Turn Up the Heat

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Bellamy jumped and banged her head on the lip of the table. How the hell had Carly made it down the row so fast on those short little legs? It just wasn’t natural!

  “I, ah. Yes,” she admitted, straightening and clutching the tray. Damn, the woman was intimidating for such a tiny thing. Bellamy had a good four inches on her, and yet she felt as if Carly was ten feet tall and bulletproof. A flicker of recognition appeared in Carly’s dark glance as she looked at Bellamy closely.

  “Where did you learn how to cook like that?”

  “In my kitchen,” Bellamy squeaked. Where else would she have learned how to cook?

  Adrian chuckled over Carly’s shoulder, but a head-turn, eyebrow-lift maneuver from Carly cut him off pretty fast.

  “When we met the other night, you didn’t tell me that you’d gone to culinary school, Miss . . . ?”

  Bellamy’s heart made a beeline for her shoes. “Bellamy. I mean, Blake. Bellamy Blake,” she corrected herself, cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you that because I don’t have any formal training.” She was tempted to add that she’d told Adrian that when he’d set her up at this workstation to begin with, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. God, this had been a crushing mistake. As boring as it was, she belonged in an office with the suit and briefcase set.

  “Mmm. Chef Holt?” Carly perched her chin on her shoulder to fasten Adrian with a stare. “Can you please escort Miss Blake to my office?” Her eyes skimmed over Bellamy’s, and even though she wanted desperately to look down, Bellamy stood her ground.

  “I’d like to have a word with her in private.”

  “Jesus, Bellamy,” Shane said, his gut twisting at the serious look on her face in the low light of the cabin. The thought of some huge sous chef and his iron-fisted boss giving Bellamy a hard time made his insides churn. Maybe he’d just have to go over there to let them know that toying with people’s dreams wasn’t very good manners. He pondered Bellamy’s description of the guy for a second. Maybe he’d take Jackson, just in case.

  “I know. It was all I had not to throw up right then and there.” Her cheeks had a rosy glow in the firelight from the wood-burning stove, and she recrossed her jeans-clad legs as she sat across from him on the floor. Man, she was beautiful.

  “So what’d she say?” Shane tried to keep the tension from his voice, but he was pretty sure he was doing a bad job of it.

  Bellamy’s face curved with a wicked smile. “She said my chicken was the only decent representation of her recipe that she’d tasted all day, and that while my workstation was unacceptable”—Bellamy paused to wince, but then continued—“she wanted to see me do a few things herself. After about twenty excruciating minutes, a little bit of slice and dice, and some aioli later, Chef di Matisse put my name on the list of people she and Chef Holt are considering for their new staff. They’re going to choose their line cooks next week, once they’ve seen enough candidates.”

  Shane’s brows felt permanently lifted in shock, and Bellamy tossed her head back and laughed.

  “Wait, so she didn’t . . . oh, you little cheat!” he said, starting to laugh. Damn was Bellamy’s poker face good.

  And the face she had on now was downright stunning.

  Shane was on her in a second, bracing an arm around her back as he softly tackled her to the floor. She gave an uncharacteristic squeal and a set of giggles that made his insides turn soft and his outsides turn decidedly unsoft.

  “Fooling me like that isn’t fair, you know.” He kissed the supple skin where her neck met her ear.

  Bellamy threaded her fingers in his hair, which didn’t make him want to stop kissing her. “I know. But you should have seen your face,” she sighed, arching into him. “Plus, having my name on the list just means that now I have an ice chip’s chance in hell rather than no chance at all. I hardly think it’s worth getting my hopes up for.”

  “You’re such a pessimist,” he said, nipping at her earlobe.

  She rewarded him with a laugh that he felt all the way to his fingertips. “I’m really not kidding when I tell you that the list of hopefuls is as long as my leg. And they’re all talented, probably with impressive résumés. Comparatively, I’m a nobody.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend this level of confidence once you get back in the kitchen. You’re going to have to do better than that.” Shane pulled back to kiss the cute little crease in her forehead.

  “I’m just trying to be realistic. It’s really cutthroat, and I doubt I’ll make it.”

  Shane turned her so they could lie side by side in front of the woodstove. “You’re a cutthroat kind of girl. And I mean that as a compliment,” he added when she parted her lips to protest. “Come on. You whipped up tonight’s dinner with a handful of things we grabbed on the way back here, and it was amazing. You’re great in the kitchen.”

  Bellamy rolled her eyes even though she wore a sheepish smile. “It was lasagna, Shane, with sauce that came from a jar. I could’ve made it in my sleep.”

  “Uh-huh. Right. The sauce tasted homemade by the time you were done doctoring it,” he joked. That lasagna she was trying to pass off as nothing special had been the best Italian food he’d had since . . . well, ever.

  Her eyes lit with remembering before he could argue with her any further, and she smiled. “Oh! That reminds me. There’s a ton left over, so I wrapped up a bunch in one of those plastic tray thingies we snagged at Joe’s. That way you can bring some to Grady.”

  Shane’s heart lurched in his chest, and he pulled back to look at her. “What?”

  Her green eyes grew wide. “Well, you said that you sometimes get extra groceries for him, so I thought maybe he’d like it.” Bellamy looked at him, tiny lines of confusion etched on her face.

  He’d mentioned the extra groceries thing in passing when he’d grabbed a bag of jelly beans for the stash at the garage, never thinking anything of it. Sure, Bellamy’s gesture was small—she’d just packed up some leftovers—but it felt important, special somehow.

  She felt important. Important enough to open up to.

  “Shane? Is something wrong?” The confusion on her face crossed the boundary into concern, and she propped herself up on an elbow to look at him more closely. Her green eyes were flecked with gold in the firelight as her stare wrapped around him, and he knew she was seeing more than he meant to show.

  Bellamy’s voice came out on a whisper. “Do you want to talk about whatever this is yet?”

  In that split second, Shane wanted to say yes. He wanted to open his mouth and tell her all the secrets that swirled around in his head, including how right and pure and good he felt lying here next to her.

  But he couldn’t. In four days, she was leaving, going back to the city where she belonged. All the talking in the world wasn’t going to change that.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Shane leaned in to kiss her, drowning out the secrets with the feel of her lips on his. “Unless it’s me thanking you for dessert.”

  Bellamy sighed softly under his lips. “You mean dinner. We didn’t have dessert.”

  Shane slipped her lithe body beneath his, entranced by the instant heat of her, and his face broke into a devilish smile. “Not yet, sweetheart. But I’m workin’ on it.”

  Bellamy chewed her lip and looked out the passenger window of Shane’s pickup. The midmorning sunshine made it impossible to get more than two steps from the cabin without sunglasses, and even then it sparkled over the snowcapped pines in a brilliant display of shimmering white on evergreen. She balanced the tray of lasagna in her lap, fiddling with the lid as she stared through the glass.

  After they’d made love in front of the waning firelight, she and Shane had stayed up until the darkest hours of night gave in to the velvet of predawn. He listened as she finally confessed how badly she wanted the job on Carly’s staff, taking in every word before assuaging her doubt with quiet confidence. His dark stare made it clear to her that he meant what he said; that despite knowing her for
all of a week, he believed in her even when she wasn’t sure she believed in herself.

  When he took her to bed and made love to her again with the gentle fierceness that seemed to define him, she knew that going home wouldn’t be as easy as a scenic ninety-minute drive. She’d come to the mountains to get away from it all, at least temporarily, so she could get back on track. Now there was no track, and the out-of-control feeling that pulsed through her every time Shane so much as looked in her direction left her both breathless and scared stiff.

  She knew she had to go home. But oh God, she didn’t want to go alone.

  “That is some deep thought you’ve got going on over there,” Shane said, smiling over the words and breaking her from her reverie. “Care to share?”

  “Truth?” Bellamy stalled, casting a sidelong glance at him.

  “Of course,” Shane quipped, just as she knew he would. Shit.

  She pulled in a deep breath and let it rush out with her thoughts before she could change her mind. “I was thinking I’d really like it if you’d come see me after this week.”

  Shane didn’t move for what felt like an eternity. “You want me to come see you in the city.” His tone was quiet yet inscrutable. Why was her heart pounding so hard?

  “Yeah. I do.” She used the cover of her sunglasses to sneak a sidelong glimpse at him, but it didn’t yield much more than a peek at his sunglasses. Damn it.

  “Bellamy,” he started, but didn’t continue. God, opening her mouth—and, okay, maybe her heart—like this had been a mistake. This had it’s not you written all over it, and she should’ve known that her zero-tolerance policy for all things subtle would bring it out.

  She cut him off with a preemptive strike in an effort to save her battered ego. “Look, you don’t have to say anything, really. I know you’re not exactly Philly’s biggest fan.” That much was clear with the dodge-and-deflect he pulled every time she so much as breathed the words bright lights, big city. Had she really thought he might come to a place he clearly couldn’t stand just to see her again?

  And what was with the tears suddenly rimming her eyes? Oh thank God for sunglasses, because really? This was too much embarrassment for any girl to take.

  “So, you know, never mind. We said we’d spend the week together, and we are. Let’s just forget I brought it up,” she said, the words so rushed and nervous that they all kind of blended together.

  “Okay.”

  Her heart sank as though it had been shrink-wrapped in lead. “Okay,” she whispered, tamping down the urge to let the hot tears cross the threshold of her eyelids. God, she was an idiot! They had a couple of days left together, and there she was, getting all mushy on him. As much as she wanted to stay, maybe she should just save herself the heartache and go home. If she called as soon as they got to the garage, she’d probably be able to convince Jenna to come pick her up before nightfall. Then at least she could have her cry in private, with a little dignity and a whole lot of chocolate.

  “When?” Shane asked, his voice hoarse.

  Bellamy’s heart sped up while time slowed way down. “When what?”

  “If you want me to come and see you, I should probably know when to show up.” He pulled the truck onto a narrow-as-hell shoulder, the pop and crunch of the gravel under the tires doing a number on her already shredded nerves.

  “But I thought . . . I mean, you said okay, like, okay we should just forget it . . .”

  Shane took off his sunglasses, revealing dark eyes thick with emotion. “I meant okay, I’ll come see you. I don’t want to forget it.”

  He gave her a tentative smile, so different from the sexy smirks and cocky come-ons that she was used to him dishing out. As they sat in his truck, staring at each other rather than the gorgeous view over the guardrail, Bellamy was struck by the irony of being on the edge of something so stunning and yet so terrifying at the same time.

  “Oh. Well, in that case, how does next weekend sound?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The unease that had parked itself squarely on Shane’s chest the minute he lied to Bellamy didn’t even budge when they pulled into the side lot of the garage.

  I didn’t lie on purpose, he countered to his sneering conscience. And I meant it when I said I don’t want to forget it.

  But the glaring truth didn’t have to do anything other than exist for him to know he never should have told her he’d come to the city. It wasn’t just as easy as sucking it up and getting on the highway for a few hours. He’d sworn he’d never go back, and he’d damn well meant it. He had good reasons for his vow, damn it.

  Not that he could tell her that.

  “Shane?”

  Man, those big green eyes were going to be the end of him, they really were. “Sorry, I must have been zoning out.” Shane scooped her hand up and planted a quick kiss on her gloved knuckles.

  “About what?” Tiny lines of worry ghosted over her brow, but her lips twitched with the naughty suggestion of a smile.

  He snatched it up and ran. “If I tell you, it’ll just ruin the surprise later, you know.” Shane arched a suggestive eyebrow at her. The image of her face, unguarded in the throes of climax, slipped from his memory to his mind for an extended stay. Shane felt all hope of getting anything productive done melt away as his imagination had its way with her.

  “You’re terrible,” she giggled.

  “You like me that way.” He pulled her closer until the irresistible taste of her was on his lips and under his tongue.

  “You’re going to be late for work,” Bellamy warned with no tenacity whatsoever, parting her mouth to kiss him back. Her teeth took a gentle slide over his bottom lip, barely scraping him, and he groaned.

  “I’m already late for work.” Shane threaded his hand through her hair to cup the back of her neck. Her skin felt like magic under the roughness of his hands.

  Bellamy smiled into him, and when she pulled away, his brain didn’t waste any time hollering at him to bring her back. “Let’s go, before we don’t go.”

  Oh, he was screwed. And not in the good way.

  “Okay.” They crunched over the snow-packed gravel of the lot and through the side door, and Shane stuffed down the unease bubbling in his chest.

  Just spend time with her for the next couple of days, like you told her you would. You can figure out how to get out of going to the city later. For now, you’ve gotta take what you have.

  It was all too easy to let his inner voice take the ball and run like mad.

  Shane hadn’t been late for work once in the entire fourteen months he’d worked at Grady’s, but that didn’t stop the guilt from flooding through him at the twenty minutes that had dropped off the clock in his absence.

  “Morning, Grady. Sorry I’m late.” Shane didn’t volunteer an excuse, mainly because Grady was no dummy. Whatever lame explanation Shane offered up would be canceled out by the fact that the real reason was standing right next to him, looking cute as hell with that blue hat framing her curls.

  Grady looked up from Lucky Gunderson’s Cadillac, a grin splitting his silvery stubble. “No apologies. ’Specially not when you’ve got a pretty girl with you.”

  Shane chuckled and shook his head. It figured that Grady would pull out the old-man charm for Bellamy. She was the first girl Shane had ever brought around the garage. Guess he had this coming. “Grady, this is Bellamy Blake.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Bellamy balanced the lasagna tray in one hand and extended the other, wearing a smile that could make a dead man sing.

  “Good to see you, darlin’.” He wiped his hands carefully on a rag before taking hers in a firm handshake.

  Bellamy drew her brows down in a slight pull, as if she was trying to place Grady’s accent. Shane suppressed a chuckle. Grady was a product of the Blue Ridge, through and through, but he doubted she’d peg the cadence of his words without having grown up here.

  “I, ah, brought you some lasagna that I made. In case you get hungry later.” She of
fered the tray with a tentative smile and a quick blush. Shane chuckled. Man, she had nothing to be nervous about. That lasagna was freaking amazing.

  “Well, that’s right nice of you. Thank you.” Grady took the tray and put it in the fridge. “So, that’s your sports car we’ve got over there?” Grady jerked his head toward the Miata, which sat in the bay next to Shane’s Mustang.

  Bellamy nodded. “I’m really grateful you’re able to fix it for me.”

  “Ah. Piece of cake, those trannies. Don’t you worry your head over it. We’ll get you fixed up just right. Soon as those parts get here, anyhow.” Grady’s eyes flicked over Shane for just a second, but then settled back on Bellamy with a wink.

  Shane straightened and he turned toward the office. Speaking of which. “Hey, let me call the distributor. Your transmission might actually get here today,” he suggested, but Grady cut him off.

  “Don’t go holdin’ your breath. Bet it’ll be tomorrow before you see that tranny. In the meantime, why don’t you get out of here? It’s not good manners to leave a pretty girl all by her lonesome.”

  Shane pulled back, staring at Grady in surprise. “But we need to finish replacing the lifter on this Cadillac.”

  Grady shook his head, his gravelly chuckle filling the garage. “If I can’t manage a new lifter after all these years of owning a garage, then shame on me. Go on. Get out of here. I’m not askin’.” He aimed a steel-gray stare at the door, but still wore his trademark easy smile.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t feel right keeping Shane from work,” Bellamy said. “Really, I was just going to go back to the cabin and do some research online. I’ll be fine on my own for the day.”

  “Ain’t much work to keep him from until those parts get here. No more excuses. Scat, both of you, so I can get to it with this Caddy.”

  Shane didn’t like the tired shadows under the old man’s eyes, but he knew all the arguing in the world wouldn’t change Grady’s mind. Plus, the idea of spending unexpected time with Bellamy was kind of tantalizing. He hedged.