Summer Heat: A Steamy Romance Boxed Set

by Carly Phillips

  If he would hand over the damn keys, everything would go easier. Maybe she could find them in his room. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, guess that’s true. I stay. You stay. We all get to stay.” He flopped on the couch next to Rocco, who was watching the latest installment of their drama. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here.” He turned to Roman. “Hey, man. Throw me another biscuit.”

  Roman chucked the biscuit across the room, and out of nowhere, Winters’s dog nabbed it mid-flight. Roman tried again, successfully.

  How did anyone put up with these men? Her foot tapped, and her mind ran the gamut of getaway vehicles, but she turned up nothing. Damn Cash.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  “While I drive, I’ll explain Sugar, and you’ll listen.” He didn’t look at her. His voice was even and bored. Rocco, on the other hand, wasn’t bored, and Cash didn’t look at the man’s head slinging back and forth between them. “Those are my terms. Take it or leave it. But I don’t think you’ll find someone willing to risk their life and give you a ride.”

  Risk their life? Come on, Cash!

  She dropped her head back and huffed. Mark today down as the most unprofessional day of her life. “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  Rocco laughed. “You two are great. When are you coming back?”

  “Shut it, Roc.” Roman didn’t like the theatrics at all. Nic didn’t either. Maybe it was a family thing.

  ***

  When Nicola turned around and Rocco returned to minding his own business, Cash took a ten-count to pray. Hell, if he’d known Sugar would waltz her smart ass in to Winters’s house, maybe Cash would have elaborated in the bathroom last night with Nicola about how he hadn’t been a saint while she was gone. The moment hadn’t been right. It wouldn’t have been a fuck of a lot better than just now though.

  He rolled his shoulders and pushed off the couch as if he hadn’t a care in the world, which was first-class bullshit. Sugar was awesome, and Nicola was amazing. He had to work with both in very different capacities, but there was only one he wanted to dive back under the covers with.

  That one, for all the sass and CIA-seriousness that she hid behind, had just had her feelings hurt over something he never would’ve done if he’d known she was alive.

  Every action had a consequence, just like every shot he took either hit target or had a reason he was off mark. Right now, he was in the process of basically re-evaluating and re-calibrating his entire world view to see if what looked like a new target was worth pursuing.

  As Nicola swayed her sweet ass out of the room, there was no question at the moment. Cash hopped off the couch, tossed his keys, waved good bye, and headed toward his truck to hash out the drama.

  ***

  Trapped again in his truck with Nicola proved to be much different from the night before. There wasn’t that would-they-wouldn’t-they vibe.

  Nope.

  Now it was nothing but hold-your-breath-and-hang-on kind of tension, and it still made him want to beat his head against the steering wheel.

  “Where to, Nic?”

  “Tyson’s Corner.”

  “Got it.” He rolled out of Winters’s driveway. “Sugar. Let’s just get that over with.”

  “I don’t care.” She shrugged and tugged at her hair.

  “Pretty sure you do.” A pissed-off Nicola was cute. The madder, the cuter. Bet she’d get furious if he told her as much. “There’s nothing to be jealous—”

  “Are you kidding me? Jealous? Hardly.” She scooted farther away and leaned against her door. “That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Sugar, for that matter, is ten shades past ridiculous.”

  Silence except for the click-cl-click, click-cl-click of the blinker when he changed lanes. Everyone was ridiculous? She might as well have a banner proclaiming the same thing about herself.

  “The lady doth protest too much.”

  Nicola smirked. “She’s quite the girl, that Sugar. Your type is so… slutty.”

  You know what? Enough with this.

  He pulled over. Hard. Dirt and gravel spun cycles in the wheel wells. The truck rocked over a bump on the shoulder.

  “Why are you so mad? I didn’t know you were alive! Fuck.” He unsnapped his seatbelt and turned, hand gestures flying. “It wasn’t serious, so what’s your problem?”

  Nicola didn’t answer. Her fingers drummed on her thigh.

  “Nicola, what do you want from me?”

  She didn’t turn to look him in the eye. “She’s re-selling from an illegal arms dealer.”

  He shrugged. “We don’t know what’s going on there. And that’s not your problem, is it?”

  Now she pinned him with a glare. “She’s a slut.”

  “She’s a cool chick and not a girlfriend. Not relationship material. Not that I wanted a relationship with anyone. She’s a flirt. And I am—was—whatever—by myself. She didn’t want anything other than to shoot guns and… it worked out.”

  “Sure seemed into a relationship with you this morning.”

  “I didn’t say Sugar wasn’t competitive.”

  Nicola snorted. “Ha. Competitive.”

  He grabbed the gearshift but didn’t take it out of park. They should hit the road. Sitting here wasn’t doing either of them a lick of good. “I’m sure you’ve been the poster child for abstinence over the last decade.”

  She rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet.

  “I didn’t take you for a quitter, sweet girl.”

  Her face screwed up tightly. “I’m not a quitter.”

  “But you can walk away from us again?”

  “There is no you and me, Cash. It was an old habit.”

  “Bull-fuckin’-shit.”

  “You’re—”

  His lips covered hers. How he crossed the space, he had no recollection. The only thing he knew was she smelled sweet, tasted sweeter, and kissing her was the only thing he’d wanted to do since Sugar walked into the room.

  Her smartass remark morphed into a kiss. It melted against him, then roared to life. The air sizzled and popped. Her hands wrapped into his shirt. Yeah, there was no easy walking away. There was a spark. Hell, more than a spark. It was a smoldering ember that had blazed unattended and ignored. With a gust of wind, a sweet kiss, a hot night in bed—whoosh—they had wildfire. And he wanted to chase it down to see how hot it could be.

  Her tongue teased his. Firecrackers spun and sparkled, rocketing his body to life. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he lost focus. He wanted to growl the goddamn truth to Nic. Until they weren’t, they were together. He wanted to—a car flew by too flipping close to his truck, honking a horn.

  Whoa. He had to calm this down. They were on the side of the road, for Chrissake.

  Her lips slowed to brush his. “Maybe I was a little jealous.”

  Cash chuckled. “I want to take out any man who’s ever thought of you naked, much less seen you, if that helps.”

  He inched back to his seat, studying her warm eyes and the way her flushed cheeks screamed that she wanted more than their roadside make-out. Both of his hands were needed on the steering wheel, or they’d never make it back onto the road. He took a deep breath. Her breath mirrored his from the passenger seat. Their matching cadence slowed to normal. He didn’t know about Nic, but he was always catching his breath when she was around.

  “Sugar shouldn’t have that ammo.” Nicola rearranged her seatbelt.

  Nope, she was always thinking about the job around him. That’s just marvelous. Someone out there would commend her. He’d rather she stayed hot and bothered and thinking of him, but that’d make the meeting with her handler a-w-k-w-a-r-d.

  “She shouldn’t. I know. But she’s on the up and up, so there’s something more to it.” Cash sighed, sitting up and shifting into drive. “Looks like you and Sugar are headed for a sit down. I’ll referee.”

  “Let’s bring Rocco too. At this point, I think he’d be upset if he couldn’t watch
.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The sun was blinding bright. Nicola shuffled through her purse for her sunglasses. They were in a little Coach case that matched her little Coach purse. Maybe camouflaged was a better word than matched because she couldn’t find the flippin’ thing.

  Cash walked through the parking lot with her. She wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He didn’t seem like the wander-around-the-mall type, but he’d insisted on driving, so he was stuck there. His activities for the next hour or so weren’t her problem. Where were her sunglasses?

  “Looking for these?”

  “Yes!” She reached for them, and he held them high overhead. She jumped but still couldn’t reach them. “Please. Give them to me.”

  “Are you still worked up about everything?”

  “No.” She jumped again. “Damn it, Cash. Give them to me already.”

  “I don’t believe you.” But he lowered the case to a snagging height. Jumping up again, she was almost nose to nose with him. His peppery scent flooded her senses, reviving memories of him in bed. Everything paused, and then her hand felt the fabric case, and life sped back up again.

  “Why do you have my stuff?” This wasn’t at all what she was worked up over.

  “It just fell out of that black hole draped over your shoulder.”

  Why was she so nervous and twitchy? Oh yeah, because unless Cash found somewhere to wander off to, she was going to have to make introductions. There was no telling what would come out of Beth’s mouth, especially after Nicola’d mentioned on the phone that Cash maybe had a girlfriend. And how Nicola had maybe shown off the little lacy number.

  Beth waved at her from the patio at P.F. Chang’s. Nicola’s fingers tapped along with the nervous drumbeat in her head. Fifty yards and closing in on Question-Mageddon. Instead of a world-ending battle, Nicola expected an interrogation worthy of drop-dead-embarrassment. Or defensiveness. Hell, probably both.

  Waving back to Beth, Nic turned to Cash and gave him a thanks-for-the-ride-see-you-later smile. He cheesed it back and stuck with her.

  Twenty-five yards out.

  She could ditch him. She had to. Beth had a cocktail in her hand. Cash had to go elsewhere, pronto. There was no telling if this was Beth’s first or third, and after their thirsty throw down at her apartment, it didn’t matter if it was only the first drink. The woman was primed to pry. Maybe she’d just push Cash and run.

  “Cash, we’re going to talk about girl stuff.” He kept the slow pace, not moving from her side, and looking totally aware she wanted him gone like last week’s garbage. “Like tampons and Spanx. You want nothing—”

  “Girl, if you were into getting spanked, all you had to do was—”

  “Spanx. Spay-nhxx. With an X. They’re undergarments. Tummy suckers. Fat smoothers.”

  “None of which you have. That’ll be a quick convo. Besides, I met Beth for a second at the Farm. She seemed like fun.”

  Fun? Try ready to incite a social disaster. “We have important personal stuff to talk about, and you’re not invited.”

  “You’re going to talk bedrooms and the Bullet? Or is that the Rabbit? I can never keep up with you girls and your toys.”

  “Cash,” she hissed, abandoning the slow crawl and daring him to keep pace with her Olympic-speed race walk.

  His long legs ate asphalt, easily keeping up with a casual amble. Ten yards out, and she hadn’t scared Cash away yet.

  Shit.

  With an abrupt stop, Nicola turned to him. Maybe boring him away would work. “And recipes for gluten-free quiche. We’re going to swap cooking tips. I recently learned how to poach an egg.”

  “I’m hanging out so you can’t poison her opinion of me.” Cash grabbed Nic’s hand and swiped it to his mouth for a quick kiss. Oh, he was making a point, and knew damn well she wanted to dish on the Sugar incident. The guy should go into politics if he ever stepped away from the bam-bam-you’re-dead business. He had a knack for putting on a show.

  “Oh, you think you are so cute.”

  “That I do, sweet girl. That I do.”

  Ground zero. They were here. Beth stood, smiling, definitely on her second Sichuan Mary, Bloody Mary’s pepper and spice cousin. Cash leaned over and kissed Nic’s cheek. Damn him, he did that on purpose. Beth all but squeed.

  Eh, maybe Nic did an inner squee too. When a man who caught everyone’s attention passed out kisses, those kisses generally earned tummy flips. When those tummy-flipping kisses were accompanied by a grasp around the waist like he was doing now, they were bound to create moments of flash-bang paralysis.

  A light breeze caught Cash’s blond hair, ruffling it with an airy kiss and teasing her with the lavender smell of her shampoo. Hmm. Showering with Cash. It almost made her forget where they were and what they were doing.

  The sound of a metal chair scraping on the patio brought her back to reality. Beth was all lip gloss and giggles. Great. That had to be her second drink.

  “Beth, this is—”

  “We’ve met.” Cash leaned in to give Beth a hug.

  Beth definitely squeed this time. Fabulous.

  “I’m going to need a cocktail.” Nicola looked for the nearest waitress and the specialty drink menu. “Something with a little kick—”

  “I already ordered you a Twisted Whiskey Sour.” Beth looked at her, then at Cash, and back to the drink menu she clutched. Concentrating, she studied it then glanced back at the towering man. “I’ll order you a Warrior Smash. Sounds like it’d work for you.”

  “Cash was just leav—”

  Beth protested, her mouth forming a big O, and Cash said, “Nope. I’d love to join you.”

  Nicola growled at him. Yes, she needed to hash out the Smooth ammo, but she really wanted Beth alone to hash out the Cash issue. Her and Cash. Sugar and Cash. Working and Cash. Everything. She needed Beth, by herself, and she didn’t want to share.

  Cash kicked back in a chair. He was all long legs and broad chest. The sun shone down on him, and he positively glowed. Such a gorgeous son of a bitch.

  “Fine.” Nicola huffed and sat down, still mentally willing Cash to get up and go inside the mall. He didn’t move. Her Jedi-mind powers were a big, fat fail. “Let’s talk Smooth ammo.”

  Her handler and best friend leaned forward, eyebrows bumping up a notch. “Let’s talk about you two, since I have you both here.”

  “Very professional, Beth.”

  “Whatever. I’m pulling the best friend card right now.” She feigned innocence. “Besides, technically, you two work together. I have paperwork and questions. Very important questions. Promise.” She crossed her heart. The waiter arrived. Beth ordered for Cash. This was looking less and less like a working lunch and more like they were going to slurp lunch from tiki-umbrella-garnished glasses.

  Batting those blond lashes, Cash played along with Beth. Damn them both.

  “Question one. Go.” His voice sounded husky and low. It made her want that Whiskey whatever-it-was-called. Right. Now.

  “Question one: How’s our girl look after ten years?”

  A hot blush shot up Nicola’s cheeks so fast that she thought steam would shoot out of her ears. “Beth!”

  Cash laughed, leaned forward, and pinched a very serious face. “Better than she did the last time I saw her. And the last time I saw her, she was very cute and very naked.”

  Nicola tried to gasp, but couldn’t. Stomach, meet throat. Throat, meet stomach. No need to breathe right now. Her insides were switching places.

  Their drinks arrived, and if Nic could’ve talked, she’d have asked the waiter to bring her refill already. Or a pitcher.

  Beth looked thrilled, positively couldn’t-smile-bigger thrilled. How was that little gem about Nicola being cute and naked going to spell out in her CIA paperwork? It wasn’t because this was a free-for-all fishing expedition. Nic should’ve promised to give every hot and bothered detail, and then maybe this wouldn’t be happening. Plus, Rocco was missing this, and he�
�d just about die to see this installment.

  Nicola took a big sip and a big breath. “Can we pul-leaze talk about the Smooth ammo?”

  “Nah,” Cash drawled. “This is way more fun. My turn. I know I’m a far distant second to the job, but when she called you, what came first? Me or the ammo?”

  “You.” Beth told the truth. She’d pay in some fashion.

  “I knew it.” He winked at Nicola, and she made a valiant effort to suck down her entire drink.

  “Look, you two.” Nicola needed to change the subject. “I’ll play Truth or Dare, I’ll get out the freakin’ Ouija Board, but I want to get Smooth out of the way.”

  “All work and no play—” Cash started.

  And Beth finished, “Makes Nicola Garrison a very boring girl.”

  Cash smiled. Big.

  Oh no.

  Cash smiled from her to Beth and back again. She knew what was coming. “Did I mention I was Cash Garrison?”

  Sichuan Mary shot out of Beth’s nose in a laugh and a cough and a choke. Her hands wrapped around her face, and the drink dribbled down her chin. She jumped—one would think to mop up the spillage—but nope. As soon as Beth looked able to ignore the peppery-vodka sting in her nose, she pointed at Nic, mouth hanging open. “Oh. My. God.” Then she pointed at Cash, then her again. “Garrison? Garrison. Garrison?”

  Patrons at the tables around them watched, amused, and having no idea what the deal was. Rocco would’ve got it. Man, he was missing another great episode of My Fucked-up Life.

  Cash handed Beth a pile of napkins. How gentlemanly of him. Nic would’ve rather he choked on his Warrior Whatever because now Beth would have way more questions than when they’d started. She’d put all the blame for that in Cash’s lap. It was easier to get mad and blame him than feel embarrassed about it.

  Right…?

  “Scandalous.” Beth slapped her Sichuan-Mary-covered napkins down, and a tipsy giggle bubbled up. “Tell me more. There’s got to be way more.”

  “I’ll go tit-for-tat again.” Cash loved this. She’d get him later too.

  Beth wiped her hands on a clean napkin and tried, failing, for a serious stare. “Now, this may be the Absolut talking, but I think you two are cute together. Cute. Very—”