The Hotter You Burn (14 page)

Would throwing a pen at her be considered an act of bullying?

“Are you sure you haven't slept with someone?” Brook Lynn asked her.

“You mean is there a chance I slipped, fell on a man's penis and then just forgot all about it?” Her tone was as dry as a yearlong drought. “No. No, I'm not sure.”

“But...a virgin,” Kenna gasped out. “You were the parking queen.”

“I don't know if you've been told, but parking doesn't always lead to sex.”

The redhead frowned. “I distinctly remember Scott Cameron, Tyler Bishop and Cory Yinny saying—”

Harlow threw her hands up, exasperated. “I'm sure the boys said a lot of things, but I've never gone further than second base. And I'm not embarrassed about it.” She was glad she'd waited. Back then, sex would have been about control rather than connection. A power play, without any involvement from the heart. “Everything you heard was an exaggeration.”

If anyone could understand the falsity of rumors, it was Kenna. Her rep had been just as tattered as Harlow's. More so, even. After one drunken night at a party, she'd gotten pregnant and had instantly become the town man-eater. But look at her now. Engaged to one of the richest men on the planet.

“Does Beck know you haven't yet played your
V
card?” Jessie Kay asked, as if they were discussing a diagnosis of cancer.

“No.” Unless he'd guessed last night, which was totally possible. As experienced as he was, he could probably count how many men she'd kissed. “I'd prefer it if you guys weren't the ones to spill the truth to him.” In high school, boys had reacted one of two ways. In challenge, wanting to be the one to win the prize, or in amusement, wanting to shame her into finally giving it up.

But again, Beck wasn't a boy. He might decide to have nothing to do with her.

Hadn't he already?

“Don't look at me,” Jessie Kay said, holding up her hands. “I don't plan to tell
anyone
. I'd laugh so hard I'd puke before I ever even got the
V
word out. Not because of the
V
thing, of course, but because it's you.”

Thanks.
“That's great. Wonderful. Meanwhile you guys haven't helped me
at all
.”

“Well, when I wanted to get Beck into bed,” the blonde began, “I just—”

“Argh! No. Getting him into bed isn't the problem. It's keeping him there.” Though, if he went out with another woman tonight, slept with her after kissing Harlow, would she still welcome him there?

No. Of course not.

Probably not.

“Then I'm out,” Jessie Kay said. “Though I
did
go on a date with Daniel Porter the other night and he asked me out on a second.”

“He's hot,” Kenna said, giving her friend a thumbs-up.

Pulling teeth would be easier than getting answers from these girls. “Enough about Daniel!”

“Someone's a she-beast today.” Jessie Kay nudged her sister. “How'd you keep Jase?”

“He says I am the sunshine in his darkness. What? I am.”

“That's great for you, but I'm not exactly anyone's idea of radiant.” Harlow's shoulders slumped.

“You could try cooking and cleaning for Beck,” Jessie Kay suggested. “Guys love that kind of thing. Or so I've heard.”

She shook her head. “I firmly believe guys should clean the messes they make, without help from a girl. Amen.”

“All right. How about you, Ken,” Jessie Kay said. “How'd you keep Dane?”

“According to him, I breathed.”

That. That was what Harlow wanted. To be special. Treasured. Beck made her feel that way, of course, but only in spurts. And spurts just weren't good enough. “Clearly, breathing isn't going to be enough for me.”

“Then allow me to be a voice of reason,” Kenna said. “Be yourself. Do and say what comes naturally to you, what is right to you and for you. If he isn't what you need, if he won't step up to the plate, then he's not the one for you, and he's not worth your time and effort. Move on.”

Finally! Advice. And it was good. The kick in the pants she'd needed. But it worried her, too. Was
she
what Beck needed? So many questions had come to light during the conversation. Too many, it seemed. Why he was the way he was, and if the guy who so obviously hated change would ever be able to change himself.

Unfortunately, there was only one thing that would answer them all: time.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

B
ECK
 
STOOD
 
IN
 
a back corner of the hotel ballroom, surrounded by the very definition of luxury. Multiple chandeliers, each boasting thousands of heart-shaped crystals, were framed by an elaborate tin ceiling. The walls were draped with plum-colored velvet and twinkling lights, the floor a spectacular though dizzying pattern of ebony and ivory. There were twenty-five tables placed throughout, bouquets of roses and candles for centerpieces. Classic elegance, Brook Lynn had called it.

The kids on his soccer team gazed around with wide eyes, muttering “ooh” and “ahh.”

Tonight they were celebrating a winning season, and despite ranging in age from eight to twelve, each of the team members was dressed in formal attire. Something he, West and Jase had arranged and Brook Lynn had overseen.

Beck wore a tux tailored to fit him exclusively, and yet the tie felt like a noose around his neck. He wanted Harlow here, with him, but he was glad she wasn't anywhere nearby. A terrible tug-of-war had erupted inside him, each side pulling him in a different direction.

He couldn't have her without committing to her. He had to have her, but he couldn't commit to her. It was the surest way to lose her forever. Already she suspected he wasn't good enough or stable enough for her. And when she realized she was right, that he
wasn't
, nothing he did or said would convince her to stay with him.

If he even wanted her to stay with him.

Damn it! If he made it through the banquet without punching a wall, he'd consider it a win. He shouldn't be thinking about her. Shouldn't care that she'd ended things before they'd even begun. He could move on, finally go back to the way things were. But he didn't want to go back. Somehow she'd become his new normal. And oh, shit, he
was
going to punch a wall.

Jase stepped to his side, stopping him, and handed him a glass of champagne. “You look like you could use it.”

“This, and about a thousand more.”

“Still upset about Tawny?”

Tawny. Apparently the curvy blonde had been coming to the house ever since their date, plaguing Jase with questions.
Has Beck been seeing other women? Has Beck ever been in love? How does Beck feel about kids?

Yes. No. And girl, please. Kids were not in his future and never would be. He'd even considered getting snipped—still might do it.

“No. I'm over it.” He'd sat down with Tawny and had a gentle heart-to-heart, telling her they weren't a couple and they weren't ever going to be a couple. As he'd spoken, she'd tried to crawl into his lap and stuff her hand down his pants.

He'd had to get stern, telling her they weren't having sex again, either, and he'd been clear about that from the beginning.

When she'd left, close to tears, Beck had drained a beer before tossing the bottle against the wall and watching it shatter.

“Then what has your panties in such a twist?” Jase asked.

Beck would still rather cut off both his nuts than dump his problems in Jase's lap. “I'm fine.”

Jase frowned at him.

“I'll be fine,” he corrected.

Brook Lynn arrived and cuddled into the big guy's side, smiling at Beck with saccharine sweetness. “Did I tell you I saw Harlow today? Whatever you're doing, keep it up. She looks
miserable
.”

The words were a knife to the gut. “When did you become so vicious?” When did he?

He'd been an ass to Harlow today. And why? Because she hadn't given him what he wanted?

Well, he hadn't given her what she wanted, either, yet she'd remained civil. “I don't want Harlow miserable.”

Brook Lynn studied him more intently than he liked. “So...you'd like to see her happy, settled?”

“Yes.” She
deserved
to be happy and settled, to have her dreams of having a husband and family come true. The permanence Beck couldn't offer.

Can't...or won't?

His hand fisted.

“Good. I was testing you, and you just passed.” Brook Lynn beamed up at him. “I have the
best
idea. You and I are going to work together to find her the perfect man. We'll start with your friends, of course, guys you trust who can give her what she needs.”

A growl rose from deep inside Beck's chest, lingering in his throat before trying to push free of his mouth. Find Harlow another man? Not in this lifetime.

Brook Lynn nibbled on her bottom lip. “Are you upset? You look upset. You did say you wanted her happy, right? I didn't misunderstand, did I?”

“You didn't.” Each word felt as if it'd been yanked through a meat grinder.

“Good. She wants a nice, stable guy. Who doesn't? She's certain stability will make her happiest, and I agree. So think about those friends of yours, like I said, and figure out who will be a good match for her. We'll discuss your choices tomorrow.” With that, Brook Lynn pulled Jase onto the dance floor.

Beck rubbed at his chest to ward off the sudden ache. A waiter passed with a tray of champagne glasses. He drained the one he had and replaced it with a new one, draining it, too.

From across the room, West spotted him and soon worked his way over, offering Beck another glass.

Beck grabbed it so fast the liquid swished over the rim. “Thanks,” he muttered, and the champagne went down the hatch in a single gulp. He tended to panic anytime his friend was in possession of alcohol. His gateway.

“Repay me by getting out there and doing your thing.”

“What's my thing?” he asked, desperate to forget Brook Lynn's “best” idea.

“What do you think? Dancing with the single mothers.”

In other words, flirting. For once, he wasn't in the mood. “I'd need the entire bottle of alcohol for that.”

“Why? You're usually the belle of the ball.”

“Not tonight.”

“Because you're intimidated by me in my tux? Good to know. But one of the single moms brought her sister, and I've decided I want her. I need you to step up to the plate and take one for the team, intimidated or not.”

The words
I want her
weren't shocking coming from West. Beck had heard something similar from the guy once a year for the past eight years. The very reason he could predict the outcome. West would win the girl—he always did. He would spend all kinds of time with her, dote on her and lavish her with gifts. Then he would dump her in exactly two months, for some made-up reason, and hate himself for months to come.

“Which one?” Beck asked. He wasn't going to watch passively. Not this time. He could barely keep himself afloat right now and wasn't willing to risk another spiral for West, another woman brokenhearted.

West pointed to a pretty thirtysomething with a short cap of blond hair and blue eyes. “Her.”

“Sorry, my man, but I saw her earlier. Now I call dibs.”

West almost looked relieved. “What about Harlow?”

The ache in his chest deepened. “What about her? We're friends, that's all.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“Just friends.”
Even if
I miss her the way I'd miss a limb.
“The blonde—”

“Don't worry about it. She's yours.” West patted his shoulder. “I won't stand in your way.”

He'd known that would be West's reaction. Just as he'd known if West asked him, he would have backed off the blonde without a fight, despite his misgivings about how the guy's plans would play out.

Beck grabbed two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and drained them. After that, the evening passed in a bit of a blur. He ate when dinner was served, gave a speech praising every member of the team. He flirted and danced with Donna... Dana? Whoever. West's blonde. She was an ER nurse, newly divorced with no kids, and she was looking to add a little spice to her life.

“If you're still looking,” he said, “does that mean you haven't found it with me?”

Her smile was wide, playful. “Not yet.”

“But because you're such a sweet girl, you're willing to let me keep trying?”

“I'm a giver like that.”

“Then I better bring my A game.”

She chuckled. “You mean you actually have a B game?”

“And a C game. But I only play that way when I'm really desperate.”

“You mean you aren't desperate for me?” She pretended to pout.

“Honey, I bypassed desperate and went straight into drooling when you walked through the door.” The words came easily to him, as usual, but fell from his tongue hollowly. He used to enjoy this kind of bantering, the tease before the big show. Now he wasn't sure when he'd ever been more miserable.

Donna/Dana ran her fingers through his hair, and he almost pulled away. He remembered how Harlow had done the same last night. How his scalp had tingled and his blood had heated. How she'd looked when she'd done it. As if she were drunk on pleasure...on him. As if he were something special, not just a random guy she might enjoy.

“Tell me about yourself,” Donna/Dana said.

“And bore you to death? No way. I'd rather hear about you.”

As she prattled on, his mind drifted in a direction he didn't want it to go. Brook Lynn expected him to find a guy for Harlow. A lover. A potential husband. Could he actually do it? Should he?

Committed women were invisible to him. He'd never forgotten the shame he'd felt with Carol, the foster mom, knowing she was cheating on her husband with him. His guilt had only grown over the years as he'd watched one family after another crumble because of infidelity.

Maybe...maybe the answer to all his problems was doing exactly what Brook Lynn requested. If Harlow got serious with another man—Beck swallowed a curse—his craving her might finally go away.

“Beck?” Donna/Dana said, nuzzling his cheek. “You still with me?”

He stepped back, widening the distance between them, and kissed her knuckles. “Do you really think there's anywhere else I'd rather be?”

“Well, I certainly hope not.”

More and more families left the party until only West, Jase and a sleepy Brook Lynn remained.

“I'm driving your car, Beck,” West said. “How do you want the rest of this night to go down?”

He looked at Jase, who was holding Brook Lynn so close, so tight. Brook Lynn leaned against her man, knowing he would protect her with his life. He looked at West, who was willing to drive him and Donna/Dana to her place, then wait in the car so he would have a ride when he finished. Even willing to drive him and Donna/Dana to their place—where Harlow would get a front-row seat to the show. He looked at Donna/Dana, who was smiling up at him, as tipsy as he was, probably willing to do anything he asked. She wouldn't stop him before he got her clothes off, his body on fire for her, and ask for more than he could possibly give.

West nudged his arm. “So what's it gonna be?”

* * *

H
ARLOW
 
HAD
 
SPENT
 
an entire evening on her cell phone, using up data to research problems abandoned kids could have later in life, until she thought she'd pegged Beck. Severe detachment disorder. Having lost everything he loved time and time again, he'd learned to stay distanced from everything and everyone.

Her heart had ached for him as she'd fallen into bed to sleep like the dead, only to be awoken by—

Bang, bang, bang.
“Open up, Harlow.”

That.

Eyes burning, she donned her robe and stumbled to the door of the RV. From a nightmare of Beck plowing his way through a parade of women to Beck standing at her door in the flesh—in the middle of the night.

Bang, bang.
“You have two seconds to show yourself, then I'm kicking my way in.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming. Hold your horses.” She opened the door—and gasped. A small patch of light glowed from the porch lamp and washed over Beck. He was in a tux. A gorgeous, wealthy man almost too fine to touch, like something out of a magazine. His dark hair stuck out in spikes, and his eyes simmered with fire and determination.

“Fool woman.” His lips were compressed into a thin line, his words slurred. “I could be a stranger here to murder you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Only a 3.65 on the Richter scale...or maybe a 6.53... What does that matter?” He barreled his way inside, gently pushing her back. He closed the door with a kick of his leg. “You gotta protect yourself better, popsicle.”

New nicknames. A thrill to hear when she shouldn't have cared. “What are you doing here? It's, like, two in the morning.”

He nodded as if she'd just made his point for him. “It's two in the morning, and you work for me. I told you there would be times I'd want you to draw in the middle of the night.”

“So you want me to draw?” she asked, stepping back to give herself breathing room. His nearness bothered her, made her ache for what she'd had before—what she could never have again. His mouth and hands on her, his body grinding against hers.

“No, I don't want you to draw. Don't be ridiculous. I want to talk, to tell you what Brook Lynn and I decided.” His gaze raked over her, everything about him suddenly relaxing. He leaned back, bracing himself against the wall, and smiled over at her, slow and wicked. The devastating smile she could not resist. “I want to take those nightclothes to dinner and then I want to take them off you.”

She shivered. “They...uh, they aren't hungry.”

“Doesn't matter. You should have worn something else.” He stepped toward her. “You're making me forget why I'm here.”

Careful
. He would make
her
forget her reservations. “You and Brook Lynn decided...what?”