If You Can't Stand the Heat...

by Joss Wood

  He stepped back at the same time as she pushed him away. She shoved her hands into her hair, squinting at him in the moonlight. This was crazy... She was adult enough to recognise passion that could be perilous—wild, erratic and swamping. But lust, as she’d learnt, clouded her thinking and stripped away her practicality. Lust, teamed with the brief emotional connection she’d felt earlier, when she’d opened up a little to him, had her running scared.

  Bum magnet.

  Jack cocked his head. ‘So, not a good idea, huh?’

  Ellie bit her lip. ‘Really not.’

  Jack lifted a shoulder and sent her a rueful smile. ‘Okay. But you’re a very tempting sight in the moonlight so maybe we should go in before I try to change your mind.’

  When she didn’t move, Jack reached out and ran a thumb over her bottom lip.

  ‘You can’t just stand there looking up at me with those incredible eyes, Ellie. Go now, before I forget that I am, actually, a good guy. Because we both know that I could persuade you to stay.’

  Ellie erred on the side of caution and fled inside.

  THREE

  Every time his foot slapped the pavement a hot flash of pain radiated from his cut and caused every atom in his body to ache. It was the morning after almost kissing Ellie, and he was dripping with perspiration and panting like a dog.

  He placed his hand against his side and winced. He shouldn’t be running, he knew that, but running was his escape, his sanity, his meditation. And, thinking about things he shouldn’t be doing, kissing Ellie was top of the list. Why was he so tempted by his blue-eyed hostess? Especially since he’d quickly realised that she wasn’t into simple fun and games, wasn’t someone he could play with and leave, wasn’t a superficial type of girl. And he didn’t do anything but superficial.

  But there was something about her that tweaked his interest and that scared the hell out of him.

  He started to climb the hill back home and—dammit! He hurt. Everywhere. Suck it up and stop being a pansy, he told himself. You’ve had a heart transplant—a cut and a beating is nothing compared to that!

  Jack pushed his wet hair off his forehead and looked around. Good Lord, it was beautiful here...the sea was aqua and hunter-green, cerulean-blue in places. White-yellow sand. Eclectic, interesting buildings. He was lucky to be here, to see this stunning part of the world...

  Brent never would.

  Brent never would. The phrase that was always at the back of his mind. Intellectually he knew it came from survivor’s guilt—the fact that he was alive because Brent was dead. In the first few months and years after the op he’d been excited to be able to do whatever he wanted, but he knew that over the past couple of years the burden of guilt he felt had increased.

  Why? Why wasn’t he coming to terms with what had happened? Why wasn’t it getting easier? The burden of the responsibility of living life for someone else had become heavier with each passing year.

  The mobile he’d borrowed from Ellie jangled in his pocket and he came to an abrupt stop. Thankfully he was back at Ellie’s place. He didn’t think he could go any further.

  ‘So, what do you think of Ellie?’ Mitchell said when Jack pushed the green button on the mobile and held it up to a sweaty ear.

  ‘Uh...she’s fine. Nice.’

  She was...in the best sense of the word. A little highly strung, occasionally shy. Sensitive, overwhelmed and struggling to hide it. Sexy as hell.

  ‘So, have you talked to her about me yet?’

  Jack lifted his eyebrows at Mitchell’s blatant narcissism and felt insulted on Ellie’s behalf.

  ‘Ellie’s well, but over-worked. Her bakery is fabulous; she’s running it on her own as her mum is overseas,’ he said, his tone coolly pointed as he answered the questions Mitch should have thought to ask.

  ‘Yeah, yeah... But how far have you got with the book? Did you get my e-mail? I sent it just now.’

  His verbal pricks hadn’t dented Mitchell’s self-absorbed hide. Jack wished he could reach into the phone and slap Mitchell around the head. Had he always been so self-involved? Why hadn’t he noticed before? Jack sighed and looked at his watch. It wasn’t quite seven yet. Far too early to deal with Mitchell.

  ‘Firstly, my laptop is still in Somalia, and, contrary to what you think, I don’t hover over my laptop waiting for your e-mails,’ Jack said as he made his way into the house, up the steps and into his room. Jack heard Mitchell splutter with annoyance but continued anyway. ‘And, by the way, why did you teach Ellie such crude Arabic insults when she was a little girl? They are, admittedly, funny as hell, because she gets them all mixed up, but really...’

  ‘She still remembers those, huh?’

  Jack pulled his T-shirt over his head, walked into the bathroom and dropped it into the laundry basket. Yanking a bottle of pills out of his toiletry bag, he shook the required daily dosage into his hand, tossed them into his mouth and used his hand as a cup to get water into his mouth.

  Those pills were his constant companions, his best friends. He loved them and loathed them in equal measure.

  ‘And why did you tell Ellie that I’m helping you write this book?’

  As per normal, Mitch ignored the questions he didn’t want to answer. ‘So, have you spoken to Ellie yet about me?’

  ‘No. The woman works like a demon. I haven’t managed to pin her down yet.’ Jack frowned. ‘And she’s not exactly jumping for joy at the prospect.’

  Mitchell didn’t answer for a minute. ‘Ellie and I have had our ups and downs...’

  Ups and downs? Jack suspected that they’d had a lot more than that.

  ‘She didn’t like me being away so much,’ Mitchell continued.

  Jack rolled his eyes at that understatement. As he walked over to the window his eye was caught by two frames lying against the wall, behind the desk in the corner. Pulling them out, he saw that they were two photographs of a younger Ellie and a short blond man in front of the exclusive art gallery Grigson’s in London. Jack asked Mitch who the man in the photograph was.

  ‘Someone she was briefly engaged to—five, six years ago.’ Jack heard Mitchell light a cigarette. ‘She wanted to get married. He didn’t.’

  Jack felt a spurt of sympathy for the guy. He’d had two potential-to-become-serious relationships in the past ten years and they’d both ended in tears on his partner’s face and frustration on his. They’d wanted him to settle down. He equated that to being locked in a cage. He’d liked them, enjoyed them, but not enough to curtail his time or freedom for them.

  ‘Jack? You still there?’ Mitchell asked in his ear.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I spoke to most of our commissioning editors today and told them that you’ve been injured. They will leave you alone for three weeks. Unless something diabolical happens—then all bets are off,’ Mitchell stated.

  That was enough to yank his attention back, and fast. Jack felt his molars grinding. ‘You do know I get very annoyed when you interfere in my life, Mitchell?’

  Mitchell, never intimidated, just laughed. ‘Oh, get over yourself! You haven’t taken any time off in two years and we all know that leads to burnout. You’ve been flirting with it for a while, boyo.’

  ‘Crap.’

  ‘If you don’t believe me, check your last couple of stories. You’ve always been super-fair and unemotional, but there’s a fine line between being unemotional and robotic, Jack. You are drifting over that line. Losing every bit of empathy is every bit as problematic as having too much.’

  ‘Again...crap,’ Jack muttered, but wondered if Mitchell had a point. He remembered being in Egypt six weeks ago and watching a paramedic work on a badly beaten protester. He’d been trying to recall if he’d paid his gas bill. Maybe he was taking the role of observer a bit too far.

  ‘I’m going to courier you my notebooks, my diaries,’ Mitchell told him. ‘Get some sun, drink some wine. But if you don’t get cracking on my book...’

  Mitch repeated the most gruesome o
f Ellie’s Arabic curses from the night before and Jack winced.

  Jack tossed the mobile onto the bed, slapped his hands on his hips and stared at the photographs he’d replaced against the wall. Ellie... Maybe he should think about leaving, and soon. Almost kissing her last night had been a mistake...

  Sure, he was attracted to her—she was stunning; what man wouldn’t be? If she was a different type of girl then he could have her, enjoy her and then leave. Unfortunately he wasn’t just physically attracted, and he knew that mental attraction was a sticky quagmire best avoided. And, practically, while Mitch wouldn’t win any Father of the Year awards he might not approve of them hooking up, and he didn’t want to cause friction between him and his subject, mentor and colleague.

  Ellie, with her cosy house and settled lifestyle—the absolute opposite of what he liked and needed—was also far more fascinating than he generally liked his casual partners to be. Because fascination always made leaving so much harder than it needed to be.

  * * *

  ‘Morning.’

  Ellie jumped as he entered the kitchen, looking tough and rugged and a whole lot of sexy. She could see that his hair had deep red highlights in the chocolate-brown strands. He’d scraped off his beard and the violet stripes under his eyes were almost gone. He did, however, still have that glint in his eyes—the one that said he wanted to tear up the bedcovers with her.

  Ellie cursed when she felt heat rising up her neck.

  ‘Can I get some coffee?’

  Jack’s question yanked her out of her reverie and she nodded, reaching for a mug above the coffee machine to give her hands something to do.

  ‘You’re up early,’ she said when she’d found her voice.

  Jack took the cup she handed him and leaned against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles. ‘Mmm. Good coffee. I went for a run this morning along the beachfront. It was...absolutely amazing. It’s such a beautiful part of the world.’

  ‘It is, but should you be exercising yet?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Yeah, she didn’t think so—but it was his body, his choice, his pain. Ellie shook her head, picked up her own cup and sipped. She echoed his stance and leaned against the counter. Tension swirled between them and Ellie thought she could almost see the purple elephant sitting in the room, eyebrow cocked and smirking.

  Maybe it would be better just to get it out there and in the open. But she couldn’t get the words out... How she wished she could be one of those upfront, ballsy girls who just said what they felt and lived with the consequences.

  She was still—especially when it came to men—the shy, awkward girl she’d been as a teenager.

  Jack’s eyebrows pulled together. ‘The wariness is back in your eyes. Why?’

  ‘Uh...last night. Um—’ Oh, great. Now her tongue was on strike.

  Jack, no slouch mentally, immediately picked up on what she was trying to say. ‘The kiss that never happened?’

  Ellie blushed. ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Yeah—sorry. I said I wouldn’t hit on you and I did.’ His tone didn’t hold a hint of discomfort or embarrassment.

  Ellie bit the inside of her lip. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. Actually, she had no idea what she’d thought he’d say. The purple elephant grinned. ‘I just... It’s just that...’

  Jack scratched the underside of his jaw and looked at her with his gold-flecked eyes. ‘Relax, Ellie,’ he said. ‘It won’t happen again...’

  Ellie lifted her eyes to meet his and swallowed. In his she could read desire and lust and a healthy dose of amusement...as if he could read her thoughts, understand her confusion.

  ‘Well...’ he drawled as his finger gently pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen over her left eye. ‘Maybe I should clarify that. I’ll try not to let it happen again. You’re very, very kissable, Ellie Evans.’

  Ellie’s eyes narrowed. She might not be the most assertive person in the world but that didn’t mean he could look at her with those hot eyes and that smirky expression. Or presume that whatever happened between them would be solely his decision. Ellie narrowed her eyes, gripped the finger that had come to rest on her cheek and bent it backwards.

  Hating personal confrontation, but knowing she needed to do this for the sake of her self-respect, she took a deep breath and forced the words out. ‘There’s only one person who will decide what happens between us and that will be me—not you.’

  Jack grimaced and yanked his index finger out of her grip. He shook his finger out and sent her a surprised look. But, gratifyingly, there was an admiration in those hazel eyes that hadn’t been there before and she liked seeing it there.

  Jack sent her an approving smile. ‘Good for you. I was wondering if you could stand up for yourself.’

  Ellie narrowed her eyes. ‘When I need to. No casual kissing.’

  ‘Can we do non-casual kiss...?’ Jack held up his hands at her fulsome glare. ‘Joke! Peace!’

  ‘Ha-ha.’ Ellie rolled her shoulders. ‘Would you like to go to work for me today?’ she asked, blatantly changing the subject. ‘I could do with a day off.’

  ‘Okay—except my sugar icing and sculpting skills are sadly lacking. I can, however, make a mean red velvet cake.’

  Ellie lowered her cup in surprise. ‘You can bake?’

  Ellie thought she saw pain flicker in his eyes. When he spoke his voice was gruff.

  ‘Yes, I can bake. Normal stuff. Not pastries and croissants and fancy crap.’

  Fancy crap? Well, that was one way to describe her business.

  ‘Who taught you?’ Ellie asked, openly curious.

  ‘My mother.’

  Ellie lifted her eyebrows. ‘Sorry, I can’t quite picture you baking as a kid. On bikes, on a sports field, camping—yes. Baking...no.’

  Jack placed his cup on the counter and turned his face away from her. ‘Well, it wasn’t from choice.’

  He sipped his coffee and when he looked at her again his face and eyes were devoid of whatever emotion she’d seen. Fear? Anger? Pain? A combination of all three?

  This time it was Jack’s turn to change the subject. ‘So—breakfast. What are we having?’

  Ellie looked at her watch and shook her head. ‘No time. I need to go. I was supposed to be at work an hour ago.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘You should eat.’

  ‘I’ll grab something at the bakery.’

  Well, she’d try to, but she frequently forgot. There just wasn’t time most days. Ellie sighed. One of these days she’d have to start eating properly and sleeping more, but it wouldn’t be any time soon. Maybe when Merri came back she could ease off a bit...but she probably wouldn’t.

  After all, she had a business to save.

  Ellie looked at Jack, who was pulling eggs and bacon out of her fridge. Her mouth started to water. She’d kill for a proper fry-up...

  Ellie pulled her thoughts away from food. ‘So, I’ve given you keys to the house and I’ve just paid the deposit for you to hire a car. It should be delivered by eight so you won’t be confined to the house any more.’

  ‘The receipt for the deposit?’ Jack sent her a level look.

  Ellie rolled her eyes. He was insistent that she kept receipts for everything she spent so that he could repay her. ‘In the hollow back of the wooden elephant on the hall table. With all the others.’

  The annoying man wouldn’t even allow her to buy milk or bread without asking for a receipt.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Jack slit open the pack of bacon and Ellie whimpered. She really, really didn’t have time. She picked up her keys and bag, holding her chef’s jacket in one hand.

  ‘Pop down to the bakery later. I’ll show you around. If you want to,’ she added hastily.

  Jack’s smile had her melting like the gooey middle of her luscious chocolate brownies.

  ‘I’ll do that. See you later, then.’

  Ellie bravely resisted the arc of sexual awareness that shimmered between them
and sighed as she walked out of the kitchen.

  In your dreams, Ellie. Because that was the only place making love to Jack was going to happen.

  And even there her heart wasn’t welcome to come to the party. Her heart, she’d decided a long time ago, wasn’t allowed to party with anyone any more.

  * * *

  Later, dressed in denim shorts, flip-flops and an easy navy tee, Jack slipped through the front door of Pari’s and looked over Ellie’s business.

  There were café-style tables outside, giving patrons the most marvellous view of the beach while they sipped their coffee and ate their muffins, and more wrought-iron tables inside, strategically placed between tables piled with preserves and organic wines, ten different types of olive oil and lots of other jars and tins of exotic foods with names he barely recognised. The décor was bohemian chic—he’d noticed that before—and all effortlessly elegant. Huge glass display fridges held a wide variety of pastries and cakes, and in another layer thick pink hams, haunches of rare roast beef and dark sausages.

  It looked inviting and happy, and there was a line of people three deep at the wide counter, waiting to be served. The place was rocking, obviously extremely popular, and Jack suddenly realised what effort would be needed to move the bakery. If Ellie could find a place to move it to...

  ‘Jack!’

  Jack whipped his head up and saw Ellie approaching a table in the back corner of the room, a bottle of water in her hand. A good-looking couple sat at the table and Ellie motioned him over. Jack threaded his way through tables and people and ended up at the table, where a fourth chair was unoccupied.

  ‘Paula and Will—meet my friend Jack. Take a seat, Jack,’ Ellie said.

  After shaking hands with Will, Jack pulled out the chair and sat down.

  ‘I’m just about to chat to them about their wedding cake, but before we start does anyone want coffee?’ Ellie continued.

  Jack wasn’t sure why he was sitting in on a client consultation, but since he didn’t have anything better to do decided to go with the flow. He ordered a double espresso and noticed that Will was frowning at him.