Turn Up the Heat

by Kimberly Kincaid

  A review of what was left of her clean clothes told her she’d better figure out a way to hit a Laundromat, because all she had left was a pair of black yoga pants and a matching turtleneck. Thank God her mother had drilled it into her to bring extra underwear on a trip, “just in case,” although the unmentionables in question were the one dreaded thong that Bellamy owned. Sometimes necessity, or in this case, yoga pants, dictated the use of such torture devices, and in order to banish weird bum lines, she’d just have to take one for the team. Not that anyone would be looking at her butt, per se. It was really just a general rule.

  Dear God, if you’re up there and you’re listening, could you please let Shane Griffin want to look at my butt? I’d really appreciate it.

  She made her way down to the lobby exactly thirty minutes after she’d gotten off the phone with Shane and was surprised to see him in the archway of the main entrance. The scattering of stubble that had graced his jaw earlier was now gone, and the rhythm of his body as he walked over to her suggested casual purpose. It was probably a bad sign to start the evening so hot and bothered, but unless a cold front came whipping through the lobby right then and there, Bellamy would have to chill out on her own.

  “Hey! Wow, you weren’t kidding about the thirty minutes, huh?” She clasped her hands together in front of her, not quite sure what to do with them.

  “I don’t kid when it comes to women who say they’re starving. You look great.” Shane leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, just as easy as could be, and the simple gesture sent her nerves packing. This wasn’t some awkward date with forced conversation or false pretenses. It was just her and Shane, going out for burgers.

  And it felt good.

  “Thanks. This is my burger-getting outfit. Glad you like it.” Bellamy gave a little twirl before putting on her coat.

  Shane laughed. “Well, I hope your friends don’t mind too much that I’m stealing you away for the evening. I promise to have you back by midnight.”

  They walked out to the main entrance of the resort, and Bellamy steeled herself as they got to the front door and Shane pushed it open for her.

  “Oh, they left to go back to the city about four hours ago.” She jumped when the cold air slammed into her like a brick wall, wrapping her arms around her body in an instinctive maneuver. “God, do you ever get used to that?”

  “In a weird way, yeah. Your friends left?” Shane put his arm around her shoulder and they walked in sync through the parking lot, his hip in her side and her imagination going full throttle.

  “Oh, ah, yeah. They both had to get back to work. I decided to stay and wait for my car.”

  “Hmm. That might be just as well, because I didn’t really have any intention of getting you back early.” Shane nudged her with his hip.

  She bumped him right back. “At least you’re honest about your bad intentions.”

  He fixed her with a look that arrowed right into her chest in a white-hot streak of oh my God before responding. “They might be good intentions, depending on how you look at it.”

  They arrived at his truck all too soon, in Bellamy’s opinion, and he let her go to open her door so she could climb in. She was met by the faded scent of cedar and pine, and it made her wonder if everything he touched was left smelling all wonderful and Shane-like.

  He popped the driver’s side door open and started the truck, which warmed up quickly since he’d just been in it. “So you’re staying at the resort by yourself?”

  “Yup. I don’t have a job, so staying in that suite was out of the question if I couldn’t split it with Jenna and Holly. But I talked to Jenna’s friend, Chase, who’s the events coordinator, and he got me an extended stay rate since I’ll be here for more than a week. Plus, the weekday rates go down pretty significantly anyhow, so I decided to stay rather than go home and come back.”

  Shane winced as he pulled away from the front gate of the resort. “I feel really bad about your transmission being stuck in Ohio. I put in a call to the distributor after you left today and told them I needed it ASAP. The guy said if we’re really lucky, it’ll get here Thursday, but I wouldn’t bet on that.” He kept his eyes on the road, but his remorse was clear even in the orange glow of the dashboard lights.

  “It’s not your fault it snowed, Shane. In fact, it might be a good thing. Sticking around gives me some time to figure out what I’m going to do and explore all of my options. If I job search in the city, I’m afraid I’ll be guilted into something because it’s in front of me rather than picking it because I want it, you know?”

  Shane creased his brow, but kept his gaze on the windshield. “Do you always have a plan?”

  Bellamy let out a doesn’t-everybody laugh. “Well, yeah. I started by ruling out the definite no’s, namely staying unemployed and going back to work for Attila the Boss. I bit the bullet and called the head of HR at the bank after I got back today, but it turned out okay. Apparently, my ex-boss has quite the track record.” She paused to give her eyebrows a provocative raise.

  “Well, that’s not really shocking. What, did she get caught eating her young in the break room or something?”

  Bellamy was in danger of working her laugh right into the embarrassing snort that popped out only for the really good stuff. “No, but let’s just say I’m not the first employee to have issues with her ‘questionable management skills.’” She put air quotes around the words and sighed. “In the end, it wasn’t just her that made me miserable there, so I politely declined HR’s offer to move to another team. At least I know my résumé isn’t trashed over the whole thing, though.” Having the reassurance of a good reference despite her showdown with Bosszilla really did go a long way toward easing her mind.

  “Okay, so what’s next then, if you’re not going to stay there?” Shane’s eyes flicked over her for a second before returning to the road.

  Bellamy ran her teeth over her bottom lip in thought. “I’m not sure. My strengths are definitely on the management end, but the idea of sitting in another cubicle with a stack of papers equivalent to nine miles of rain forest makes my skin crawl. I guess I could do something more hands-on, or even go work for my parents, but I’d have to see what’s out there to get a better idea of what I’m qualified for.”

  Shane pulled into a familiar parking lot and scratched his head. “Jeez, this place is packed.” He scanned the snow-packed gravel. “I don’t see a parking spot anywhere.”

  “Not to ask a stupid question, but why are we at the Double Shot?” She squinted at the spotlit side of the building, where faded paint boasted the name of the bar just as it had four nights ago when she’d last seen it.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t tell you? Lou works the grill out here. The burgers are incredible.” He muttered an indis-criminant curse under his breath as they circled the lot again, coming up on a group of people rushing toward the building.

  “Excuse me,” Shane called, rolling down his window and catching the attention of someone so bundled up, Bellamy couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. “Do you know what’s with the crowd?”

  A high-pitched giggle left no doubt as to the gender of the outerwear mummy. “Yeah. The Screaming Taste Museum got snowed out of the city last night and they needed a place to do their show. It was this or nothing.” She giggled again, giving Shane a long look like she wanted to eat him. “See you inside, sweetheart,” she finished before skipping off to join her friends.

  Bellamy stifled a laugh of her own while Shane shot her a wry glance. “Do I even want to know what the hell a Screaming Taste Museum is?”

  She grinned. “I doubt it, but if you figure it out, I don’t think I need to know.”

  He released a slow exhale. “I’m really sorry. It seems I promised you something I can’t deliver.”

  “Well, that leaves you in a jam, my friend, because I am still starving,” she said gravely.

  God, that whole serious-face thing he did back at her was really endearing. And sexy. Did she mention wildly s
exy? He looked borderline worried, and guilt kicked her mouth into gear.

  “Shane, I’m kidding. Well, not about being hungry. But this is no big deal. We can always pick something up and go back to the resort if you want.”

  He shook his head and laughed, pulling to the exit. “Bellamy, this isn’t Philly. You can’t just hit up Pietro’s for a couple of calzones on your way home. Unless you like McDonald’s, your options for eating out around here are slim and none, and slim is having a weird rock concert in its dining area right now.”

  Bellamy pulled away to look at him, and despite the niggling voice in the back of her mind that told her not to, she let her question off the tip of her tongue. “Did you go to school in the city or something?”

  It would explain how he knew about Butcher and Singer the other day, and the reference to Pietro’s. God, everybody who had ever lived in Philly had horked down a pie or two at Pietro’s. The pizza was legendary.

  Shane’s body went rigid in the driver’s seat. “Why do you ask?”

  Well, she’d taken a step and landed smack in the middle of what looked like Shane’s biggest sore spot. She decided to tread carefully, but tread nonetheless. “Not too many people know about Pietro’s unless they’ve been there. I just thought . . .”

  “No, I didn’t go to school in the city,” he said, cutting her off.

  “But you’ve been there.” Her gut told her it hadn’t been on the occasional weekend jaunt down the mountain, either.

  “It’s been a while.” His voice made the weather outside look downright balmy.

  “Do you want to talk about why you hate it so much?”

  “No.” Silence stretched around them like a blanket of thorns.

  When he didn’t elaborate, Bellamy nodded. “Okay.” After a minute that felt more like an hour and a half, she decided to go with her gut. “Shane, I’m not really sure what I said to make you uncomfortable, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

  He snapped his gaze to hers, his eyes looking almost black in the diffused streetlight from the parking lot. “Jesus, Bellamy. I’m the one who should be apologizing. It’s not you, I just—”

  Before he could finish, she snatched up his hand and squeezed it hard enough to cut him off. “Let’s make a deal, you and I. I won’t say anything about the city until you feel like talking about it if you don’t ever, ever utter those three words to me again. Fair?”

  Shane blinked, shadowy lashes playing against his skin. “I feel like an ass. It’s just not something I like to talk about. With anybody.” His fingers tightened around hers, and he lifted their hands up so hers rested just under his lips. While the serious look he’d given her when she teased him earlier had been open and sexy, the expression he had on now told her not to pry. So he wasn’t a concrete jungle kind of guy. Big deal.

  She could live with it if he could.

  “A wise old man once shared his sage wisdom with me, and I believe it applies here. What was it that he said . . . oh, right. No apologies.” The corners of Bellamy’s mouth hinted upward in the slightest of smiles.

  “I’m only twenty-nine, you know.”

  Shane’s bemused expression made her want to chuck any plans for dinner so she could have him instead, but she held her ground.

  “And wise beyond your years,” she teased, enjoying the glower that was doing a poor excuse of covering his lopsided grin. She lifted her brow at him, smiling. “Now do my stomach a favor and head back up the main road toward Joe’s Grocery, would you?” She didn’t let go of his hand as he lowered it to the armrest between them, keeping her fingers twined around his.

  God, they felt good there.

  “Let me get this right. You want to go grocery shopping at seven o’clock on a Tuesday night?”

  Bellamy’s lips curved into a devilish smile. “If we can’t go to dinner, then dinner is going to come to us instead.”

  “Cart or basket?” Shane asked, surveying the front of Joe’s Grocery.

  Bellamy chewed her lip before caving in. “We’d better go with a cart. I need some stuff for my room back at the resort, too. You’re the car guy, so you can drive.”

  He pulled a cart from the row where they were lined up by the entrance. “So what’d you have in mind for dinner?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I want to let the food talk to me.”

  “You want to what?” Shane laughed.

  Bellamy’s face flushed, and she walked over to the first row of produce, lined up in baskets by the front window. “I want to get a feel for what’s good, what I’m in the mood for. Sometimes I don’t know until I see it. Like the other day when I was in here, the Brie and figs looked so good, I just couldn’t say no.” She scanned the pears and navel oranges carefully, but gave them a reverent pass-by.

  “So the food talks to you?” Shane creased his brow, trying not to crash the cart into anything as he watched her moving along. Damned if she wasn’t just as captivating as the first time he’d seen her here.

  “Well, not literally. I’m not crazy.” She stopped to give him a healthy nudge, then reached past him. A flicker of interest passed over her face, like a light on a dimmer being turned up to a soft glow. “But look. These are just so pretty.”

  Bellamy’s fingers brushed over a handful of deep red fruit, the look on her face shifting from honesty to pure, pared down beauty and back again. She scooped one up, cradling its weight in her palm. “See? The color is perfect. And here,” she murmured, reaching down to place the ruby-colored globe in his hand. “It just feels right. So no, this pomegranate isn’t sprouting lips and starting casual conversation with me right here in the produce aisle, but it’s speaking to me all the same.”

  Shane knew, in a far-off, disembodied kind of way, that he should be saying something to Bellamy, making some kind of witty remark or flirty banter. At this point, even a grunt or nod would do the trick. But he couldn’t.

  He was too busy wondering how the hell he’d met a woman who looked at food—hell, at anything—the exact same way he thought about cars, and trying with all his might not to fall in love with her on the spot.

  “Sorry. I’m sure that just sounds crazy to you.” She slid the pomegranate from his hand and gently put it in the cart, then turned toward the apples with a sheepish look that bordered on embarrassed.

  “It doesn’t sound crazy to me at all.” Oh, thank God. He had a voice box after all.

  Her laugh stirred around in his chest. “Really? It sounds a little crazy to me, and I’m the one who said it. But it’s really how I look at the whole thing, so . . .” She trailed off to fill a bag halfway with apples, placing them in the cart.

  “That’s how I knew I was meant to work on cars.” The words slipped out of him quietly, but they stopped Bellamy in her tracks.

  “It is?” she asked, her eyes on him like emerald velvet over steel, both soft and unyielding.

  The logical part of his brain, the one that had ruled everything about him until the minute he’d laid eyes on her four days ago, told him without hesitation to close his mouth. He shouldn’t dive into any of this with her, because it was going to open up a can of don’t-go-there that he’d jammed the lid over, one he swore would never get opened again.

  But the words came out anyway.

  “Just because I always knew I loved cars doesn’t mean I always knew I’d be a mechanic. For a while, I wasn’t. But I was never happy, not like I am now, because nothing else ever spoke to me the way cars do. They feel right under my hands, and the complexities that turn a lot of people around when they look under the hood just make sense to me.”

  Shane registered her lips parting in surprise, but kept on regardless. “So while there are plenty of things I could do with my life, a bunch of things I’m good at, I had to pick the one that spoke to me. The one I just knew was a part of me. So no. That doesn’t sound crazy to me at all. In fact, it makes perfect sense.”

  They stood there in front of the baskets of apples for a long minute, just looking
at each other. Bellamy’s eyes never wavered from his, and even though his mind screamed with vulnerability, the only thing that passed between them was understanding. Finally, she gave a tiny nod and spoke.

  “It does, doesn’t it?”

  And in that moment, Shane knew he was in over his head with Bellamy Blake.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Whoa. You really weren’t kidding when you said all you had was ketchup and a frying pan.” Bellamy took a step back and put her hands on her hips, surveying Shane’s kitchen with a sinking heart. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  He gave her an apologetic grin. “Yes, but there’s wine.” He bent down and rummaged through the bags at their feet until one hand shot up, victorious.

  Bellamy lifted a brow. “Very nice, Sherlock. You got a corkscrew for that?”

  “Oh, shit.”

  Her laughter was automatic and felt so good it ached. “You mind if I help myself to the kitchen here? The sooner I get started, the sooner we can eat.” She gestured to the tiny space. The stove had to be circa 1960, but it was a sturdy son of a bitch, and all four burners looked functional. Come to think of it, she’d cooked on worse.

  “I take it you want the frying pan and not the ketchup, but be my guest to either.” Shane reached into his back pocket to reveal a Swiss army knife, and started to open the bottle of sauvignon blanc that Bellamy had been thrilled to find at Joe’s.

  “Thanks.” She washed her hands at the sink, looking over her shoulder at Shane. “Your cabin is nice.” Her eyes swept over stacked log walls the color of honey and the woodstove in the far corner across from the kitchen. True to what he’d said earlier, a recliner that looked to be conservatively four hundred years old stood sentry in the middle of the room, with an end table and a small TV stand rounding out the view. It might not be the biggest or grandest thing going, but it was cozy as hell; perfect for its surroundings and definitely perfect for Shane.