by Eden Bradley
Cincinnati, Ohio
6470A Glenway Avenue, #109
Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
eBook ISBN 1-59426-535-6
Heat Wave © 2005 by Eden Bradley
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Cover art © 2005 by Stacey L. King
Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.
www.Phaze.com
Chapter 1
"El Nińo strikes again with the worst heat wave to hit Southern California in twenty years…"
Leigh reached over her kitchen table and shut the radio off, then stood up to lift her long hair from her neck. If only she had air conditioning! One of the reasons she'd moved to this small Craftsman cottage in Santa Monica was because of the temperate weather. The mercury rarely rose above the low eighties this close to the beach, even at the height of summer. No such luck this year.
She grabbed a dishtowel to stroke away the perspiration pooling at the base of her throat and trickling between her breasts. Even the light cotton sundress she wore felt like too much weight on her skin.
She watched through her kitchen window as the sun began to set in a splashy blaze of watercolor orange and pink, the colors filtering through the leaves of the date palm in her yard. Hoping the evening air might be cooler outside than in, she took her glass of iced tea and wandered out to her small front porch.
Settling onto the narrow wooden bench, she leaned back, stretching her long legs out in front of her. Languid with the heat, she sipped her tea and gazed around her neighborhood.
Somewhere a dog barked in the deepening twilight, and she heard the faint swoosh, swoosh of somebody's sprinklers. The banging of a screen door caught her attention, and she watched her new neighbor across the street step onto his lawn. He was a large man, his height and bulk casting a long shadow in the amber glow of his porch light.
She'd noticed him before, had watched the muscles in his big forearms flex when he'd moved his furniture in a week earlier. He was built like a football player, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist that tapered into a pair of low-slung cargo pants. His sun-streaked light brown hair was a bit too long and fell into his eyes. She hadn't been close enough yet to see what color they were. But the man was sexy as hell, and she'd been waiting to catch another glimpse of him.
Leigh liked big men. She was tall herself, and a large man always made her feel more feminine. Her ex-husband had been well over six feet tall. Don't think about that now. No, better to think about the basketball player she'd dated briefly in college, his long, lanky form draped over hers on the too-small single bed in his dorm room. Sweaty afternoons there when she should have been in calculus. Math had never done her as much good as an afternoon of sex had.
She stroked the beads of sweat from her icy glass with an absent finger as she watched her neighbor move across his lawn to bend down and pick up a few tools at the edge of his driveway. Like her, he'd probably waited until the heat of day had passed before venturing outside. He was graceful for a man of his size. Even in the near-dark she could see how the fabric of his pants stretched taut over his firm backside. Nice. Made her want to cross the street just to touch it.
It had been a long time since she'd touched a man, which was probably why her thoughts were treading down such a lustful path now. She'd been divorced for about a year, and hadn't dated since she'd caught her ex with a co-worker. The woman was everything Leigh wasn't: petite, with a lush figure, dark and exotic. Leigh herself had always been too tall and lean for her own taste; she stood five-foot nine and had an athletic body with small breasts. But her ex hadn't cheated because of her breasts. He'd cheated because he was a selfish bastard with no self-control.
He'd blamed Leigh for his infidelity. He'd claimed that she lacked passion, that sex with her was boring. Well, it hadn't been great for her, either, but she hadn't cheated on him. Asshole.
Enough of that, she chided herself, pulling her attention and her gaze back to the appealing sight across the street. Her new neighbor peeled his T-shirt over his head and she watched as a narrow waist gave way to a tight six-pack. Then as he whipped his shirt completely off, his beautifully muscled chest came into view. Leigh allowed her eyes to rest there for a moment before letting them wander to his strong shoulders and then to his arms. His biceps flexed as he loaded the tools into a small wheelbarrow. His arms looked as big around as one of her thighs. Very nice.
The sudden flash of heat between her legs surprised her. She shifted in her seat, trying to ease the sharp stab of need soaking her panties. When was the last time she'd had this kind of reaction to a man? Maybe when she'd been a teenager and those first surges that came with the shift in hormones had assaulted her innocent body. Certainly not since then.
Her mind wandered as she watched him work in his yard, imagining those big hands on her, slipping over her sweat-dampened skin. The heat between her legs spread into her belly and became a jagged throb.
Her neighbor stood and ran a hand over his stomach, making hers tighten in response. Let me do that for you next time. She wiped the beads of perspiration from her upper lip.
"Oh god," Leigh groaned quietly as she rose to escape back into the hot, stuffy house. Her body was screaming for release, just from seeing a half-naked man in the dark. A big, muscle-bound man with a sexy line of hair that led from his navel to places she almost didn't dare to think about.
Inside, she turned the lights in the living room down low. Moving across the room, she switched on the radio to a classic rock station and flopped onto the couch in front of the one small fan she owned.
As the sultry tones of an old, bluesy Janice Joplin song played in the background, Leigh released the top two buttons of her sundress to catch as much of the cool air as she could. The breeze played over her damp skin. It felt good, but did nothing to cool the lustful thoughts she'd been having about her new neighbor. If anything, the sensation of air blowing teasingly over her skin heightened her senses even more.
She undid another button and moved the fabric aside. Her nipples peaked as the artificial breeze played over them. Her hands drifted to her breasts, her fingertips brushing the hardened tips.
A soft moan escaped from her throat. She needed so much to be touched, and not by her own hands. Her mind went immediately to the man across the street, to the image of his naked torso gleaming in the moonlight and the faint glow from his porch.
She moved her hand lower to lift the hem of her dress, slid it up over her damp thighs. Her body went rigid as she moved the elastic of her bikini panties aside. They were soaked.
With a sigh, she brushed her fingers through the rough curls there…and froze at the loud knock at her front door.
Chapter 2
Leigh bolted upright, pulling her dress together to cover her breasts. She fumbled to fasten the buttons, the fabric brushing painfully across her erect nipples. Trying to get her brain to function, she stood up, running a hand through her thick hair. She'd left the door open, with only the screen to offer any privacy. Could whoever was there have seen her? She didn't think so, since the couch was at the opposite end of the room and she'd turned the lights down. But still…
She took a deep breath as she approached the door, then exhaled with a sighing breath when she saw who stoo
d on the other side.
"Hallo?" His voice was deep, rumbling in that big chest, exactly as she would have expected it to sound coming from a man of his size. And it held a delicious edge of a British accent. "Anybody home?"
She tried to collect herself, but the throbbing between her thighs was still so sharp she had to squeeze her legs together to ease it.
She reached the door, hoping she wouldn't sound as breathless as she felt. "Hi."
"I hope you don't mind me coming over uninvited, but I saw you go inside just a few minutes ago."
"No, not at all." She noted with disappointment that he'd put his shirt back on. But it was the first chance she'd had to see him up close. He had a handsome face, with a strong jaw line and craggy brows over dark eyes. And his mouth was frankly luscious; wide with a full lower lip that begged to be nibbled on.
"I'm Jared Townsend, by the way."
"Oh, hi. Leigh Novack." She pulled the screen door open to extend her hand. When his large grasp encased hers, a bolt of sensual heat shot up her arm and raced through her system, igniting her already overloaded senses. Reminding her of what her own hand had been doing when he'd knocked on her door.
He smiled at her, a row of strong white teeth that she couldn't help but imagine sinking into her flesh.
"Very nice to meet you, Leigh Novack. I suppose you know that I moved in recently. I'm still not unpacked yet and can't find…well, anything. I was hoping you had a bottle opener I could borrow?"
"Of course. Come on in." She backed away as his solid wall of a body moved past her, dwarfing her small living room. He smelled faintly of freshly cut grass and just a hint of sweat, and her whole body gave a long shiver.
She gave herself a mental shake and headed for the kitchen, where she found her bottle opener. She paused to take a few long breaths to clear his enticing scent from her nostrils before she went back to hand it to him.
"Thanks." He smiled again. "Hey, would you like a cold beer? It's hot as hell tonight."
She wanted something, all right, but it wasn't a beer. Still, it would do for now. "Sure."
He gave a quick tilt of his head. "Come on over, then. I've a few bottles of Guinness. Hope you like a good stout."
"I do, actually."
"Ah, wonderful. Seems a lot of you Americans drink nothing but light beer. An insult to the trade."
Leigh laughed. "Americans are known throughout the world for their bad taste, so it shouldn't come as a surprise."
She fell a bit behind Jared's long stride as they crossed the dark street and used the opportunity to savor the site of his tight behind. His shoulders were impossibly broad, straining against the cotton of his shirt. Her mouth started to water and she pressed a hand to her damp lips. Lord, he was gorgeous, every solid inch of him. But who was this man? He seemed nice enough, nothing to alert her radar. No, the only thing he set off was her sex drive, which was currently screaming into high gear.
Jared led the way onto his front porch and held open the door for her. "Sounds like you've traveled a bit, then?"
"A bit. I spent some time studying in Paris and Milan."
"Did you? That's unusual for Americans."
She nodded as he moved a stack of books from the couch. She noted an ancient copy of Defoe's Robinson Crusoe and a Stephen King thriller among them.
Interesting…
"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the spot on the couch where the books had been, then disappeared through an archway into what she assumed was the kitchen.
His living room was a mess of open boxes. An enormous couch covered in soft, brown leather held a few throw pillows in colorful, ethnic prints.
A few framed prints stood stacked against one wall and she wondered what was behind the bold, primitive abstract at the front of the pile. Track lighting above the sofa illuminated the mantel. He was obviously a man who liked art.
Even better…
She sank into the couch, the leather chilly against her bare thighs. When the coolness reached her still-damp panties, she squirmed. The contrast against that aching heat made her all the more aware of the man on whose couch she sat. He reappeared a moment later with two tall bottles.
"Sorry, I haven't found the glasses yet." He grinned, his white teeth flashing.
"No problem."
Jared settled onto the couch beside her and Leigh drew in a lungful of air to steady her racing pulse. Trying to ignore the sharp twinge between her legs, she sipped her beer. The cold bitterness felt good as it slid down her throat, the tangy bite of it pleasantly distracting.
"So, where did you live before moving here?" she ventured, hoping to learn more about him.
"All over, really. The last apartment I had was in New York. Prior to that I stayed in London for a few years, and before that was Cape Town, in South Africa. That's home for me. I've wanted to live at the beach again ever since I left."
"I thought your accent was English."
"English?" His face creased in a mock scowl. "Englishmen are a different breed entirely. Pansies, all of 'em." He took a swig from his bottle. "No, I lived among them for a time before moving on. I'm a photo journalist, so I go where the stories take me."
"And the stories have brought you to L.A.?"
"It's a good home base. I like it here. Beautiful beaches, although not as good as at home. And beautiful women." His dark eyes roved over her for a moment, then came to rest on her face. His voice deepened, a low, smoky tone that sent a shiver up her spine. "I hope you don't mind my saying so."
Leigh swallowed hard as his eyes connected with hers. They looked almost black in the dim light of the room, and seemed to look through her skin, inside her somehow. She wondered briefly if he'd caught sight of her touching herself when he'd knocked at her door. A rush of heat hit her sex, making it clench in remembrance.
"I don't mind." She tried to smile but her insides were shaking too hard for her to do more than quirk one corner of her mouth. She lifted her bottle and took another quick slug of the Guinness.
She was suddenly hyper-aware of everything; the ticking of a big brass clock on the mantel, the soft chirping of crickets outside, her own breathing. And mostly his dark eyes, which were still fastened on her as he took another pull on his ale.
"I've been watching you. Just a quick glimpse of you now and then. I hope you don't mind that, either."
"I, uh…" She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm not a stalker or anything. I simply appreciate a beautiful woman."
Leigh looked into her lap. "Well, thank you."
She was surprised to feel his fingertips tilting her chin up. "You are, you know. All that blonde hair and those long, tanned legs. A real California girl. Just like the song." He grinned, a bit of a wicked glint in his dark eyes, and Leigh couldn't help but smile back even as her insides melted at his touch.
He pulled his hand away. "So, what is it you do, Leigh Novack? Isn't that what all Americans ask each other when they meet?"
The way his mood shifted from sensual to wicked to pure humor and back again made her head spin. She covered her confusion with a small laugh. "I'm an interior designer."
"Ah, I'm assuming that has something to do with the study in Europe?
"Europe is a very inspiring place for anyone with an artistic sensibility. I loved it."
Jared nodded. "An artist, like me. I knew we'd have something in common."
"Did you?"
"I hoped." He leaned toward her.
She caught the scent of his body so close to hers, sweat and grass and pheromones released in the sultry heat. She struggled against the singing of her blood, the sensation of her mind emptying as desire took over. Another long sip of ale cooled her throat, but did nothing to ease the lust raging through her system. She decided she'd better leave before she did something foolish.
She stood up. "I'd better go. I have to work early tomorrow."
He rose, towering over her. "Wel
l, thanks for the company. And the bottle opener. Mind if I hang on to it until tomorrow?"
"No, not at all." It meant she would see him again soon. "Thanks for the beer. Good night."
He held the door open for her as she left, giving her one last whiff of his unique essence. She crossed the quiet street, climbed onto her own porch and let herself into the house.
What was it about the way that man smelled? And the way he looked, and those dark eyes, and that accent? Every cell in her body responded to him on some primal level. Her whole body was slick with a thin sheen of perspiration, and even slicker between her thighs. A cold shower was definitely in order.
Leigh kicked her sandals off and pulled her dress over her head as she moved down the hall to the bathroom, her bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. She reached into the vintage-tiled shower and turned the cold water all the way up, adding just enough warm water to make it bearable. She whisked the scrap of white lace panties down over her legs, then stepped in.
Her breath caught when the first shock of water hit her skin. After a moment her body stilled beneath the cool spray. She closed her eyes, enjoying it.
But soon an image of Jared invaded the quiet moment. His midnight eyes, his too-sexy mouth, that huge, muscled body. And his scent. She could almost smell it now if she tried. Despite the cold water coursing over her skin, her body went warm all over, the heat thickening in a melting pool between her legs. Her hand immediately lowered to ease the ache there.
She leaned against the green tiles, her head falling back while her hand made a tentative exploration. Her fingers slipped between the slick folds. She probed gently at the opening, pressed first one finger, then two inside, and let out a gasp.
Teasing herself, she skimmed her fingertips over her outer lips, sliding in for a moment, then out again, refusing to touch her already swollen and pulsing clit.
