Taking the Heat

by Victoria Dahl

  Even in the dark, she could see his smile. “Okay, I’ll be blunt. I want to wait because I want you squirming for it.”

  The vulgarity of his words hit her square in the belly. “Oh,” she said.

  “I want you thinking about what we did tonight. I want you so turned on you can’t stand it. I want you dying for it. Because I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten you there before.”

  She shook her head, speechless.

  “Guys rush things. I was like that for a few years, too. We all are, I guess. And I think you’ve been with those guys. Guys who get you turned on just enough so you’ll give in and let them kiss you, touch you, see you naked. Give them what they need to come. I don’t want it like that. I don’t want you to get it over with. I want you to come. In my mouth. On my cock. I want you to come for me, Veronica.”

  “Oh,” she said again. The words getting inside her, tightening around her pussy. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “And when we’re done, I want you very clear on whether you’ve been fucked or not.” His mouth was so close to her now. She could feel his breath on her lips. “I don’t want any ‘pretty much’ about it. Okay?” he asked.

  She had to swallow to wet her mouth enough to let her speak. “Okay,” she croaked.

  He kissed her. One quick little peck. “Okay,” he repeated. “But I’m hard as hell again. Does that make you feel better?”

  Yes, it did, because it was warm between her legs again. He could get her wet with just words. And he was going to fuck her. He’d made that clear. She didn’t have to doubt that anymore. But she didn’t say yes. She just shrugged and started down the trail. “Hope you can walk with that thing,” she called over her shoulder. And if she had a spring in her step, she tried not to let it show.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE COULDN’T STOP thinking about Gabe.

  Veronica had spent 90 percent of her day thinking about what they’d done the night before, the words he’d whispered and exactly what they might do the next time they were together. She’d wasted hours. She’d fantasized. She’d squirmed. Just the way he wanted her to.

  But she hadn’t made herself come. Honestly, she hadn’t even been that tempted. There was nothing new about her own fingers, and she’d broken in her shiny new vibrator two years ago. It was old hat now. But Gabe... Gabe might call at any moment. And she’d be damned if she’d preempt their first night together with yet another solo orgasm.

  So she’d waited. But she had no idea when Gabe would get in touch.

  He’d gone out for a full day of climbing today, but that hadn’t stopped her from checking her phone every five minutes.

  Squirming. She was squirming in every way possible. And she was very afraid that this was the start of a long wait.

  “Not if I can help it,” she muttered as she stopped in front of her fridge to look at the notes one more time. Her advice was actually working out so far. If she could pull off “Ask your friends for help,” she’d have to move on to number three. She just had to figure out what that was.

  Baby steps.

  The 10 percent of her day she hadn’t been daydreaming about Gabe had been spent on work. She’d roughed out answers to a couple of emails she’d received and line-edited two articles her editor had sent her, but she couldn’t stop going back to that letter from Torn. It called to her, yet she’d flinched away every time. If she couldn’t figure it out by Monday night, she’d use one of the other letters. If she did figure it out, she’d publish the other letters on the web-only version of her column, where her editor allowed her a few hundred more words of advice every week.

  She grabbed a coat and headed out for the night, and for once she didn’t feel like a complete fraud as she stepped into the real world. She might be almost a virgin, but not for long. Tonight she felt sexy. She felt desirable. She had let a man lick her nipples on a public trail while the sun set behind her, and goddamn if that wasn’t something.

  Grinning now, she sashayed down the sidewalk toward the north end of town. The restaurant the other women had chosen for girls’ night out was more expensive than she could afford, but she deserved a treat.

  It was her birthday, even if no one but Gabe knew it. She hadn’t told her friends. She didn’t like being the focus. She preferred to watch from the shadows. A faceless Veronica who could put her carefully edited thoughts onto paper and then duck out of sight.

  Except, of course, when it came to being touched by Gabe MacKenzie. She definitely wanted the focus on her then.

  She’d learned in New York City to always walk the streets with your spine straight and your eyes fixed on where you were going. You didn’t look at the men who called out to you. You didn’t make eye contact.

  Jackson was different, of course. She’d never experienced any catcalling here, though she wouldn’t put it past a drunk cowboy on a Friday night. Here she could smile at the people she passed. She could look around. And she did. Her eyes traced the boardwalks, looking for dark waves of hair and a trimmed beard.

  The sun was setting. Gabe would be done climbing by now. He could be out with his friends, making the most of his day off. And Veronica was showing off her legs again. She’d never thought too much about them before, but now she wanted Gabe to see her in her short red dress. She wanted his gaze to drop. Wanted him thinking about fucking her.

  So instead of keeping her eyes on her destination, she let her gaze search the streets as though she were a woman on the prowl. She felt taller tonight, and it wasn’t just the heels.

  As soon as she opened the door of the restaurant, she spotted her friends. They stood and waved at her from a table right in front of the window. Veronica noticed that even Isabelle was dressed up. Not normal for her when she was in the middle of a commission, but tonight she wore tight black jeans and heels and a turquoise top that shimmered when she moved. Lauren looked sleek and beautiful in a black sheath.

  And there was a champagne stand next to the table.

  “Happy birthday!” Lauren called when Veronica drew near.

  “Oh, my God!” She automatically returned Lauren’s hug, though she was completely confused. “How did you know?”

  “I snooped in the library records months ago.” Lauren pulled back after one more squeeze. “That’s a little illegal, though. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll end up with a record like this one.” She gently elbowed Isabelle.

  “Shut up,” Isabelle responded, then gave Veronica a big hug. “Twenty-seven years old. You’re almost a grown-up, V.”

  “Almost,” she agreed, thinking of the old Neil Diamond song about becoming a woman soon.

  Her eyes caught on the champagne again and then settled on a little gift box wrapped in white and blue. “You guys. I can’t believe you did this. Thank you.” She was surprised that her throat felt thick with emotion.

  “Thanks for spending your birthday with us,” Lauren said.

  She nodded. If she’d wanted to spend her birthday with her father, she would’ve needed to remind him that it was her birthday. After her mom had died, he’d remembered only every other year or so.

  Lauren gestured toward a seat. “Have some champagne and open your present. It’s from both of us.”

  Isabelle groaned. “It’s from Lauren. I was a complete shit. I meant to shop, but then I didn’t leave my house all week.”

  “You’re painting,” Veronica said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’m honored you’re even here. And you showered!”

  “Right?” she cried, gesturing up and down her body, eyebrows raised in apparent shock at her own appearance.

  Veronica picked up the small box and ran her fingers through the sapphire-blue ribbons. “It’s so pretty.” She tugged at a ribbon and then carefully unwrapped the shiny white paper. The box beneath was black. She eased the top off and gasped. I
nside was a silver pendant stamped with a drawing of a fountain pen. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

  “Turn it over,” Lauren urged.

  She flipped the silver disk over and felt tears blur her eyes. Dear Veronica was etched on to the back in elegant script. “I love it,” she whispered.

  “Come on. I’ll help you put it on.”

  Lauren eased the necklace over her head and fastened it while Veronica lifted the pendant to look at it again. “You’re the best, Lauren. Thank you.”

  “Just drink your champagne,” Lauren insisted. Veronica did as she was told and was tipsy before the server came to take their order. The champagne was good, and the waiter was cute, and Veronica’s cheeks hurt from laughing before they even got their entrées. It was one of her best birthdays ever. And these amazing women were her friends. It felt a little like the life she’d always dreamed she’d have in New York.

  She put down her fork, took a deep breath and set her shoulders. “Guys, I need a little help.”

  Isabelle gestured toward her plate. “I’ll finish that steak for you, if that’s what you’re after.”

  Veronica pushed her plate toward Isabelle. “Go ahead, but that’s not what I meant. I need help with a letter.”

  “For your column?” Lauren gasped. “Oh, my God, I’ve always wanted to help with your column. Is it a question about being a sexy middle-aged librarian? Because I know all about that.”

  Veronica laughed. “No.”

  Isabelle held her fork up. “Hot chick on the run from the feds?”

  “No! I just... Well, here’s the thing. A woman wrote to say she got a job offer in a big city, and she wants to go. It’s her dream life. But she’s engaged to a man here in Jackson who wouldn’t be willing to leave, and he doesn’t know about the offer. She wants to know if she should chase her dreams or stay here and marry the man she loves.”

  Lauren nodded. “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is—” Veronica cleared her throat “—I want to tell her to stay. I want to tell her that following her dreams is a terrible idea.”

  They both frowned at her. “Why?” Isabelle asked.

  Here it was. The truth. Her ears buzzed with anxiety. “Because,” she said, “I followed my dreams and it ruined my life. That’s what I want to tell her, and I have no idea if it’s the right answer or not.”

  Her friends stared at her. Veronica stared back. Or tried to. But her gaze flicked back and forth between the two women, then finally dropped to the table. They looked too shocked. And probably a little disappointed.

  “What do you mean,” Isabelle started, “that it ruined your life?”

  She slumped. She’d never told them any of this. As far as they knew, she’d spent a few years living it up in New York and then she’d moved back here to work at her hometown paper. “I was a complete failure in New York,” she admitted. “I thought that my life was going to be there, and the truth is I was miserable. It took me four years to admit defeat and move back here.”

  “But that’s not defeat,” Lauren said. “You got some experience—now you have a job you’re great at here in Jackson.”

  Veronica nodded, but it wasn’t true, and eventually her nod switched direction and she was shaking her head. “I’d been planning to make my life in New York City since I was a little girl. It was all I worked for. I never even considered having a serious boyfriend, because I didn’t want to end up in the position that this woman is in. I thought...”

  She took a deep breath. “I never felt like I fit in here. Not with my family. Not in school. And I thought I’d fit in in New York. That people would get me there. But it was lonely and scary and isolating. I hated it. I moved back home, and I now live in a building that my dad owns and I work at a job that my dad got me. And the truth is that people write to me with their problems, but I’ve never even been able to figure out my own.”

  She took another deep breath. Gulped in air. When she looked up again, both of her friends were still staring at her. She shouldn’t have told them.

  “Ladies,” the cute waiter said from behind her. “Care to take a look at the dessert menu?”

  “Can I get a cosmo?” Veronica said too loudly.

  Lauren held up a hand. “Leave the dessert menus, please.”

  He passed the menus out, and then they were alone again, both women watching her. She hoped the bartender wasn’t busy. She hoped the waiter would reappear within seconds.

  Isabelle suddenly leaned forward and took Veronica’s hand. “Life is never what you plan for it to be,” she said. “You know that, right?”

  Veronica shrugged.

  Isabelle squeezed her hand. “I was going to be a doctor. I was engaged to the man of my dreams. I’d never set one foot out of place my whole life. I had everything planned. And then I lost it all. I failed at family and love and school and a career. I stole someone’s Social Security number and lived under an assumed identity and hid in the mountains for fifteen years. And last year I almost ran again. I had a fucking bag full of cash and I was ready to disappear. So don’t tell me how much you screwed things up, V. I almost went to prison.”

  Lauren was nodding. “Yeah. I actually did everything I planned to do. School, career, marriage, a kid. And I was terrible at it. I hated being a wife. I was the mom who always forgot to send lunch money. My version of fleeing New York and returning home was getting a divorce and starting over again. You’re not a failure, Veronica. The things you’ve tried, the things you’ve failed at, the dreams you worked toward, all of that is what makes you good at what you do now.”

  Veronica frowned. “I don’t see how that can be. Maybe if I’d gone through all that and had it figured out now...”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. “You’re doing fine.”

  “I’m not! I’m just...pretending.”

  “Pretending what?” Lauren pressed.

  She was going to tell them. She even wanted to. But how could they understand? They’d both been having sex for decades. They’d both had normal relationships. Hell, Isabelle had even managed to take lovers while she was hiding from the feds in a mountain cabin. Veronica couldn’t manage to get laid when she was living in the middle of a city of eight million.

  “Just everything,” she finally said.

  Lauren shook her head. “You’re good at what you do, Veronica. If your life had lined up for you and you’d done everything perfectly, how would you be able to help other people with their problems? How would you even understand them? You’d just tell them to buck up and try harder. But you don’t do that. You see people’s problems through the lens of someone who’s fucked a few things up. You sympathize. You feel for them. You get it. That’s your gift. Your dad might have gotten you this job, but he’s not the one who made you good at it. That’s all you.”

  Her throat was thick again. She had to pull her hand away from Isabelle’s grip, because Veronica was afraid that small touch would make her cry.

  The waiter appeared and presented her drink with a flourish.

  “Thank you,” Isabelle said. “Now shoo. We need a minute.” She leaned closer but didn’t take Veronica’s hand again. “Lauren and I both screwed up our lives, too. We both felt like complete failures. And look at us now. We’re fucking spectacular.”

  Veronica choked out a laugh even if it did sound more like a sob. She looked up at Isabelle in her beautiful turquoise shirt that clashed with the streak of lime green in her hair. “You have paint in your hair, Isabelle,” she whispered.

  Isabelle shrugged. “I’m still fucking spectacular.”

  Veronica laughed again. Two hot tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “Shit. I know you are.”

  “I was hiding from the feds and I started sleeping with a US marshal. So please don’t pretend you’re more screwed up than I am. I
clearly win at that game.”

  “She’s got a point,” Lauren said. “You’re obviously smarter than Isabelle ever was.”

  “Hey!” Isabelle smacked Lauren’s shoulder, but Lauren only laughed.

  Veronica grabbed a napkin and carefully dabbed at her face. “I can’t believe you guys are actually making me feel better.”

  Lauren snorted. “Look, you went after your dreams. It didn’t work out. You’re only twenty-seven. You’ll find new dreams. But when you’re answering that woman, I guess you need to consider how you’d feel about yourself if you’d never tried.”

  How would she feel if she’d never tried? She’d spent so many years beating herself up for her decisions that she’d never wondered about that. What if she’d stayed in Wyoming? What if she’d gotten a job in Jackson or Cheyenne and settled in? The idea squeezed her chest until she couldn’t breathe.

  She grabbed her drink and took a sip. Then another. She nodded. “You’re right. If I hadn’t gone, the dream would have stayed. It would’ve gotten bigger.”

  “Right.” Lauren patted her arm. “And instead of wasting four years in New York, you would’ve wasted your entire life imagining it. You’re fine, Veronica. You’re starting over. Welcome to your new life.”

  Her new life. Wow.

  Okay. She could deal with that. New York and everything that had come before it...that was her past. Wasn’t that what she would tell anyone who wrote to her? You made mistakes. Learn from it and move on.

  Move on. That was a little too general to be number three on her list, but it was still good advice.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Thank you. To my new life.” She raised her drink and took a hearty gulp.

  “No fair,” Lauren complained. “We’re all out and Isabelle scared the waiter away.”

  “Let’s order dessert,” Veronica said, sniffing back the last of her tears. “And another round. It’s my birthday.”

  “Hell, yeah, it is,” Isabelle said.

  Veronica had just decided on a fancy version of strawberry shortcake that included liquor in the recipe when her phone beeped. She dug it from her purse and made a little wish before she looked. It paid off.