Turning Up the Heat (Friends With Benefits)

by Tanya Michaels

  “Whoa.” Cam rocked back on his heels, his eyes wide. “You really are miserable, aren’t you? Is this...” His expression turned wary and he took a step back toward the door before asking, “Is this about Phoebe?”

  Her name sliced through him. He ground his teeth. “If you gloat about getting her back, I will find a way to kill you and make it look like a kitchen accident.”

  Cam laughed out loud and Heath was halfway to his feet when the chef held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Dude, we aren’t back together.”

  A dozen emotions hit him at once. He didn’t know if he was relieved or even more depressed. So she didn’t choose him. She just chose not to be with me? “But I thought...”

  “Yeah. I had that same misconception.” Cam winced. “She set me straight pretty fast, though. Phoebe definitely doesn’t want to date me. Odd that she doesn’t want you, either. I thought no woman turned down the great Heath Jensen.”

  “Make your jokes, but you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. This isn’t the first time I’ve had my heart br—” He stopped dead, appalled at what he’d been about to say.

  “Phoebe broke your heart?” Cam’s jaw dropped. “Jesus, does that mean you actually love her?”

  “I never said that.” And he never would. Heath had no intention of making himself look like an ass. Or a stalker. He was all in favor of seducing a willing participant, but he refused to throw himself at an uninterested former lover.

  Cam finally sank into one of the office chairs. “Now I’m confused. You are clearly crazy about her—”

  “Get out. I’m sure we have some very expensive ingredients in the pantry you can misuse. Go be fiscally irresponsible.”

  “But Phoebe seemed so sad on the drive home from the airport—which, as it turned out, had nothing to do with missing me. If neither of you are happy about splitting up, why did you?”

  Heath shoved a hand through his hair. He’d been doing that a lot lately, and he knew without even looking in a mirror that it was standing on end and that he needed a shave. Add in the red-rimmed eyes he was developing from insomnia and he looked like a man who’d gone on a bender. Maybe that’s exactly what’s happened. Only, instead of booze, he’d been drunk on Phoebe—addicted to the way she felt and tasted. The sound of her laugh and her whoop of joy whenever her team scored. The twist of her smile whenever she was thinking something naughty.

  Perhaps it was time to get literally drunk. Bourbon might temporarily dull some of those memories, and the majority of the staff had gone home. “Want to sit with me at the bar?” he invited Cam. Phoebe’s ex wouldn’t be his first choice of drinking buddies, but desperate times...

  “No.”

  “Good. More for me.”

  “You are not going to sit around drinking up our booze. You are going home and figuring out a plan for getting Phoebe back.”

  “The hell I am.” While most of his breakups had been amicable, there had been a few women who’d tried to hang on too long, who’d tried to convince him that they shared something that just wasn’t there. He knew how horribly awkward it was, and he wasn’t going through that with her.

  Cam stood, shaking his head. “Listen to the voice of experience, man. If you throw away the chance to be with her, you’ll regret it. I got complacent and gave her up because I was feeling a little bored with my life. I should have repainted my apartment or come up with some crazy new chef’s tasting. She wasn’t the problem, and losing her was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. You do not want to make the same mistake.”

  “There’s a key difference. She’s not mine to lose.” And she never had been.

  * * *

  “TWO WEEKS,” GWEN SAID, pointing the remote control at the television. The screen went dark.

  “Hey,” Phoebe protested from her armchair, where she was snuggled under a comforter in her flannel pajamas. Wrapping herself in so many layers in the middle of summer required blasting the air-conditioner at arctic temperatures, but at least she felt cozy this way—shielded from her own love life and questionable decisions. “Our show was about to come back from commercial.”

  “We weren’t really watching it. All I was doing was complaining about the makeup choices, and you were staring into space. Again. No doubt thinking about Heath, not that the bastard deserves a second thought from you.”

  Phoebe considered denying that her mind had been on Heath, but what would be the point? Gwen knew her too well. “I didn’t think about him for the first half of the show, but then the detectives went into that club to look for witnesses and it reminded me of this club we went to in Miami.” Not that they’d been there for long. Because I was too eager to get him back to the hotel room and all to myself.

  “With Cam, I gave you ten days to mope before I sent you back into the world of the living. And you were with Cam for years. How can it possibly take longer than that to recover from your ill-advised fling with his demon business partner?”

  Maybe because it had been a hell of a lot more than a fling? She’d lost her heart to him, but if she admitted that to Gwen, her roommate would go ballistic and remind Phoebe that she’d known better. As it turned out, the advanced warning hadn’t helped. She and Cam had been like a recipe, one that made sense on paper, and she’d followed all the measurements and instructions properly. The results had been good. She and Heath had been a creative flash, where she’d thrown caution to the wind, breaking the rules and adding spices that were almost counterintuitive but somehow complemented each other, and the results had been magic. Temporarily.

  “Maybe we should handle this the way we did last time,” Gwen said thoughtfully. “I sent you to Bobbi’s looking glamorous and sexy to start the healing process with Cam. Maybe I should make us dinner reservations at Piri and—”

  “Don’t you dare!” Phoebe protested, surprised to hear real anger in her voice. It was jarring to have an emotion penetrate the numbness. “Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t learned your lesson. My going to Bobbi’s looking like that—and Heath kissing me—is what started all this.” Gwen had made her a femme fatale for the night. Heath had bought in to the illusion and, driven by insecurity and heartbreak, Phoebe had asked him to help her make it a reality. But at the end of the day, she was still just Phoebe. That would have to be enough for the next man she fell for. In ten or twenty years.

  Gwen sighed. “You’re right. I never would have made you go to that party if I’d known Heath was finally going to make his move. Your defenses were down, and he went in for the kill.”

  “He went in for a kiss, drama queen. Wait—what do you mean ‘finally’ made his move?”

  “I didn’t trust the way he looked at you from the first night you introduced us,” Gwen said. “Like he was just waiting for a chance to add you to his list of conquests.”

  “Are you saying,” Phoebe asked slowly, “that he was attracted to me? Before Bobbi’s?”

  He’d told her that night how amazing, how different, she looked. She’d believed it was Gwen’s makeover that had spurred his attraction. Was it possible he’d been drawn to her before, even when they’d worked together and she’d spent most of her time wearing a shapeless jacket and chocolate stains? He never let me know. But how could he, when she was with Cam? Given his past, she knew instinctively that Heath would never stoop to seducing another man’s woman.

  “Why would that matter now that he’s dumped you?” Gwen demanded.

  “You shouldn’t paint him as the bad guy.” She hadn’t given Gwen specifics, just a general outline of events. “Our return to a platonic relationship was mutual.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s never mutual. People say that to save face, but there’s always one party who opens the escape hatch. Did he suggest it first, or did he get you to bring it up, make you think it was your idea?”

  “But it was my idea.” In order to keep him from hurting her, she’d launched a preemptive strike. At the time, it had felt like the right action to take.
In retrospect, it felt more like...panic. “I told him that Miami had been fun, but it was probably best to just be friends once we got home.” He hadn’t tried to talk her out of it. Quite the opposite. He’d seemed pleased by the idea, reminding her of all the women who’d be happy to have him back in circulation.

  Then again, he was used to playing the role of accommodating charmer. She’d watched him smile and soothe difficult customers, telling them what they wanted to hear, even when she knew he was angry on the inside.

  “Oh, God, Gwen. What if, from Heath’s perspective, I dumped him?”

  Gwen hooted with laughter. “About time someone put his colossal ego in check!”

  “Will you stop? He’s a good man.” She thought about him chasing after that elderly woman at the ballgame with her purse, how he’d made a shy barista feel like the belle of the ball at that awards ceremony, the personal loan he’d given one of Piri’s dishwashers six months ago when the man had wanted to get home to see his sick grandmother. Heath himself had rolled up his sleeves and helped with the dishes in the guy’s absence. And then there’s everything he’s done for me.

  She didn’t want to become someone else in order to keep a man, but she was grateful that he’d shown her sides of herself she hadn’t known existed.

  Standing, she let the comforter fall and paced the living room, filled with nervous energy. Had she been wrong? Was there a chance for them? Maybe not, if she’d injured his pride. And it had been two weeks. Lord knew how many women he’d gone out with since that awful goodbye at the airport. The memory of him calling her “sweetheart” still turned her stomach.

  “If you’re finally shedding your ten-pound blanket, does that mean I can turn the A/C back to a civilized temperature? I went to use my mouthwash this morning and discovered it was freezing into mint-flavored slush.”

  “Gwen, I never thought I’d say this, but Cam was right to break up with me. I cared deeply about him, but it turns out he wasn’t the one.”

  “Oh, hell.” Gwen cradled her head in her hands. “I’m going to have to learn to like the demon, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, if I can figure out how to fix the mess I made.”

  Had Heath wanted a real relationship with her, or had it just been a fling? And even if his feelings had deepened, would he want to try again after she’d walked away?

  Only one way to find out.

  * * *

  IT WAS AFTER midnight on Wednesday when Cam opened the kitchen’s back door and let Phoebe inside. He looked ridiculously relieved to see her.

  “Thank God you’re here,” he said, his voice low. “If his mood doesn’t improve, I swear people are going to start quitting. He’s in his office. I’ll make sure no one disturbs the two of you and lock up on my way out.”

  “Thanks.” She’d felt weird calling him after her epiphany with Gwen, but she’d wanted to find out if Heath was even at the restaurant. For all she’d known, he could have been on a date with the Kemp sisters. Cam had not only waved away any awkwardness, but he’d also been downright eager for her to get to Piri right away.

  “No thanks necessary,” he said. “You’re doing me the favor. I can’t open a second restaurant with the man if he self-destructs. The two of you getting back together may be the only way to save my career.”

  Despite the almost unbearable nerves churning through her, she chuckled at that. Cam could get a job tomorrow at half a dozen places. But she appreciated his support. His belief that Heath missed her had given her the courage to come over here tonight. Before I can talk myself out of it.

  She nodded hello to a couple of her former coworkers who were headed home and took a deep breath as she padded down the short hallway. She glanced at the faded denim skirt that stopped just above her knees and hoped she hadn’t made a tactical error. Gwen had taken one look at her and recoiled, demanding, “You’re trying to win him back in a T-shirt and a ponytail? I mean, it’s an improvement over the flannel PJs, but still... At least let me help you with some makeup!”

  Phoebe had thanked her for the offer but firmly declined. She wouldn’t be going to him as some upgraded version of herself or as a calculated seductress. Sure, it might have helped her cause if she’d appeared in his office wearing high heels and a trench coat with nothing underneath, but this felt a lot more honest. Over the past two weeks, she’d realized that in Miami she hadn’t been honest enough with him—or herself.

  The door was closed, and her own knock reverberated in the hall, making her jump.

  “Come in,” Heath called from the other side.

  The moment of truth. She opened the door and tried to summon a smile. “Hi.” At the moment, it felt like the most insipid word in the English language, but she had to start somewhere.

  “Phoebe!” He got to his feet, looking stunned. But not necessarily happy. He recovered his composure quickly, though, giving her a neutral smile. “I hope you aren’t here to ask about getting your old job back. James and I have a gentleman’s agreement about me not stealing you away.”

  “Work is definitely not why I’m here,” she said, closing the office door. This wasn’t about going back; it was about moving forward. She hoped. “How are you?”

  “Great, thanks.”

  That took some of the wind out of her sails. What did you expect, dummy? That he was going to tell you he’s been lost without you and counting the minutes since you’ve last seen each other? That would have been nice. Trying to bolster her courage, she held onto Cam’s assurances that Heath wasn’t the same without her.

  “And yourself?” he asked pleasantly. “How’ve you been?”

  “I’m...” She chose her words carefully. The entire way over here, she’d tried to decide what to say to him, but this was harder than she’d expected, laying her heart bare while he stood there watching, his expression unreadable. “I’m regretful. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I said on the flight back from Miami, and I made a mistake.”

  Emotion flickered in his eyes and he came around the edge of the desk. At first she thought he wanted to be near her, and her heart leaped. But he went to the door and she realized he was going to try to send her on her way.

  “Everything you said on the flight was completely sensible,” he said. “You pointed out that we have a long-standing friendship and it was probably best for both of us if we returned to that.”

  “And friends ignore each other for two weeks?” As painful as the thought was that he might not love her back, it was equally upsetting to realize that she may have lost his friendship, too.

  “I’m sure we’ve both just been busy, me trying to get things off the ground for Hot and you putting in overtime to make up lost days for James. Maybe we can meet for lunch soon, but it’s been a long day and—”

  “Please don’t,” she said, laying her hand over his when he reached for the doorknob. “Heath, I screwed up, and I’m sorry. I was scared. Scared you wouldn’t want me,” she confessed in a whisper.

  “Not want you?” He stalked away from her, angrily pacing. “Jesus, Phoebe, how many more ways could I possibly have shown you how much I wanted you? I couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

  The memory of how greedy they’d been for each other was bittersweet. “I know, but how many relationships that start with that kind of passion can sustain it? And your track record with women—This is about me, though,” she hastily amended, not wanting to sound as if she blamed him for her insecurities. “You know the story of Cinderella? I felt like that flight back from Miami was my midnight. I adored being sexy for you, but in my real life, I don’t wear high heels. I don’t skinny-dip. I don’t have huge blocks of time free in my schedule to while away the hours having sex. And I was afraid that once I got back to being regular, everyday Phoebe...”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You must not have a very high opinion of my intellect. You don’t think I know who ‘regular’ Phoebe is? You don’t think I’m capable of seeing your beauty when you’re in a chef’s jacket and s
neakers instead of a dress with a scandalous neckline?”

  His calling her beautiful would have felt like more of a triumph without the wealth of accusation in his tone.

  “Heath, please understand, I grew up feeling unwanted, with it hanging over my head every day. Cam dumping me just reinforced insecurities I didn’t even realize ran so deep. And then there was you.” She reached a hand toward him, but he rocked back on his heels, avoiding her touch, clearly still mad. Okay—anger she could work with. Anger was better than indifference.

  “When you made love to me, you made me feel more wanted—more cherished and adored—than I have in my entire life. Which was terrifying because that meant I had to acknowledge how much it would hurt when you stopped wanting me.”

  “Who says I’m the one who would have stopped? You pushed me away.” But his gaze softened and she knew he was at least considering her explanation.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But when I suggested that we return to platonic friendship, you didn’t waste any time agreeing with me! You all but pulled out your phone and started texting all the women in your contact list that you were available again.”

  His gaze was stony. “I have my pride, Phoebe.”

  And she’d injured it. Maybe the best way to get through to him was to put her own pride on the line. She recalled his teasing explanation at the awards luncheon of how they’d started dating, words that had been meant as a joke. But despite the playful smile she gave him, the underlying sentiment was genuine.

  “I want you desperately,” she said, advancing toward him. “I need you, I crave you...and I love you.”

  “Phoebe.” He didn’t just meet her halfway—he lunged for her, pulling her into his arms. His mouth crushed hers in an ardent, uninhibited reunion that made her heart sing. She resented the two weeks she’d let pass before coming to him. Why had she waited?

  Oh, yeah, because she’d been terrified he might not feel the same way. Technically, he still hadn’t said as much, although she took his kiss as a good sign. She and Heath were fantastic together, and they both knew it. She refused to let fear cheat her out of that.