The Harder You Fall (20 page)

“Today's schedule is hot off the press,” West called. He sounded as grumpy as she felt. “First up, exercise.”

“Yes, please.” She wrenched open the door—and had to swallow a whimper. He looked good enough to eat. Dark hair shagged around his model-perfect face. He hadn't shaved, a shadow beard dusting his jaw. He wore a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt that hugged his chest and biceps with loving splendor.

His golden eyes swept over her, and he traced his tongue over his lips as if she'd just offered to be today's breakfast buffet. “Get changed.”

“Why?”

“To exercise, remember? Ex-er-cise.”

“Are you kidding me? I thought you said
extra fries
. There's no way I'm exercising.”

“No take backs.” He handed her a piece of paper with the words “5:30 a.m. RUN” in bold letters up top.

“I'm a girl. I can take back
anything
.”

“I'm afraid I have to insist, kitten. There
is
such a thing as stranger danger. I can't go out on my own.”

“Stranger danger...you mean the single moms who might attack you?”

“Exactly. So. You need to change. You need to change
now
.” He shut the door in her face and called, “I don't hear you changing.”

“I
do
hear you being annoying.” She changed into a sweatshirt that read “I'll Always Be Miss Strawberry Valley. Bow.” A gift from Brook Lynn soon after Jessie Kay's reign ended. She kept the leggings on, and after exchanging her boots for tennies, decided to forgo a coat and suffer the cold so that West could have a front row seat to her bouncing breasts.

She opened the door. He hadn't moved out of the hall.

He glanced at her, the heat returning to his eyes, then glanced at his watch and nodded with satisfaction. “Only took you two minutes. I'm impressed.”

“Then life if worth living again.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Hey, maybe you should bring an extinguisher. The friction from my thighs might set my panties on fire.”

He rolled his eyes and unceremoniously pushed her outside—where she immediately cursed her stupidity. The cold! Five minutes, and she'd be eaten up with frostbite, guaranteed.

“Don't worry,” he said. “You'll warm up by the third mile.”

“What!” A whimper escaped. He expected her to make it three whole miles?

He barked out a laugh, tweaked her nose and took off. Groaning, she followed after him. Bitter wind slapped at her, and it wasn't long before her cheeks and fingers morphed into blocks of ice.

“How are plans for the Christmas party coming along?” he asked as casually as if they were seated inside an office, a desk between them.

Air burned going in
and
coming out. How was that fair? “Very well.” The words were barely audible.
Stamina? I has none.
“Heart...beating so fast... I'm going to die of...myocardial infarction.”

“Do you dabble in hypochondria in your spare time? You're fine, kitten. I would never let anything bad happen to you.” He bumped her shoulder. “Now, tell me more about the party.”

He was half prince charming, half evil overlord, and she foolishly liked both sides of him. “Well,” she said, sucking it up and doing her best to sound unaffected, “I finally nailed down the mechanical bull, and Edna at Rhinestone Cowgirl agreed to make all the party favors. Strawberry shaped belly rings.”

He tripped over his own foot but righted himself before doing a face-plant, and she laughed.

“Tell me you're kidding, Jessie Kay.”

“Well, do you want me to lie?”

“Jessie Kay. The party is only a few days away.”

“Fine. Fine. I'm kidding. Everything will be top-notch, first-class, blah, blah, boring. Just the way you like it.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

She shrugged. “I'd plan your funeral if the price was right.”

He ran a circle around her and gave her nose another tweak.

“Have you noticed we're the only two people dumb enough to be outside?” She waved her arm to indicate the barren roads. “Even drivers stayed indoors today.”

“
They
are the dumb ones. Look around.”

Yeah, yeah, he had a point. The soft pink-and-amber glow of the sun was dazzling, the blue sky dripping into a wealth of towering trees, blackbirds flying from limb to limb.

“Why are we doing this anyway?”

“Why do you think?” His tone was flat, even. What would it take to exhaust him? “I'm primed. You're primed. This will help.”

“So...we're friends helping each other out by running off our physical desires?”

“Unless you'll agree to my terms.”

“West—”

“It's more than I've ever offered another, Jessie Kay.”

“That's true in a sense. You didn't offer Tessa more, but you did give her more.”

“Not really. She died soon after Jase went to prison.”

So...Jessie Kay really was the first.

As she panted, she said, “I'm not saying no, but I'm not saying yes. Like I told you, I have no desire to help you punish yourself. I
do
have a desire to make things better for you.”

He stopped. Oh, praise the Lord! She hunched over, cold yet hot, sweating and shivering at the same time, still wheezing, her nose running and her stomach threatening to erupt.

“Being without you
is
a punishment.” His ravaged gaze pinned her in place. He threaded his fingers together and pressed them to the back of his nape, his head falling back as he peered up at the sky. His T-shirt rode up, revealing a delicious strip of bronzed skin, and her shivers intensified, the heat she'd worked up intensifying. “The way I ache for you...it's unbearable.”

“West...”

“No, it's okay. You need time to think, and I understand. I didn't mean to pressure you. Let's go back to the house.”

More running? “I can't. I need a stretcher and an IV, stat.”

“How about a ride?” He thrust his shoulder into her stomach and hefted her off her feet so that she draped over him. Of course, a car finally appeared, the driver slowing to hang her head out the window.

“Dirty girl,” Sunny Day called. “No wonder you've turned me down lately.”

Jessie Kay spread her arms, all
I can't be blamed
.

Sunny grinned and shook a fist at them before speeding off.

West showed no signs of fatigue as he carried Jessie Kay home. Only when they were inside did he set her on the couch. Silent, he strode off...soon returning with a blanket he wrapped around her, taking such good care of her she could almost convince herself this was enough, that nothing else mattered. Almost.

“Jessie Kay,” he rasped, toying with the ends of her hair.

If he kissed her, she'd be lost. “You told me I needed to like myself, West, and now I'm saying the same to you. You're an awesome guy. Smart, driven, witty, fun and your mouth should be classified as the eighth wonder of the world. Or a lethal weapon, slaying panties everywhere. But you're allowing the past to dictate the terms of your future, even though you aren't the man you used to be.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she shook her head.

“No,” she said, giving him a little push. “My heart is still racing from the run, and I'm pretty sure I'm on my death bed. No more heavy talk. Fix me a cup of sugar with a dash of coffee.”

He stared at her a long while before standing. “All right. For you...anything.”

If only that were true.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T
WO
DAYS
PASSED
.
Jessie Kay slaved over final details for the WOH Christmas party, attended a dress fitting with Brook Lynn and began sewing the bridesmaid dresses.

For the most part, West kept his distance. He still called often to check on her—
Everything okay? You good?
—and he still marched through the house every night to check the doors and windows. Since their jog, however, they'd had only two conversations.

The first?

“You'll be my date to the party,” he'd said, “not a server.”

“Sorry, sugar bear, but that's not possible. Brook Lynn is going with Jase, and Harlow is going with Beck. Someone has to man the fort.”

“Kenna can do it.”

“Kenna is going with Dane, and Dane is one of your best clients. I'm the only option.”

“Jessie Kay.”

“West.”

He'd crossed his arms over his chest. “What happens if I take someone else?”

“I make a huge scene and embarrass you in front of your peers.”

He'd growled. “I want you by my side, whether we're together or not.”

Her heart had skipped a beat, but she'd said, “Too bad. I have a work ethic now.”

He'd glared at her before storming away.

Later that day, he'd handed her a key. “Your new car,” he'd said.

“What! I thought you were kidding about that.”

“It has all the bells and whistles.”

“I'm sure. But I wasn't hinting—”

“Your beater isn't safe.”

“I know—”

“It's not a gift,” he'd added. “It's therapy—for me. Now I can stop worrying you'll die in a crash.”

He
did
worry...

“Would you let me finish?” Most girls would probably refuse to accept such an extravagant non-gift. They would claim to feel like a hooker. Bought and paid for. That simply wasn't her style. “I wasn't hinting, but I'm super grateful. Thank you.”

She'd hugged him, and he'd hugged her back. They'd held on for minutes...possibly hours, neither willing to let go.

“You're getting better at hugging,” she'd told him.

“I had a good teacher.”

The words had been whispered, and their bodies had begun to...rub. They'd finally sprung apart.

Now, alone in her room, she mulled over the only thing capable of distracting her: his suggestion to run her own business. A website selling her clothes. Day dresses, formal gowns and even wedding dresses. For the first time in her life, she was excited by the thought of a job. Making upscale clothing for women on a budget.

She had to go for it, didn't she?

After the holidays, she'd have a sit-down with Brook Lynn to discuss the future. If her sister cried about losing her, well, she'd nix the website and remain at You've Got It Coming. Scratch that—if Brook Lynn revealed even a speck of disappointment, she'd nix the website. Over the years, the girl had given up so much for her. How could she do any less now?

And really, all too soon helping her sister would be the only quality time they spent together. Brook Lynn would have her new family.

And I'll be alone.

One day, she'd even lose West. His new house would be built, and he would move out of this one. Would he go back to avoiding her? Her business might be her only source of comfort.

Ugh. Decisions, decisions.
Between rocklike biceps and a very hard head.

She glanced at the clock West had mounted over her bed. Three-sixteen in the afternoon. In four minutes flat he would knock on her door. The day of the party had finally arrived, and he was determined to drive her.

If I can't be your date
, he'd said earlier this morning,
I'll be your ride, and I'll hear no protests on the matter.

She grabbed her phone to send updates to her peeps. First up, Brook Lynn:

About to leave to set up at inn. DON'T WORRY. I probably won't destroy everything you've built in a single night

Second, Daniel:

You coming to the party or not??? I sent you an e-vite but you never RSVP'd—jackass

West had wanted to throw the party in a fancy hotel in the city, the same place he'd used every year before, but she'd overruled him. He no longer lived in the city. He lived in Strawberry Valley, and in her completely unbiased opinion he needed to pour his money into the community...as well as invite said community to the festivities. Like...everyone within the city limits. Which she'd done. Surprise!

Third up to bat, Harlow:

Why haven't you told people there's a bun in your oven?? I'm ready to start talking names. Jessica Lynn? Brook Kay?

Last up, Jase and Beck:

You better make sure West enjoys himself or I'll convince your women to wear chastity belts for a month!

Replies came in fast.

Daniel:
Like you could really keep me away. Get ready to meet my date—she's as mean as a rattler. I think I might marry her

Harlow:
The secret will be shouted from rooftops tomorrow! (Beck has been having too much fun keeping quiet) The names you suggested might need a little...tweak

Brook Lynn:
Happy place!

Jase:
I don't think his good time will have anything to do w/ us, but your threat has had the desired effect and if I have to, I'll Magic Mike just to make him smile

Beck:
Hint: if you flirt w/ him & pretend other guys are invisible, he'll have an awesome time—but I too will Magic Mike if necessary (you're welcome, world!)

Aaand right on time, a knock sounded at her door. Her heart morphed into a jackhammer.

“One sec.” A full-length mirror hung on the inside of her closet door, and she gave herself a once-over. Ponytail—check. Mascara, blush and lip gloss—check. Ugly clothes—whimper. She wore the same white button-down, black slacks and black flats she'd worn to Monica's shindig, with a few minor holiday touch-ups. The crisp white shirt now boasted a glittery red bow tie and a spray of mistletoe rested over her breast.

If anyone dared ask to kiss her boobs, she'd go nuclear. Bet with her sister or not.

But oh, what she wouldn't give to be a guest rather than a server, wearing one of her own creations. A sexy white gown with streams of red lace. She would dazzle West's business associates—of course—and he would smile at her with pride and adoration.

Hey, it could totally happen...in five years.

“Jessie Kay.” Her name was followed by three hard raps. “Check your watch. We need to leave.”

Her watch! She fastened the beauty around her wrist and replied, “Dude. I've got another minute to spare.”

“Yes, but I can't go another second without seeing you.”

Heart beating even faster, stomach flip-flopping—was this how her mother had felt when she'd read Daddy's letters?—Jessie Kay rushed to the door. As always, West stole her breath with only a glance. He was gorgeous in a pin-striped suit, glossy red tie and ridiculously expensive Italian loafers. He'd tamed his hair, brushing it back, but he hadn't shaved; the clash of sophistication and bad boy made her shiver.

Who was he tonight? The in-control computer genius or the passionate rule breaker?

He looked her up and down, his body vibrating. “You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but the mistletoe is coming off.” He didn't wait for her reply but removed the foliage from her shirt and tossed it on the floor, stomping on it for good measure.

“Hey! Brook Lynn asked me to wear that.”

“Brook Lynn experienced a moment of insanity. Besides, I'm paying her for her services, which means I'm her boss—and yours. No mistletoe.”

“Do you really think someone will crouch under my cleavage and demand a kiss?” she asked, pretending she hadn't entertained the same fear.

“I don't think someone will do it, I know they will.” His tone was flat, leaving no room for argument. “That happens, and there will be bloodshed, the party ruined.”

“Such a caveman.”

He banged on his chest. “Me, man. You, my woman.”

As she laughed, he twined his fingers with hers. Their watches clinked together. He pulled her forward only to press her against the wall. “Have you thought about my offer?”

Her mouth went dry as his heat and scent enveloped her. “I've thought about our last kiss,” she admitted. “How much I would love another one.”

Minty breath fanned over her, the hardness of his body forcing the softness of hers to conform. “The next time I kiss you,” he said softly, fiercely, “I won't stop kissing you until I have you naked and on your back. And then I'll only stop because my mouth will be busy doing other things.”

If shivers were currency, she would have reached millionaire status just then.

“If you want that,” he said, “I'll happily blow off the party. All you have to do is say yes. You'll be mine.”

He would rearrange his precious schedule just to be with her? It was such an intoxicating thought... “Lovers for two months, friends for ten, then lovers again for another two. And so on and so forth.”

His nod was stiff.

Did he not understand what torture those ten months apart would be? Or was he counting on it?

“What if I asked you to pardon yourself?” she asked softly. “To give me everything?”

“I can't. You know I can't.”

No, he
wouldn't
. There was a difference. “If you were mine,” she whispered, “I would worship you with my mouth, hands and body.” She flattened her palms on his chest, felt his heart slamming against his ribs. “I'd let you do anything you desired to me, let you take me in ways no one else ever has.”

Fire in his eyes, his pupils expanding in a starburst. His body was taut as he cupped her jaw.

“But you're not, so we need to leave,” she managed to squeeze out past the barbed lump in her throat.

He didn't immediately step back. He continued to gaze down at her, projecting longing, need, desperation...utter devastation. “I'll be good to you, kitten. I swear I will.”

“You've said that before, and I believe you.” She really did. That was part of what made her decision so tough. He would be good to her, and she would crumble when they returned to being “just friends.”

“Are you telling me no, flat out?” he asked, gravel in his voice.

“I'm telling you I need more time to think.” But how long would he wait? When would he decide enough was enough and make the decision for her—by withdrawing his offer?

He surprised her by saying, “All right. Take all the time you need,” before leading her to the car.

* * *

T
HE
S
TRAWBERRY
I
NN
had been transformed into a winter wonderland. West gazed about in amazement. In the center of the spacious dining room were three Christmas trees that formed a triangle. Actual presents spilled between them, and every kid under the age of eighteen would get to pick one. Lush, green holly twined with the lights that had been wrapped around the strawberry-shaped chandeliers Jessie Kay begged West to buy Carol Mathis, the inn's owner. A thank-you for allowing him to rent the place on such short notice. Faux frost covered the walls and red lace draped the tables and chairs set up in the far corner of the room.

Jessie Kay had far surpassed every party WOH had ever thrown...but it would have been even better if he'd allowed her to rent a mechanical bull.

Next year.

“Great party, son, but you should have brought more whiskey.” Mr. Porter of Swat Team 8—
We assassinate fleas, ticks, silverfish, cockroaches, bees, ants, mice and rats
—thumped him on the shoulder as he walked past. “Just thought you should know.”

“There's more. I'll have a glass—”

“Bottle.”

“Bottle,” he corrected with a smile, “brought to you.”

The entire town had flocked to the inn. Edna, an eccentric grandmother figure, looked like she was having a seizure on the makeshift dance floor. Anthony Rodriguez, the only “stylist” in a twenty-mile radius—though word on the street claimed Trisha Shay-Rivers was using her garage to give perms to the over-fifty crowd—did the electric slide and robot. At the same time.

Laughter abounded among the town's citizens. WOH customers—gamer geeks and serious businessmen—didn't yet know what to make of them.

West spotted one of the servers Jessie Kay hired—a waitress from Two Farms—and closed the distance. “I'd like you to personally ensure Mr. Porter's glass never goes dry. Stay by his side with a bottle of our best whiskey.”

The girl stared up at him as if he was the answer to her prayers.

“Now,” he said.

“Right.” She raced off.

He glanced at the door in back, where the waitstaff came in and out with trays. No sign of Jessie Kay. He'd had to watch different men eye her up and down as if she were an appetizer to be sampled, and he'd had to fight a killing rage.
Mine!

But she wasn't his. Not yet.

So far he'd had to eject seven pricks from the party. All had been Strawberry Valley residents who'd insulted her.

You giving lap dances with those shrimp, Jessie Kay?

You look good in your uniform, but I'd rather see you out of it—again.

Bastards. They'd accidentally run into his fist on their way out.

“Oh, West. You've got it bad.” The delighted female voice came from his left. “Worse than I'd realized.”

He tore his attention from the door—Jessie Kay'd had six minutes to restock her tray, plenty of time. Where was she?

“I'm not complaining, mind you,” Brook Lynn added with a smile. “You're one of the rare few good enough for my big sis.”