The Heat Is On

“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.”