Had it only been this afternoon that she’d lectured him in an airport terminal about how much he’d hurt her? Tonight gave her hope that they could be friends—or at least pleasant acquaintances who moved in the same social and professional circles. She smiled across the table, about to ask him about the specific entrée ideas he had for the new restaurant when, hallelujah, the food arrived.
They were all hungry enough that conversation slowed while they ate. Unlike the dive where Phoebe and Cam had suffered through dinner so long ago, they didn’t have to wait long for their check at all. It came while they were still finishing, probably because the waitress was trying to turn over the table for another group of diners. But she must have recognized Heath’s name on the credit card because moments after she’d left to run the payment, the owner himself appeared at their table. He was a silver-haired man whose tie was too short for his height and whose expression was flustered.
“Mr. Jensen, Chef Pala!” He gave them a genial smile, although it didn’t quite mask the nervousness in his pale eyes. “So wonderful to see you both. I didn’t realize you’d be dining with us tonight.”
“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to bother you during a busy weekend rush,” Heath said. “Albert, meet Phoebe Mars, an up-and-coming pastry chef and my guest this evening.”
Albert asked Phoebe how she’d liked her meal. The four of them talked about the restaurant business for a few minutes before he asked if they had any other plans while they were in Miami, on the pretext of suggesting local recreation. It was clear, though, that he was angling to find out if Heath and Cam had made a final decision.
In response, Heath was friendly but noncommittal, saying that their agent would be in touch. Always more focused on the culinary aspects of restaurants than the business side, Cam got into a conversation with the man about sustainable seafood and Albert invited him into the kitchen to meet the poissonnier.
Cam nodded eagerly, turning to make sure Heath didn’t have any objections. “If the two of you don’t mind, I may stick around here for a little bit, get a behind-the-scenes look.”
Phoebe tried not to seem too eager to ditch him while Heath agreed that he’d meet up with his business partner in the morning. Although she’d enjoyed Cam’s company tonight, she was looking forward to having Heath all to herself. Every time she recalled the scorching kiss he’d stolen, her toes curled.
They walked outside, the night air thick against her skin. Even though the sun had set, the heat was ever-present. But at the thought of being alone with him again, she shivered in happy anticipation.
“So...back to the hotel?” she asked.
His gaze dropped over her, full of masculine appreciation. “With you looking like that? It seems selfish of me to keep you cooped up in a hotel when I could show you off to Miami. Come on, Mars, let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into.”
* * *
AS IT TURNED OUT, they’d been within walking distance of a club that was popular but still accessible—it didn’t garner its reputation on how many hopefuls it could turn away. Inside, they stood at a vacant high-top table. There were no chairs, but Phoebe was enjoying standing so close, leaning into Heath to better hear what he had to say over the pulsing music. He’d bought them each a glass of the establishment’s signature cocktail, something rum-based, and she nursed her drink while Heath invited her to people-watch with him.
“When there’s something you want to change about yourself,” he said, “sometimes observing those qualities in others can be very enlightening. You see that girl in the green halter top and tight jeans making her way toward the dance floor?”
She nodded, trying to follow his lead when it came to not feeling envy.
“What’s your initial impression?”
“She’s...a beautiful woman who wants to dance?” Phoebe was used to being asked her opinion on culinary matters; she didn’t usually spend much time speculating on strange women.
“Exactly. But one could argue she’s not beautiful in the classic sense. Her features are very long. And her feet are huge. Those—”
“I’m not sure I like this side of you,” Phoebe said frostily, trying not to imagine how many of her own flaws he’d tallied.
“I’m not trying to be critical,” he said, backpedaling. “I was looking hard for those examples to prove a point. I think she is beautiful. But I also think physical attractiveness is at least partly how we carry ourselves. Everyone has something to be insecure about, and—”
“Ha! What could you possibly be insecure about?” She’d seen every inch of him today and damn. Nothing to find fault with there.
Rather than make a typically glib response, he glanced away, looking unhappy about the question. Finally, he muttered, “I was an extremely chubby kid. Some of it was baby fat that I eventually outgrew, but there was a lot of ‘comfort food’ after my dad died. When my mother remarried, the combo of my weight and moving to a new school made me an easy target.”
She gaped. “You were picked on?” It was unfathomable.
“I got pretty adept at making people like me, so it didn’t last long.” He waved a hand as if to suggest the memories didn’t bother him. “But if you ever notice my getting a little neurotic about working out, now you know why. Even godlike paragons such as myself—”
Phoebe punched him in the arm.
“—suffer from weaknesses. They don’t have to hold you back if you figure out how to overcome them. I’m shit at relationships and I know it. So I’ve solved the problem by not having them.”
She frowned, not sure that avoidance counted as a long-term solution.
But he seemed perfectly content as he added, “Hot, short-lived affairs are fun for both parties and I don’t have to worry about hurting anyone—at least not in that ‘I’ll never trust again, God, I need a therapist’ kind of way.”
Had he broken someone’s trust before? Or had someone betrayed his? Probably not. It was difficult to imagine Heath romantically invested in someone enough to trust them deeply in the first place.
“So self-acceptance,” he said, pushing away his empty glass. “Very important in being seductive. Also, eye contact.”
She smirked. “I could have read that little tip in any one of Gwen’s magazines.” Then again, seeing it in print wasn’t quite the same as the sexually charged moment she and Heath had shared back in the restaurant, when he’d caught her staring at him. Wanting him.
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Truth? Most advice on how to be more seductive isn’t exactly groundbreaking. A sense of humor is attractive. Who doesn’t know that already? People who show they have a playful side are more fun to...play with.” His lips quirked in a suggestive grin.
She grinned back, looking forward to returning to their hotel room. And making it their very own grown-up playground.
“The nice thing is that humor can be so distinctly individual, like perfume, from a subtle inside joke to an appreciation for the brash and bawdy.” He rolled his eyes. “Like your roommate has.”
“Gwen’s not so bad. She just grew up with four siblings and learned young how to stand out in a crowd. She likes attention.” She paused, realizing how little Heath discussed his past. “I can’t remember—do you have siblings?”
“A stepbrother. Want another drink?”
Since hers was still half-full, she took that as a sign that he was trying to change the subject. “All right, so self-esteem, eye contact and a sense of humor. These are the secrets to making men fall at my feet?”
“Well, it helps if you can give a good blow job,” he said, deadpan.
“Heath!” Her scolding tone was somewhat mitigated by her laughing aloud.
“All right, two pieces of serious advice,” he said. “First, exhibiting a sense of adventure is sexy. It can be zip-lining and snorkeling with sharks or something as simple as ordering spicy food. Visit someplace you’ve never been, watch a scary movie. When a man sees a woman willing to try new things, it s
ends the subliminal message that she might be open to the idea of sex swings or threesomes with cover models. Not that most guys will ever actually do that—or that most guys know any cover models—but the power of fantasy is unbelievably compelling.”
She recalled the fantasy she’d shared with him, about the stranger watching her, and her throat went dry. “Agreed.” Her voice was husky and Heath gave her a knowing look. She swallowed. “Um. What was the second thing? You said there were two pieces of advice.”
“More like reverse advice. I don’t know what lunatic started advocating the strategy in the first place, but playing hard to get usually backfires. Being cool and aloof is the opposite of sexy. Men don’t want a woman who’s cold in bed. We’re pretty simple—we want to be with someone who desires us and who’s brazen enough to go after what she wants.”
I know what I want. She’d known since before they even left the hotel.
Deciding to put his advice into action, she ran her finger over his lower lip and held his gaze with her own. “Heath? Take me back to our room and fuck me.” At his shocked expression, she added a saucy smile. “Please.”
CHAPTER 8
HEATH GAVE HIMSELF an inward shake, disbelieving his own ears. Had he just experienced an auditory hallucination or had Phoebe Mars, the sweet pastry chef he habitually scandalized into blushing, actually asked him...?
“Are you sure?” he asked hoarsely.
“Very.”
The reasons he’d given that afternoon for resisting temptation were nothing compared to the hungry way she was looking at him now. He grabbed her hand and began weaving through the crowd, moving toward the exit like a man on a mission. They were lucky enough to get a taxi quickly and he battled back the urge to offer the driver a fifty-dollar bill to floor it.
Instead, Heath passed the time by staring at Phoebe’s legs. She’d crossed one over the other, and her split skirt revealed a silky expanse of thigh. He let go of her hand to trace idle patterns over her skin, thinking about how he wanted to touch her once they were alone and this dress was gone. Flashes of their afternoon together tormented him: the way she’d writhed under his tongue, the way she’d teased him in the shower, the way she’d smiled up at him with passion-glazed eyes.
The chemistry between them had been unquestionably explosive. Yet her mood tonight had left him guessing.
When they’d left the hotel for dinner, she’d seemed so damn glad to see Cam, beaming at him and swapping all those happy memories with him. Heath had briefly wondered if she might end their fling just as it was beginning. But then there’d been the unexpected gift of the way she’d looked at him while they waited for a table. Heath had been in midsentence when he’d felt her gaze on him like a caress. When he’d turned toward her, there’d been so much molten heat in her eyes that it was a wonder the fire alarm and overhead sprinklers hadn’t gone off. That moment had been the highlight of his evening.
Correction. It was the highlight. Right up until she’d looked him dead in the eye and asked him to fuck her.
“Can’t this cab go any faster?” he muttered.
Phoebe smiled, but anticipation edged her features, too.
Mercifully, the hotel was only a few blocks away and soon the taxi was pulling up to the front entrance. Heath practically threw a handful of bills at the driver, aware that he’d overtipped but not patient enough to wait for change. The lobby was a blur, and he was just glad Phoebe had no trouble keeping up with his stride in her high heels.
If they’d had the elevator to themselves, Heath knew he wouldn’t have been able to refrain from touching her. But by the time the doors slid open to let them in, a small crowd had formed—a luggage-toting couple just checking in, a trio of middle-aged women and a lanky guy coming in from the pool with a towel around his neck. Everyone piled inside.
Trying to get his desire under control so that he didn’t lose all finesse and pounce on her the second they reached their room, Heath avoided looking directly at Phoebe. But he was only able to hold out for a few seconds. Their gazes collided and she bit her lip, suppressing a bubble of laughter. Her eyes shone with humor as they shared the guilty secret that they were mentally undressing each other. They exited the elevator hand in hand, giggling like a couple of teenagers.
He held the door open for her and she darted into the room with a heartfelt “Finally.”
He reached for her, but she surprised him with an evasive side step.
“Phoebe,” he said sternly, “what did I tell you about playing hard to get?”
Chuckling, she went to her suitcase. “Just give me one second. You asked me if I’m sure about this? Very. This affair wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment decision that I’m going to freak out about in the morning.” She unzipped a section and pulled out a ridiculously large box of condoms. “See? I’ve given it some thought.”
His voice was strangled as he held back a laugh. “Damn, woman, how many of those do you plan on us using?”
She gave him a sheepish smile. “With the wedding cake business and ordering inventory for the restaurant, I think I’m just used to buying in bulk.”
“You should have warned me. Maybe I should stock up on multivitamins in the gift shop.”
Rising, she tossed the box onto the nightstand, then arched one eyebrow in challenge. “Don’t think you can keep up with me?”
He snagged her wrist and twirled her toward him as if they were dancing. “Let’s find out,” he said, his lips descending to hers as she wound her arms around his neck.
The taste of rum and Phoebe was his new favorite flavor. His mouth slanted over hers again and again, changing angles, teasing, exploring new ways to drive her crazy. Then she sucked his tongue, and he was the one in danger of coming unhinged.
Heath was no stranger to sex—the sensations pounding through his body should feel familiar, but there was no hint of déjà vu when he touched her. It was almost surreal. This was Phoebe pressed so tightly against him that he could feel the puckered buds of her nipples through her dress and bra. She was kissing him like she was making love to his mouth, drawing him deeper and giving him mind-blowing pleasure.
He cupped her ass and lifted her up against him, trying not to groan at the exquisite friction against his throbbing dick, then carried her to the bed. He sat on the edge with her astride him. Her skirt was bunched up around her thighs, and he could feel the heat of her against him. His fingers tightened on the lace covering her butt as she squirmed on top of him like she couldn’t get close enough.
“You keep doing that,” he growled with approval. “I’ll sit here and enjoy the view.” He kissed a path into the valley between her breasts.
She arched backward, and when he glanced up to protest her moving away, she nipped his earlobe. “Bet I can improve your view,” she whispered.
Then she untied the belt at her waist and flicked open a button. The red-and-white dress pooled on the carpet in a whisper of fabric. It was difficult to say which he found sexier—the sight of her breasts covered only in dark lace or the lusty eagerness in her expression. He’d wanted Phoebe since long before he’d been willing to admit it, before she’d been available, and seeing that desire returned was a fantasy come true.
“You are so damn sexy.” Crooking his fingers into the scalloped edges of her bra, he pulled the material down until her stiff pink nipples were exposed, her creamy skin framed by lace. He traced a light circle over her areola, watching the tight buds harden even more for his touch. They had that in common—he’d been hard for her since Bobbi’s party. Finally, he thumbed the sensitive peak, then tugged, not watching her breasts anymore but instead fixated on the beautiful tension in her face as pleasure warred with desperate need.
A whimper caught in her throat, and Heath rolled them onto the mattress, ripping his shirt over his head right before he fell across her. Lacing his fingers through hers, he pinned her hands to the bed, leaving only his mouth free to worship her breasts. He moved slightly to the side, his thigh
between her legs, and propped himself up as he sucked and nibbled and teased. She responded with fevered abandon, gyrating against him until his pants were damp from her.
Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her skin, and the combined salty tang of their sweaty bodies reminded him of the ocean, if the ocean was hot to the touch. And right now, he wanted to submerge himself in her slick depths.
He raised himself up on an elbow to kiss her again before impatiently shucking his pants and boxer briefs. Phoebe glanced down, eyeing him with greedy enthusiasm as a smile curved her lips. He reached for the box of condoms that had so amused him earlier. As aroused as he was right now, it was difficult to remember why the idea of making love to her a dozen times a day had ever seemed funny.
She wriggled out of her panties while he opened one square packet, and then held out her hand. “Let me,” she said. She unrolled the condom over his length, and he had to grit his teeth at the tantalizing pressure of her hand and the urge to thrust against her.
When she finished, she laid back down next to him, trailing her fingers over his cheek. “I want you so much.”
The soft words seemed like the sweetest he’d ever heard. Kissing her deeply, he laid across her, pressed against her entrance. She was so wet, there was no question that she was ready for him, but he slid inside her as slowly as he could, savoring the moment. Savoring her. “God, Phoebe. You feel so good.”
He rolled his hips, stirring inside her, and she moaned, tightening around him. When he leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth, she squeezed him even harder. He flexed forward, losing himself in her, increasing his pace, urged on by the way her legs were locked around him and her fingernails raked his back. Sensations blurred together as they moved more frantically, the slide of her skin against his, the rich, womanly scent of her, the sexy sounds she made.
She licked the side of his neck while he worked his hand between them, finding her clit just long enough for Phoebe’s cries to change from soft, breathy hums of enjoyment to a near shout. She arched her back off the mattress, her muscles clenching around him, and he watched as her climax took her. She was breathing hard, her eyes closed, one arm pressed against the wall behind her as she bucked her hips. His own orgasm started to build and he moved with mindless purpose, in and out of her as she smiled up at him, her expression radiating pure bliss. That smile sent him over the edge and he was coming in waves that racked his entire body.
Turning Up the Heat (Friends With Benefits) Page 9
