Turn Up the Heat (5 page)

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but Derek wasn't exactly riveting. Although
he
thought he was,” Holly half shouted over the din as they made their way toward the crowded bar.

“Please. I can say this now that he's a thing of the past. The guy was an asshat,” Jenna said, frowning.

Bellamy stopped short a few steps from the glossy wood of the bar top that ran the entire length of the room. “Did you always think so?”

Jenna chewed her lip for a second. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Why didn't you say anything?” Bellamy gasped.

“Because I wasn't the one dating him. You seemed to like him, and that was good enough for me. His pretentiousness wasn't that offensive in the grander scheme of things. It's not like he kicked puppies or stole money from little old ladies or anything.”

“Still! You're supposed to be my friends. If anything, you should've told me for my own good,” Bellamy said.

Holly looked at her as she leaned against the bar. “Derek's a complete weasel, honey.”

“It's not retroactive,” she sighed.

Of course, neither one of them was wrong. Derek wasn't necessarily horrible. But he sure wasn't as great as he thought he was. In more ways than one.

“Oh. Okay, well have a drink, then,” Holly said brightly, passing her a fresh beer.

The unexpected pang at the memory of her lackluster sex life with Derek made Bellamy's cheeks flush, and she took a long draw from the bottle. It wasn't like a through-the-roof sex life would've saved the relationship in the end.

But it wouldn't have
hurt
anything, either.

“I've got bigger fish to fry than Derek. How am I going to get home on Monday without a car? Bosszilla is probably already losing her mind at the fact that my cell service is spotty at best up here.” The discovery of cell service within the boundary of the resort had been the only bright spot in Bellamy's otherwise trying afternoon. Right up until the three voice mails and nine texts from her boss popped through, anyway.

“Oh, no you don't. We're not worrying about any of that crap until tomorrow. Tonight is supposed to be about you
forgetting
your sorrows,” Jenna reminded her. “Now knock it off before I find out whether or not that karaoke machine is functional. I'd love to see you belt out some Lady Gaga.”

Bellamy had a retort on the tip of her tongue when she heard the sound of a very deep, very male throat being cleared.

“Excuse me, ladies. My friends and I were wondering if you'd like to join us for a drink.”

No pick-up line, no nonsense, no veiled suggestions of any kind. Now
this
was something she could get on board with. Bellamy turned to look at the source of the voice.

The man's eyes were right on hers as she peered up into his classically handsome face. His blond hair was slicked back with a suspicious amount of product, but then again, she could do worse than a guy who cared about his appearance. She exchanged a look with Holly, who had already gotten the subtle nod from Jenna.

What the hell. If they were going to get their drink on, they might as well make it a party. The guy seemed nice enough; plus, how bad could it be with Holly and Jenna at her side?

“Why not,” Bellamy said, giving up a smile.

“Marcus Lawrenson.” He extended his hand. His handshake was softer than she expected, but the smile that went with it had potential.

Marcus was
not
prettier than her.

Which made him absolutely perfect in her book.

Shane leaned a forearm onto the bar and took a lazy draw from his beer. The Double Shot already teemed with its typical Friday night crowd, and even though going out wasn't necessarily Shane's thing, it was hard to find anything wrong with a cold beer after a long day.

“So, can I ask you a question?” Jackson gave him a look that suggested he was going to no matter what Shane's response turned out to be.

“Shoot.”

“How come you work so much? I mean, I like cars as much as the next person, but really? Every guy needs a break. Hook up with a girl on the side, maybe get a little drunk here and there, go fishing with his buddies. You? For the year I've known you, all you've ever done is put your nose to the grindstone. What gives?”

Shit. Shane knew this question was overdue, yet he'd still been dreading it. “Nothing gives. I'm just a get-it-done kind of guy, that's all.” Shane shrugged, hoping Jackson would drop it.

Not a chance. “Look, I know you saved Grady's business from going down the tubes after he had that heart attack last year. If you hadn't drifted into town when you did, he'd have probably ended up having to sell the place. But still, you gotta loosen up, Shane! Life's too short, you know?”

Shane had all but drained his beer during the course of their two-minute conversation, and he was gonna need another one, stat. “I'm loose enough, man. Really, you're worried over nothing.”

Jackson's laugh turned a couple of nearby heads, even with the music blasting from the speakers. “Really? When was the last time you got laid?”

“That's a little personal, don't you think?” Shane placed his empty beer on the bar and signaled the bartender for a replacement, dodging the question like a pro.

“Sounds like it's
nothing
personal to me. Come on, Shane. There are tons of pretty girls in this bar. I'm not saying you should marry one of them, but it wouldn't kill you to get somebody's number, would it?”

“I just haven't met anybody I'm interested in, that's all,” he replied, wanting nothing more than for the conversation to end. Jackson's eyes scanned the bar with careful precision, and Shane narrowed his gaze on his friend.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm trying to find a girl who looks interesting. What about her?” Jackson flicked his gaze down the bar and let it settle on someone in the crowd by the door.

“Marcus Lawrenson? I don't think he's my type,” Shane chuckled.

Jackson let out a breath, exasperated. “Not Captain America, you dick. The girl he's talking up.”

Shane smirked, finally enjoying himself a little bit as he turned around. “Oh, all right. Let's see who Marcus has his sights set on tonight.”

As soon as Marcus shifted his stance, giving Shane a clear line of vision to the girl leaning against the bar, his stomach did a lurch-back flip move that shocked the hell out of him.

Across the room, Bellamy Blake smiled up at Marcus like he was God's gift to women. And was she holding his hand? Shane's beer suddenly tasted bitter, and he rolled the bottle around to check the expiration date.

Jackson lifted a brow. “What?” Unfortunately for Shane, Jackson hadn't missed a thing, and the big oaf was smarter than his
who me?
charm let on. Shane hadn't given any girl a second look since he'd moved to Pine Mountain; he wasn't about to start now.

“Nothing. That's, ah, the girl who belongs to the toy car sitting up on the lift at Grady's.”

Jackson's eyes glimmered with interest. “Lemme guess. Not your type either?”

This one was a total gimme. “Definitely not.” Yet his eyes disobeyed his brain and arrowed in on Bellamy again. Okay, so she wasn't holding Marcus's hand. It must have been the guy's poor excuse for a handshake that Shane had witnessed. Right.

Why did he give a shit?

“She's cute. You sure she's not interesting enough for you?”

Shane didn't need to feed Jackson's imagination any further, especially not when it came to his being interested in a snobby little blonde from the city. Which he wasn't. At all.

“She's plenty interesting if you want to date a prissy pain in the ass. Me? I'll pass. Hey, isn't that Samantha Kane over there, looking at the jukebox? You should go talk to her, my man, before someone else swoops in and steals her away.” Shane jutted his chin at the willowy redhead standing by the jukebox with a gaggle of her friends.

Forgoing subtlety, Jackson swung his head around and studied the situation. “If I'm going to talk to her, I ain't goin' alone. Why do girls travel in packs like that, huh?”

Shane exhaled in relief at the shift in focus. “Relax, Lover Boy. I'd be a poor excuse for a wingman if I didn't go with you.” He barely registered his subconscious glance in Bellamy's direction before his eyes were back on his friend. “Who knows. Maybe one of her friends will be interesting.”

Jackson finished his beer and looked at Shane with a grin. “Atta boy. You might get lucky tonight after all.”

 

 

Bellamy spent more time listening to the conversation around her than participating in it, which proved to be increasingly amusing as the night—and the drinks—wore on. About two beers into her bender, she'd spotted Shane leaning against a wall, looking like James Dean spit him out. By beer number three, he was getting cozy with a sexy brunette wearing a top cut so low that it earned wardrobe malfunction status in Bellamy's book.

By beer number four, she realized that she really needed to stop giving a flying fig what the man did.

“So, Bellamy, tell us what you do,” Marcus purred, his voice sounding like it was covered in chocolate.

Since both Holly and Jenna were suddenly engrossed in conversation with Marcus's friends, Bellamy wasn't exactly sure who the
us
was, but what the hell. She'd play along just for grins.

“I'm a real estate analyst for the second largest bank in Philadelphia.”

Whoa. Note to self. Don't use the big words around Marcus
. He looked so bewildered that even deer stuck in headlights would be embarrassed for him.

“Beauty
and
brains, huh? Nice combination,” he finally managed.

“Uh, thanks, I think.” The pause that followed reeked of awkward, so she figured she'd bail the poor guy out. “What about you?”

Marcus's chest puffed and he flashed his pearly too-whites. “I'm a ski instructor at the resort. I heard Jenna say you're staying until Monday. If you want to hit the slopes tomorrow, I could show you a thing or two.”

Oh my God. Did he just give her the double-barrel-wink? Honestly? Who did that anymore?

“Oh, ah, wow, that's really nice of you. I didn't bring skis with me this trip,” she apologized.

Much to Bellamy's chagrin, Marcus was completely undaunted. “Oh, that's fine. We've got tons of that stuff you could borrow. Really.” He leaned in so close that the cloying scent of his cologne hit her nostrils full force, and between that and the alcohol coursing through her veins, dizzy was her new middle name. “There are all kinds of trails on the mountain with romantic views. They're perfect for a private lesson,” he said on a deep croon.

The thing about anything covered in chocolate was, if you had too much of it, you tended to throw up.

Bellamy straightened up and gave Holly the signal for
help me out or I'll kill you
. Bless her best friend's heart, her response time was less than ten seconds.

“Bellamy, I need a drink! Do you want one?” The flush on Holly's face suggested that she needed a drink like she needed a tax audit, but Bellamy was in the mood to pick up her friend's slack if necessary.

“Oh, ladies, allow me,” Marcus murmured, moving to join them.

Bellamy brushed his sleeve with her hand. “That's really not necessary, Marcus. I'd like to have a quick conversation with Holly about our itinerary for the weekend. We won't be long.”

Marcus got caught up in her use of multiple syllables like they were a smart-girl force field, and he gaped like a grouper on deck. “Oh, uh . . . right. I'll just wait here, then.”

She pressed her lips together to hold in a smile, but as soon as Bellamy turned toward the bar, her smile died on the spot.

Shane was standing not ten feet away, leaning against the wall and staring at her with eyes so dark, they all but glittered black in the low light spilling down from overhead. Bellamy froze where she stood in the middle of the hardwood, unable to do anything but stare back at him, until Holly's voice finally snagged her attention.

“Hello? Earth to Bellamy?” Holly followed Bellamy's line of sight across the bar, eyes landing directly on Shane. He'd shifted his weight and casually turned his attention toward the absolute mountain of a guy next to him, but Holly caught him well enough in profile to put two and two together. Her mouth curled into a quick, wicked grin. “What's the matter? Hot guy got your tongue?”

Bellamy's cheeks went from zero to five-alarm-fire in two seconds flat, and she stalked the rest of the way to the bar. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said casually, flipping her hair for emphasis.

Holly snickered. “I'm drunk, not stupid. But whatever you say.”

Come to think of it, Bellamy wasn't exactly sober, herself. “Well, thanks for the save over there. I owe you one.”

Holly leaned an elbow onto the bar, and within a minute, two fresh beers graced the counter in front of them. “So, Marcus is a no-go, huh? Not that I'm shocked, really. He's, um, how should I put it . . .”

“Cheesier than Velveeta?” Bellamy supplied, and Holly choked out a laugh.

“I was going to say too enthusiastic. Is he that bad?”

Bellamy sighed, linking her fingers around the frosty neck of her beer. “Yes. No.” He definitely wasn't her type, but just because he was your basic cornball didn't mean he was that bad of a guy. “I think I might need a break from men after all. Just for a little while.” Of course, her eyes zeroed in on the spot where Shane had been standing. And of course, he was still standing there, unmoved, looking almost bored.

And wildly sexy.

“I think I need something stronger than this,” she mumbled into her beer.

“Well, why didn't you say so?” Before Bellamy could protest, Holly had lined up two shots of Patrón Silver, along with one look of approval from the bartender.

“Jeez, Holly. Guess we're not going halfway,” Bellamy laughed.

“Nope, not a chance. Now be a good girl and drink up.”

Wait, what was the adage? Liquor then beer . . . no wait. Did those gin and tonics count anymore? Beer then liquor . . . uh . . .

Fuck it.

Bellamy tossed back the shot, and it rode like a lightning strike to her belly. She shifted her weight and leaned against the glossy bar, suddenly very aware of her body. Standing upright after being seated for a while over in camp check-out-my-ski-slope brought on a sensation Bellamy couldn't ignore.

“Hey, Holly, I've gotta find the loo.” How had she managed to keep four beers in her thimble-sized bladder, anyway?

“Ha, the loo. You're so freakin' proper. They didn't teach you the word
pee
at that Ivy League grad school?”

“Come on, you know my mother hates that word. I've never said it in my life.”

“You're the only twenty-seven-year-old I know who worries about what her mom thinks.” Holly paused to frown. “Ah, shit. Jenna just sent me the get-your-ass-back-here look. What do you want me to do?”

“Please. I might be skirting the edges of blotto, but if I can't take myself to the bathroom, then there's something wrong with me. I'll be right back.”

Bellamy turned, her eyes tracking the bar for any sign of the ladies' room. She was loath to admit that her brain's response time involved some serious slack, especially on the heels of that shot of tequila.

“Okay. If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming after you,” her friend warned.

“I'm sure I'll be fine.” What could go wrong on a trip to the loo?

Assuming she could find the damned thing.

Anticipation prickled through Bellamy as she casually surveyed the bar. Like her eyes needed another excuse, they landed on the spot where Shane had stood, staring at her.

He was gone.

Just as well, she grumbled to herself. Now maybe she could get back to normal instead of making goo-goo eyes at someone she didn't even like.

Finally, Bellamy located the bathroom at the very back of the bar. Navigating the narrow hallway with its handful of identical doors was a challenge to her beer buzz, but she managed to locate the correct one without too much fanfare. After going to the bathroom, she ran a hand through her hair in the dingy mirror, realizing she had a flush on her face that matched the one on Holly's. Well, at least she'd managed to achieve one goal today, anyway. She'd temporarily forgotten about her ex, her hideous boss, and her car. The same car she'd left with the mechanic who had both made fun of her and sent her a stare that doubled as a dark, sexy, hot-man laser.

Oh, holy shit, it was time to go to bed.

Bellamy decided to forgo reapplying her lipstick, lest it encourage Marcus. What she really wanted more than anything was her nice, warm, king-sized bed back at the resort, and the prospect of recovering from her hangover courtesy of a gourmet breakfast and a massage. She made her way back into the narrow hallway to go find Jenna and Holly. Forgetting her troubles had been nice, but it was time to go sleep off the liquor before fate found her and messed with her evening like it had messed with her day.