Heat It Up (11 page)

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, but 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.

“—like, incredible head. That blowjob should go down in history, pun intended.” Becker pressed his hands to his sides, fighting back a rush of rage. Was Evans such an asshole that he’d talk about this shit in front of him? And to give O’Connor details about what Jane was like in bed, that was sleazy as hell.

Matt laughed. “Did you spend the night?”

“Naah. Awesome BJ aside, the sex wasn’t all that great.”

Beck’s fingers curled into fists. Okay, this was fucking disrespectful. If Evans said even one more word…

“I like my women moaning and squirming and you know, getting into it. She just lay there, looking bored, making me do all the work.” Ryan shrugged. “She was tight as hell, though—” Becker snapped. One second he was standing by the pool table, the next he was shoving Evans hard against the wall. He seized the other man by the collar and shook him hard, his vision nothing but a hazy red.

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that,” Becker growled.

Shock flooded Ryan’s face, accompanied by a spark of fear in his blue eyes. “What the fuck are you doing, Lieutenant?”

He shook the younger guy again, his jaw so tight that his teeth started to hurt. “This isn’t a locker room,” he spat out. “Show her some goddamn respect.”

A hand suddenly clamped down on Becker’s shoulder. “Beck, let him go,” came Carson’s even voice.

Becker didn’t ease his grip. Glaring at Ryan, he said, “If I hear you talking about Jane in that way again—”

“Jane?” Ryan interrupted, his eyes widening.

“What, you forgot her fucking name already?”

There was a short pause, and then Ryan sighed. “We weren’t talking about Jane, man. We were talking about Cynthia.”

Becker blinked. “Who?”

“Cynthia, the chick I hooked up with last night.”

The air went rushing out of Becker’s lungs. Cynthia? He looked into Ryan’s eyes, saw the genuine confusion there, and cursed under his breath. Shit. Slowly, he released Evans from his kung-fu hold and took a step back. As he noticed the curious eyes focused on him, not just from his team members, but the stares of the other bar patrons, he grew uncomfortable.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “I thought you were…talking about her.” Ryan straightened the collar of his shirt, a flicker of annoyance entering his eyes. “That wasn’t cool, Lieutenant.”

“I know.” He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry. I thought…”

“You thought I fucked her,” Ryan finished knowingly. “Yeah, well, I would’ve, if she’d wanted me.

But she didn’t. I took her back to her hotel room, where she spent half the night crying.” Becker hesitated. “Why was she crying?” he asked softly.

“Because you dumped her, you idiot.”

“You can’t call your superior officer an idiot,” Carson said. He smirked. “But I can.” He cast an irritated look in Becker’s direction. “You’re an idiot. You didn’t even talk to her, did you?”

“No,” Becker admitted.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because…” He let out a sigh. “Because I thought she slept with
him
,” he said, jerking his thumb at Ryan. He stared at the other guy in remorse. “I saw you two in the hotel parking lot.” Becker swallowed.

“You had your arm around her, and the two of you walked inside together. I assumed you…you know.” Ryan flashed a grin. “Like I said, I totally would have, if she wanted me. But she’s in love with you.

She spent the entire night downing margaritas and talking about what a jerk you were for ending things, then she cried, then…well, then there was the vomit thing, and finally she went to bed.” He gave a pointed look. “I slept on the floor, by the way. I only stayed the night because I didn’t want her to be alone.”

Becker had no idea what to say. He felt like a total asshole for making assumptions. And he felt like an even bigger asshole when he pictured Jane’s silky-smooth cheeks soaked with tears.
He’d
caused those tears. He’d built up this foolish image of his perfect woman, a woman who was the complete opposite of his ex-wife. But who the fuck needed perfection? And why on earth would he ever want a sweet, docile wife when he could have his feisty, stubborn Jane?

“I’m an idiot,” he muttered under his breath.

Carson overheard the remark and said, “Trust us, we know.”

Jane’s hands were full of shopping bags as she climbed the stairs leading up to her third-floor apartment. Her building didn’t have an elevator, but considering her claustrophobia, that was a blessing.

It was good exercise too, hiking up all those stairs. But super irritating when trying to make the climb with all these bags. Liz had been right, though. All she’d needed to do was get out of the house and already she felt much better. Of course, a shiny pair of Manolos and three new dresses could make anyone feel better.

Shoving the bags in her right hand into her left, she dug around in her purse in search of her keys, head bent as she headed down the corridor toward her apartment. She’d just grabbed hold of her key ring when she lost her grip on the purse. It went flying to the floor, its contents spilling onto the carpeted hallway floor.

“Need some help?”

The familiar voice startled the hell out of her, causing her to drop the bags she was holding. Those fell too, joining her purse on the ground, but Jane was too stunned to pay attention to the discarded items.

Becker was standing in front of her door, clad in a pair of khakis and a blue button-down shirt over a white T-shirt that molded to his perfect chest. Apprehension clouded his eyes, along with a spark of heat that burned brighter when their gazes locked.

“What are you doing here?” she squeaked.

“I wanted to see you,” he said simply.

She swallowed. “Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

Her heart did a little flip. She wanted to throw her arms around his strong, corded neck and kiss him, but she forced herself to stay put. She didn’t fully trust this. Didn’t fully trust
him
. What had changed? A week ago, he’d been telling her he didn’t want to get attached to her, that her goals were too different from his, and now here he was, standing in front of her.

“You drove three hours to tell me you missed me? You could have just picked up the phone, you know,” she said quietly.

“No,” he disagreed. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” she asked again.

Becker took a step closer. She could see his pulse throbbing in his throat. “Because I need to say this in person, Jane.”

She bit her lower lip. “Say what?”

He moved even closer, his expression tender. “That I’m in love with you.” Jane’s mouth went dry. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said huskily. “I’ve fallen for you, Jane. And I was a total jerk for ending things the way I did.”

“Yeah, you were,” she agreed.

“I was going to tell you I made a mistake. I realized it the day after.” His features creased with something that resembled guilt. “I came to find you that night, at the hotel. Only when I got there, I saw you and Ryan in the parking lot, and I…”

“You thought I slept with him,” she said flatly.

Shame swam in his eyes. “Yes. I jumped to conclusions. I…” His voice wobbled. “I figured it confirmed what I was thinking all along, that you weren’t my type…you weren’t serious about me.” Jane let out a shaky breath. “I was serious about you.”