Body Heat. Carly Phillips

she stared at him with more than a hint of interest in her expression.

      It was an interest he recognized because she captivated him, too. The mutual attraction had been strong from the first. And over the past few weeks, the sizzling awareness had only grown stronger.

      His sister had fed his interest, meeting him here in the evenings so he could get his fill. And she’d always been here, always waiting on tables in stations other than his. He didn’t know why she hadn’t approached him, only why he’d maintained the distance. Fantasy, he’d learned, always surpassed gritty reality.

      But never had the current between them been as charged as it was tonight. Their connection was electric, so all-encompassing that his body throbbed with need and his mind soared with myriad possibilities—none of which he intended to act upon.

      She still held his gaze, as if waiting for him to make the next move. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted his glass in silent acknowledgment. He expected her to turn away, to rebuff his subtle advance. She did neither. Instead she held his stare with a searing heat and bold curiosity he hadn’t expected—until the bartender’s arrival with her order severed the connection.

      She glanced back at him once more before she crumpled the napkin and tossed it into the trash. Then she returned to business, taking orders and serving drinks. But the flush in her cheeks remained, testament to what had passed between them.

      “Oh my God, Jake, I’m sorry.” His sister’s voice calling him brought him out of the sensual haze, though the sizzling in his veins remained.

      Relieved Rina had showed up unharmed, he headed back to his table and settled himself into the uncomfortable seat. Though distracted, he tried to focus as she slid into the chair across from him. Her skin glistened from the humidity and her dark hair clung to her cheeks. She was no different from most rushed and overheated New Yorkers, yet her outfit distinguished her from the other mostly jean-wearing patrons of the café. All elegance, she appeared out of place in the casual atmosphere, but Rina being Rina, she failed to notice.

      “I know I’m late. But Norton hates the heat,” she said, talking about her Chinese sharpei. He was all wrinkles with a black tongue, a dog no self-respecting person would take out in public, but Jake had developed a soft spot for the pedigreed pooch.

      He shook his head and laughed. “Money really has changed you, Ri.” They’d grown up with a half-breed mutt that had wandered through the dirt and grime of the South Bronx. The dog had taken a nap one day by the front of their building and had stayed.

      When Rina, a legal secretary, had met and married her boss, Jake had had his doubts about the man and the marriage. Who wouldn’t question a guy who had his fingernails polished weekly? But he’d turned out to be the best thing ever to happen to his kid sister. But then he’d died, leaving Rina alone. She was too young to be a widow, but Jake found comfort in knowing she’d had happiness for a little while.

      A union of opposites had worked well for Rina, but not for Jake. His marriage had ended in a bitter divorce because his wife hadn’t realized that marrying a cop meant living on a cop’s salary and adjusting to erratic hours. His wife hadn’t just given up being married to a cop; she’d given up on Jake. And, after five years, it still hurt. Not because he still loved his wife but because he thought he’d given that kind of life his best shot. Still, Rina’s marriage had flourished, and for that Jake was grateful.

      “Money hasn’t changed me.” She sniffed, raising her chin in the air, pretending to take offense. “Well, not much, anyway. At least I walk him myself. I could pay someone to do it for me, but they’d quit after one day.”

      “High-maintenance breed?” Jake asked, watching the sexy waitress out of the corner of his eye.

      “You could say that,” Rina said.

      He barely heard. She worked the inside restaurant, where the thickening crowd chose to sit. She impressed him with things that went beyond the superficial. Nothing fazed her—not the overwhelming heat, not the picky customer. She served with a thousand-watt smile, one he could watch all night. Especially since, every so often, she sent a covert look his way—to make sure he hadn’t left? He liked to think so.

      Because he sure as hell was aware of her. Jake couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so sexually and emotionally conscious of a woman he didn’t know. He hadn’t been celibate since his marriage, but he hadn’t gotten seriously involved, either. And none of the women in his far or recent past had piqued his interest in quite the same way she had. The sensual game they played intrigued him. He wasn’t ready to end it by meeting her and destroying the fantasy. No woman could be as fresh and unjaded as she seemed to be. His marriage had taught him that.

      Appearances, Jake knew now, were too often deceiving; women weren’t always what they seemed. The sexy waitress attracted him more strongly than his ex ever had, and if that wasn’t enough of a warning to steer clear, he had his current case to focus upon. He couldn’t risk the distraction.

      Rina waved a hand in front of his eyes and grinned. Obviously she knew his mind had been not on her words, but on the waitress who fascinated him. Considering he’d insisted on meeting at this place, at this hour, on the same night for the past few weeks, Jake figured his thoughts were pretty much transparent.

      “As I was saying,” she reminded him, “I had to walk Norton before meeting you, and he didn’t want to go. I mean, he’s trained to go on command, but you have to get him out onto the street, first. The poor thing hates the hot concrete on the pads of his paws. There I was, literally dragging him down Park Avenue, while he was trying to drag me back home. Can you imagine the sight?”

      Jake shook his head. “The dog’s a wuss,” he muttered. He glanced over her shoulder, looking for the woman of his fantasies, but in the moment he’d refocused on Rina, she had disappeared. Disappointment gripped him as hard as the desire had earlier.

      Rina patted his hand. “She’ll be back. And Norton’s not a wuss, he’s just particular about what he likes, who he likes…”

      “And who he doesn’t,” Jake said, recalling the puddle that had ruined his new sneakers on their first meeting.

      “Well, regardless, he was Robert’s dog, and I’m all he has left now.”

      Jake leaned forward in his seat. “So how are you, really?”

      Rina had decided not to accompany her husband on a business trip, and he’d died in a car accident while rushing home to avoid an overnight stay. She’d been consumed with guilt and grief, and Jake had made it a priority to keep her spirits up. That included meeting her for dinner or drinks a few times a week. Almost a year had passed—a year in which Jake had kept up the routine because he enjoyed it, too. Rina was stronger now. Even the jokes had come more freely to her of late. Jake’s mission had been a success. It had also recently led to his obsession with a woman he didn’t know.

      “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. How I’m doing. I’m going to take a vacation. A friend invited me to spend the summer with her in Italy. And I really need the break. I need to get away and…”

      “I think it’s a great idea.” Jake didn’t hesitate. Not only would the vacation do wonders for Rina’s mental health, but it would keep her out of the country and safe until Ramirez was behind bars. “Anything that gets you out of that mausoleum of an apartment is good by me.” Besides, all that marble and china made Jake nervous. Every time he turned around in the penthouse, he felt in danger of breaking something.

      “I’m glad you think so. But about the penthouse?”

      “Mausoleum.”

      “Whatever. I need you to stay there while I’m gone and watch Norton—and before you say no, think about the whirlpool and the pool. They’ll do wonders for your rehabilitation.” She opened her brown eyes wide and fluttered her thick lashes.

      Not a good sign, he thought, and he knew he was in deep. “I don’t need physical therapy. I’m doing some exercises the orthopedist recommended,