Turn Up the Heat

He shuddered. Were there flights out of Milwaukee to anywhere warm leaving this afternoon?

“It’s not that bad.” She shifted on the sidewalk, gesturing with her hands in her pockets; her sweater gaped and he got a very nice eyeful. She wasn’t tall—he was six-one and she came up to his chin in those incredible boots—but perfectly proportioned. If anything could warm him up … “What made you move here, Justin?”

“A book contract.” His teeth started to chatter; he wondered if she’d think he was making a move on her if he invited her to continue their conversation inside.

“No, kidding! What about?”

“An interactive how-to computer manual. There will be a disk with the book, and an e-version. In the ebooks, readers will be able to click links to pursue subjects further, see short animated demos or try out software screens. We’re trying to duplicate a classroom experience. A friend pitched the idea to our publisher. He’s the computer guy. I’m the writer.” Could she tell his sentences were getting shorter and shorter as his body started to want to shake in earnest? It took more and more energy to hold still. Not macho to start violent trembling. “If it flies they’ll want a whole series.”

“No kidding! That is most excellent. Did you write in California? Where were you from exactly? I have a friend in L.A.” Her conversation tumbled out, as if she’d been holding back before.

“I’m from Solana Beach, outside San Diego. Yes, I wrote, technical manuals for a scientific engineering company.”

“Oh, wow. That sounds so …” She faltered.

“Unbelievably exciting? Universe-altering, in fact?”

“Of course.” She tipped her head, smiling again, hair hanging in a shiny curtain behind her right ear. If he wasn’t about to turn into Frosty the Snowman, he’d really enjoy being on the receiving end of that deep-brown gaze, imagining what else she might find unbelievably exciting.

But he was about to turn into Frosty the Snowman.

“Listen, I know you natives consider this a balmy day in paradise, but I am about to start dropping limbs. Would you like to bring this conversation over to my house? I have coffee on, though at this point I’m thinking of bathing in it.”

She laughed. “I’d love to, but I have a … date.”

“Yeah, okay.” He was surprised to be so disappointed. But of course a woman like this would have a boyfriend, or guys all over her. Guys who’d walk around on a day like today in shorts, shirtless and not even have their balls retract. His were somewhere up near where they’d been the day he was born. “I should have figured with you so dressed up.”

“I don’t always dress like this.”

He almost said “No kidding” but didn’t want her thinking—okay, knowing—that he’d taken a somewhat voyeur-type interest in her and was already curious about her abrupt changes in style. “Too bad.”

She smiled, and under her sex-aura he thought he detected shyness. “Thank you.”

“You … go on a lot of dates?”

“Recently, yes.”

He took a step back. He really liked the look of this woman, the way she smiled so often, and the sensual energy she emitted, but he wasn’t the type to stand in a testosterone line. Angie, his ex-girlfriend, was like that. A man-magnet, who was a lot better at attracting than at repelling, for which she was unapologetic, to say the least. She was one of the reasons he’d done more than just consider cutting ties to his home state.

“I joined a dating site.”

“Yeah?” He stopped moving back. That would explain all the dates—easy access to a pool of single guys. But not the variety of outfits. “How’s that working?”

“Not bad. Not great.” She laughed. “Sometimes I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

He nodded, not really understanding. For someone who didn’t think it was a good idea, she sure put a lot of effort into transforming herself.

“My friend owns the site. Milwaukeedates.com. It’s … sort of a favor to her.”

“Really.” Now that was interesting. She was going on dates to help out a friend, not to find someone? What about the women who signed up legitimately at the website? What about the poor men who thought they were on a real date and had a chance with her? “The company isn’t doing well? Needs more women?”

“Oh.” She dropped her eyes, clearly flustered. “No, she … No, it’s doing very well. In fact, Marie won a Best Success Stories award last year from Women in Power, a local organization of female business owners. I belong, too.”

“Good for her.” His reporter instinct started humming. Something was making this appetizing Candy-gram pretty uncomfortable. After graduating with a degree in journalism from the University of Southern California, Justin made most of his money through his technical-writing job, but kept his hand in investigative reporting simply because he loved it.

“What do you do?”

“I have my own event-planning company. We do kids’ parties, adult parties, corporate events, whatever anyone needs.”

“What a great job.”

“I enjoy it a lot.”

His mind was still spinning. Bob Rondell, longtime friend and ex-roommate, a good-looking successful guy who loved conspiracy theories, had one about a dating site he’d joined in San Diego. He was convinced the company employed hot women, put up their profiles, and had them show up on two or three chaste dates per new enrollee, to boost the site’s cachet and to keep the men eagerly paying steep monthly dues in case the next date worked out better. At the time Justin had chalked up the theory to Bob’s bruised ego.

But … he’d heard other rumors of deceptive practices on dating sites. It could happen. Justin had learned to trust his instinct when it told him something was worth probing further. Just not here, now, with his ears on fire, his nose running and his toes going numb.

“Well, enjoy your date.”

She looked rueful. “Coffee in your kitchen sounds more fun.”

“The offer stands for another time.” He backed into the street a few steps, keeping their eye contact going, and then turned and did everything he could to amble casually up to his back door when every frozen cell in his body was begging him to run as fast as he safely could.

Was it spring yet?

Inside, still enjoying the mental picture of Candy’s body beckoning in purple and black, but feeling bad for the guy she was going to meet with all the excitement of someone facing jail time, he let himself warm up for a few minutes, turning over the meager facts. Nothing substantial to go on. But … an article exposing fraud of any type was always fascinating to readers, and it wouldn’t do any harm for him to check further.

He hauled out his phone and dialed Bob in California with fingers still clumsy from the chill. Would he ever get used to winter in this place? He missed surfing the most. Maybe he should take up cross-country skiing. Supposed to be a good enough workout that you didn’t mind so much being flash-frozen.

“Bob, hey, it’s Justin. What’s going on?”

“Sitting on my balcony in a swimsuit, getting some sun, enjoying a good book and a beer. You?”

Justin made a noise of disgust. “Up to my testes in ice.”

“Ha! Dude, I knew you’d get hammered there. Serious winter. Come home, the living is still easy.”

“Nah, I like it so far. Except for the cold.”

“Right, and that’s only a mere eight months of the year. I lived in Boston and nearly died. Wisconsin is worse.”

“Don’t need to hear it, I’m living it.”

“I’m telling you … How’s the book coming with Troy?”

“We’ve made a good start.”

“Yeah? I can’t picture the two of you doing anything but goofing around drinking beer.”