Body Heat

by Carly Phillips

  She shook her head.

  “It’s got a bench that reclines.” He followed his words with his body, moving over to her and easing her down until she rested in the molded seat, her neck and shoulders above the moving bubbles.

  She let out a high-pitched laugh. “Water’s hitting me from every angle.”

  He grinned. “Like it?”

  She laughed once more, causing him to shake his head in dismay.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I want you moaning, not giggling. You do realize I’m going to have to do something about that?”

  She leaned back against the rounded headrest, her auburn hair floating on the water’s surface. Green eyes, as deep as the water’s hue, stared back at him, hungry with desire. “I was counting on it.”

  He leaned over her and his lips came down on hers, the kiss prolonged and sweet. Heaven couldn’t feel as good, Jake thought, and slid his tongue inside for a more thorough taste. She let out a soft groan and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him on top of her and aligning their bodies in an intimate embrace.

  His groin pulsed hard and ready against her bare skin, and her legs slipped open wide, letting him know she was just as ready as he. “One of these days we’re going to do this the right way.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Me on top,” he muttered. The lack of strength in his shoulder hadn’t slowed him in many things, but making love to Brianne in that particular position had been a luxury denied him so far.

  “Work out with me and I’m sure you’ll be ready in no time.” He couldn’t miss the challenging gleam in her eyes. “You know, the whirlpool will heat your shoulder well. We can fit in a session when we finish here.”

  If she could think about working out, Jake figured he wasn’t doing his best to keep her distracted. He extended his hand, and she grasped it and rose to a sitting position. When they finished here, if she was in the mood for anything other than a warm bed and a good night’s sleep—tangled in his arms, of course—he’d eat his badge. Besides, she’d need a decent night’s rest to deal with tomorrow, he thought, then immediately pushed the troubling future aside.

  With a gentle tug, he pulled her between his legs and seated her astride him on the submerged bench.

  “Jake?” His name came out a gasp of surprise.

  “Relax, honey.” He eased one arm around her waist to help her do just that. As she found a comfortable position, her behind pressed gently but insistently against his swelled erection. All his self-restraint went into staying in his seat and not entering her pliant, willing body.

  She tensed against him. “You expect me to relax with you inches away from…”

  “Yes. Relax and enjoy.” He spread his legs, and she went from sitting on top of him to sitting in the V of his thighs, his groin hot and hard against the small of her back.

  “As if,” she muttered.

  He chuckled and reached out to play with a few switches on the outside of the tub. Within seconds, the heated seat jets began to bubble away, forcing air upright from the seats into whatever lay directly above them.

  From Brianne’s shocked gasp, Jake knew exactly where the spurts of air and water had found a home. She wriggled and tried to rise, but he held on tight to her small waist. “Just give it a chance, okay?”

  “Okay,” Brianne said, but she had no idea how she’d survive it. The pulsating water was hitting her most sensitive, private flesh. And if that weren’t enough to drive her mad, she had Jake’s erection nudging her back, teasing her with what she couldn’t have, no matter how much her body thrummed with delicious, yearning need.

  He moved slowly. His arms, no longer locked around her waist to keep her in place, now cradled her, while one palm splayed across her stomach, his fingertips inching downward until he covered her feminine mound with his hand.

  She sucked in a startled breath when he dipped one fingertip into her aroused flesh and found the most incredible pressure point in her body. He began a steady stroking motion, each long, slick slide of his finger bringing her higher and higher, until her hips were jerking upward of their own accord, seeking release. Combined with the water jets pulsating against and inside her, her body took over her mind, the need and want so incredible and intense she thought she’d die if the waves stopped—and if they didn’t.

  Without warning, he raised her higher, and she guessed his intent. Between the two of them, he managed to nudge his penis against her open, needy body. And as he slid her down on top of him, as she took him inside, she felt every hot inch filling her, every ridge of his velvet heat stretching her to accommodate the new but oh-so-incredible angle. Though she’d rather be facing him, looking into his eyes when they made love, ironically this position was intimate, too, more so because of the degree of trust it entailed.

  She couldn’t see his face or watch his features, and had to believe, to trust, he felt as much as she did.

  When his arms wrapped more solidly around her and his hands came up to cup her breasts fully and completely, in what felt more like an expression of possession than lust or sex, Brianne knew that he was engulfed by emotion as well.

  And then he began to thrust upward, and it didn’t take long for him to lunge to his climax. One last thrust, and she let out a shuddering moan, feeling as if she were flying upward into the night sky.

  Heaven only knows how many minutes passed until Brianne’s breathing returned to normal, and eventually she found the strength to climb off him and onto the whirlpool seat so she could cuddle in his waiting arms. She felt so safe there, it was hard to believe she’d spent the afternoon reminding herself of all the reasons he could jeopardize her future. Surely this man couldn’t—wouldn’t—harm her or her secure life in any way. In truth, she feared she was falling in love with him. Something that wasn’t planned and couldn’t last.

  Her arms snaked tighter around his waist, harsh reality rising to surround her like the bubbles in the whirlpool. They’d been careless—not just with their time together, but by not using protection. Brianne understood why she’d allowed such an intimate act, because of how deeply she both trusted and cared for Jake. And it had been intimate and wondrous, feeling him inside her, no barriers between her body and his.

  But it was foolish, anyway. They’d been acting as if they had their entire lives ahead of them instead of one short, blissful summer.

  LOUIS SHOVED HIS HANDS into his jeans pockets. Staring up at the tall building, he wondered if the detective and his girlfriend were rocking the walls tonight. For Lowell’s sake, Louis hoped so, because it would be the last time. Once any woman had a taste of Louis, she’d never settle for a pig again.

  He let out a harsh laugh and lit a cigarette, then shoved the lighter back into his pocket. Yeah, he’d have the redhead and the money that was coming in from his new dealer. The owners of The Eatery had been happy to go into business with him, operating out of both their uptown and downtown restaurants. Things had been going smoothly, too, until that damn girl and her boyfriend overdosed. Those drugs weren’t meant to kill, just to take them a little higher. Now he had Lowell on his back and a witness in the hospital. But if the cops hadn’t arrested him by now, they didn’t have a damn thing on him.

  He shrugged. In the meantime, he was having a blast playing with the detective. Even if Lowell wasn’t already uptight and worried about his girlfriend, he would be soon. By tomorrow Lowell would think the only place the beautiful Brianne was safe was his high-rise security building. An illusion Louis couldn’t wait to shatter.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FROM YEARS of training, Brianne had developed an internal alarm that worked like a charm and an uncanny ability to hear her beeper, even in her sleep. Only, she wasn’t asleep when the pager went off, she was in the kitchen at seven a.m. pouring a glass of orange juice because she couldn’t sleep. Her bag with her beeper was in the living room where she’d dropped it earlier. Before she’d made love with Jake.

  Though she’d
rather dwell on every erotic memory of their joining, of soaring with New York City in the background, the persistent sound continued. With a sigh, she retrieved her oversize bag and dug through her things for the small black beeper. She was a bit surprised because she wasn’t scheduled with a patient until nine a.m.

  She checked the number and called the hospital back. Though Brianne normally had patients brought to her at Rehab, occasionally she had an immobile patient that couldn’t be moved off the bed but needed strengthening therapy. Mrs. Cohen was one such patient, an elderly woman whom Brianne adored, perhaps because Brianne had no older relatives of her own. The woman had had a skin graft on one leg but still required upper arm workouts so she’d be ready to use her walker when she was allowed out of bed. But why would she need Brianne so early in the morning?

  She picked up the phone to find out, but the desk phone on the other end rang endlessly until the hospital’s main switchboard picked up once more. The floor nurse could be with a patient or dealing with an emergency. Brianne shrugged and hung up. The page couldn’t be a mistake, not at this hour. She’d just toss on her clothes and head out early.

  Tiptoeing back into her bedroom so as not to wake Jake, she pulled out a pair of black slacks and a white V-necked T-shirt, an acceptable alternative to hospital scrubs, but one she didn’t use often because her uniform was quick and easy. She’d lived on the move for as long as she could remember, and she hadn’t had time to think about how she looked. She didn’t have the time now, either, but the difference was, she cared. Because of the man asleep in her bed.

  She made her way to the queen-size mattress and lay down, allowing herself to snuggle beside him for a few precious minutes before leaving for the day. He groaned and pulled her into his arms. He felt so right, so good. She sighed, burrowing her face into his broad chest. He smelled of musk and man, and she’d never felt as safe and protected as she did right now. Ironic, considering he dealt with risk and danger every day.

  But she didn’t deal with that risk or danger. And that enabled her to breathe deeply and enjoy this moment. She shut her eyes and smoothed her hands over the strong planes of his back, memorizing the corded muscle and warm skin, giving herself memories to keep close to her heart while she was gone. Then, with regret, she rolled away. He reached out for her in his sleep, and Brianne felt the beginnings of a smile on her lips. It was easier to leave knowing he’d miss her, too.

  She could get used to this too easily, and it could be taken away from her just as fast—by Jake’s belief that he didn’t want a long-term relationship. Or by a gunman’s bullet, Brianne thought with a shudder.

  Maybe Mrs. Cohen’s page had come at the optimal time, after all. She’d planned on waking up next to him and making love to him again—with protection this time. Their foolishness in the whirlpool couldn’t be repeated, nor would she worry unless and until she had to. But making love with Jake in the morning was a luxury she couldn’t, shouldn’t, make a habit.

  No matter how much she was coming to desire otherwise.

  JAKE NORMALLY WOKE with the sun, but apparently the late-night activity had worn him out because when he looked up, the clock on the nightstand read 7:48. He felt the warm body heat nestled against him and rolled over, expecting to find Brianne and wanting to bury himself deep inside her again.

  Unfortunately, he discovered Norton flush against him instead. “Oh, jeez.” He grimaced in disgust. “You are not the warm body I wanted.”

  The dog didn’t move. Jake groaned and pushed himself to an upright position. He still had about fifteen minutes to catch Brianne before she left for work, and regardless of the fact that he wanted to make love to her, he knew he had to talk to her instead. Thanks to his stupidity last night, he’d added something else to his list of sins: sex without protection.

  Without warning, his revelations to Brianne came back to him. He’d admitted wanting kids. What he’d omitted was that he’d never really been able to envision the family scene with Linda. Things between them had soured too fast. But Jake could too easily imagine it with Brianne. Waking to her warm body in the morning and falling asleep beside her at night. Watching her body change and grow with his child.

  Jesus, where had that thought come from? He jumped out of bed, looked for her in the bathroom, then headed for the kitchen. Unfortunately she wasn’t there, either. His heart skipped a beat, and the note propped against the coffee machine didn’t calm his nerves: “Wish I could have shared the morning coffee with you but I got called to the hospital a little early. Have a cup for me. Brianne.”

  She’d left him with a full pot of coffee and a burning sensation in his gut. How the hell had he slept through a phone call?

  As if on cue, the telephone rang.

  He snatched up the receiver. “Brianne?”

  “No, David. If she had to be at the hospital early, why the hell didn’t you call me? I’d have tailed her or relieved you there.”

  “She’s at work?”

  “Yeah, she’s there. But I can’t do my job if you don’t—”

  Jake slammed down the phone, cutting David off cold. “Sorry, buddy,” he muttered belatedly. And he continued muttering as he pulled on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers, grabbed his keys and ran for the door.

  This woman would be the death of him. And he wanted to die every morning and every night with her in his arms. But he couldn’t do that if she was wandering around, ignorant of the threat Ramirez posed.

  He tipped the doorman and asked him to walk Norton, before hailing a cab and heading for Brianne. He’d put off the truth in favor of selfish need last night, but the morning had come and he had to level with her. Immediately.

  BRIANNE RUBBED HER EYES and poured a cup of coffee from the machine in the lounge. She’d gotten here early, and apparently she’d been needed more for emotional support than physical therapy. Mrs. Cohen had become disoriented and had tried to leave her bed. Her family was away, and the name the older woman kept muttering was Brianne’s. It was probably because Brianne didn’t treat only a patient’s body, she treated her mind. She talked to patients while she was working. And she often got the sense that too few people, doctors and family alike, did the same.

  She pulled a couple of pink papers out of her pocket, glancing at her messages. One was from her old landlord asking her to come by and pick up her mail—he’d agreed to hold it for her instead of her switching things around for the summer and risking losing important bills and letters. She wondered if there was a reply from the Ranch and shivered. She now viewed the prospect, which had once held great appeal, with increasing uncertainty. Because of Jake.

  Brianne took a long, less-than-satisfying sip of the strong, caffeinated brew. She’d need the jolt if she was going to stay awake and on her feet after the night she’d had. And what a night it was—hot, sultry—and she wasn’t talking about the weather. That was why contemplating the end of the summer or, worse, the end of her relationship with Jake was so painful. But the alternative was unbelievably confusing. She massaged her aching head once more.

  If a summer affair was supposed to be straightforward and easy, why was Brianne so confused about so many things?

  She’d always hoped that if she did get the California job, she would enjoy the same kind of warm rapport with the kids that she did with the elderly adults here. But she couldn’t know for sure, and Brianne liked the geriatric patients she treated. More than she’d admitted to herself. They held a wealth of life history and love, even the cantankerous ones. They counted on her, and she prided herself on knowing she’d never let them down.

  And then there was the biggest reason her upcoming move no longer held great appeal. She rubbed at her temples with her right hand. Even if another therapist could take her patients, Jake would still be in New York. Her insides churned, and Brianne understood the reason. She would be across the country, in California with the brother she adored. But he was becoming a man; Marc no longer needed her quite the same way he had when he
was younger. She’d called him after leaving Mrs. Cohen and he’d rushed her off the phone; meeting his friends was now more important than talking to his sister. He’d grown up.

  Maybe it was time Brianne did the same. Did that mean considering a future in New York, with Jake? She shook her head. What was she thinking? He’d given her no indication he wanted more than a summer fling, and, besides, nothing about their differences had changed. Or had they? Perhaps a better question was, had she changed?

  “Brianne?” Sharon burst into the room, a yellow, gold and orange bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. “Someone left this on the front desk. It’s for you.”

  Surprised, Brianne took the arrangement and placed it on the table by the old couch.

  “Secret admirer?” Sharon asked.

  “I don’t know.” Actually, she did know, and warmth spread through her. She hadn’t thought Jake was a flowers kind of guy but apparently she was wrong. She held the knowledge close, having no desire to “share” Jake, her feelings or his gift, by discussing him—even with a friend.

  “They are beautiful,” Sharon said.

  Brianne glanced at the flowers. They were charming and perfect for her. She didn’t know what they were called, but she adored the simple arrangement.

  The phone in the lounge rang, and Brianne picked it up on the first ring. “Rehab, Brianne Nelson speaking.”

  “Did you like the gift?” asked a deep male voice with a trace of a foreign accent.

  She gripped the phone tighter in her hand. “I think you have the wrong person.”

  “You said this is Brianne Nelson.”

  “It is,” she said warily, the memory of the man with the tattoo sneaking into her mind. “Who is this?”

  “I thought a classy woman like you would have better manners. Don’t I deserve a thanks for sending pretty flowers to such a pretty woman?”

  “Maybe I’d thank you if I knew who you were.” She heard the shaking in her voice and tamped down on her nerves.