A Little Too Hot

Chapter Twenty-Four

WHEN BLAKE COMES up in the morning, showered and dressed after his workout, I’m at the counter eating a banana. His gaze trails down the opening of my robe as he makes his way to the elevator. “I have to go into the office and I’m not sure how long I’ll be. Cooper is coming in.”

I slip off my stool. “Why are you going in? Is it about Jonathan?”

He looks at me for several seconds, as if he’s struggling with what to say.

My heart chokes up my throat and a flash of cold envelops me. “Oh God.”

His eyes widen and he moves quickly across the room toward me. “No! No, Sam. It’s . . . I wasn’t going to say anything, because everything’s sketchy right now, but Jonathan’s girlfriend heard from him last night.”

Hope springs up inside me. “Ginger?”

He nods, laying a hand on my arm. “He didn’t say much, so we’re not sure where he is or if he’s in danger, but . . .” His brow creases. “He’s alive, Sam.”

I’m in his arms before I even realize I’ve moved. Relieved tears streak my cheeks and soak into his blue button-down. “Jesus,” I whisper.

His hands rub over my back, as if there’s nothing remotely awkward about me crying into his shoulder. “It’s good news. We can use what information we got from the call to track him down. It’s going to be okay.”

When my tears slow, I lift my face off his shoulder and look up at him. “Thank you.”

His glacial gaze melts, the ice in his eyes swirling into warm pools. “I promised you I’d find him, and I will.”

His hand is still in my hair, and I feel his fingers tighten as we stand here, so close I can see the silver flecks swirling in the ice blue of his eyes. He pulls me closer with his hand on my back, obliterating the fraction of space between us. Before I even realize what’s happening, my bare feet leave the floor and I’m on the counter with Blake pressed between my open knees. I wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into his back and pulling him closer.

He tips his forehead into mine and closes his eyes, then blows out a shaky breath. His biceps strain the fabric of his shirt under my hands, and his whole body is taut as he fights for control.

I’m so wrapped up in Blake that I barely register the hum of the elevator, but the next second he lowers me to the floor and backs away, just as the door glides open.

Cooper steps into the room and his eyes flash between us. I pull my robe closed as Blake scoops his messenger bag from the sofa, looping it over his shoulder.

“I’ll be a few hours,” he says to Cooper.

Cooper’s eyes catch on the wet spot on Blake’s shirt. “You gonna change?”

Blake glances down at his shirt, and there’s a hint of chagrin in his expression as his eyes flick to me. “Oh . . . yeah. I’ll be right back.” He lowers his bag to the floor and turns for the stairs.

Cooper moves deeper into the room, picking up the remote for the massive-screen TV on his way to the sofa. He clicks past cooking shows, morning shows, and news without saying a word until he finds a channel showing a WWF match. He settles deeper into the cushions, resting his arms on the back of the sofa.

Blake crests the top stair in a fresh white shirt and looks between us, where I’m still standing near the counter, shaking and unsure what’s supposed to happen. “I’ll touch base when I know anything,” he tells me, hiking his bag back onto his shoulder. He pushes the elevator button and gives me a meaningful glance as he disappears into it.

Cooper’s still watching the TV, making no indication he even knows Blake is gone. He doesn’t even look at me.

“I’m going to . . . um . . . shower, I guess.”

All I get is a flick of his eyes and a single tight nod.

Once I’m showered, I think about just hanging in my room for the day, but Cooper might hear something about Jonathan. I dress and make my way out to the living room.

The pantry door is open and I hear Cooper rooting around in there. He comes out empty-handed with a scowl fixed to his face. “What’s to eat around here?”

“Um . . . well . . .” I think about the list of things I asked Blake to buy for me. “Yogurt and fruit,” I say, waving at the basket with bananas and tangerines. “And there’s Doritos,” I add when his scowl deepens at my suggestions. “In the drawer next to the fridge.”

“Now we’re talking.” He fishes them out of the drawer and drops into the armchair, his eyes migrating back to the wrestling match as he pulls the clip off the end of the bag and opens it. “Did our man Montgomery ever tell you he wanted to be an astronaut?”

I bark out a laugh at the image of a five-year-old Blake with a fishbowl over his head.

Cooper’s eyes flick from the TV to me, dead serious.

“You mean, when he was a kid, right?” I ask, the smile fading from my face.

He shakes his head slowly. “I mean for real.”

I feel my eyes widen as I settle onto the sofa. “For real?”

“For real,” he confirms with a slow nod. “He was in Astronaut Candidate training at the Johnson Space Center when his father was shot. Blake is brilliant. He graduated a year early, at the top of his chemical engineering class at UCLA, and got a doctorate in polymer science.” His gaze cuts to me, sharp and hard. “But he doesn’t always think, if you know what I mean.”

I feel a little numb, and wish the sofa would open up and swallow me whole. “How do you know all this?”

“His father was my partner.”

My head spins. “I don’t . . . I’m—” ’

“I like you, Jezebel. Really. But don’t mess with Blake.” The warning in his voice is impossible to miss, and as he turns back to the TV, even though there’s so much more I want to ask, I don’t dare.

Cooper and I don’t talk much for the rest of the day, and after what he said, I’m too self-conscious to change into my suit and work my shoulder in the pool, so I sit and read. It’s nearly dinner and I’ve just finished my book when Blake returns.

I stand from the sofa as he steps out of the elevator with a pizza box. “Jonathan?”

A smile tugs at his mouth. “We’ve got him. He’s fine, Sam.”

I drop into the sofa feeling suddenly dizzy and cover my face with my hands. “Thank God,” I breathe.

Cooper hauls himself out of the chair. “Got to get home to the missus. It’s our anniversary.” He glances at the empty bag of Doritos on the coffee table and pats a hand on his stomach. “Think she’s got something special planned for dinner.”

Blake sets the pizza on the counter and gives him a clap on the back. “Congrats, man. What is it? Your hundredth?”

“How’d you get so goddamn funny, you little shit?” He punches the elevator call button and steps inside, giving me a pointed look as the elevator door closes.

“I don’t think he likes me,” I say, watching after him.

Blake turns from the fridge. “Don’t take it personally. Cooper doesn’t like anybody.”

“Well, I think he likes me less.” I slip onto a stool. “Tell me about Jonathan. He’s okay? Where did you find him?”

“We didn’t,” he says, his eyebrows pulling together. “He just showed up on his doorstep. The dumb shit won’t tell us where he’s been.”

“But he’s okay?”

He grabs salad stuff from the fridge and tosses it on the counter “He seems to be fine.”

“Can I talk to him? He might tell me what’s up.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” he says, dumping lettuce from a bag into a salad bowl. Despite his obvious irritation at Jonathan, his mood seems lighter. He confirms this change in demeanor when the hint of a smile plays over his mouth. “So, how bad do you really want to get out of here?”

I give him my most exasperated stare.

He starts dicing a tomato on the cutting board. “Pack your stuff. You’ve earned yourself a field trip.”

My jaw nearly hits the counter. “For serious?”

He flicks me a glance out from under his lashes. “For serious.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Where?”

He fights a smile but loses. It spreads slowly across his face, lighting the whole thing up. “It’s a surprise.”

WE’RE BACKING OUT of the garage in the Escalade at 7:00 A.M. the next morning and I feel jet-lagged. It’s been a while since I’ve been up this early. My plan is to sleep on the ride, but I’m pretty sure the country music pumping out of the deluxe surround-sound speakers system is going to keep that plan from becoming a reality.

I reach up and click the stereo off, but Blake touches a button on his steering wheel and it’s louder than it was a second ago.

“You suck,” I tell him, rubbing my eyes.

He stops the car and throws it in drive, pulling us back into the garage, then turns off the engine and starts to climb out.

“Wait!” I say when I get the message.

He turns and arches an eyebrow at me.

I drop my head back onto the headrest and blow out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. You can listen to your stupid music.”

He steps out of the car and heads for the elevator.

“Stop!” I say, flinging my door open. “I said you could listen!”

He looks over his shoulder at me as he turns the key in the elevator panel. “To my ‘stupid’ music.”

“Oh!” I say, throwing my hands in the air and storming over to him. “So I have to like it? This is blackmail.”

He pulls the key and turns slowly back to me. “Have you ever even listened to country?”

“Hell, no!”

“Tim McGraw? Blake Shelton? Montgomery Gentry?”

I scrunch my face at him. “Why do they all have your name?”

He rolls his eyes and starts to punch in his elevator code.

“Fine!” I say, tugging him back to the Escalade by the arm. “I’ll listen and try to like something! I’ll do anything to get out of this house.”

He glances to my hand on his arm, and for some reason—desperation, maybe—I can’t let go. His eyes lift to mine and burn into them as he scrutinizes me. “Anything?”

A shudder ripples through me with his sudden shift in direction. “Within reason.”

His gaze caresses my face and settles on my mouth as he presses closer. “Define ‘reason.’ ”

I lick my lips automatically as my breathing gets a little erratic, and my grip on his arm tightens. Since he came home yesterday and announced our “field trip” he’s been more playful, like the weight of the world isn’t pressing down on him anymore, and I wonder what that means for us.

When I shift under his gaze, my fingers glide up his arm to his bicep, which is like steel under my hand. His fingertips whisper down my side, coming to rest on my waist, and he lets out something that could be a sigh. But the next second he breaks his gaze and takes my hand. “C’mon. We’re going be late.”

He tows me to the car and loads me back in. Once he’s situated in the driver’s seat, he opens the console between our seats and pulls out a CD, sliding it into the slot in the dash. The song that pours from the speakers has a decent beat, a little bluesy, and the man’s voice is gritty and true, without any of that annoying country warble. And he’s not singing about pickup trucks and pretty girls.

It doesn’t suck.

“This is country?” I ask.

A slow almost-smile creeps across his face as he backs out of the garage, and that’s all the answer I get.

Cooper’s black Charger follows us as we wind out of the Berkeley Hills toward Oakland, and I tip my head back and listen to the music.

“Where are we going?” I ask for the hundredth time.

“It’s a surprise,” he answers for the hundredth time. I can tell he’s enjoying this game, and it makes me smile despite myself.

When Cooper pulls in behind us at an IHOP parking lot near the highway, my heart sinks. I mean, just being out of the house is great, but I was hoping Blake had thought of something a little more exciting than blueberry pancakes.

I reach for my door handle, but before I can tug it open, Blake lays a hand on my knee. “Hold up.”

The electronic ring of a phone comes through the speakers, and when I turn, I see Cooper is out of his car.

Blake pushes the button on the steering wheel. “We clear?” he asks.

“Clear,” Cooper confirms.

Blake slides out of the Escalade and comes around to my side, opening my door and ushering me out. He gives Cooper a nod, then looks around warily, laying a hand on the small of my back and guiding me quickly toward the building. We step through the door and my legs falter. Sitting in a booth up front are three of the most beautiful faces I’ve ever seen.