The Heat Is On

Jill Shalvis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Look what people are saying about this talented author …

“Shalvis thoroughly engages readers.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Shalvis’s writing is a perfect trifecta of win: hilarious dialogue, evocative and real characters, and settings that are as much a part of the story as the hero and heroine. I’ve never been disappointed by a Shalvis book.”

—SmartBitchesTrashyBooks.com

“A Jill Shalvis hero is the stuff naughty dreams are made of.”

—New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson

“Witty, fun and sexy—the perfect romance!”

—New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

“Fast paced and deliciously fun. Jill Shalvis sweeps you away!”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Cherry Adair

“Riveting suspense laced with humor and heart is her hallmark and Jill Shalvis always delivers.”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Donna Kauffman

“A fun, hot, sexy story of the redemptive powers of love. Jill Shalvis sizzles.”

—USA TODAY bestselling author JoAnn Ross

Dear Reader,

Who doesn’t love hot alpha-male rescue heroes? When I wrote about my firefighters for the Blaze® line, I set them in the fictional California beach town of Santa Rey. In this book, we’re back in Santa Rey, this time with Jacob Madden, one of the city’s finest with a badge. He’s a bit tough, a bit edgy and more than a bit jaded.

Until he’s blindsided by a warm, funny and adorably wacky woman named Bella.

Problem is, Bella’s got a bit of a problem. A dead-guy problem. It’s complicated.

What isn’t complicated is how these two fall in love— hard!—when romance was the last thing they were looking for. Love tends to work that way.

Happy reading!

Jill Shalvis

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author JILL SHALVIS has published more than fifty romance novels, including her firefighter heroes series for Blaze®. The three-time RITA® Award nominee and three-time National Readers’ Choice winner makes her home near Lake Tahoe. Visit her website at www. jillshalvis.com for a complete book list and her daily blog.

To my editor extraordinaire, Brenda.

Thanks for always believing.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Praise

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Copyright

1

“OH, YEAH, BABY, THAT’S GOOD,” she whispered. So good that she wanted more. She couldn’t help herself, she’d never been known for having much self-control.

Not when it came to chocolate. Isabella Manchelli loved desserts, all of them.

Especially hers.

Which was why she was talking to them. Licking the last of it off her spoon, Bella then tossed the spoon into the sink, nodding in satisfaction and pride at the tray of little chocolate Genoese sponge squares she’d created. She wasn’t sure of much, but she felt quite positive that the little cakes were her personal best to date. She went to work making up a second batch, knowing her boss, Willow, owner of Edible Bliss Cakes and Pastries, would be clamoring for more for her customers as the day progressed.

And the day had a lot of progressing to do. By the very nature of her job, she was routinely up before dawn, baking, and today had been no exception. At just the thought, she yawned.

That’s what you get for staying up way too late last night…

Having her absolute last one-night stand.

Her last, because as much as she enjoyed the occasional social orgasm, she never got much pleasure out of the morning after. The slipping out of bed, hunting down her clothes from off the floor, carrying her sandals so as not to wake him up…

No, none of that ever felt good as good as the night before.

Even if this time, her first in a damn long time, now that she thought about it, the night before had been so admittedly terrific that she suspected she was still wearing a grin advertising just how terrific…

She angled her stainless-steel mixer so that she could use the appliance as a mirror and turned her head right and then left, inspecting herself.

Yep.

Ridiculous grin still in place.

She couldn’t help it. Mr. Tall, Dark and Drop-dead Sexy had really had it going on. She’d met him through the local rec indent’s singles club, when Willow had somehow talked her into signing up for their Eight Dates in Eight Days. Tall, Dark and Drop-dead Sexy had been her eighth date, and the only one she’d let so much as kiss her.

The kiss had been shockingly…wow. Which had led to one thing or another, and some more wow, along with a good dash of yowza, and then…the whole morning-after thing.

He’d caught her in mid-tiptoe and off-kilter; she’d decided to go with her standard protocol for such situations.

She’d told him she was moving to Siberia, and then she’d left.

No feelings hurt, no strings. Just the way she liked it.

So why she felt a little hollow, a little discontented, she had no idea.

Probably it was all the chocolate on an empty stomach. Or possibly not. Possibly, the impossible had happened, and her mother’s mantra—it’s time to settle down, Bella—was right.

And how disconcerting a thought was that.

Bella didn’t settle well. After growing up one of many in a huge family, she’d taken off soon as she’d been able, loving being alone. Loving the adventure of silence, the lack of planning ahead. It’d been bliss. She still felt that way, still preferred to roam the planet, touching down here and there as it suited her, never staying in one spot too long.

Except this time.

This time she’d landed in Santa Rey, California, the latest stop on the Bella’s Train of Travels, and she loved the small beach town. Loved the job she’d taken on as a pastry chef at Edible Bliss, in the heart of a most adorable little downtown, only one block from the beach.

She’d been working here for a month now, and things were good. She had a roof over her head, she had pastries to make, and best yet—she’d gotten that orgasm last night.

Make that multiple orgasms…

She took a moment for a dreamy sigh. It really was a shame that she’d forced herself out of Tall, Dark and Drop-dead Sexy’s bed after such a fantastic night, because he’d been both sharp and fun, her two top requirements in a man.

He’d also been focused and quietly controlled in a way that suggested cop or military, making her want to break the rules of the Eight Dates in Eight Days contract and ask him what he did for a living. But they’d been forbidden from discussing details like their vocation or age of residence until a second date, if a second date came to be.

He’d been the only one to spark her interest. He’d certainly been the one and only to get her to a bed, and in fact, if things had been different, he might even have had a shot at being that elusive keeper everyone talked about.

With a sigh, she moved through the front room of Edible Bliss, straightening tables and chairs, making sure everything was perfect before she opened them up for business.

She was raising the shades on the windows when she thought she heard a scraping sound from the kitchen’s back door. She headed that way, thinking maybe it was Willow a little early. But today was Tuesday, and on Tuesdays Willow took a drawing class at the city college. It was male-model day. Nudemale-model day.

Willow’s favorite.

It wouldn’t be Willow then, no way.

Maybe it was Trevor, the rangy, sun-kissed cutie who worked part-time bussing tables and serving customers.

Walking through the kitchen, Bella peeked out the window in the back door—no one.

So now she was hearing things. Seemed that’s what sleep deprivation did to a person. Good to know. Maybe next time she was faced with the prospect of some seriously fantastic sex, she’d say, “No, sorry, I can’t, it appears wild monkey sex causes auditory hallucinations in me.”

Shaking her head at herself, she checked the Cannoli batch she had in the oven, waving the heat blast from her face. Needing air, she went to crack open the back door, but it caught on something. She pushed, then squeezed through the space onto the back stoop to take a look, and tripped over—

Oh, God.

A body.

It was a guy, in jeans and a T-shirt, a small bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist.

Heart stuck in her throat, she dropped to a crouch and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hello?” There was an odd stillness to him she didn’t want to face. “Are you okay?” Beneath her fingers, he felt warm, but she couldn’t find a pulse. Panic caught her by the throat, choking off her air supply, as did the sight of the blood pooling beneath the man. “Not okay,” she murmured, horror gathering in a greasy ball in her gut—which did not mix well with all the chocolate already there.

She closed her eyes on a wave of dizziness, doing her best not to throw up her sponge squares. “Hang on, I’ll call 911.”

But even as she hit the buttons on her cell phone, even as she stumbled back and stuttered her name and address for the dispatcher, she knew.

The man on her back stoop was beyond needing help.

After being assured by the dispatcher that an ambulance was on its way, Bella practiced the breathing techniques she’d been learning in yoga.

Not helping.

She went to visualization next, trying to imagine herself on the beach, with the calm waves hitting the shore, the light breeze brushing her skin… She had a lot of beaches to choose from, but she went with the beach right across the street because there was just something about Santa Rey’s long stretch of white sand, where the salt water whooshed sea foam in on the gently sloping shores, and then whished it back out again. She swallowed hard, telling herself how much she loved the contemplative coves, the bluff-top trails, the dynamic tide pools, all off the beaten path. Here she was both hidden from the world, and yet doing as she loved. Here, unlike anywhere else in her travels, she felt as if she’d come home.

Better.

But then she opened her eyes and yep, there was still the dead guy on the concrete at her feet.

At least he hadn’t gone belly up in the kitchen, she told herself, taking big gulps of air. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration probably frowned on dead guys in an industrial kitchen.

Oh, God.

Legs weak, she sank to the ground, feeling weird about being so close, but also like she didn’t want to leave him alone. No one should die alone. She set her back to the wall and brought her knees up to her chest to drop her head on them. She was a practical, pragmatic woman, she assured herself. She could survive this, she’d survived worse.

She could hear the sirens now, coming closer. Good. That was good. Then footsteps sounded from the front of the shop, heavy and steady.

The cavalry.

Paramedics first, two of them, tall and sure, dropping to a crouch near the body. One of them reached out and checked the man beside her for a pulse, then shook his head at the other.

Behind the paramedics came a steady parade of other uniforms, filling the small pastry kitchen, making Bella dizzy with it all.

Or dizzier.

She answered questions numbly and eventually someone pushed a cup of water into her hands. One of Willow’s pretty teacups.

She answered more questions. No, she hadn’t heard any gunshots. No, she hadn’t recognized the victim, but then again, she had yet to see his face. No, she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, other than a noise that she’d barely even registered much less investigated.…

God.

How could she have not have actually opened the door when she’d heard that odd scraping sound?

After the endless questions, she was finally left alone in the kitchen, by herself in the sea of controlled chaos. She backed to the far wall, attempting to be as unobtrusive as possible. Her legs were still wobbling, so she sank down the wall to sit on the floor, mind wandering.

She wished she’d never gotten out of her bed.

Correction: Tall, Dark and Drop-dead Sexy’s bed.

If she’d only broken her own protocol and stayed with him, then she wouldn’t be here now. And she might have, if she hadn’t been so surprised at how badly she hadn’t wanted to leave his bed.

That didn’t happen often—hell, who was she kidding—sex didn’t happen for her often, and certainly not during Eight Dates in Eight Days. She cursed Willow for talking her into doing it, but what was done was done. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d been finding her own dates since she’d put down anchor in Santa Rey.

Date one had been nice but a snooze.

Dates two through seven had been pleasant but nothing to write home about.

But date eight? Holy smokes. Date eight had blown all the other dates not only out of the water, but out of her head, as well.

Jacob.

She knew him only as Jacob, since last names hadn’t been given. They’d agreed to meet at a new adventure facility on the outskirts of the county. He’d been there waiting for her, leaning against the building, tall and leanly muscled, with dark wavy hair that curled at his nape and assessing brown eyes that reminded her of warm, melted chocolate when he smiled, which he’d done at first sight of her.

Flattering, since though she was five foot seven and curvy, she knew she was merely average in looks. Average brown hair that was utterly uncontrollable. Average eyes. Average face…

In comparison, Jacob had been anything but average, oozing testosterone and sex appeal in a T-shirt and board shorts that emphasized his fit, hard body. Sin on a stick, that’s how he’d looked.

For the next two hours they’d bungee jumped, jungle canopied and Jet Skied, none of which were conducive to talking and opening up, but she hadn’t cared.

They’d flirted, they’d laughed, and she’d been in desperate need of both, even knowing he would be nothing but trouble to her heart. She’d had a blast, and afterward, her car had sputtered funny in the lot.

Jacob had said she had a bad spark plug and that he was a car junkie and had extras at his place. If she wanted, he could either follow her home to make sure she got there okay, and then return with the plug to fix her car, or she could follow him home and he’d fix it now.

She’d looked at him for a long moment, ultimately deciding that no guy who looked as good in that ridiculous bungee protective gear as he had—and he had looked good—could be a bad guy.

Naive? Not really. Just damn lonely. Besides, she assured herself, she knew just enough self-defense moves to feel comfortable. She could always knock his nuts into next week if she had to.

And then there was something else. He had that air of undeniable control, that raw male power radiating from him that made her feel safe in his presence. Safe from harm, but not necessarily safe from losing her mind over him. She might not know his last name or what he did for a living, but she knew she wanted him.

So she’d followed him home.

She’d called her own number and left a message. “If anything has happened to me, check with Jacob, sexy hunk, and mystery date number eight.”

But nothing had happened to her that she hadn’t initiated.

He’d changed her spark plug. And there on his porch, she’d given him what she’d intended as a simple good-night peck.

He’d returned it.

Then they’d both gone still for one beat, their eyes locked in surprise. And the next thing she’d known, she’d been trying to climb up his perfect body.

And she meant perfect, from the very tips of his dark, silky hair all the way down to his toes and every single spot in between. Just thinking about it gave her a hot flash.

He’d actually resisted.

The thought made her want to smile now. He’d really tried hard to hold back, murmuring sexily against her mouth that there was no need to rush things, they could go out again sometime.

Sometime.

She’d lived her life doing “sometime,” being laid-back and easygoing, not keeping track of anything, much less something that mattered.

For once she hadn’t wanted sometime, she’d wanted right then. She’d needed right then. It’d been so long, she’d been taking care of her own needs for so damn long…

Startling her out of her own thoughts, there was new movement outside the pastry shop as the ME was finally ready to have the body removed. Once again, Bella set her head down on her knees, feeling a wave of emotion for whoever the guy had been, for his family, for whoever would grieve for him.

A pair of men’s shoes appeared in front of her, topped by faded Levi’s, and she closed her eyes, not up for more unanswerable questions. She heard a rustle and knew the owner of said shoes and jeans had just crouched in front of her.

When she peeked, she saw long legs flexing as he set his elbows on his thighs and waited on her.

He finally spoke. “You okay?”

Wait a minute. She knew that voice. It had coaxed shocking responses from her only last night, and she lifted her head, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her.

Nope, it was Tall, Dark and Drop-dead Sexy, no longer wearing board shorts and a relaxed, easy grin.

Instead, he wore a light blue button-down that emphasized his lean, hard body, the one that had taken hers to heaven and back.

The man she’d told that she was moving to Siberia.

Oh, God.

He had a detective’s badge on his hip, and he was either carrying a gun on his other hip or was very happy to see her, which she sincerely doubted, given the expression on his face.

Gulp.

“Hey,” she whispered with a little smile.

He returned the little smile, his eyes warming, but he didn’t “hey” back.

Yeah.

She’d had it right last night. She was in trouble with this one.

Deep trouble.

2

DETECTIVE JACOB MADDEN looked into those jade-green eyes and thought Ah, hell. What had already been a really rough morning shifted into something else entirely, except he wasn’t sure exactly what.

Not only was he running on less than two hours of sleep, he was he looking into the face of the reason for that lack of sleep.

The sexiest reason he’d ever had…

And there hadn’t been a wink of sleep involved. Nope, it’d been a physically active sleepover, and just thinking about it had certain parts of his anatomy twitching to life, though those certain parts should be dead after the night they’d had.

Christ.

He knew he shouldn’t have answered his damn cell this morning. He hadn’t been scheduled to work today. In fact, he’d planned on hanging out with his brother Cord, recently injured on one of Uncle Sam’s missions. Today’s physical therapy was to have involved the beach, with a net and a volleyball and some good-old-fashioned ass kicking.

But dead bodies always trumped days off, so here he was. It was what he did.

Work.

His job took over much of his life, and it wasn’t as if he was petting puppies for a living. Murder and mayhem was his thing, and he was good at it.

But sometimes it got to him.

And in this case, she got to him. Bella, with those slay-me eyes, heart-stopping smile and tough-girl attitude, got to him.

“Jacob?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” They knew each other’s first names, that they both liked adventure and seafood and that they had physical chemistry in shocking spades. He’d held her, he’d touched her. Hell, he’d had his mouth on every inch of her.

He knew he liked her.

A lot.

That had been the biggest surprise, he thought, considering the fact that the guys at the P.D. had signed him up for the date in the first place. As soon as he’d realized he’d been set up, he’d canceled out his singles club profile, but there’d already been one date planned and it’d been too late to cancel on her.

Bella.

He wasn’t sorry. Or he hadn’t been until she’d walked away sometime before dawn. He’d told himself that had been for the best and, considering her line about moving to Siberia, had figured he’d never see her again.

And yet here she sat, in the middle of his crime scene, looking anxious and stressed. He’d never been able to walk away from a perfect stranger, much less a woman he’d had panting and coming beneath him, so with a sigh, he reached for her hand. “Bella.”

Her fingers, icy cold, gripped his. In complete contrast, she kept her voice even. Guts. She had guts.

“I have a little problem, don’t I?” she asked.

He found his lips curving slightly. “Little bit, yeah.”

Letting out a long breath, she pulled her hair out of its messy ponytail. Wild waves immediately fell in her face. “I tend to do that, you know,” she said, trying to corral the hair back into the ponytail holder. “Walk into problems.”

Shit, he did not want to know this. “Define ‘problems.’”

She blew out another breath.

“Bella.” He waited until she leveled him with those eyes. “Dead-people problems?”

“Oh, my God. No.” She rubbed her temples. “I really should have stayed in Cabo. That’s where I was before this. The kayaking was good, and I was learning how to make the most amazing strawberry-and-honey friand—”

“Bella, about the dead-people problems.”

“Right. Sorry. I tend to talk when I find gunshot victims.”

“Again,” he said carefully. “Does this happen often?”

Her gaze met his. “You’re a cop.”

“Detective.”

She nodded. “I guessed cop or military last night.”

She’d made him? “How?”

She sent him a wry smile. “Have you met you? You give off this I’m relaxed vibe but really you’re totally alert, taking in everything around you.”

He took another deep breath and let it out slowly, considering his response. Last night she’d been wearing strawberry lip gloss, her sweet, seductive lips full and curved in an open, easy smile. Her eyes had been warm and welcoming. This morning her lips were bare, and no less kissable for it, but she was breathing a little erratically, and the pulse at the base of her throat was racing.

Dammit.

He’d been a cop since college, a detective the past five years, and he never, ever got used to the punch of empathy when dealing with a victim.

Question was, was she really the victim? “You work here at Edible Bliss.”

She nodded, her light brown wavy hair bouncing into her eyes again. Yesterday he’d loved that hair flying free around her when they’d been cuddled up on a Jet Ski, her arms wrapped tight around his middle.

Even later, that gorgeous hair had trailed down his body…

Don’t go there, man. “You’re the pastry chef,” he said.

Another nod. “My lone talent.”

He didn’t believe that. Last night might have been nothing more than a really great one-night stand, but he’d seen a lot of sides to her. She was adventurous as hell, tough as hell and sexy as hell.

She had layers, lots of them. No way was she just her job the way he was. “You found the victim on the stoop when you got to work,” he said, wanting to clarify.

“No. He wasn’t there when I first came in.” She paused. “Someone shot him.”

Yes. Right in the forehead. At close range.

“Shot him dead.” Her voice was a little hoarse. “There was blood…” Her eyes went a bit unfocused, and her tan faded to gray. “Huh. I see spots. Black spots. Do you?”

Shit. He pressed her head down between her knees, his hand curled around the nape of her neck. Last night her skin had been warm and silky. Today it was cold and clammy. “Breathe,” he commanded softly.

“I’m sorry.” She grabbed a shallow breath. “I don’t like blood much. You’d think I’d be used to it, given that once I was an assistant to a butcher in Rome, but I’m not. Used to it. God.” Reaching out blindly, she grabbed on to the leg of his jeans and held on. “God, Jacob.”

“Keep breathing,” he murmured, stroking the ten der skin of her neck with his thumb. “Slow and deep.”

She did her best to comply, sucking in air in a shuddering gulp. “That’s it, Bella. Good.” Again his thumb swept over her.

“I’m really sorry about the whole Siberia thing,” she whispered, eyes squeezed shut, her hands tightly fisted

“Just keep breathing.”

“I shouldn’t have said Siberia. I don’t even like Siberia. I didn’t—I just don’t do the long-term thing, I’m not good at it, and you seemed—You’re a long-term guy, you know? I didn’t want to mislead you—”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Was he a long-term guy? He’d always thought so, but his last two relationships had fallen apart and both his ex-girlfriends had put the blame square in his lap, citing his job, the hours and the danger. So he’d begun to wonder about his long-term potential.

Then he’d gone out with Bella.

He’d been pissed off about the setup, but prepared to make the best of the situation. He’d figured he’d have an okay time, then go home and watch a late game.

Instead, he’d been instantly entranced by Bella’s easy smile, sweet eyes and take-no-prisoners attitude.

He could use more of that, all the way around.

And yet here they were, at a murder scene. He knew she was tough, and he hoped she was tough enough for this.

“There’s a freaking dead guy on the back stoop,” she said out of the blue. “And I nearly tripped over him. Can you imagine? I actually asked him if he needed anything.”

His thumb made another gentle pass over her creamy skin. He couldn’t help himself.

Which was why he couldn’t be on this case. “Bella, don’t. Don’t tell me anything more.”

“I was here for an hour and a half before I saw him,” she whispered, not listening. “Do you think I could have—”

“No.” His voice was low but firm. She couldn’t have saved him. He believed that much. He looked around them. There were two uniforms and two plainclothes; himself and Ethan Rykes, Jacob’s sometime partner. Also Ramon Castillo had just arrived, their detective sergeant.

Shit.

Castillo was a tough son of a bitch who went by the book. Jacob swore to himself and gently pulled Bella to her feet.

“What?” she murmured, still a little gray as she shivered.

Goddammit, she was shocky. He had no idea why no one had noticed it before, but she needed out of this room and she needed to be checked out. She’d al ready been questioned, but protocol would entail her going to the station, where she’d be checked for gunpowder residue, and further questioned.

Normally, this would be his job. Not today. Not with her. Having been naked with a possible suspect was considered bad form.

There was a walk-in pantry off to the side of the kitchen, and Jacob pulled Bella into it. He shut the door and leaned her back against it, his hands on her arms.

She set her head against the wood and gave him a ghost of a smile. “The last time we were this close to each other,” she murmured, “you dropped to your knees and put your mouth on my—”

“Bella.” Christ. She drove him crazy. So did the memory.

Because she was right. He had dropped to his knees in front of her, tugged her pretty pink lace thong to her ankles and had his merry way with her.

She’d returned the favor.

“You have to listen to me,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“Are you in charge of the case?”

“Yes. No.” He shook his head. “I am, but in about two minutes when I talk to my sergeant, I won’t be. I can’t be.”

“Because of last night? Because we—”

He put a finger on her lips. A direct contrast to only a few hours ago, when he’d wanted to hear every pant, every whimper, every cry she made for more. “Yeah. Because of that. I’m not exactly impartial now.”

She stared at him a moment, then pushed his finger away. “Am I a suspect, Jacob?”

“As a formality, everyone on the premises will be.”

“A formality.” She shook her head. “I’m the only one on the premises. Willow lives in the apartment upstairs next to mine but she’s in class. The store isn’t open.” She met his gaze and he was gratified to see hers had cleared.

Yeah. She was tough enough for this.

“I didn’t kill him,” she said. “I don’t even know who he is.”

His life had been saved on more than one occasion by nothing more than his wits and instincts. Those instincts were screaming now, telling him that this woman, this smart, funny, walk-on-the-wild-side woman could never pull a trigger to kill someone, much less at close range, in cold blood.

But then again, he’d seen worse.

“Who is he?” she whispered.

“Don’t know yet. He had no ID on him, no wallet, no keys, no money, nothing. He didn’t appear to drive himself here.”

She blinked. “Then how did he get here?”

“I guess we were hoping you could shed some light on that subject.”

She said nothing, just stared at him.

At a hard, single knock on the door right behind Bella’s head, she jumped, then turned and stared at the door as if it’d grown wings. “They’re coming for me.”

“No one’s coming for you.” He pulled open the door and faced Ethan.

“Can anyone join this party?” Ethan asked lightly.

Jacob wasn’t fooled. Ethan might look like a big, rough-and-tumble linebacker, with more brawn than brains, but underestimating him was a mistake. Ethan was sharp as a tack, and always solved his case. Jacob nudged Bella out of the pantry. “Why don’t you get yourself some more water.”

When she nodded and moved away, he looked at Ethan.

“What the hell, man?” Ethan asked quietly, his smile still in place for anyone who happened to look over at them. “You screwing with protocol for a pretty face? And don’t get me wrong, that is one pretty face…” Ethan turned his head, his gaze slowly sliding down the back of Bella as she walked away, from her wild hair to the sweetest ass Jacob had ever had ever sunk his teeth into. “Pretty everything,” Ethan corrected.

Jacob let out a careful breath. “I can’t be on this case.”

“You afraid to get tough with Cutie-Pie?” Ethan grinned. “That’s okay. Big, bad Ethan will do it for you. I can take one for the team.”

“I have a conflict of interest,” Jacob said tightly. “And it’s your fault.”

“Huh?”

“That date you signed me up for last night? It was with her.”

“And?”

“And the date didn’t end until a few hours ago.”

“Nice.” Ethan’s grin faded as the implications sank in. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Before Ethan could say another word, Sergeant Castillo moved in close, leaning over both their shoulders like a bloodhound on the scent. “Ladies, we have a problem?”

“Yes,” Jacob said.

Ethan smirked. “Casanova here not only slept with the key witness, but he also slept with our only suspect so far. But at least it’s the same person, so…”

Jacob let out a controlled breath and resisted punching Ethan. Barely.

Ramon, dark skinned, dark-eyed and tougher than any of them on a good day, quietly stared at Jacob. “Ethan, coffee.”

Ethan didn’t budge. “I want to hear you chew him a new one.”

“Coffee. Now.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“As a heart attack.” Ramon never took his eyes off Jacob, waiting until Ethan stalked off. “Talk.”

“You remember the guys telling you yesterday that they’d signed me up for a date with the singles club.”

Ramon’s eyes lit with a quick flash of humor—the equivalent of a belly laugh on anyone else. “Yes.”

“It was last night.”

Ramon’s gaze slid across the kitchen to where Bella was standing in front of a baker’s rack, inspecting whatever she had on it. It looked like cream puffs.

They smelled like heaven.

His mouth watered and he wondered if under different circumstances—say, her not running out on him, and him not answering his cell phone—he’d still be at home right this minute, once again sampling her considerable wares—

“Let me take a wild stab at this,” Ramon said. “The date those assholes set you up on was with one Isabella Manchelli.”

“I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

Ramon didn’t cut a smile. “You slept with her. Hell, Madden.”

Across the room, Ethan approached Bella, fun, laid-back guy gone, cop face on, his pad out.

Ramon let the silence hang between them a minute, then blew out a breath. “Bad timing.”

Yeah.

Ramon was quiet another moment, then shoved his fingers through his dark hair. “Okay, well, we’ll deal with it.”

They didn’t have much of a choice. Jacob glanced over at Bella again. She was still talking to Ethan, but looking past him, right into Jacob’s eyes, her own soft and compelling.

She’d planned on never seeing him again, and he’d reconciled himself to that as being for the best.

But fate had intervened now. He wondered just where it would take them, and if they were going to enjoy—or regret—the ride.

3

BY THE TIME BELLA finished talking to Ethan at the po lice station, it was nearly two, which was when her shift ended. She checked in with Willow, who told her that there was still yellow crime scene tape blocking off the shop, so she’d never opened for the day, disappointing their customers.

All those delicious pastries and cakes, going stale…

Ethan drove Bella home from the station. Home was, temporarily at least, one of the two small apartments above Edible Bliss.

“You’re new to town,” Ethan said lightly, idling at the curb while Bella unhooked her seat belt.

They’d been over this, but she nodded. “Yes.”

“You planning on sticking?”

“I don’t tend to stick, I never intended to stick.”

“Are you…unsticking anytime soon?”

“Not this week.”

“Good enough,” he said. “Thanks for cooperating this morning.”

She’d been raised right enough that she automatically thanked him in return, even though she had no idea what she was thanking him for. Asking intrusive questions? Plying her with bad cop coffee until she was so jittery she was in danger of leaping out of her own skin? He seemed like a good cop and a decent man, but she was on overload now, facing an adrenaline crash. “How long until we can go back inside?”

“Another couple of hours, tops. Just long enough to let CSI finish. You’ll call me if you think of anything else you can tell me?”

“Yes,” she said, then asked him the question she’d been wondering all day. “Are you Jacob’s partner?”

“We work together sometimes, but not on this case.”

Something in his voice had her taking a second look at him.

“Conflict of interest,” he clarified.

She hesitated, knowing that they both knew she was the conflict of interest. “Is he in trouble?”

He started to say something and then stopped.

“Is he?”

“For being with you? No. For not being able to keep his nose out once he’s feeling protective about someone he cares about? Not yet, but give him a day or two.”

“We’re not together. It was…just a one-night thing. You need to make sure your commander, or whatever he’s called, knows that. I don’t want Jacob to be in trouble over me.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

She nodded, ignoring the unease in the indent of her gut, and got out of the car. She looked at the front door to the shop. Edible Bliss, the cute little paisley sign read. The interior was just as unique. Done up like a sixties coffeehouse, the colors bold and happy.

And just a little psychedelic.

She loved it here.

But at the moment, she also hated it.

There was still yellow crime tape blocking the front door. Willow was sitting on the steps. She was forty, tiny, with a dark cap of spiky hair tipped in purple this week. Her eyebrow piercing glinted in the sun as she watched Bella approach with a worried tilt to her mouth.

It’d been a while since Bella had stayed anyplace long enough to make friends, been a long time since she’d wanted to, but Santa Rey had snagged her by the heartstrings.

So had Willow. They’d spent only a month together, but it felt like more. She sank to the step at Willow’s side. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Willow had sweet, warm eyes and a smile to match, and she hugged Bella tight. “We don’t see a lot of murder in Santa Rey,” she murmured. “They asked me a bunch of questions and I didn’t get to ask any of my own. Do you suppose they have any leads?”

“At the moment, I might be their only one.”

Willow pulled back, clearly shocked. “They suspect you?”

“I think it’s standard procedure to suspect everyone.”

Willow was quiet a moment. “It’s probably not appropriate to ask, given what’s happened, but I never got to ask you. How did last night go? Date number eight?”

In spite of everything, Bella felt herself soften. “Nice.”

Willow blinked, then let out a slow grin. “Honey, a smile that like means a whole helluva lot more than nice.”

“Yes, well, it got complicated.”

“Uh-huh. Most good stuff is. Is he good looking?”

“Yes.”

“Good kisser?”

“Willow—”

“Oh, come on. I haven’t had a date in three months. Let me live vicariously through you.”

“Yes,” Bella breathed on a whisper of a laugh. “He’s a good kisser. But—”

“Oh, crap. There’s a but?”

“A big one, actually. He’s the detective assigned to this case. Or he was, until it was established that he’d slept with the person who found the dead guy.”

Willow stared at her. “Oh, shit, Bella.”

“Yeah. That about covers it.”

They stood together and walked past the yellow tape to the alley between the building and the one next door. It was narrow and lined with two trash cans. Passing through, they came to the rear of the shop, where there was more yellow tape across the back door.

Bella took in the sight of the stoop and shivered. Willow hugged her, then they took the stairs to the second-story landing. Her boss moved to her door. “You going to be okay?”

“Abolutely.”

Willow blew her a kiss and vanished inside her place.

Bella entered her own apartment, where she stripped, pulled on her bathing suit and headed back out, walking the block to the beach. The boardwalk stretched out in front of her, but she didn’t walk it as she normally did. Today she wanted to swim.

Hard.

This particular beach drew sunbathers looking to soak up the California sun, and fishermen seeking fish and crab. It was a popular spot, and not much of a secret, but this afternoon, there wasn’t a crowd. Standing at the water’s edge, Bella stared out into the waves, inhaling the warm, salty air. The scent was intoxicating. With a purposeful breath, she let loose some of the tension knotting her shoulders and neck, and kicked off her flip-flops. She dropped her towel to the sand, and then her sunglasses on the towel, and without pause, dived out past the waves. There, she swam parallel to the shore for half a mile, and then back.

By the time she walked out of the water at the same spot she’d started, the sun was slanting lower in the sky, perched like a glorious burning ball hanging over the horizon.

The beach had completely cleared. Instead of the pockets of families dotting the sand, there was only the occasional straggler. She bent for her sunglasses, slid them on, then straightened, coming face-to-face with Detective Jacob Madden.

He looked her over slowly, taking in her dripping wet suit without a word. He wore the same loose jeans and the shirt she’d seen him in earlier, and still had his gun at his hip. The shirt was snug across his shoulders and loose across the abs she had every reason to know were flat and ridged, as she’d spent some time running her tongue across them.

All day her thoughts had drifted to him.

He was easy to think about. He looked great when he was smiling. He looked great when he was just standing there. Hell, he looked great naked and sweaty, and that was hard to do—no pun intended.

He was wearing dark sunglasses and looked like a movie star. She squeezed the water from her hair, quiet as she eyed him. “Definitely Tall, Dark and Drop-dead Sexy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, maybe drop-dead aren’t exactly the right words today.”

He grimaced, and she had to let out a low laugh. “Are you embarrassed?”

“No. I don’t do embarrassed.”

But he was. She could tell, and she shook her head. “You do own a mirror, right?”

He ignored that, probably out of self-defense. “I wanted to know if you were okay.”

“I was thinking of asking you the same.”

“I’m not the one who had a pretty rough morning.”

“Are you sure? Because I hear you lost a case just by sleeping with the chick who found the dead guy. I’m really sorry if it was because of me, Jacob.”

“I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine.”

She nodded, but the tension she’d just worked so hard to swim off had come back. Worse, her stomach chose that moment to rumble, loudly, reminding her she hadn’t eaten all day.

He arched a brow, and she shrugged. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

“You’re hungry.”

Usually when she shooed a man away, he went. And stayed gone.

Not Jacob. He stood there, hands on hips, unconcerned that she’d just dismissed him. “I’m thinking they can hear your stomach in China. Let’s get something to eat.”

Here was the problem. She wanted to gobble him up. But she wasn’t going to get him in any more of a bind. “I’m fine.” Again her manners got the better of her. “But thank you.”

He was quiet a moment, then blew out a breath when she shivered. He bent for the towel she’d left on the sand and handed it out to her. “Bella, I—”

“Look, I hate that you got in trouble for me, okay? And I know you did.” She dried herself off.

“I’m not in trouble.”

“You got taken off the case!”

“I took myself off the case. Officially.” He paused. “Unofficially, I’m still involved.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let’s just say I feel invested.”

“In the dead guy?”

He just looked at her.

In her. “Oh, no. No.” She added a head shake. “You aren’t going to risk your job for me.”

“I’m not risking anything. I’m off duty at the moment, and my time is now my own, however I wish to spend it. Turns out I wish to spend it helping you.”

“You think I need help?”

“I think, if nothing else,” he said with terrifying gentleness, reaching for her hand, “that you could probably use a friend.”

Dammit. Her throat burned. Too much swimming in the sun. Too much caffeine at cop central. Too much adrenaline still flowing. But it had nothing, nothing at all, to do with having him at her side. “I really didn’t kill him,” she whispered.

“Well, that makes this a lot easier.” Not letting go of her, he tugged her close, looking into her eyes. “How about we figure out who did.”

She bowed her head a moment and watched the water drip from her, vanishing into the sand at her feet.

Jacob pulled off her sunglasses and then his, studying her face with his cop’s eyes. “You look done in.”

“I—” Yeah. Yeah, she was.

Without another word, he tugged her hand again, leading her across the beach to the boardwalk. Willow’s shop was off to the right, but he went left.

“Hey,” she said.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t say a word, in fact, until they’d crossed the beach, stepping onto the back deck of Shenanigans, a lovely outdoor café, one of Bella’s favorites. Her favorite, because they bought their desserts from Edible Bliss, Bella’s own creations, serving them for their nightly dinner run. Jacob pulled out a chair for her and she shifted on her feet. “I’m all wet.”

Jacob had slid his dark sunglasses back on, but she felt his gaze go from mild to scorching in zero point four.

Her body answered the call.

“I meant from the ocean,” she clarified wryly. “I’m wearing a bikini here, Jacob.”

“Trust me, I noticed.”

Her belly executed a little flutter. She told herself it was nerves and an empty stomach, but that was one big fat lie.

It was all Jacob.

He excited her. Even just sitting across from her the way he was, slouched in his chair, long legs spread carelessly out in front of him, just breathing and watching her, he excited her.

“It’s a no shirt, no shoes, no service sort of place,” she said.

“Fine.” He started to shrug out of his button-down.

“Wait—What are you doing?” she asked in a horrified whisper.

“Helping you out with the shirt part.” Beneath, he wore a pale blue T-shirt advertising some surf shop in Mazatlán.

And a lot of lean muscles.

A lot.

Not that she was noticing.

The light in his eyes said that he noticed her noticing, so she made a conscious effort to shut her mouth and surreptitiously check for drool.

Jacob stood up and walked around to the back of her chair, draping the shirt over her shoulders.

It was warm from his body heat, and it smelled like him, and she had to work at not moaning out loud. Her eyes drifted shut.

Bending so that his mouth brushed her ear, he murmured, “Stand up, Bella.”

As if her brain had disconnected from her body, her body obeyed. She stood up.

Still behind her, he guided her hands through the sleeves and rolled the cuffs up, the insides of his arms grazing the sides of her breasts. “Better?”

“Uh-huh,” she managed brilliantly. God, please let me find the bones in my knees so I don’t collapse to the floor in a puddle of longing…

His fingers were sure and firm as he buttoned her up, but somehow gentle, too, evoking memories of last night.

Of course, he’d been removing her clothes then, with lots of hot, openmouthed kisses and hands stroking down her body in a way that had brought pleasure and heightened her need and hunger.

As if she’d needed help with the heightening.

Hell, by the time he’d slid his clever, knowing fingers between her thighs, she’d been primed to go off.

And go off she had, like a bottle rocket.

At the memory, her nipples hardened even more. She clasped his shirt to her, her fingers brushing his. “Thanks.”

He nodded.

And yet neither of them moved for a long beat. They just stood there, locked in an embrace, her back to his front, his arms around her.

A few customers walked by and broke the moment. Bella slid back into her chair.

Jacob’s gaze ran the length of her, a light in his eyes that said arousal, and just a hint of possessiveness.

Clearly, he liked the look of his shirt on her.

Her nipples throbbed. She felt them shrink to two tight points. And thanks to her very wet bathing suit, the shirt immediately suctioned to her breasts so that he could see her happy nipples. “Not good,” she muttered, hugging herself.

His mouth curved in a slow smile that heated her up almost as much as the shirt had. “Depends on your point of view.”

4

JACOB LOOKED AWAY from Bella when the waitress came to their table. “Hey, handsome,” she said. “On duty?”

He’d known Deb since high school. “Not today.” He glanced back at Bella, who gave a little wince, making him wonder if she still felt responsible for the fact that he wasn’t working.

He didn’t want her to feel guilty. In his life, there was always work. Hell, there’d be work tomorrow.

Today, he wanted to make sure she was okay. And he could tell by her pallor, by the dull look in her eyes, that she wasn’t.

“So what can I get for you kids?” Deb asked.

Bella didn’t answer. She was staring down at her menu, already lost in thought, a million miles away. “Bella?”

No answer.

Jacob turned to Deb and ordered for them both.

“Something to drink?” Deb asked.

Again he glanced at Bella. Still looking a little shell-shocked. He’d seen this a hundred times. It’d finally all caught up with her. She was worrying her napkin between her fingers in a motion of anxiety, and he covered her cold hand with his.

She jerked and met his gaze. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A drink? You want some hot tea to warm you up?”

She mustered a smile. “That’d be nice.”

Not moving his eyes off hers, he spoke to Deb. “We’ll take whatever comes up first, Deb, thanks.” And when she’d smiled and moved off, he kept his hand on Bella’s.

“You ordered for me?”

“Only because you didn’t.” His thumb brushed over the backs of her fingers.

“Sorry. What are we having?”

“Pizza, fully loaded. Also a sushi platter and a turkey club.”

“For you and what army?” she teased.

Deb came back with the hot tea and some crackers. Jacob opened the crackers while Bella doctored her tea. He handed her a cracker and waited while she ate it. Sure enough, less than a minute later, her color came back, which relieved him. “How long since you’ve eaten, Bella?”

“Do my sponge cakes and cannoli count?”

“Yeah. Against you.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know they’re the best cannoli on the planet.”

He was watching her carefully, noting her fingers shook when she reached for her tea. “Is there someone I can call to stay with you tonight? Family?”

“God, no.” She looked at him, seemed to realize that hadn’t eased his worry and sent him a little smile. “I have family, Jacob. Don’t look so concerned. Six sisters, five brothers-in-law, four grandparents, and at last count, twelve nieces and nephews. They all live in Maine within a three-block radius. If you contacted any of them, they’d roll their eyes and ask what I’ve done to warrant trouble now, and then converge on Santa Rey like the Second Coming. They’d huddle and hover and nag and smother, all in the name of love. But fair warning, if you call them, I’ll have to hurt you.”

He found himself smiling. He did that a lot around her. “They’re that much fun, huh?”

She shrugged. “We’re like a pack of pit bull puppies. Can’t stand to be together, but we’d fight to the death for each other.”

He supposed that wasn’t all that different from him and his brothers. “That’s a lot of family—were you all raised together?”

“Yep. Growing up, my sisters and me shared one bedroom with five tiny beds. I was the youngest, so I did without my own bed.”

“That must have been tough.”

“Nah. They loved me.” A brief shadow crossed her face, as if knowing that hadn’t quite made it okay that they hadn’t been able to accommodate her.

“I slept with a different sister each night.” She shrugged. “You’d think that it might have given me a twisted sense of belonging, but actually, it made me feel like I belonged anywhere.”

Or nowhere…

“Which is where the traveling bug came from,” he guessed, fascinated by this peek into her life.

“Yeah. I’m definitely uniquely suited to moving around, it’s in my blood. I wander, stick for a little while, and if I don’t find what I want, that’s reason enough to go on.”

“What are you looking for?”

She blinked. Clearly, she’d never been asked that question. “You know,” she mused, “I have no idea, really. But as I moved from place to place, I learned about baking and pasty making from all different cultures.”

“Quite the experience. You must have some great recipes.”

“Actually, I don’t use recipes all that much. I’ve memorized the rules and ratios, so I can get away with winging it.”

“Rules?”

“Yeah, like egg whites and eggs yolks cook at different temps, and that adding sugar to eggs causes the protein in the eggs to start setting.” She lifted a shoulder. “I know a ton of boring stuff like that.”

He smiled. “You couldn’t be boring if you tried.”

The sushi plate arrived, and Bella’s stomach growled loud enough for him to smile.

“Shut up,” she said good-naturedly, and stuffed a California roll in her mouth, and then a spicy tuna roll. And then another, chewing with a load moan. “God, this is good.” She ate for another minute before she seemed to realize he was just watching.

He couldn’t help himself.

“You get off on watching women eat?” she asked, looking amused.

“Not usually,” he said, having to laugh at himself. “Apparently, it’s just you.”

A flash of amusement, and then regret, crossed her face, and she put down her next roll. “Listen. I said I was sorry about the Siberia comment, but—”

He nudged her fingers back to her food. “It’s okay. It was to be a one-night thing, I get it. But you could have just said so, you know.”

“I should have. I’m sorry. But I really have been to Siberia, you know. I used it because it seems like the farthest possible place from here…” She gestured to the beach over her shoulder.

“Why use it at all?”

“Because sometimes guys don’t take rejection well.”

“I didn’t exactly get rejected,” he reminded her.

“Because you stalked me on the beach.”

He laughed, and she smiled. “Okay,” she said. “Not exactly stalked, and obviously I want to be here or you’d be walking funny.”

He arched a brow.

“My signature self-defense move is a knee to the family jewels.”

He winced. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“No need. Like I said, I want to be here.” She paused. “With you.” She took a sip of her tea and hummed in pleasure.

“Bella,” he said, staring at her mouth. “I love that you love food, and that you seem to experience everything to its fullest. I really love that, but you’re killing me here with the moaning.”

She stared at his mouth in return. “I’d say I’m sorry…”

“But you’re not.”

Slowly, she shook her head, and when he let out a low groan and had to shift in his chair—she got to him, dammit, like no other—she smiled and broke the spell. “The tea is peach mango,” she said. “My sister makes tea like this.”

“You ever get homesick?”

“Only for the tea.” She paused. “Okay, maybe sometimes for the people. They miss me. A lot.”

“They love you.”

“Yes, well, I’m very lovable.” She smiled again, her gaze holding his. “So, Detective…”

“So.”

“You know all about me, and yet all I know about you is that you feel protective over girls you sleep with, and have a food fetish.”

He ignored the protective thing. Fact was fact. “No, I have a watching-you-eat fetish. There’s a difference.”

“Don’t distract me,” she said, scolding him. “It’s your turn.”

“To what?”

“To tell me about you.”

BELLA SMILED WHEN JACOB just stared at her. The detective was far more comfortable dissecting her than himself.

“What about me?” he finally asked, his eyes shuttering a little bit.

“Well, you could start with why you were one of my blind dates. You don’t seem like the blind-date type.”

“Is there an easier question?”

“That is easy,” she said.

He was quiet a moment, studying her. “You might not like my answer.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, the guys at the P.D. thought it would be funny to sign me up for the singles club.”

“You mean, without your knowledge?”

“Yes.”

He was right. She found she didn’t like the thought of that at all. She picked up another California roll. “So you didn’t want to go out with me.”

Letting out a long breath, he reached across the small table for her hand, entwining their fingers, his thumb running slowly over her knuckles in a little circle that was unbelievably soothing.

And arousing.

“Bella?”

“Hmm?” She lifted her gaze from their fingers.

“Did I seem all that unwilling to you?”

His gaze was clear, open and honest…and heated.

She remembered the night before, how he’d looked at her as he’d slid in and out of her body in long, slow strokes while murmuring hot, erotic words in her ears, holding her gaze prisoner as he’d taken her over… “No,” she whispered, squeezing her thighs together beneath the cover of the table. “You didn’t seem unwilling.”

“One thing you should know about me. I never do anything I don’t want to.”

She looked away and cleared her throat. “So, are you the youngest in your family also?”

“The oldest of four boys. I was born and raised here.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’d guess you’d say I’m your polar opposite. I like roots.”

She didn’t correct him, tell him that she was beginning to see the light on that subject. That she’d never disliked the idea of roots, she’d just not felt the slightest urge to cultivate them. Until now anyway.

“My brothers are here in Santa Rey—or least two of them are. Wyatt’s air force, and in Afghanistan, but we think of this as home.”

“You’re close to them then?”

“Whether we like it or not,” he said with a dry smile that spoke of easy affection and an easier love.

It made her feel a little wistful. It also tweaked that odd sense of loneliness that had been plaguing her of late. Sure, she could go home and live near her family, but that wasn’t the answer for her.

She hadn’t found the answer yet. And wasn’t that just the problem. “What about your parents?”

“Retired and living in Palm Springs. I try to see them several times a year.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

He said this as if it was a dirty word, and she smiled. “What’s wrong with being called sweet?”

“Not something I’m accused of all that often.”

She bet. Hot? Yes. Big and bad? Yes and yes. But the sweetness he had buried pretty deep. Still, it was undeniable. “I have to tell you, I’m sitting here, trying to figure out why your friends thought you needed help enough to set you up with the singles club.”

“It was a joke.”

“Rooted from what?”

“Christ, you’re persistent.”

“Uh-huh, it’s my middle name. Spill, Detective.”

He let out a low, slow breath. “I live the job.”

“Lots of people live the job. Hell, I live and eat the job.”

“Cops are…different. We go to work and tend to see the worst in people every day, and sometimes we face things that make it hard on whoever’s waiting for us at home.”

“Things like a bullet?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Or the business end of a knife, or a hyped-up druggie determined not to go in peacefully, whatever.”

“That makes you very brave,” she said softly. “Not a bad relationship risk.”

“But there are the long, unforgiving hours. People really don’t like the hours.”

“By people you mean women,” she said.

“I’ve had two serious, long-term relationships, both of whom walked away from me because of the job.”

“Were you a cop before you dated them?” she asked.