knew exactly how it felt.

  “I do.”

  “So we started planning the wedding, but I noticed her pulling away a little bit at a time. There were small things, imperceptible to anyone but me. They were there, though.”

  “Please tell me that heartless bitch didn’t leave you at the altar.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Nothing like that. But who knows? Maybe she would have if I hadn’t pushed her to admit that things were off. For days she insisted she was ready, she was in love with me, and that she wanted our life together. But I knew she was saying what she thought I wanted to hear, needed to hear. She knew I wanted us for the long haul. But when I continued to push she finally cracked, said she wasn’t sure she was the ‘marrying kind.’ She’d lived in Montana her entire life and wanted out.”

  “Why didn’t she tell you that before?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, she knew I had no desire to leave and she apparently wanted some big-city life. I’ll never forget what she said.”

  “What was that?”

  “She wanted more ‘adventures’ before settling down and raising a bunch of kids on a ranch. I heard she moved to Manhattan a few weeks later. We haven’t spoken since.”

  “Wow.” Whitney swallowed hard, wondering if she could see herself in the country, abandoning her metropolitan Los Angeles life. Plus, she wasn’t bound and determined to become a mother . . . at all. “So are kids a deal breaker for you?”

  Wes’s jaw ticked. “I’d like to be a father, but no, they’re not. But she obviously saw marriage as some sort of prison sentence and I don’t feel that way. The idea of growing old with someone is appealing to me. Adventures taken together, not apart.”

  Adventures taken together, not apart.

  Those words reverberated through Whitney’s brain. She loved the sound of them, the sentiment behind them. She wasn’t maternal enough to have kids, but adventures taken with a man she truly loved was anything but a punishment.

  “So you broke off the engagement then?”

  “Yeah, I told her to keep the ring, but that we couldn’t go through with it. She pretended to be upset, but then I saw nothing but relief on her face. She left that day and that’s that. I have no idea if she was able to hack it in Manhattan or if she moved back home.”

  “Do you care? I mean, would it make a difference if she did?”

  “Am I still in love with her, you’re asking?”

  Whitney nodded, feeling her heart pound. She was petrified of his answer . . . and that fear clarified her feelings even more. Was she in love with Wes? No. But she could see it happening, and quickly.

  “No. I made peace with it, and focused on building my restaurant.”

  “What did you do before Wesson’s?”

  “I was a VP in a Fortune Five Hundred where I made good money. Great money, in fact. But I was miserable. Then when Cyndi walked away—that was her name, Cyndi—I knew I had to make a change. I had to do what made me happy. So I quit my job, cashed in some of my stock options, and a few years later opened the doors of Wesson’s.”

  Whitney hesitated to ask her next question. “I have to ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you want to win the competition?”

  He licked his lips, pondering the question. “Yes and no. I mean, at first I was a little gun-shy, as you know, but my competitive nature has definitely kicked in. Now I want to beat my competitors. But the prize at the end? I don’t really want that. I don’t need it.”

  “Your own show?”

  “Yeah. That doesn’t interest me. I’d be fine just going home to Billings knowing I’d won, that I was the best, that I had what it takes. And if I walk away with you, Ms. Bartolina, that’s all the prize I need, quite honestly. What I feel for you . . . it’s more than I could have imagined. For the first time in eight years, I’m actually grateful Cyndi and I didn’t work.”

  A stunned smile crossed her lips and blood rushed to her cheeks. “You are?”

  “Of course. I’d be some miserable sad sack, married to the wrong person and continuing with a job I hated.” He paused, placing his fingers beneath her jaw. “I have the job. Now I want the woman. The woman who may actually be right for me.”

  “And you think you may have found her?”

  He nodded and her pulse raced, knowing she had to be truthful. This was the time. She had to tell him—she had to match his honesty with her own. She swallowed hard before speaking.

  “I have to tell you something, because I want that too. I want you, Wes.”

  He blinked several times, and she sensed his hesitation. Still he said, “You can tell me anything.”

  “God, I hope you mean that. Before we met, I was seeing someone. It was . . . is,” she corrected herself, “It is casual.”

  “Is?” With a tick in his jaw and reddening cheeks, his eyes bore into hers.

  “Yes. But I stopped sleeping with him once we . . . you know, our first night together. I’ve been distancing myself, but haven’t yet ended it—not officially. But I want to now. I do. I will.”

  He swallowed hard. “Don’t tell me what I wanna hear, Whitney. I’m not interested in games. Been there, done that.”

  She cupped his cheeks in her hands. “I will never play games with you. I want you, us. I’m falling for you, Wes. It was never serious with—”

  “Stop. I don’t want to know his name. It’s over, that’s all I care about. But is there anything . . . anyone else?” he asked, and Whitney shook her head. Nolan had been a thing of the past for so long, she didn’t think it was necessary to mention him. Her focus was ending things with Charlie and being honest with Wes.

  “No. From now on, I just want this. You and me.”

  He kissed her on the nose. “So do I.”

  “So you’re not mad?”

  “Of course part of me wants to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.” He shrugged and Whitney giggled behind her hand. “But I have you, he doesn’t.”

  “Yes, you do.” She teased his lips with her own, brushing against them then pulling back. He offered a lazy smile in response. She felt the strength return to her muscles and was determined to please him just as he pleased her. She leaned in, murmuring, “Let me show you.”

  Slowly, she sank to her knees, pulling off one leather boot, then the other, savoring the feel of the worn leather beneath her fingertips. Next came his black socks, which she tossed dramatically to the side. She rose higher on her knees and brought her attention to the thick leather belt wrapped around his waist. She unbuckled it, then ripped it from his jeans, tossin
g it behind her and moving on to the button of his jeans. She popped it open and unzipped his fly. He shifted his hips, allowing her to drag the dark denim down to his ankles. With one quick swoop, she pulled them off; the bulge beneath his jet-black boxers was eager and waiting for her. Gingerly, she pulled the boxers off of him and circled his tip with her tongue, cupping his balls with her hand, squeezing ever so gently—just enough to make him moan beneath her.

  She pulled away slightly, looking up at his hooded eyes. “Hmm, should I tease you the way you teased me?”

  He licked his lips, breathing deeply. “It’s fair play.”

  Again and again, she stroked him, bringing him to the brink before pulling away to lick, suck, and stroke his inner thighs, his abs, his neck and chest. She was determined to make him beg. She could feel his thigh muscles trembling, and wanted desperately to give him his release. But he hadn’t said a word. He’d moaned, he’d shifted his weight, he’d breathed in deeply through clenched teeth, but he hadn’t said anything.

  “You need to ask for it,” she whispered, reminding him of his words earlier.

  “Make me come, Whit. Make me come.”

  With a satisfied smile, she resumed her strokes, quickening her pace until he came apart, the deep guttural sound echoing through her apartment. The sexiest sound she’d ever heard. She swallowed him down, something she’d refused to do until him. Until this man who was slowly setting up a place in her heart.

  She crawled back into his lap, laying her head on his chest, feeling the hammer of his heart beneath his solid pecs. She knew she affected him just as much as he did her. It was mutual, this new, incredible feeling that she was tired of running from, tired of avoiding. She was finally ready for something real, and she could imagine nothing more real than what she felt when she was with Wes.

  Whitney arrived at the studio the next morning with renewed purpose and determination. When she found Katie enjoying a cup of coffee at craft services, she pulled her aside. “Do you have the room assignments for the contestants?”

  “You mean for makeup?” Katie asked and Whitney nodded. “No, but I can get it for you. What do you need?”

  “I need to find Charlie. Can you find out which room he’s in?”

  Katie popped a donut hole into her mouth and walked to Chris’s PA, Jeff. They both looked down at the paper attached to his clipboard before Katie thanked him and returned to Whitney.

  “Room 6. Joe from Albuquerque is in there, too.” Katie glanced at her watch. “They should be out in a few.”

  “Okay, great.” She was relieved to know Wes wasn’t in the same room as Charlie, especially since he had no desire to know who else Whitney was seeing. Not to mention she didn’t want to fuel Charlie’s possible venom toward Wes. Obviously he could handle his own, and if it came to blows, she knew Wes would clobber Charlie, but she’d promised Chris that her personal life wouldn’t spill into the show, and if Charlie continued his sabotage, she had no idea what might happen . . . or what information might be caught on film. Thank God for no live tapings! There would be a month of editing after a winner was crowned and filming was officially wrapped.

  After taking a deep breath, she walked to room 6 and knocked on the door before entering.

  “Well, hey, stranger,” Charlie welcomed her with a grin. “We were just talking about you, weren’t we, Joe?”

  Joe was very much the strong and silent type. He kept to himself on set, but was friendly with everyone he encountered. He was definitely one of the most talented cooks, and his demeanor in front of the camera was spot-on. Tall with a deep voice, dark hair, and a salt-and-pepper goatee, he commanded the stage and owned the camera. She had no doubt that if he won, his cooking show would be a great success. She was surprised, though, to hear that he and Charlie had discussed her. She could only hope it had nothing to do with their dalliances outside the studio lot.

  “Kind of,” Joe said, looking straight ahead at his reflection in the mirror while his makeup artist dabbed concealer under his eyes. “I was impressed with how you handled Wright. He’s a real prize, huh?”

  Relieved, Whitney laughed. “Yeah, probably not my finest moment, but I recovered as best I could.”

  Charlie jumped up from his seat. “Are you kidding? You were brilliant! Marcus Wright got his ass served to him on a platter!”

  Whitney puckered her lips. “Not exactly. Um, hey, Charlie, any chance I could speak to you in private?”

  Charlie turned to Sheila, his makeup artist. “Are we done here, love?”

  I knew that term of endearment had nothing to do with me.

  Sheila winked. “For now.”

  “Great, see you on set then.”

  He held the door open for Whitney and they walked down the hall, stopping at the same conference room where she’d apologized to Marcus less than twenty-four hours prior.

  “Have a seat, okay?”

  Charlie grimaced. “Uh oh. I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Yeah, well.” Whitney sat down at the long table, opposite Charlie. “The thing is, you’re great, Charlie, really.”

  He leaned back in the chair, resting one knee against the side of the table. “Is this about yesterday? I was just having a little fun—didn’t expect the cowboy to get his knickers all in a bunch.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . well, I’m seeing someone else, like I told you, and it’s gotten serious.”

  “Oh.” He broke their eye contact, nodding.

  “We’ve decided not to see other people. I just . . . I had to let you know. It wouldn’t be fair not to.”

  Whitney watched as tears formed in Charlie’s eyes. She felt awful. She never expected him to get emotional—they’d always been casual. It was really enjoyable, hot sex, but there was no substance there. His tears surprised her.

  “I get it.” He nodded, still looking away, a lone tear drifting down his cheek. He wiped it with the back of his hand, staring off into space.

  “Can we . . . I mean, can we be friends? I sort of felt like that’s what we were anyway . . . friends with benefits . . . or something. I mean, you’re seeing Coralee, and maybe others? I don’t—”

  Charlie’s eyes widened. He rose to his feet and smashed his hand against the chair, sending it flying across the room. “Are you serious right now? Friends with benefits? Coralee? For fuck’s sake, I was arse over elbow for you, Whitney! I still am!”

  Whitney stood, backing up a few paces. His sudden temper made her nervous. She couldn’t decipher who was the real Charlie—the laid-back man she’d seen the past couple of months, or the prank-pulling, chair-throwing angry man before her. They were night and day.

  “Whoa, calm down, okay?”

  I’m such a hypocrite. I just told someone to calm down. I’ve always hated that, but he’s scaring me. I really need him to calm the hell down until I get my ass out of this room!

  He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just that I thought we really had something. I called my brother to tell him I was falling for this ace American girl, and now I have to tell him that same girl dumped my arse in a bloody conference room right before I was due on stage. For God’s sake, I was going to tell you that Auden is thirteen weeks along, and that in a few months I’ll be an uncle. I thought you’d be excited for me!”

  Whitney’s jaw dropped and her eyebrows curved up toward the ceiling. “I’m still excited for you. You’ll be an awesome uncle.”

  “Whatever, don’t patronize me.” His eyes held daggers for her. He looked up at the ceiling, raising both arms in the air. “Bloody Christ, my bio is today! How could you be so callous?”

  He paced the room and Whitney felt trapped. She didn’t think he’d harm her, but she also never expected him to blow up like this. At this point, she had to err on the side of caution. She reached for her pocket, hoping her cell was there, just in case. It was. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I didn’t realize it w
as your bio day, Charlie, I’m so sorry. I should’ve looked at the call sheet.”

  “Yeah, instead you broke my fucking heart right before I tape my segment. Nice.” He threw another chair across the room. It smashed into the first chair, and they fell to their sides. “I gotta go, I need Sheila to fix my face. Thanks a lot, Whitney. Cheers.”

  He whipped open the door and slammed it behind him. Out of breath, Whitney stumbled to the nearest chair, sat down, and attempted to slow her heart rate. She hadn’t expected that, not at all. A chill ran down her spine and her fingers tapped nervously against the wood. She’d have to watch her back around Charlie Hutchins, and was afraid that his first prank against Wes would most certainly not be his last.

  When she’d regained her composure, she retrieved her phone and sent a text to Wes.

  It’s done. I told the other guy it’s over. I’m all yours.

  He didn’t reply, and she knew why. He was already on set, preparing a dish for the judges. Quickly, she walked to the ladies’ room and splashed cold water on her face. She reached for a paper towel, dabbing her cheeks, breathing deeply. In and out, in and out. When she inspected the other stalls and saw no feet, she brushed off her clothing, reached for her phone again, and called Elle.

  “I made my choice.”

  “Really?” She could hear Elle chewing.

  “Oh geez, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s my second PB-and-J of the day. I really shouldn’t be eating it. I’m getting so big, Whit. They’re gonna need a crane when I go into labor.”

  “Oh, stop it.”

  “So what’s up? Please tell me you chose the cowboy.”

  Whitney smiled, tilting her head to the side like a silly tween. “I did. He makes me happy. We made it official last night. We’re not going to see anyone else.”

  “Woo-hooooooo!”

  Whitney pulled the phone back from her ear. She thought her eardrum might burst. “Um, I take it you’re pleased.”