Burning Hearts

by Marci Bolden

  He wouldn’t say he had a foot fetish by any means, but seeing her in those heels made him wonder if he should develop one.

  “You’re staring,” Eva pointed out.

  “Can’t. Stop.” His answer was honest. He lowered the beer to his lap to hide the evidence of his out-of-control body and grazed over her leg again. “What are you wearing?”

  Dropping onto the sofa, Eva exhaled her frustration. The material parted, showing more of her leg than the designer had likely intended, but the dress likely wasn’t intended for tomboys who never seemed to remember to sit “like a lady.” Leaning to one side, she tugged the material and closed the two sides until her thigh was covered. “I was with Tiffany Tremant. She shops. A lot. Apparently I need more color in my wardrobe. I feel like a fucking paper doll. Remember those ones with the dresses and tabs… Oh, you probably got to play with trucks and roll around in the mud as a kid.”

  “I dissected my first maggot when I was six.”

  “You’re such a nerd,” she said, but her tone wasn’t judgmental. She wasn’t being mean. Her voice teased him as she grinned.

  “I just meant… I didn’t have trucks. I used Mom’s steak knives to cut up bugs.”

  She lifted her top lip in a sneer. “Gross. I hope she knew so she could wash them really well.”

  “She bought me a set of scalpels when she found out.”

  Giggling, she shook her head. “You’re lucky you still have fingers.”

  “Did she say anything useful? Tiffany, I mean.”

  Eva held up her hand in a silent bid for him to stop speaking. Pushing herself up, she walked into the bedroom. He didn’t have to ask. She was in there scanning the room with her thermal camera. She came out a minute later, still in that dress, moving the camera around the room, checking for any sign of heat signatures that didn’t belong. Then she followed the same movements with her infrared camera. She scanned the room and then finally sat back down.

  Taking the beer from his hand, she rested her feet, still encased in those damn shoes, against the edge of the table. He would have reminded her the table was tempered glass, but he was distracted by the way the material fell from her ankles and shins. Her long toes, with the nails now painted red, poked out from the tips, taunting him, begging him to kiss them like he used to. Okay. Maybe he did have a foot fetish. But only for Eva’s cute little feet. He couldn’t recall ever even noticing anyone else’s.

  “She isn’t happy in her marriage,” Eva stated, drawing his attention from her toes, “and I suspect she’s having an affair, but she’d never admit either since it would imply that her perfectly molded life isn’t so perfect. She did confirm that Shane Tremant and Neal Price are like peanut butter and jelly. Or like the James brothers,” she added thoughtfully, comparing the HOA president and his friend to outlaws. “I’m not sure which one is Frank and which one is Jesse, though.” She took a swig from his beer. “Actually, Shane is Jesse. Price doesn’t have the charisma to be compared to Jesse James. He’s a follower.”

  “Hmm. So they’re robbing people?”

  “I’m not sure what their crimes are yet, but they are definitely conspiring about something. They both set me on edge from the start.” She took another drink, and Josh could practically see her mind spinning, laying out all the puzzle pieces to see how they fit. She was brilliant. And beautiful. And…sexy as hell.

  He stroked a strand of newly dyed hair from her face, not comprehending that it was inappropriate until her eyes darted toward him. She always wore makeup, but it was different now. Usually the lines around her eyes were hard and distinct, but now they were blended and subtle. Apparently part of her makeover was adding longer lashes, a hint of sparkly eyeshadow, and somehow making all the layers of color appear as if she naturally looked like a fairy tale creature.

  Swallowing hard, he dropped his hand. “I like this,” he said as a way to justify his touch. “Looks nice.”

  “Thanks,” she said quietly. She nearly jumped to her feet, swayed a bit on the high heels, and then got her balance. “Did you eat?”

  “There are leftover chicken enchiladas in the fridge.”

  Her rigid posture relaxed a bit. “You’re the best, Joshie. Tiffany dragged me to this horrible place that only sold salads. I’m starving. I’m going to change first.”

  He didn’t respond to the nickname she used. That was clearly her way of irritating him to redirect his train of thought, which she would’ve had to be blind to miss. “Bring me a fresh beer when you come back,” he called.

  He stared at the television without actually seeing the documentary while he recalled every inch of her body in that dress. She didn’t have the shape of a bodybuilder, but her muscles were firm, and the short sleeves and long slit showed off how toned she was. The heels accentuated her calves in a way that made him long to stroke his fingers over them once again. Not that he needed much prompting for that.

  Refocusing on the television when the sounds of her in the kitchen drew him from his wayward thoughts, he tried to remember what he’d been watching before she’d come home.

  “Want me to heat up some for you?” she called.

  He didn’t. He’d eaten plenty by himself. “Sure,” he called anyway, not wanting her to eat alone—even if she deserved to for being late.

  Jumping up, he joined her in the kitchen. While she scooped enchiladas, he opened two beers. Then he leaned back and watched her stretch to reach the microwave stowed way above the stove. She wore yoga pants now, but they clung to her in a way that was just as appealing as the long dress she’d changed out of.

  “You know what I don’t get?” she asked.

  “Hmm?”

  Leaning against the counter across from him, she gnawed at her lip. “At the potluck, Courtney and Melly were commenting on how close Shane Tremant and Neal Price are. Usually, friends that tight means that their families are tight, too. I spent about four hours with Tiffany today, and she didn’t mention Brenda Price once. Not once. She ran through a list of people she wants to introduce me to, but the wife of her husband’s so-called best friend didn’t come up at all.” She tapped her chin. “There’s a story there. I swear, the more time I spend here, the more I realize this building is like an episode of freaking Melrose Place. Remember that show?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “It was when primetime soap operas were a big thing. If two people weren’t sleeping together, they were blackmailing each other. This place really seems like that. Doesn’t it?”

  “Actually, yes, it does.”

  She opened the microwave when it beeped and extracted a pile of steaming-hot enchiladas. “What are you watching?”

  Shit. He’d tried to focus on the show, but it hadn’t stuck. First he’d been frustrated at her lack of checking in, and then he’d been distracted by that damn dress. “Uh.” He laughed softly. “Nothing interesting. We can change it.”

  She turned, plate in hand. “I thought we could start binging a new documentary.”

  Josh had already seen pretty much every documentary on his streaming service, but he nodded. He’d rewatch them all a dozen times if it meant she’d sit next to him. “Sounds good.”

  6

  Eva forced a bright smile to her face as she held up a dish of berry cobbler when Courtney opened her door. Normally she would have found a million excuses to turn down a dinner invitation, but this was the perfect way to get inside another condo in the building.

  Courtney’s eyes widened as she accepted the dish. “Did you make this?” she asked Josh.

  He actually blushed as he lifted his shoulders nonchalantly. “Yeah. Eva said you liked the dessert at the potluck.”

  “Liked is an understatement.” She closed the door behind them, and Eva scanned the space. The layout was just like that of the unit she shared with Josh. A large living area with floor-to-ceiling windows to the left, an open kitchen to the right, and the only doors in the loft-like space were at the back—one to the half bath and one to th
e only bedroom.

  Courtney had managed to soften the contemporary structure with large paintings of landscapes and cream-colored walls instead of the steel gray that Eva and Josh were living with. But the biggest difference? Courtney had a lot of knickknacks. Perfect for hiding cameras.

  Eva cast her eyes toward Josh. He was still too flattered to catch on to Eva’s plight. She really needed to scan this area for evidence. How as she supposed to do that discreetly when there were a million perfect hiding places?

  She’d already told him the deal. She’d excuse herself to use the restroom, he’d distract Courtney, and Eva would slip into the bedroom to do a quick swipe with the thermal camera she’d tucked inside her purse. Then he’d distract their hostess again, and Eva would do the same in the living area. Only there would be no quick scan. The condo had more items on display than a museum. She’d need an hour to thoroughly search this room.

  Shit.

  Following Courtney and Josh to the kitchen, she ignored the chatter as she mentally calculated where a pervert would likely place a camera here. She’d have to make quick work of the areas she found most likely—if she even got the chance. The smoke alarm was the first choice, obviously, since that was where Wendi Carter had found the one in her condo. Eva took note of the location of the alarm, and then, slowly turning, selected the next item she’d check—a painting on the wall next to the bedroom door. The entire living area would be visible from that vantage point. High on a shelf, a cluster of framed photos caught her attention. A camera could be tucked onto a frame that high up and not be easily seen with the naked eye. Damn it. There were too many places for her to check in one visit.

  “Earth to Eva,” Courtney sang.

  Eva spun, forcing that stupid perky smile to her face that she was getting too good at, as far as she was concerned. “Sorry,” she gushed. “I’m just so taken with what you’ve done here. Your place is adorable.”

  Courtney pushed a glass of wine toward Eva. Clearly she’d offered the drink more than once while Eva had been focused on her search. “I love the location of this building. I don’t love the design. I know contemporary is what most people here like, but all those shades of gray just felt so cold to me. I would love a little house in the country, but I wouldn’t love the commute. When Neal Price selected my application, I couldn’t pass it up, but I also couldn’t live with the color scheme. Have you been to Melly’s place yet?”

  Eva didn’t exactly hear the last part. Courtney’s previous statement hung in her mind. “Neal selected your application?”

  She nodded. “Of course. Condos in this area are really hard to come by. There must have been twenty applicants for this place.” She tilted her head, and her ponytail full of blond curls fell over her shoulder. “Didn’t he select you guys? My understanding is the HOA president selects everyone.”

  “Uh, we were on a waiting list,” Josh offered and then lifted his brows at Eva.

  She blinked a few times, trying to get her head back in the moment instead of examining the puzzle piece that had just fallen at her feet. Neal Price, HOA president and potential cohort of resident pervert Shane Tremant, was in charge of selecting who resided at Jupiter Heights? That seemed like a really important bit of information, and she was still processing it.

  Josh slid his arm around her shoulders. “This is our first place together. Isn’t it, babe?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a big step,” Courtney said lightly, but her face betrayed her lack of excitement for them. She seemed upset for some reason. She’d had that same disenchantment in her eyes when commenting on how lucky Eva and Melly were to have boyfriends. There was a story there.

  Eva added that to the growing list of Jupiter Heights curiosities.

  “Dinner smells great,” Josh said.

  The usual cheer returned to Courtney’s eyes. “Thanks. I’ve never tried this recipe before, but I felt like I needed to go the extra mile since you are obviously a wonderful chef.”

  Josh’s cheeks took on an even deeper shade of red as his shoulders did that goofy shrug thing again. Was he…flirting? In front of Eva? Okay. So they weren’t actually a couple, but they were supposed to be, and his flirting with someone else, especially right in front of her, was completely unacceptable.

  A tight coil of anger heated low in her stomach as she cast him a side glance, a silent warning that she was on to him. He didn’t notice; he’d started nervous-rambling about chicken scaloppine and lemon glaze. Then he told Courtney he’d have to make dinner for her one night. Not just any dinner…penne with his special sauce. But only if she liked spicy food; if she didn’t, he’d make something else.

  Eva’s stomach clenched. Had he seriously just offered to make his arrabbiata sauce with ground sausage for Courtney?

  A spear of fury pierced Eva’s heart. He made that for her. That was her favorite dish. The idea of him making sauce for Courtney made Eva want to put the bitch in a headlock and obliterate her perfectly painted face.

  Courtney finally stopped grinning like a schoolgirl at Josh and winced a bit when she glanced Eva. Oh. Right. Josh had warned her about her lack of poker face. She imagined her jealousy was playing like a movie across her face for Courtney to witness.

  No. Not jealousy. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. Amazement. She was amazed that this twit had the audacity to bat her eyelashes and smile at Josh while he had his arm around his “girlfriend.” What kind of skank ho—

  Josh literally pulled Eva from her thoughts with a firm jerk that might have looked like a hug to someone else, but she knew a silent warning when she got one. If only Josh had the same ability to read her unspoken cautions, she wouldn’t have had to give Courtney a death glare.

  Peeling her lips back into a smile, Eva batted her eyes at the woman blatantly coming on to her man. “May I use your restroom?”

  “Uh. Yeah,” Courtney stuttered out. “Of course.”

  Spinning on her heels, she set her wineglass down on her way to the restroom. As soon as she was alone, she scoffed with disbelief. “Wow. What a bitch.” She scanned for any obvious signs of a hidden camera as she dug her thermal camera from her bag. Muttering, still not quite believing the audacity Courtney had exhibited, she stared at the tiny screen and moved the camera face around, not finding anything unusual. Easing the door open, she listened to the muted conversation between Josh and Courtney, gritting her teeth when Courtney giggled. They were in the kitchen, out of view, as Eva and Josh had planned, but for some reason she no longer liked the idea of Josh distracting Courtney while Eva checked her condo.

  Slipping into the bedroom, she stepped out of the doorway and behind the wall in case Courtney glanced toward the only two doors in her condo. Eva’s gaze immediately fell to the queen-size bed, and her heart seized with an inexplicable ache. The antiqued white frame held layers of frilly pillows and intricately placed teddy bears. The scene was pure innocence.

  For a moment, she pictured Josh there…with Courtney. He deserved the type of sweet woman who would decorate in lace and teddy bears. A nice woman. An innocent woman. One who looked at him with the kind of awe and enchantment Courtney had from the moment they’d walked into her condo.

  Her pondering ended with a harsh slap of reality when Eva noticed handcuffs dangling from the headboard. Oh. Well, that changed things. A lot. This woman was no innocent. The pastels and prim façade were just that, and somehow things suddenly made sense. This picture of virtue set the scene for men who should be too old to be turned on by such things. The batting eyes were a bait and switch that Eva knew was often too tempting for the male half of the species to ignore.

  What was that saying? Treat her like a queen during the day and a whore at night?

  Someone had taken that to heart.

  Aiming the heat reader, Eva pushed away the latest images of Josh that entered her mind…handcuffs included…and started searching for signs that the House of Kink was being watched. The sultry male laugh that drifted into the
bedroom made Eva grind her teeth again. While the cat was away, huh?

  Not that she was his cat. And he certainly wasn’t her mouse. She had no reason to be jealous.

  Damn it. There was that word again.

  Scanning the room, Eva kept her ears open for any sign that Courtney was headed her way. She checked the clock, the lamp, the bookshelf, the display of dolls on the chest of drawers… Nothing. There was no sign of a camera in the bedroom. That left the living room and kitchen.

  She groaned under her breath before rejoining Josh and Courtney in the kitchen. Courtney had the good sense to be standing a few feet from Josh when Eva returned. She slid up to his side and had her arm around his waist before she’d even comprehended her possessive action. His arm rested around her shoulder and hugged her to him with a smooth, gentle motion instead of the jerk he’d used before.

  “Eva’s better at grilling,” he said, continuing whatever conversation they’d been having. “Much better, actually.”

  Courtney looked at her, as if suddenly reminded she and Josh weren’t alone. “Oh, you’ll have to teach me a thing or two sometime.”

  “Gladly.” She hadn’t meant to have a clip to her tone, but Courtney’s smile froze.

  This case should wrap up quickly—perhaps tonight, if she found a camera inside Courtney’s condo—and then she and Josh would stop pretending to be more than they were. Until then, Courtney needed to consider Josh taken. Eva pressed even closer to him and grabbed her wine, taking a drink larger than was socially acceptable in an attempt to temper her frustration. This wasn’t high school. She shouldn’t have to lay claim to her man. Grown women should respect each other’s relationships, not prey on them.

  Looking at Courtney now, Eva didn’t see a lonely gossiper. She saw a troublemaker who couldn’t resist the challenge of tempting a taken man.

  “You okay?” Josh whispered in Eva’s ear.

  “Fine.”

  “You’re tense.” As if to prove his point, he put his hand to her shoulder and pressed his thumb into the muscle. His touch clearly wasn’t intended in a romantic way, but she felt the pressure all the way to her crotch. He used to massage her all the time. Her shoulders, her back, her legs. Every inch of her. He once told her that rubbing his hands over her helped him put the things he’d seen during the day from his mind.