It’s a damn shirt, Pheeb. Stop overanalyzing and get in the shower.
She went into the bathroom, but being in a rush to beat the clock only heightened her awareness of how fast their time in Miami was running out. Soon she’d be back to her life—a job she loved, the world’s kindest boss, a roommate who always made her laugh, new cake orders she’d accepted by email while she was here. All good things.
Yet the thought of getting on that plane the day after tomorrow stung.
On Thursday morning, she would wake up in her bed, alone. Without Heath to kiss her or tease her or even steal the blankets. Her throat tightened at the realization of how much she would miss him, and she tried to blink away the burn in her eyes.
Not waking up next to him wouldn’t even be the worst part. There was no diplomatic way to ask how long he thought he’d wait until he fell into some other woman’s bed. How soon would Phoebe have to face him with his arm around some stunning date? You knew what you were getting into. You promised yourself, promised him, that you could handle this.
All true.
Then again, she’d been wrong about her love life before.
CHAPTER 10
LUNCH HELPED CURE Phoebe’s brief bout of melancholy; it was difficult to mope when you were eating delicious food. While Cam ordered an entrée off the menu, she and Heath had both chosen the buffet. Although Heath respectfully refrained from any innuendos about how he’d worked up his appetite, he did wink at her as he went back for a third visit to the seafood bar.
Being left alone with Cam at the table made Phoebe feel self-conscious. Even though she didn’t owe him anything now that they were split up—and she very much doubted he’d been celibate for the past month—it was strange to be sitting with her ex after everything she’d done with his business partner in the past twelve hours.
She cleared her throat. “So, um, I take it the jury’s in and this will be the site of the new restaurant?”
“There are some details to finalize, but yeah, looks that way. It’s a good place with a lot of potential.”
She nodded. “I’ve certainly enjoyed being here.”
“I’ve enjoyed you being here, too,” he told her earnestly. “Phoebe, the past couple of days have been a revelation. You’ve changed.” His admiring gaze made it clear the words were intended as a compliment.
Yet she found herself annoyed. He obviously liked what he saw—now. Where had that admiration been when she was just plain Phoebe, before the enhanced cleavage and makeup and rosy aura of sexual afterglow? She tried to return his smile rather than glare, but abandoned the effort in favor of viciously spearing her seared tuna.
Obviously unaware that he was skipping through a field of emotional land mines, Cam added, “You look beautiful today.”
“Thanks.” With so little time to get ready, there’d been no chance to dry her hair. She’d simply braided it in a thick rope, impressing herself with the makeup application she’d managed in five minutes. Gwen would be proud.
“Really beautiful,” he said firmly.
She mentally rolled her eyes. I heard you the first time. Logically, she realized she was being a hypocrite. What kind of person set out to be more exciting and seductive, then got irritated when people responded to those very qualities? You’re the one who wanted a makeover.
But had she really wanted one, for her own sake? Or had it been a knee-jerk reaction to getting dumped and feeling as if she was inadequate? Whatever the motivation, Cam certainly appreciated the results.
And he wasn’t the only one. Heath, who was used to being surrounded by beautiful, accomplished women, had been looking at her for the past few days as if she was a goddess. He not only appreciated her evolution, but he’d also partially engineered it. On the phone yesterday, he’d told her he’d created a sexy monster. Last night, happy to have “corrupted” her, he’d taken credit for her dirty mind. From the moment she’d asked for his help, he’d been making her feel sexier and more sophisticated. Actually, the transformation from demure, well-behaved Phoebe had begun even before she’d called him.
It had been sparked when he unexpectedly kissed her, when she’d shown up at Bobbi’s party looking not like pastry chef Phoebe Mars, but a Bond-girl version of herself from an alternate reality. One of the very first things Heath had commented on that night was how different she looked. Obviously, different was good. If Gwen hadn’t sent her out of the house in that low-cut dress and those killer shoes, would Phoebe even be here in Miami right now?
The question stabbed at her. As much as she enjoyed being sexy for Heath, it was somewhat deflating to feel as though he was more attracted to the fantasy illusion of herself than the real person.
Why does it even matter?
The end result was the same. Regardless of what had first caught his attention—whether it was her roommate’s borrowed stilettos, or Phoebe’s “graceful” neck or, hell, the scent of her body wash—the past few days had been incredible. Besides, it would be one thing if they were trying to build a relationship and she questioned whether their foundation was strong enough, more than superficial attraction. But this wasn’t a relationship. It was exhilarating sex, an affair that would be over forty-eight hours from now.
So stop obsessing over the whys and wherefores. She was supposed to be confident and seductive, not neurotic.
Later, once she’d gone back to her regularly scheduled life, she could examine whether or not she really wanted to change to impress a man, or if she was content with who she was. In the meantime, she was the focus of Heath Jensen’s sensual attention. Why not create as many memorable experiences as possible?
* * *
PHOEBE TIED THE sarong skirt at her hip, not that the filmy white material actually hid anything from view. If she’d realized sooner that Heath and Cam were going to brainstorm menu options for Hot at the hotel pool, maybe she wouldn’t have made that second trip to the buffet.
Nonsense. This vacation was about indulgence, not deprivation. And even if she wasn’t used to showing as much skin as the ice-blue bikini revealed, she had to admit that her reflection looked pretty damn good. She recalled the night in Heath’s loft, and her lips curved—she’d improved substantially at appreciating the babe in the mirror. Sliding on a pair of black sunglasses, she exited the bathroom.
“All ready,” she told Heath. He was in black swim trunks and the same shirt he’d thrown on last night for their dessert tasting. Remembering the hours that had followed left her skin flushed; it wouldn’t take much for the twinge of desire she felt to bloom into something more all consuming. With Heath in the room, it never did.
He grinned. “Want me to rub sunscreen on you? I promise to be very thorough.”
“I’ll bet.”
He gave her a stern look. “Protection from UV rays is a serious matter, Mars.”
Yeah, something a pale redhead who burned easily had known since preschool. “Which is why I’ve already applied plenty of sunblock.” She paused a beat, then flashed a sly smile. “Although...I may have missed a spot on my back. Maybe you can help me when we get down to the pool?”
“I live to serve.”
“That’s probably what makes you such a great restaurateur,” she said as they walked down the hall. “You do have a knack for meeting people’s needs.” Whether that need was a table with a view or multiple orgasms.
“I’m going to tell you a humbling secret,” he said. “Even an average man can look great when he surrounds himself with the right people. Piri has excellent chefs—minus one fantastic pastry chef, unfortunately—and a waitstaff that strives for perfection and a mixologist good enough to inspire a reboot of that ’80s movie, Cocktail. Meanwhile, because I’m the majority owner of the place, I get the credit. Maybe my only talent is spotting talent in others.”
“And nurturing it,” she said, following him into the elevator. “Don’t overlook the importance of that part.”
Chefs were often creative, temperamental people, and
Heath gave everyone in the restaurant clear, calm direction. She’d seen him shuffle employees to positions that were better suited for their personalities and bolster a hysterical waitress on a night when she’d gotten three orders wrong and dropped a tray of drinks. Without Heath’s guiding influence, Cam might have chased half a dozen whims that set his career back. It struck her as sadly ironic that a man so skilled at surrounding himself with the right people in his professional life hadn’t had more success at finding the right woman in his personal life.
Then again, he’d made it clear he wasn’t really looking. He’d said point-blank that he was “shit at relationships.” She had no reason not to believe him, but it was hard to imagine him failing at anything.
They exited the door behind the elevator banks, taking the tree-lined stone path past a garden of asters, spiky ferns and delicate white flowers that looked like miniature starbursts. Inside the gated pool area, there were two levels of chairs surrounding the long, rectangular pool—an upper deck of padded lounge chairs in the shade and another row of chairs down in the sun. Cam was stretched out in a chaise on the lower level, his face raised to the sky.
Eyes widening, he sat up when he saw Phoebe. “Need any help with sunblock?” he volunteered. “I remember how sensitive your skin is.”
She laughed, wondering if all men used variations of that line. “Goodness, everyone seems so concerned today with my skin-care regimen.”
Heath hadn’t looked amused by Cam’s offer, but after a second, his lips twitched in a half smile. “Guess we’re just very conscientious. Maybe we’ll do some kind of community-awareness thing this summer—show us your tube of sunblock, get a free appetizer.”
Nodding, Cam flashed Phoebe a smile. “We haven’t even started brainstorming yet, and you’re already inspiring us. What would we do without you?”
We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we? Once they got back to Atlanta, who knew when or how often she’d see either of them?
For the first time since Cam had broken up with her, she was truly glad she no longer worked at Piri. As she’d told Cam at the airport, she was a professional and he should have trusted her to behave like one after they separated. Yet she was glad her professionalism wouldn’t be tested. The idea of having to face both men on a daily basis after this trip was untenable. Being around Cam could be confusing; now that her anger had faded, lots of good memories were returning. If she saw him on a regular basis, there was a chance he might eventually win her back and she knew now she didn’t want that. And the idea of working with Heath every day was even worse, maintaining a platonic relationship and trying to pretend like none of this had happened...
She eyed the small outdoor bar on the other side of the gate. “I think I need a drink.”
“First round’s on me.” Cam shot to his feet, all helpful eagerness. “Want them to swirl together a strawberry daiquiri and a piña colada? I know that’s your favorite vacation drink.”
He was right. Although Phoebe normally favored glasses of wine or the occasional strong martini, nothing said vacation like something sweet with a paper umbrella in it.
“Sure, thanks.” A frozen drink would be perfect for a hot Florida afternoon.
Heath was just putting in his order when Cam pulled his phone from his pocket, his face lighting up when he saw who the caller was. “I have to take this!”
“I’ll go get the drinks, then,” Heath said. “The second round can be on you.”
Cam barely paused to nod before hurrying off to a far corner to conduct his conversation. Phoebe sat on the edge of the pool, dipping her toes in the water. She was surprised more people weren’t present, taking advantage of the gorgeous day. The only other guests in sight were a couple of college kids splashing each other in the deep end and a woman reading a book on the upper deck. Other tourists were probably at the beach; in Phoebe’s opinion, there was something to be said for the lack of jellyfish in hotel pools.
Some boldly adventurous woman you are.
“Pheebs!” Cam bounded up to her, grinning from ear to ear. “You won’t believe who was on the phone—the head of the tenant committee for the Regent High-Rise.”
She stood. “As in, some of the most hard-to-get condos in Buckhead? That high-rise?” He’d been on a waiting list for over a year.
He hugged her to him, spinning her around so that her feet actually came off the ground for a second. “I’m in! Can you believe it?”
She returned the hug, genuinely happy for him. “This is your dream! And it’s way better for you than the quixotic food-truck thing.”
“My God, the kitchens in those condos... The refrigerator is more like a four-hundred-pound work of art than an appliance. And there’s the built-in wine fridge and the top-of-the-line ovens.”
“Weird,” she teased, “that some misguided people would be more excited about the stunning view and the club membership that comes with the condo than, say, the microwave model.”
“Well, you know me.” He laughed, but then his expression turned wistful. “You do know me. Phoebe, I—”
“Am I interrupting something?” Heath asked. His voice was velvet soft, yet it made Phoebe jump.
“Drinks!” She stepped forward to seize hers. “Just in time to toast Cam’s news. He’s going to be the newest tenant in the prestigious Regent High-Rise.”
Heath looked suitably impressed. “I expect you’ll have everyone over for a housewarming party that includes very expensive booze.”
“Done,” Cam said. “Of course, I may need to talk to my business partner about negotiating a raise...”
“Good luck with that,” Heath said, his expression one of faux sympathy. “I hear he’s a real hard-ass.”
“Hmm.” Cam took a sip of his drink. “I hear he’s a real player who can’t commit to a woman.”
Phoebe sucked in a breath, surprised he’d gone there.
But Heath was unfazed, shrugging calmly. “No reason he can’t be both.”
* * *
HEATH NODDED ABSENTLY at whatever Cam had just said about the proposed menu, but he couldn’t keep his attention on the conversation. Honestly, for all Heath knew, his business partner could have typed “grilled shoelaces with a pulverized limestone crust” into his tablet. It was difficult to focus with the angry buzzing in his ears. Heath wanted to ditch this brainstorming session and work out some aggression in the hotel gym.
How many sets of weights would it take to erase the image of Cam about to kiss Phoebe by the pool? At the sight of Cam’s arms around her, Heath had been seized by a violent impulse to tackle the man.
But, intellectually, could Heath even blame him for what he was attempting? Cam had warned that he wanted her back, and his strategy was solid. He wasn’t pushing too hard, but he paid her light compliments and kept peppering the conversation with intimate references. Like his smarmy “I know that’s your favorite vacation drink.”
Big deal. Did he think he deserved a gold star for that little nugget of trivia? Maybe he should have taken her on more vacations instead of taking her for granted.
Still... Phoebe had loved him once. Had Cam learned his lesson? If she took him back, would he treat her better, make her happy? The thought of them together made Heath want to gnash his teeth. He momentarily pondered buying Cam a food truck just to get rid of his ass. But Phoebe’s romantic decisions were none of his business. He knew better than anyone that sex with another person didn’t establish a claim.
Some primitive, caveman part of him wanted to forbid her to reunite with Cam—which was, of course, bullshit. She’d either laugh at Heath outright or justifiably smack him upside the head with one of her cake pans. Furthermore, if there was a chance that she and Cam could build something lasting, what right did Heath have to root against them? It wasn’t as if he was offering her anything real.
“Yes, but you don’t want to be cliché about it,” Phoebe was saying now. “Right, Heath?”
He blinked at her. “Sorry, my mind w
as elsewhere for a minute.” Or, the past forty-five of them.
She backtracked and filled him in. “Well, I get that the place is Hot and sexy is part of your theme, but that doesn’t mean all the food needs to be phallic-shaped or that you have to go with obvious rumored aphrodisiacs like oysters. You want to be evocative, but not tacky.”
“We need more subtle aphrodisiacs,” he agreed, his mood momentarily lifting. “Like pomegranates.”
Phoebe caught his eye, her lips tilting in an almost shy, lopsided smile. As if the temptress who’d blown his mind on the balcony last night could be shy.
“Oh! There’s a scallop-and-pomegranate recipe I’ve been experimenting with.” Cam keyed some words into his tablet, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents around him. “Thanks, Phoebe.”
Her gaze left Heath’s, almost reluctantly, and she nodded to her ex. “Glad I could help.”
Cam set the tablet aside, his expression earnest. “Heath and I are lucky that you were able to take the time off to come to Miami. I know you’ve been busting your ass to get your own business off the ground, and you put that on hold.”
Heath experienced a sharp pinch of shame. When he’d high-handedly bought Phoebe’s airplane ticket to Miami, deciding it was easier to seek forgiveness than permission, he hadn’t spared enough consideration for the fact that he and Cam weren’t the only ones trying to take their careers to the next level.
Phoebe was smiling at her ex-boyfriend. “Don’t make me sound like such a saint—in return for my consulting, I got a free vacation.”
“Well, I’m sure I speak for both of us when I say you were a tremendous help today.” He glanced around at the pool area, which was empty except for the three of them. Most hotel guests were probably inside ordering dinner or waiting for a table. “The day doesn’t have to be over yet. I think we’ve earned some fun. What do you say to a night on the town?” His smile lingered on Phoebe long enough to make Heath’s jaw clench before he turned to belatedly include Heath in the invitation, too. “Are you guys up for hitting a club?”
Turning Up the Heat (Friends With Benefits) Page 12
