Taking the Heat (5 page)

“How is it a problem?”

“Well, it's a little awkward, isn't it? That's my flirting technique. Complete awkwardness. Look, it's happening right now. Are you entranced?”

“I kind of am,” he said, smiling at her until she smiled back. “If awkwardness is your flirting technique, then you're clearly into me right now.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Clearly. But isn't everyone into you?”

He was the one who drew back this time. “What?”

She watched him as she sipped from her drink, her eyes still sparkling with laughter. Her gaze dipped down his body when she set her glass on the table. “Come on. Look at you. You're so damn hot.”

“I am?” he asked, feeling his own cheeks get warm.

“Yes, with your little beard and your shoulders and all this.” She waved her hand up and down, while Gabe touched his beard in confusion. “Never mind,” Veronica said. “I'm drunk. Ignore me.”

“Maybe you shouldn't—” But before he could finish his sentence, she downed the rest of the drink.

“No, I hardly ever get drunk. I want to get drunk. I want to have fun for once.”

“You look like you've had plenty of fun in your life.”

“Ha! You're wrong about that.”

“Come on. You're just feeling sorry for yourself after all the excitement of the big city. But you can have fun here, too.”

“Oh, sure,” she huffed out on a laugh.

He bristled a little, used to hearing this kind of shit from his oldest friends. “It's not New York, but it's a good place. Aren't you having fun right now?”

She nodded and leaned closer. Gabe tried very hard not to glance down her dress to the slight rise of her breasts, if only because her gaze was locked on his face. “Gabe MacKenzie,” she said in a loud whisper, “you're beautiful.”

He'd been flattered by her attention, but with those words he realized she was just very, very drunk. Her bright smile was gorgeous, but her eyes had gotten a little hazy. “Okay,” he said, “you're cut off. And I think I'd better walk you home.”

She rolled her eyes. “I lived in Brooklyn. I can handle myself in Wyoming. And walking won't be a problem. I've got the legs of a Russian weight lifter.” She slapped her bare thighs.

“That is not what I said.”

“What did you say?” she teased.

“I said they were strong. Muscled. You look like you run or bike or—”

Her groan cut him off as she dropped her head to her hands. “I was going for cute tonight. Just cute. Why can't I even pull that off?”

“Are you kidding? You're just fishing for compliments now. You're really cute. The definition of cute. But your legs...your legs are sexy.”

She raised her head, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Making
fun
? You really aren't very good at this flirting thing, are you?”

“No. But a guy in New York once called me corn-fed, then acted like it was a compliment.”

“I'm not a guy in New York.”

“You used to be!” she said, poking him in the chest as though she'd caught him in a lie.

“Okay, but I never felt at home there. I'm a country boy at heart. New York is just...where I was born.” Not quite true, but that was what it felt like. A place his family lived. A place he loved from afar and visited occasionally.

Gabe caught sight of the waitress approaching with another drink for Veronica and he shook his head. The woman shrugged and headed back toward the bar.

“I'm sorry,” Veronica said. “You called my legs sexy and I made it weird.” She snagged his beer before he could grab it. “This is why I don't date. Look at me.”

She got one swig before Gabe took it back and finished it off. “Come on, Dear Veronica, let's go.”

Even though she collapsed onto the table with laughter, she eventually nodded. “Okay. Let's go to my place.”

“I didn't mean...”

“Yeah, believe me, I know.” Veronica pushed to her feet. “See? Steady as a tree.”

In fact, she was swaying a little. If she was a tree, she was more a willow than an oak. “How many of these did you have?” he asked.

“One before the show. One during. Then...two more?”

“In the space of an hour?” Gabe reevaluated his options. “How far away do you live?”

“Only three blocks away. I'm centrally located.” That set off a bout of giggling that had Gabe smiling as he wrapped her arm around his.

“Are you okay in those heels?”

“Sure. I had to learn to walk in them in New York. You know how it is. Spike heels everywhere. I bet you loved that, didn't you? Men love that.”

He looked down at her as he opened the door of the bar. She was smiling as she stepped into the night.

“I'm not sure how to answer that,” he finally said.

“Just be honest. I write an advice column. I know what guys like. You can't scare me.”

“Okay, then. Women's legs look amazing in heels. Your legs look amazing in heels. But nothing beats the sight of a woman in hiking boots on the trail ahead. I could watch that for hours.”

“And have?”

“Only with permission, of course.”

She bumped him with her shoulder as they walked. “Does that mean you're an ass man, Gabe MacKenzie?”

“I—” he ran through all the possible responses in his head and decided discretion was the better part of ass valor “—am not going to answer that.”

“You can tell me. Feel free to spill all your kinks. You wouldn't believe what I've heard.”

“I'm sure I wouldn't.” He looked around. “Are we even walking in the right direction? Where do you live?”

“Oh, shit,” she muttered, then spun him around. “It's this way. I'm sorry. I haven't been this tipsy in a really long time.”

He thought she was way past tipsy, but damned if it wasn't adorable on her. “So how does one become a professional advice columnist?”

“Overbearing father,” she muttered, then shook her head. “I was a copy editor, but I also helped out with an advice column at the
Village Voice
. Screening letters, proofing the column, that sort of thing. When I told my dad I was moving back to Jackson, I suppose he wanted to help. He's friends with the owner of the Jackson paper, and Dad
inflated
my experience a little. So here I am. A fraud who gives advice.”

“Well, you're great at it, so how could you be a fraud?”

“You'd be surprised.”

“Does someone else write the column for you?”

She laughed, bumping into him again, her thigh rubbing against his and reminding him of how naked her legs were. “No,” she said. “I write it all by myself. That I can do, at least.”

“Which was your favorite column to write?”

“Hmm.” They stepped from the sidewalk to the boardwalk and Veronica seemed to get distracted by the sound of her heels on the wooden boards for a moment. Then she shook her head and looked up again. “Last year a mother wrote in to slut-shame the woman her adult son was dating. She said that this harlot was luring her son with free sex.”

“Oh, God,” Gabe groaned. “Poor guy.”

“I know. We can only guess at how much he was suffering. Anyway, I answered that letter, telling her that if she was disappointed in the behavior, then maybe she hadn't raised her son very well. I also said there was nothing wrong with sex and to leave the girl alone. Pretty standard stuff. Except that I became friends with the harlot later.”

“Ha! Seriously?”

“It's a small town. These things happen. I probably know the guy who fell in love with his sex doll, too, but please don't tell me if it's you.”

“I'd rather not talk about it, anyway,” Gabe said. “It's over.”

“Oh, no! Did it fizzle out?”

He shrugged. “We tried to patch it up a couple of times.”

She tugged him to a stop, then leaned against a street lamp, wheezing with laughter.

He grinned as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “You okay?”

She shook her head, still struggling for air past her hysterical laughter.

“Was it that funny, or is it just the alcohol?”

“Both!” she gasped. Then groaned, “God, I must be a mess.”

He looked over her tearstained face and the mascara smudges beneath her eyes. “Nah. You look great.”

“Really?” She swiped at her pink nose.

“Really. Now, where are we going?”

“Right here,” she said, gesturing toward a three-story condo complex.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the lamppost to walk her toward the entry. “I only live one block over.”

“I'm not surprised. There are a lot of rentals around here.” She dug her keys from her bag and led the way to one of the ground-floor doors.

“I won't come in,” he said for clarity's sake. Even if he might have wanted to, she was way too drunk for him to feel right about it.

She stabbed her keys toward the doorknob several times. “Don't worry. I didn't think you wanted to.”

“Okay, because I— What? Why would you think that?”

She waved her free hand and the keys jagged two inches to the right. “I'm not that girl. I get it.”

“What girl?”

“You know.” She finally got the key into the hole, and when the lock turned, she gave a little cheer. She pushed the door open and then lurched in before spinning back to him. “I'm not going to try to jump your gorgeous bones, Gabe. You're safe with me. I'm sexual kryptonite.”

“What?” he asked again, even more confused.

She reached down to pull one of her high-heeled boots off, but the other ankle wobbled dangerously.

He jumped forward to grab her elbow so she could pull off the boot without falling. She smiled up at him and took off the other boot. He was surprised by how much shorter she was without them. He could now see straight down her dress. The view was lovely and so was her lacy black bra. He stepped back quickly.

She stared up at him. “It's true,” she whispered.

“What's true?” he asked.

She watched him for a long moment, then leaned a little closer. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he said, not sure what he was hoping to hear her say. Whatever he'd expected, her next words were not it.

“All that advice I give? All of the wise insights on love and sex that I helpfully hand out to strangers?” Her voice was getting softer.

Gabe put his hands on her shoulders. He wanted to lean down and kiss her. Her mouth looked so plump and her eyes so happy. But he couldn't. Not tonight. “Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, using his hands to hold her steady instead of pulling her close.

“That's the biggest lie of all, Gabe. I've never even done it.”

“Done what?” he asked, distracted by the pretty way her neck arched so she could watch him.

She moved even closer, going up on tiptoe to bring her mouth toward his neck. “Fucking,” she whispered.

For a moment, his brain stuttered over the provocative word, guessing that she was trying to turn him on. Not that he'd act on it tonight, but it was a nice problem to have. Then the rest of the conversation caught up and overrode his libido.

He stood straight. His hands gripped her shoulders with more strength. “You
what
?”

Instead of reacting with the seriousness he thought the moment deserved, Veronica burst into laughter. “You should see your face!” she chortled, pointing at his face in case he'd forgotten where he'd left it. “Oh, my God, you're so cute!”

“You were kidding,” he sighed, feeling a relief he didn't understand.

“Oh, I wasn't kidding. But it's still funny.”

He blinked several times. “You're a virgin?”

“Pretty much,” she said, her face suddenly getting serious.

“What does that mean? Can you even be pretty much a virgin?”

“I mean, I've done
things
. On occasion. But I've never
really
done things. Do you get it now? Look at me! I'm a fraud, Gabe. An undesirable, freakish fraud!”

He stared down at one of the most adorable women he'd ever met and wondered if someone had slipped a psychotropic drug into his last beer. “You're...” He couldn't think what to say.
Oh, my God, you're a virgin!
Or...
I don't know what you're talking about—you're totally fuckable!
His mind spun. He stayed silent.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I shouldn't have told you. You just have such a nice face. And everything else.”

“Thank you,” he said carefully.

“Maybe you'd like to help with my problem?” He wasn't sure what she meant until she waggled her eyebrows.

“You mean...with the...?” He pointedly dropped his gaze to a lower point on her body, then realized it was an extremely creepy gesture and snapped his eyes back to her face.

She nodded solemnly. “Yes. With
that
.” She pointed at the spot he'd just eyed. When he didn't respond, her nodding slowed, then stopped entirely before she changed it to a negative shake. “No. Right? It's a no?”

“I don't... Veronica, I don't know what to say. You're really drunk. We shouldn't even be talking about this.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I'm trying to let people see the real me.”

He swallowed hard, wishing he had another beer to wet his dry mouth. Or maybe something with caffeine instead of alcohol so he could navigate this minefield more deftly.

“You're so cute,” she said mournfully, reaching up to slowly pat his cheek. Her fingers lingered, stroking down his beard. “Huh. It's soft.”

“Thank you?” he ventured.

She looked so startlingly pretty when she grinned at him that Gabe finally snapped out of his shock and stood straight. “Okay. That's it. Let's get you to bed.”