The Hotter You Burn (19 page)

* * *

R
OUND
 
ONE
 
DID
 
NOT
 
end in Harlow's favor, and she pouted the entire drive home. Besides the three of them, there had been two other people in the restaurant: their waitress and the chef. Both happened to be females. Of course. Beck had claimed the table across the room, and when he hadn't been flirting shamelessly with the waitress, he'd been in back flirting shamelessly with the chef.

Without the pressure of having to rebuff Dorian, Harlow was able to relax and enjoy herself, doing a little flirting of her own, hoping to fan the flames of Beck's jealousy. He'd hardly seemed to notice, and as the night had worn on, he'd only become more charming with the staff.

Now, with the evening coming to a close, Beck parked in the driveway of the farmhouse. Dorian helped her out, saying, “I'll walk you to your door.”

Beck got out in a hurry and patted him on the shoulder. “There's no need for that, my friend. I've got it from here.”

“How kind of you,” Dorian said.

“Isn't it? We had a great time, by the way.”

Harlow glared at Beck. “Will
we
be calling him for another date?”

Beck flashed his teeth in a grin utterly devoid of humor. “We'll discuss it.”

Dorian tried to mask a laugh with a cough. “Well, I certainly hope you do, Harlow Glass. I don't remember the last time I've had so much fun.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, the ends slapping Beck in the face. “You are a man of great taste. Unlike some people I know.”

Beck gave the guy a push toward a cute little '65 Nova. “I'll call you tomorrow and let you know the verdict.”

“Please do,” Dorian replied.

“Actually, bypass the middleman. You have my number,” Harlow reminded him, and he winked at her before sliding into his car.

“You gave him your phone number?” Beck thundered.

Shouldn't grin.
“Do you have a problem with that?”

At first he offered no response, watching as Dorian's car roared to life and meandered out of the drive. When the taillights at last disappeared around the corner, Beck whirled on her and shouted, “Hell, yes, I have a problem with that. I shouldn't have to tell you this, pumpkin, but he's not right for you. I could tell within five seconds. Why couldn't you?” He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her toward the RV. “I did you a favor, sending him away. He would have tried to kiss you at the door.”

Maybe, but only for Beck's benefit. Even if she hadn't been enamored with someone else, she and Dorian would not have been right for each other. Beck nailed it. They'd lacked chemistry.

“Did you ever stop to think I might
want
to be kissed?” she asked.

“Baby, you should fall to your knees and thank me for being here to save you from yourself.”

She stepped in his path and placed her hand on his chest, stopping him. It was then she felt the barely suppressed tension in him, the knotted muscles and the swift pounding of his heart.

“A kiss isn't a big deal, Beck. Is it?”

Glowering, he said, “It certainly should be.”

I'm getting somewhere with this man. Have to be.
“Has it ever been a big deal for you?”

“Only with you.” He was on her a second later, pressing her against the cool RV wall. His lips smashed into hers, his tongue driving into her mouth to demand its due.

She told herself to pull away, to push him away—something. They hadn't come to any kind of understanding, and he'd just arranged for her to go out with another man. But she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life, even tilting her head and welcoming him deeper. The desire always simmering below the surface of her skin boiled out of control, spilling over, consuming every inch of her.

Her legs trembled, her knees weakened. He balled the hem of her dress and pulled it to her waist, right at her panty line. Warm, sultry air brushed against her tingling flesh.

“You wet for me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Only me?”

She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.

A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “Let's see.” He moved his hand to just under her navel and slowly traced his fingertips down, down, sliding under her panties.

The anticipation was too much. “Beck. Please.”

“Wider.” He nipped at her ear and, not content to wait, kicked her legs apart. As she gasped, he wedged one of those big fingers inside her. He groaned, and she moaned, arching forward, seeking more.

“Soaking,” he praised. “Let me taste.”

She thought he would pull his finger out, maybe lick it, and that would have been the hottest thing she'd ever seen. But he dropped to his knees, and her breath hitched. This was hotter.

“Hope these aren't your favorite.” With a single tug, he ripped the side of her panties, baring her to his view.

Tremors of excitement, of need, cascaded over her. The moon was out, and the porch light was on, both casting muted golden ribbons their way, but the wall of the RV cast a wide shadow the ribbons couldn't reach, hiding them from prying eyes.

“Wish the sun were shining,” he said, and he sounded drugged. “I want to see you bathed in light.”

“Beck.”

He leaned in, his warm breath fanning over her. His tongue flicked out, touching her for the first time, and she cried out in delight. Her hips moved of their own accord, following his motions.

It was... He was...
Can't think
.

“So sweet,” he praised. “You are like honeyed cocaine, baby.”

He'd aroused her before, and he'd made her come, but the arousal had never been this ragged or intense. Her new cries, panting breaths and whimpers echoed through the night, a song of desire.

“Beck, I'm so close.”

“You hold out as long as you can.” His voice lashed with command. “I'm not even close to being done with you.”

Hold out? She tried, oh, she tried, but his tongue worked her harder and faster, worked
black magic
. Then he brought his fingers into play, sinking two inside her, stretching her, and she saw stars behind her lids, screaming as she finally fell over the edge of desire.

As she quaked with aftereffects, he pushed to his feet. He towered over her, his expression one of absolute hunger, the playful side to him utterly vanquished, his gaze devouring her face the way his mouth had just devoured another part of her, practically consuming her whole.

“I want you.” He unbuttoned his pants, lowered the zipper. “Here, now.”

Yes. “Beck, I...”
Stop. Think.

He gripped his length with one hand, wound a lock of her hair with the other. “Say yes, Harlow. I'll take care of you. I swear I'll take care of you.”

But for how long?

Crap! Crap, crap, crap. Ice-cold waves washed over her, invading her bloodstream, dousing the fire he'd stoked, and she realized she was right back where she'd started: going nowhere fast.

“Beck...” She had to tell him the truth, and she had to make him understand why she wanted what she wanted. “I can't do this. I'm not casual about sex. I've never been casual about sex. I... Beck, I've never been with a man, and I can't—I won't—give my virginity to a one-night stand.”

He stiffened, shook his head as if he'd misheard her. “But...you can't be...” He scrubbed a hand over his face, different emotions playing in his golden eyes. Anger. Longing. Relief. Even possessiveness?

“I've been up-front about my long-term goals from the beginning. I plan to give myself to the man I'm committed to, and no one else.”
Be that man. Please.

He released her, refastening his pants as he backed away. Considering she'd nearly gone up in flames a few moments before, the forced separation almost killed her; she had to swallow a cry.

“I... I'm sorry, Harlow,” he stammered. “I didn't know, or I never would have pushed you...” He looked so lost, so broken. “You're a prize, and you're worth more than what I can give you. I'm sorry,” he repeated. Then the stubborn male turned, walked up the drive and disappeared inside the farmhouse.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A
WEEK
 
PASSED
. An entire week without a phone call or text from Beck. Actually, no, that wasn't true. Harlow received a text from him the morning after she'd revealed her virgin state. He told her to take the day off, that he had things handled at the office.

As one day bled into another, he stayed away from her as if she'd told him she had an infectious disease—or that she was the only woman in the world who could get pregnant with eye contact. Not once had he shown up in the morning to drive her to work, so she'd holed up in the RV to sketch, leaving the game sets and characters she finished on the desk in Beck's bedroom.

Through it all, two things had given her hope, making her think she'd lost a battle rather than the actual war. He still hadn't changed the locks on the door, and he hadn't painted over the artwork decorating his walls.

But her hope was dwindling fast. He'd left last night and he hadn't come home. Had he gone on a date?

This morning, she'd finally broken down and called Brook Lynn, seeking more advice, which was how she'd ended up at Two Farms for lunch with the entire girl gang.

“He's been a beast,” Brook Lynn said as she buttered a roll. “Gripes about everything, yells at everyone.”

Jessie Kay nodded. “You'd think you told him your hoo-ha is actually a Venus flytrap and his penis will be severed if he has sex with you.”

“Do you have to say that word while we're eating?” Daphne asked.

“Which one?
Penis
?” Jessie Kay bellowed. Some patrons gasped. Some glared at her. Others shook their heads, all
bless her heart
. “The word
penis
is not the equivalent of
maggots
, you know. Though it probably should be.”

“And now I've lost my appetite,” Daphne said, pushing her bowl of chicken potpie away.

Kenna threw a piece of fried cheese at Jessie Kay. “Have some class and call it a baby maker or something.”

Everyone at the table went still.

“Are you trying to tell us you're pregnant?” Brook Lynn demanded.

“No!” Kenna burst out. “What? We're waiting until we've had a few years together. You can call it the trouser snake, for all I care.”

Trouser snake? Really? “What about man meat? Or even the middle leg?” Harlow suggested.

Jessie Kay nodded thoughtfully. “Or we could go with something simple like the peen. If we wanted to get technical, we'd have to go with the meatsicle. Or the anaconda, but that's on a case-by-case basis.”

Daphne tried for a stern expression, only to ruin it with a snort. “I am not playing this game. But if I were, I'd suggest we call it the weenie wonka.”

How had they ended up on this subject? “Ladies.” Harlow clapped her hands to gain their attention. “Can we please return to bad-mouthing Beck?”

“The guy who's been serving out Mr. Happy Meals to satisfied customers for years? Yes. Please continue.” Jessie Kay gave a regal wave of her hand.

And I actually asked her for help?
“Why would he ignore me since learning of my...you know...untouched state?”

“He hasn't talked about it,” Brook Lynn said, an apology in her voice. “To be honest, I had no idea what was going on until you called.”

Great! “Why did you agree to help him find me a new man, anyway?”

“I didn't agree—I suggested it.”

“What? Why?”

“To tick him off and make him admit he wants you all to himself.” Brook Lynn grinned. “He pulled me aside the other day and told me not to set you up with anyone. He would be handling all the details.”

“Well, he's not handling them. Where'd he go last night?”

The blonde winced.

Don't say date. Don't say date.

“To the city...for a double date with Dorian.” Brook Lynn patted her hand. “I'm sorry. I only know because Beck called Jase late last night and said he wouldn't be coming home.”

Her shoulders drooped, what remained of her hope dying a quick and brutal death.

A bell tinkled over the door, and she glanced over to see Scott Cameron coming into the restaurant. He gazed around, as if he were looking for someone specific, only to stop on her and smile coldly.

So not in the mood
. Besides, did he never work?

Scott removed his baseball cap and approached their table. For the first time in years, she got a good, long look at him up close and personal and noticed he wasn't the athlete he used to be. He had a slight beer gut and a— What was that called? Muffin top? Without the hat, there was no hiding his receding hairline.

“Um, hi, Scott,” Brook Lynn said. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“You can tell me why you're hanging out with the wicked witch of the Southwest.”

Jessie Kay bristled. “You're right. She's a witch. But she's our witch, so you better back the hell off before I decide to get creative with my butter knife.”

Harlow gaped at the girl.
She's...defending me?

“Besides,” Kenna said, nose in the air. “Our girl is taken. Your juvenile efforts to gain her attention won't work.”

“Taken? By that Beck guy? Please. Everyone knows he'll stick it to anything breathing. Isn't that right, Jessie Kay?” Scott laughed as both Jessie Kay and Harlow hissed at him. “Besides, you ladies gotta stop expecting a man to sweep you off your feet.
You're
the ones who are supposed to handle the broom.”

Oh, no, he didn't
. “How about I shove a broom right up your—” A hand slapped over Harlow's mouth.

“Family establishment,” Brook Lynn whispered at her, only then removing her hand.

Scott opened his mouth to say more, thought better of it and stalked off, snagging a table at the other side of the room. Their waitress raced over to pat his arm while casting Harlow a hate-filled scowl. Okay. It was safe to say her next order would contain spit, at the very least.

“Thank you,” Harlow said to Jessie Kay.

“Well, you
are
a witch. I meant that with every fiber of my being.”

Harlow clutched her chest. “The warm tingles are overwhelming. Tell me. Is this love? This feels like love.”

Brook Lynn snorted.

“Our waitress can't be more than twenty,” Harlow said. “I didn't go to school with her, wasn't ever rude to her, so why does she loathe me?”

“Haven't you heard? She and Scott are dating.” Kenna swiped up the last roll in the basket. “Bet he's ranted and raved about you. My guess is she called him the moment you arrived and that's how he knew to come here.”

Can I never catch a break?

“Forget about her,” Daphne said. “I want to know what you're going to do about Beck.”

There was no need to think about it any longer. “Nothing,” she replied, then sighed as depression settled heavily on her shoulders. “He made his choice, and it wasn't me.”

“He's just confused,” Brook Lynn said.

“He's fighting his feelings for you,” Kenna added.

Hadn't girls been telling themselves those kinds of lies since the beginning of time?

“Plus, have you really put much effort into winning him?” Jessie Kay asked. “I haven't seen you go to the house to flash him. Not once. And when I secretly checked his text messages a few nights ago, I didn't see one dirty picture of you. From other girls? Yes. Like, a lot of other girls. Seriously, I had no idea so many in this town were of the
Fatal Attraction
variety.”

“I want names,” Harlow growled.

Jessie Kay smirked at her. “I think smoke is actually curling from your nostrils.”

Kenna slapped her friend's arm. “You shouldn't tease her about the dirty pictures.”

“Ow.” Jessie Kay frowned at the redhead. “I wasn't teasing.”

“Well, you're tormenting her.”

“Am not!” Jessie Kay's frown deepened. “I'm just trying to light a fire under her, get her spurred into action. Unlike you two, who want to throw her a pity party.”

Had
she put much effort in? Harlow wondered. He'd stayed away from her, sure, but she'd stayed away from him, as well. He hadn't called or texted her, but she hadn't called or texted him, either.

The thought instantly lightened her mood, and though she was trembling, she withdrew her phone. “All right, girls. I've never gone X-rated before. Help me?”

Jessie Kay rubbed her hands together. “Darlin', you came to the right place.”

Brook Lynn, Kenna and Daphne groaned.

“One day, when you look back over your life, you'll realize this is where things started to go horribly wrong,” Brook Lynn said.

“Don't listen to the haters.” After a bit of table wrestling, Jessie Kay managed to stuff a napkin in her sister's mouth. “These gals were tutored by me, and look at them now. All three of them are in healthy relationships.”

“
Despite
your tutelage,” Kenna muttered.

“Tell them, Daph,” Jessie Kay said.

“She
has
helped me nail down Brad Lintz,” Daph admitted with a sigh.

A Glass Pass survivor, as well as the owner of Lintz Automotive, and the sheriff's son. Good. He deserved a happy ending.

“For this to work,” Jessie Kay said, “we've got to call that Dorian guy, like, right now. He's a key ingredient to my—I mean
your
—success. I'm only ever always thinking of you. So do it. Call him and tell him to come to Two Farms.”

“But—”

“Aw, you're shy. That's so cute. No worries, I'll do it for you.” Jessie Kay swiped Harlow's phone, scrolled through her contacts and found the right number. She placed the device at her ear, waited. “Dude! Even your voice is pure sex. But listen. I'm Jessie Kay, Harlow's best friend. You and I made eye-babies the other day. Yep....Yep...Mmm, keep talking. I mean, no, no, stop talking and listen. We need you to come to Strawberry Valley right now. Two Farms. It's a matter of life and death. PS, don't tell Beck.” She hung up, pulled at the collar of her shirt. “That boy is dangerous.”

“And we need him...why?” Brook Lynn demanded.

“You'll see. Now. The next part is a bit tricky. We're
all
gonna have to be a little tipsy.” She signaled their waitress. When the pretty brunette dragged her feet to their table, she said, “Bring us that big bottle of Macallan locked behind the bar.”

The girl's eyes grew big and round. “But that's...almost a
thousand dollars
.” She whispered the last, as though scandalized.

Harlow nearly had a heart attack. “We do
not
want that bottle. Not now, not ever.”

Jessie Kay hiked her thumb at Kenna. “We do, and it goes on her fiancé's tab. He can afford it.”

“He can,” Kenna agreed.

“And don't you dare open the bottle and bring it to us in glasses,” Jessie Kay added. “You'll just pour it into another container before it ever reaches us and fill our glasses with the cheap stuff. I used to work here. I invented that trick. We want the bottle unopened, and no glasses. We're doing this old-school.”

“What?” Daphne said. “With that fancy bottle? Why?”

Jessie Kay got real serious real fast. “We're going to have ourselves a good old-fashioned ho-mance and share the bottle. It'll bond us. Whiskey sisters for life.”

To Harlow, it sounded like a little slice of heaven. Who cared about the money? If Kenna's fiancé refused to pay, Harlow had organs she could sell on the black market. Sisters? Yes, please. “I'm in!”

* * *

B
ECK
 
REALIZED
 
HE
'
D
 
come full circle. Once again he was seated at the window in his bedroom, peering out at Harlow's RV. He'd gone to see her about an hour ago, pulled by an invisible chain he couldn't cut, but she hadn't answered the door. He'd let himself in like the concerned neighbor he was and discovered she wasn't ignoring him; she just wasn't at home.

It was the middle of the day, which was intolerable. She had work to do, damn it. Where was she, and who was she with?

He'd stayed away from her far too long, and it had affected him physically. As he'd already realized, she'd become his new normal, which meant he couldn't sleep without her in his arms. He couldn't eat, his stomach tied in too many knots. Not even Brook Lynn's pie had tempted him.

He'd handled things poorly. Harlow was his friend, and he never should have run out on her after her big confession. But he'd been so surprised...so turned on. So possessive, wanting to be the first and only man to have her. He'd almost signed on for forever, picked her up and carried her to his bed.

A bed he'd shared with too many women to count.

He'd known from the beginning she deserved far better than he had to offer, but that thought had cinched it. She was untouched, pure...and he was tainted.

Despite the red flashing through his vision, he knew he had to find her another guy faster than originally planned. Like, tomorrow. Committed women were invisible to him, he reminded himself. His attraction to Harlow would finally fade. He needed it to fade. He couldn't go on like this.

So. It was time to take things to the next level. No more dates for Harlow. Instead, he would set up a party and invite every bachelor he knew, and she would then speed-date each and every one; at the end of the night, she would pick her favorite.

He would invite everyone but Dorian.

Yesterday Beck had set up a double date for the two of them, thinking his friend needed to be consoled by another woman. Consoled, not distracted so that he'd stay away from Harlow. But Beck had been a major asshole all night and scared both women away.