Body Heat

by Carly Phillips

  “I’ll just bet.” Watching him warily, she folded her arms over her chest and studied him. “I save the water therapy for my most cooperative patients,” she said in a provocative, seductive voice.

  Just as she probably had intended, his body began a steady rhythm, one that only those vibrating water jets could match. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to think like the cop he still was. First and foremost, he needed information about her schedule, if only so he could better plan his. When would she be in the penthouse? When would he be on his own? When could he slip out to work on the Ramirez case without her reporting back to his sister?

  “So, when do you start—convincing me, I mean? Because with the right incentive, I can be very cooperative.” And damn if he didn’t want to comply with any and all of her water-related directives. “I’m a quick learner—and an even better instructor.”

  He watched her struggle to maintain her composure. He was glad. If he kept her off balance, he’d be more in control. He needed that control, since he could too easily dismiss Frank and his family, and Ramirez in favor of Brianne. It disturbed him to realize that despite her ability to screw up all he’d worked for, he wanted her.

  She cleared her throat. “Relax, water boy. We start as soon as I get a referral, diagnosis and prescription from your doctor. Probably sometime next week.”

  He glanced at Brianne. She’d leaned against the couch, still professional but more relaxed, so certain she’d bought herself time before having to deal with him and his reluctance to begin therapy. Before having to convince him the only way he’d allow—a seductive, playful coaxing. Because as long as Brianne would live and work here, Jake intended to control the situation.

  He ignored the voice in his head reminding him that he’d been seconds away from relinquishing control and turning the kiss from sensual to sinful, from easing her onto the couch and satisfying the basic yearning he’d had since laying eyes on the sexy waitress. Neither would or could happen, of course, or she’d know exactly how in shape his shoulder was. The games he’d coax her into playing as she attempted to seduce him into therapy would have to suffice.

  She obviously recognized his intent and hoped for some breathing room that would come with waiting for the doctor’s response. Too bad for her peace of mind; the paperwork was in the other room. He’d had it for weeks. He just hadn’t used it because a close friend had been helping him privately. “Sorry, but you don’t get that kind of space, hon.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Does it offend you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, it turns me on.”

  Jake turned wide eyes her way.

  She let out a laugh. “Sorry. I just can’t let you think you’ll always have the upper hand.”

  He inhaled slow and deep, forcing himself not to concentrate on what she had just said. Not to contemplate the possibilities of her actually being aroused. Right now. By him. “I have the referral and paperwork in the other room,” he told her.

  As he’d expected, that dimmed the wattage on her smile. “I need to get myself settled.”

  “How long?”

  “Not very,” she admitted. “Rina’s offer was so amazing, I spent last week organizing.”

  “Can I help you move your things?”

  Her gaze fell to his shoulder. “If you can manage that, you don’t need me.”

  She was dead wrong. He definitely needed her. He just couldn’t afford to. “I’m certain you have some kind of use for me.”

  She laughed. “I’m not going to touch that one.”

  The sound settled inside him, making him feel more alive than he had since he’d both lost his best friend and injured his shoulder.

  “Jimmy—you know, the owner of the café—can help me move in.”

  Jake nodded, ignoring the unwelcome and unfamiliar stab of jealousy he felt at hearing another man’s name on her lips. He changed the subject to one more interesting. “I suppose Rina mentioned there’s a private gym, a pool on the roof, as well as that whirlpool?” he asked.

  “The subject came up, yes. Although if you’d like to look into doing therapy at the hospital, we could use the facilities there.”

  “I was referring to you using the pool and whirlpool in your free time. Not for therapy.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

  He grinned. “Exactly right.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Care to tell me why not?”

  He averted his gaze.

  “Guess not.”

  He wondered if he imagined the disappointment that flashed across her features when he didn’t confide in her, and refused to dwell on why her feelings bothered him. “I’m curious. What exactly was the deal you made with Rina?”

  She shrugged as if the answer were basic. “Private physical therapy.”

  “When, Brianne?” He drew out her name, liking the feel of it on his lips. “How often?” He figured Rina would have pinned her down for two to three days a week, and told himself he needed to know the schedule she expected him to follow should he agree to therapy. But a part of Jake wanted to hear that she’d committed to more.

  “I work rehab at the hospital during the day, so your therapy would be in the evenings.”

  His evenings lately had been routine—dinner, television and bed—and he suddenly envisioned a wealth of sensual opportunities with a woman who interested his mind as well as his body, then mentally decked himself because he needed his nights free in case he got a tip on Ramirez. “How many nights a week?”

  “At least five.”

  He forced a laugh. “Rina’s a slave driver. I’m sure we can work out something easier on you. After all, you work days, too.”

  She shook her head. “I made a deal and I’ll work what I’m being paid for.” Her green eyes zeroed in on his. “You’re not getting off that easily.”

  Knowing what was good for him, Jake took her warning seriously.

  BRIANNE HAD BEEN GIVEN a reprieve. She couldn’t move into the penthouse until she’d packed up her things and she couldn’t start working on Jake until she satisfied her obligation to Jimmy. She wouldn’t desert her current employer without fair notice.

  She’d bolted from the penthouse last night because she’d needed space—fresh air that didn’t include Jake’s seductive, masculine scent. If she hadn’t gotten out of that apartment, she might have succumbed to his easy grin and seductive charm. She might have been tempted to steal another kiss.

  She had a hunch he wouldn’t have stopped her. And she wouldn’t have been satisfied with just one.

  She curled up on her bed, the morning light spilling through the window, and pulled out the paperwork Jake had given her earlier. Many of the answers she didn’t want to know lay before her. If she read these papers, she’d be given insight into him as a man. He would become more real, more flesh and blood than he was to her already.

  But she didn’t have a choice. She hadn’t wanted to think about the fact that she’d have to look into his medical records and background before being able to begin physical therapy. That decision had been made, however, so Brianne took a deep breath and unfolded the documents.

  One glimpse and her head spun in shock, disappointment and concern. He was a cop, a detective, injured on the job, who needed rehabilitation in order to return to active duty. By providing the physical therapy, she’d be giving him back his career, and enabling him to put himself in danger again.

  Apparently she was destined to have her life filled with risk-takers, people whose adrenaline only flowed when in the midst of excitement. She sighed. Well, at least now she had a concrete reason to not let herself get involved with Jake on any level other than the professional.

  As if the probability of her leaving for California at the end of the summer wasn’t enough of a deterrent to beginning any kind of relationship with this sexy, compelling man, she now had his hazardous occupation. She’d lost her parents and lived through th
e aftermath of their risk-taking. She’d built her present, established a future and gotten a handle on the way she wanted to live. No way she’d let herself lose her heart or her peace of mind that way ever again. Even if the man excited her in ways she desperately wanted to explore.

  Leaving the papers on the bed, she headed for the shower. Anything to soothe her. She stripped off her clothes, turned on the water and stepped inside. Hot water on the hardest massage setting pelted her already sensitized skin. Kissing Jake had aroused her, and now she needed the stinging sensation against her flesh to dull the need he’d inspired.

  But as the steady stream of water drilled her skin, instead of dulling the ache, it fanned the flame of desire. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples tight and the sensitive flesh between her legs full to bursting. She tried to tell herself that the way her blood raced through her veins was a response to the knowledge of freedom. That she was reacting to the lure of having a life.

  When the summer was over and her time with Jake complete, she’d move west and start over. She could just work one job and have the liberty to come home after work and curl up with a book, or to date a man instead of working a second shift. But Brianne knew she was deceiving herself about the reason for her excited state.

  She was responding to Jake, to his flirtatious manner and the sizzling sexual awareness that shimmered between them. But it was an awareness that could go nowhere. She flipped off the water, knowing the shower was doing nothing to dampen her aroused state. No man had ever affected her so strongly, and nothing could ease the building desire.

  She stepped out and grabbed for the fluffy towel she’d left hanging behind the door. Steam filled the bathroom, making her hotter than she’d been minutes earlier, if that were possible. Lifting her foot to the edge of the tub, she patted her leg dry, moving upward to her thigh. And she thought about Jake’s injury and the bruising that discolored the otherwise perfect, tanned flesh. She thought about his pain and wanted to ease it.

  And she would. With caressing brushes of her fingertips and with stroking movements across his skin. But what would stop her from moving lower? From easing her hands from his shoulder to his hair-roughened chest, to the puckered, darkened nipples just begging for her touch?

  What would prevent her from then dipping lower, tracing his firm abdomen, and passing the waistband of his shorts until she encountered the other powerful muscle that would be rigid and firm, waiting for her?

  And what would stop him from reciprocating? From moving his strong hands between her legs, from slipping his fingers between the folds of her flesh and easing the ache with slow but sure thrusts? What would stop him from picking up her personal rhythm and from making slow and sure become quick and fulfilling?

  Absolutely nothing. The answer came to her immediately, and Brianne’s breath flowed in shallow gasps as she realized her own hands mimicked her desire, arousing her wanting flesh. And she realized nothing could stop what was about to happen. Meeting him had fanned the flame that had been lit at the moment of their first illicit glance. His sexy voice and seductive touch had sent her over the edge.

  Nothing could stop the fantasy.

  Nothing could stop them.

  Bright light and a wash of pleasure, strong and enveloping, rushed through her. And Jake’s name was on her lips.

  AFTER A LONG DAY at the hospital, Brianne headed over to the restaurant to say goodbye to Jimmy one last time. She’d promised him two weeks’ notice, but when she’d arrived and given him details, he’d practically fired her on the spot. Jimmy knew how much money was at stake and refused to let her risk losing the opportunity. More than most, Jimmy understood the freedom Rina’s payment would provide.

  Brianne packed the small stash of things she kept at The Sidewalk Café, a duffel bag with feminine and emergency items, then zipped it closed. “I’m set. I hate to leave you shorthanded, though,” she said, turning to Jimmy.

  He leaned both elbows on the bar. “Sweetheart, much as I love you, there’s no shortage of waitresses in New York City.”

  “Are you saying you won’t even miss me when I’m gone?” She placed her hand over her heart and feigned a heavy sigh.

  “You’re dedicated and loyal—but rarely on time, and you took ages and three sets of dishes to train. Remind me again why I kept you on?” He winked, and a lock of sandy-blond hair fell over his forehead.

  “Oh, you.” She tossed a wet rag his way. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Speak for yourself.” His mouth tipped upward in a grin, showing dimples that charmed many women and brought in a harem most weekend nights.

  Brianne was grateful for his friendship and support, but he hadn’t appealed to her that way—not the way Jake had. And though Jimmy had asked her out, he’d always respected the boundaries of friendship and accepted her no’s after the first couple of easy letdowns. With all they had in common, he’d become her closest friend and her brother’s male role model when he was home from boarding school.

  “Seriously, though, if this guy puts any moves on you, you give me a call.”

  Brianne stifled a cough, knowing any moves Jake made wouldn’t be unwanted, just unwise. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, refusing to let even Jimmy see her bad case of nerves over taking this new job. “And you lay off the cigarettes, okay? They’ll kill you if some woman doesn’t do it first,” she said with a grin.

  He shook his head and laughed. “I’ll be at your place bright and early to help you move in.” He ignored the cigarette reference, just as she’d expected.

  “You’re a prince, Jimmy.”

  “That’s what they all say. You aren’t angry at me for setting this up, are you?”

  “How can I be angry when you dug me out of a deep hole? I finally see daylight. I’m grateful, even if you do have a big mouth.” She grinned, letting him know she was joking. Gossip was a hazard of his bartending occupation. She couldn’t fault him.

  “You’ll keep in touch?”

  She nodded. “You bet. Tell Kellie I’ll call.” She had a hunch after one night in the penthouse with Jake, she’d be needing both Jimmy and Kellie’s differing gender advice. She also had her friends at the hospital, especially Sharon, another physical therapist in whom she could confide. But there was something about Jake she wanted to keep close and private, share with as few people as possible, Brianne thought.

  “Take care, Bri.”

  She walked around the bar and gave her best friend a hug, then she strode out into the humid evening air. Heat wafted upward from the sidewalk, but Brianne had a feeling her nights were about to get even hotter.

  THE PRECINCT smelled familiar, Jake realized as he walked into the place. Musty and old with linoleum floors and chipped-paint walls, it had been the place he’d called home for many years. He’d joined the force straight out of state college and never looked back. Until now.

  Nodding as he passed people in the hall, Jake entered the squad room and pulled up a chair by a metal desk. “Hey, Duke.”

  “Jake, buddy, how are you doing?” Duke Russell, his good friend and fellow detective, slid his chair back and stood, clapping him on the back.

  Jake swallowed hard and refrained from wincing. “Hanging in.” He settled himself into a nearby chair. “Any news on Ramirez?” Duke and Steve Vickers were feeding Jake information.

  “We can keep this between us?”

  “Haven’t we always?”

  Duke nodded his head. “Nothing’s changed. Like I’ve been telling you, Ramirez walked out of the courtroom and, from all reports, he’s living a clean—albeit sleazy—life. Not that we’ve stopped keeping tabs on him.”

  “Well, damn.” Jake reached over and grabbed a box of Tic Tacs from the corner of Duke’s desk, shaking one into his hand and popping it into his mouth. The fresh peppermint cleared his palate but not the residual sour taste from a case gone bad. He leaned forward and spoke low. “Ramirez can’t stay clean forever. His girlfriend claims sh
e hasn’t seen him.”

  “You’re on injury leave, and I told you Vickers would take care of that shit on patrol. You’re supposed to be coordinating from home. What the hell are you doing talking to Ramirez’s girlfriend? The lieutenant will have your ass if he finds out.”

  Jake shrugged. “What the hell’s he going to do? Throw me off the force?” Jake didn’t know if he wanted to be there, anyway. He only knew he wasn’t leaving this case open, and as long as Ramirez was walking the street, free to peddle drugs to kids and take down good men, the case remained unsettled.

  “Lowell!” The barking voice reverberated through the room. That bark had intimidated more junior officers than Jake had fingers on both hands, but he’d never let the lieutenant mess with his head. As a result, a grudging respect had developed over the years. Lieutenant Thompson didn’t appreciate Jake’s often renegade style, but as long as Jake didn’t cross the line, the lieutenant gave him leeway. Each respected the other’s boundaries.

  But this injury had tested both men. Thompson wanted his detective back; Jake wanted to take his time, first on Ramirez and then on deciding what the hell life had in store. Opposing goals with no middle ground.

  Until Brianne, Jake thought, realization dawning. He’d thought having her around would cause nothing but problems, but she’d just given Jake a means of keeping Thompson happy and buying himself time. He hadn’t told the lieutenant he’d been in therapy before because Thompson knew his therapist Alfonse, and Alfonse couldn’t lie worth a damn if questioned. But if anyone talked with Brianne, she’d tell the truth—Jake was being a pain in the ass and she was working on him slowly.

  Jake rose from his seat and turned. “Afternoon, Lieutenant.”

  “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see your sorry ass in here unless you were in rehab.”

  Jake inclined his head. “Never say I don’t follow orders, Lieutenant.”

  The older man snorted. “That’ll be the day.”