Heat It Up Page 8

  “Not really.” He gave a noncommittal shrug.

  “Then why the hell aren’t you with her?”

  Holly suddenly poked her head into the living room. “With who?” she said, looking super interested. “Are you gossiping? If so, I want to know everything.”

  “I’m giving the Lieutenant love advice, babe. Mind your own business.”

  “Oh God,” she said with a groan. “Thomas, don’t listen to him. He’s terrible at giving advice.”

  Becker found himself grinning as Holly bounced back into the room, her green eyes flashing with curiosity. She flopped down on the armchair across from the couch, leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at Becker. “Okay, tell me everything. I’m much better at this kind of thing. Who is she?”

  Discomfort tugged at his gut. He shot Carson a save-me look, but the younger man just shrugged as if to say, There’s no stopping it now. Finally he turned back to Holly and said, “Jane.”

  Leaning back in the chair, Holly crossed her arms over her chest. “Jane. All right. What’s the problem with Jane?”

  “There’s no problem. She’s…great.” He swallowed. “More than great, actually.”

  “Is she reluctant to get involved? Because that’s what happened to Will.” Holly offered a wide smile. “Luckily, I stepped in and saved the day, and now Will and Mac are happily married.”

  Carson set down his beer and pointed a finger at Holly. “Oh no. No, no, no, you are not doing it again.” He shook his head at Becker. “She pretended to be Will’s girlfriend to make Mackenzie jealous. Oh, and she let him kiss her.”

  “For show,” Holly emphasized. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

  Carson growled. “What’s next? You going to hire yourself out for weddings and bar mitzvahs?”

  Despite the bickering and totally weird subject matter, Becker found himself extremely amused by Carson and his girlfriend. He could tell they were madly in love, even when they were grumbling at each other. And Holly reminded him a lot of Jane. Her sass, the stubborn tilt of her chin. At the thought of Jane, Becker’s chest tightened. Damn it, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

  “So, what’s the problem?” Holly asked, ignoring Carson and fixing those shrewd green eyes on Becker.

  He opened his mouth, intending to lie and say there was no problem, but instead, he ended up telling them everything. His encounter with Jane in the elevator, the incredible week they’d spent together, his reluctance to get involved with her. He even spilled some details about his marriage, a topic he hadn’t spoken about with anyone but Jane.

  When he finished, Holly looked bewildered. “But it sounds like you really care about her. Why can’t you be with her?”

  A heavy breath rolled out of his chest. “She reminds me too much of my ex.”

  Next to him, Carson took another swig of beer then set the bottle down with a laugh. “Actually, she sounds nothing like your ex.”

  He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  Carson shrugged. “Well, you described your ex-wife as, not to sound like an ass, a selfish bitch.”

  “Carson,” Holly chided.

  Becker smiled wryly. “No, he’s right. Alice isn’t the nicest person.”

  “But Jane is,” Carson pointed out. “I played nine holes of mini-golf with her, and not once did I get the selfish bitch vibe from her.”

  “And you said she didn’t even bug you about the interview,” Holly chimed in.

  “Yeah,” he admitted.

  “So she can’t be as bad as your ex.” Holly’s features softened. “You said your ex-wife would do anything to get ahead in her career. Well, if Jane was like that, she wouldn’t have given up until she got that scoop she originally came for. Instead, she accepted your answer and left it alone.”

  Holly had a point. Jane had completely dropped the issue of his interview, which was something Alice never would have done. “But…” He drained the rest of his beer, wishing the two of them hadn’t put him on the spot like this. He could tell from their expressions that they thought he was an idiot for ending things with Jane, and the longer they stared at him, the more he started to wonder if maybe they were right. “She doesn’t want the same things as me,” he finally said.

  “Marriage, family?” Holly prompted.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you honestly tell me those are things you plan to have right this second?” Holly said, rolling her eyes. “You can’t just snap your fingers and find yourself a wife, unless you plan on ordering one from some Russian classified ad. No matter what, you’ll have to date someone, take the time to fall in love with her, see if there’s a connection. At least with Jane, you know the connection is there.”

  Fuck, another good point. He was starting to regret ever coming here.

  Carson threw in his two cents. “I think you should give her a chance. You’re obviously falling for her, so why not see where things go? And if in a few months you find she’s really not the right woman for you, then I promise, I’ll buy you that Russian bride myself.”

  Becker couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

  Carson grinned. “Good, so go talk to her.”

  He leaned back against the sofa cushions, only to notice both Holly and Carson looking at him as if he were an alien. “What?” he said, feeling defensive.

  “Go talk to her,” Holly burst out, looking frazzled.

  Becker blinked. “Now?”

  “No, next month,” Carson said. “Don’t get me wrong, we can crack open a few more beers and watch the rest of this boring-ass game, but wouldn’t you rather be having make-up sex with your sexy little redhead right now?”

  Holly leaned forward again, looking intrigued. “Oooh, is she really that attractive?” she asked her boyfriend. When Carson nodded, she swung her head at Becker. “What are you waiting for? Get her back already.”

  Becker’s confidence was sky-high as he headed back to the hotel. Damn, Carson and his girlfriend ought to go into motivational speaking. The two of them had pumped him up, made him feel as though getting Jane back was the only course of action to take. And why shouldn’t he? They were right. He was falling for her. He had fun with Jane, more fun than he’d ever experienced with a woman before. She made him laugh, which was pretty much a miracle considering that with Alice, he’d barely cracked a smile in over a decade.

  He couldn’t help wondering, as he made a left turn onto the road leading to the hotel, if he was being reckless. Maybe even foolish. Jane would be leaving in two days, heading back to LA, which was a good three-hour drive from Coronado. How would they ever even see each other? Which one of them would make the commute? Would Jane even consider doing it?

  He forced himself not to dwell on the minor details. There was no point thinking about any of that, not until he knew if Jane was even willing to continue their relationship once she left. Fuck, he hoped she would. Carson and Holly had made him realize how unfair he’d been to Jane. Her resemblance to Alice, now that he thought about it, was pretty fucking flimsy. Big deal, so they shared some common personality traits. When it came to the traits that mattered, Jane was not Alice, and never would be.

  He parked the SUV in the guest parking lot and got out. His palms grew damp as he locked the car and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. It was only a quarter to ten. Jane probably wasn’t asleep yet. His pulse sped up as he dialed the front desk and asked to be connected to her room, but the anticipation fizzled after the tenth ring, when Jane still hadn’t picked up. She’d either fallen asleep, or simply wasn’t taking any calls.

  It didn’t even occur to him that she might not be in her room, not until the sound of car engine caught his attention. An olive-green Jeep Cherokee had just pulled into the parking lot, and Becker’s breath froze in his lungs when he spotted the two familiar figures in the vehicle. Breathing hard, he discreetly ducked between his SUV and the minivan beside it, forcing his pulse to slow. Fuck. That couldn’t have been Jane in that Jeep. Si
tting next to Ryan Evans.

  He peered out from his hiding spot, his hands curling into fists as he received confirmation. Across the lot, Ryan Evans hopped out of the Jeep, then bounded toward the passenger door to help Jane out. She tripped and stumbled into Ryan’s arms, letting out a melodic laugh that echoed through the deserted lot and hardened Becker’s veins.

  He stood there, frozen in place, as Ryan wrapped his arm around Jane’s shoulders and bent to say something in her ear. She laughed again, and then the two of them headed for the path leading toward the main building of the hotel. Becker watched them go, unable to move, unable to stop the simultaneous jolts of anger and betrayal the sight of Jane and Ryan had evoked.

  Goddammit. Goddamn her.

  One day. That’s all it had taken for her to hook up with another man. And here he was, pining over her for the past twenty-four hours, second-guessing his decision to end things, coming here so he could win her back. What a fucking moron he was. What did he expect, that she’d be missing him too? She’d said so herself. She liked sex. And she’d been attracted to Evans. Not to mention her admission that she’d never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months.

  Well, theirs had lasted a full week.

  He slowly uncurled his fists, sucking in a long breath. Fuck. He needed to calm down. Needed to restrain himself, before he lost control, marched over to Jane’s room and punched Ryan Evans’ lights out. Getting angry wouldn’t achieve a goddamn thing. Either way, he’d completely deluded himself into thinking he and Jane could have something serious. How could they? Jane wasn’t serious. She was fun and flirty and fucking another man right at this very moment. How could he get serious with a woman like that?

  Tightening his jaw, he tore his gaze away from the direction Jane and Evans had gone. As much as it hurt, seeing them together, at least it had snapped some sense into him. He and Jane had fucked for a week, and now she’d found a new bedmate. Big deal. He’d get over it. He’d get over her.

  He let out a ragged breath, straightened his shoulders and headed to his cottage, all the while trying to convince himself that getting over Jane would be absolutely no trouble at all.

  Chapter Seven

  “Okay, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or should I tell Mom and Dad so they can harass you about it?” Jane’s sister demanded, her hands on her hips as she loomed over Jane.

  Jane had been lying on her comfy couch, a carton of ice cream in her lap, when her sister had marched into her apartment as if she owned the place and started the interrogation. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Jane said defensively, sliding up into a cross-legged position. “I took a week off work so I could chill out for a while. Why is that cause for concern?”

  “Because you never take time off,” Liz said, her blonde ponytail flipping as she plopped down on the couch. “You’ve practically lived in your office for the past two years.”

  “Well, I needed a break.” She jammed her spoon into the carton and brought out a scoop of cookie dough ice cream, which she swirled around in her mouth before swallowing. God, ice cream was the best thing ever. She’d been back in LA for a week now, and so far, the only thing that had managed to cheer her up was ice cream.

  “Why?” Liz pressed, her brown eyes filling with concern. “What happened in San Diego, Janie? You’ve been depressed ever since you got back.”

  “I’m not depressed.”

  “Sad then.”

  “I’m not sad.”

  Liz groaned with frustration. “I will call Mom. She’ll get the truth out of you.”

  Jane sighed. She set down the ice cream carton on the glass coffee table and turned to her sister. “Fine, I’ll tell you what’s wrong, but please don’t tell Mom, okay?”

  Triumph lit her sister’s eyes. “I knew something was wrong. Tell me everything.”

  With another sigh, Jane spilled her guts. She told Liz all about Becker, the wild sex, her growing feelings for him, how he’d ended it before it could even begin. She finished by confessing how she’d spent her final night in San Diego—drunker than drunk. She left out the part about Ryan being there that last night, since it wasn’t important. Nope, the only truly important thing was how desperately she missed Thomas Becker.

  “Then call him,” Liz said quietly when Jane voiced the thought out loud.

  “I can’t. He made it clear he doesn’t see a future with me. He wants some perfect, obedient little housewife who’ll pop out half a dozen babies for him, and we both know I’m neither perfect nor obedient,” Jane said wryly.

  Her sister grinned. “No, obedient you most certainly are not. Not perfect either, but…” Liz’s voice was laced with affection as she said, “You’re an amazing woman, Janie. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  “Too bad the one I want doesn’t see it that way.”

  She went for the ice cream again, but Liz intercepted her, pushing the carton out of reach. “Thomas Becker is obviously an idiot, Janie. If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

  Jane didn’t answer. Liz was probably right, but that didn’t mean she could just erase her feelings for Becker. It was so messed up. She’d only spent a week with the man. One freaking week, yet she’d connected with him in a way she never had with any other man.

  “Come on, get up,” Liz suddenly ordered. She stood up and held out her hand. “Let’s go.”

  She allowed her sister to help her to her feet. “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere. You need to get out of the apartment and stop thinking about Becker.”

  Jane glanced down at her ratty sweat pants. “I’m not even dressed.”

  “Then get dressed.” Liz’s chin lifted with determination. “We’ll go get a manicure, or see that new Brad Pitt movie, or just walk down Sunset and window shop.”

  “I don’t—”

  “No argument,” Liz interrupted. “Now get dressed so we can work on helping you put Thomas Becker right out of your mind, okay?”

  The image of Becker’s serious face and spectacular body floated into her mind, eliciting a spark of hurt. She quickly pushed it aside, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go,” she said quietly.

  Becker had no clue why he agreed to shoot pool with Carson on Thursday night. Ever since the night he’d seen Jane and Ryan in the parking lot of the hotel, draped all over each other, he’d avoided his fellow SEALs, especially Carson. There had been a couple of messages on his cell phone from Carson, and one from Holly, the day after he’d stopped by their place, but Becker hadn’t returned the calls. Those two had been the reason he’d gone to see Jane in the first place, and look how that turned out.

  Fuck. There he went, thinking about her again. It had almost become a twisted game, counting how many times the thought of Jane slid into his mind. The current tally was six, and pathetically, that was just in the last hour.

  “I’m still waiting to hear why you’ve been avoiding me this entire week,” Carson said casually as he racked the balls on the pool table.

  “I’m not avoiding you,” Becker lied.

  Carson shook his head. “Yes, you are. But whatever, don’t tell me why.” He stepped back and gestured for Becker to break the neatly arranged balls. “At least tell me what happened with Jane.”

  “Nothing. It didn’t work out.” Averting his eyes, Becker bent forward, pulled his cue back and sent the white ball smashing into the others, making them scatter on the green felt like frantic rats.

  He straightened his back and examined the table, annoyed to see that despite the excessive strength he’d put into the shot, not a single ball had landed in a pocket. Behind him, he heard Carson let out a frazzled breath. “What do you mean, it didn’t work out? She wasn’t interested?”

  Before Becker could answer, he caught a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. An irrational knot of anger coiled around his insides as Ryan Evans and Matt O’Connor strode up to the pool table. They knocked fists with Carson, b
ut didn’t offer the easygoing gesture to Becker, simply nodded in greeting.

  Becker forced himself to nod back. Forced himself not to glare at Evans, or even worse, unleash an upper cut into the younger man’s jaw. Ryan hadn’t done anything wrong. So what if he’d slept with Jane? No matter how much the notion infuriated him, he couldn’t blame Ryan. Fuck, he couldn’t even blame Jane, either. After all, he was the one who’d broken things off with her.

  Still, it took a considerable amount of willpower, maintaining a civil attitude toward Ryan. Just looking at the guy, Becker couldn’t help but imagine him in bed with Jane. Which brought a wave of discomfort to his gut, since he and Jane had done just that, hadn’t they? Imagined Ryan in bed with them. The uncomfortable ache faded back into anger, as he realized the fantasy had come true—for Jane, at least. She’d wasted no time climbing into bed with Ryan. Becker’s chest hurt just thinking about it.

  “One of you grab me a beer, will you?” Carson said to the two newcomers.

  “Get your own beer,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes.

  “Come on, please? I’m about to kick Beck’s ass here.”

  Matt took pity on Carson and headed toward the long chrome counter on the other side of the bar. As Carson leaned forward to take his shot, Ryan turned to Becker and said, “Have you heard from Jane?”

  Becker’s entire body tensed. Seriously? Evans was actually bringing up Jane, to him, the man who’d been fucking her only the day before Ryan?

  “No,” he said stiffly. “I haven’t.”

  Ryan must have sensed Becker’s hostility because he backed off, and wandered over to Matt, who was returning with the beers. Evans and O’Connor went to stand by Carson, leaving Becker free to focus on the game. He bent to take a shot, forcing himself to relax. Wasn’t Ryan’s fault things hadn’t worked out with Jane.

  He sank a couple of balls, zoning out the conversation of the other guys, then missed what could have been a sweet combo. He straightened up, waiting for Carson to shoot, and that was when he caught the tail end of Ryan’s comment to Matt.