The Hotter You Burn

by Gena Showalter

  A moment of bliss, nothing more, nothing less.

  A moment without Harlow. The only woman he really wanted.

  The ache in his chest, the one that had plagued him since he'd first met her, returned full force. Damn it, if he wanted to get over her, he had to get inside Patricia. But using another woman as a substitute was as ugly to him now as it had been with Kimberly.

  Why? Sex was just sex. Right?

  How can I know the truth when I've never experienced something better?

  "Shit," he snarled. He pulled Patricia off the redbrick path and onto cement, out of the way of passersby. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. I want to, but I can't."

  Her eyes rounded. "You're kidding me, right? I've seen you in action. You've never said can't before."

  "I know, but things have...changed." Just saying the word was more painful than taking a double right cross to the jaw.

  Patricia sputtered for a moment. "You, Beck Ockley, are committed to someone?"

  He tried to think of something to say to lighten the mood--there's no one else in the world when I'm with you, sweetheart--but much as he tried, he didn't have the energy to charm and flatter. He released his breath and accepted the truth, finally nodding. "She doesn't want me, and right now, I'm not even sure I like her, but still she has this pull on me."

  A sad smile curled the corners of Patricia's mouth. "Don't worry. I get it. I've been where you are."

  "What happened?"

  "What always happens when the fairy tale ends, I suppose. I lost him."

  Beck's heart pumped faster, his breath coming in short pants. Then she made everything worse by adding, "I've never recovered."

  *

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG with Beck. For the next three weeks, he spoke very little to Harlow. Every morning at seven, he knocked at the RV's door. Two hard raps, that was all, but he never came inside, and he never complimented her on the new clothes. He remained silent as they drove to the nerdatory, and while there, he just handed her pages typed with instructions. Draw this set and that character. He would then leave her in his office while he worked inside West's, pretending she didn't exist.

  Despite his current abysmal treatment, she found herself watching him interact with others. On a purely scientific basis, of course. She had to acknowledge he was an even better guy than she'd realized. He coached a youth soccer team. He donated money to charity and time to town members who came in looking for advice. He checked on Cora to make sure she had enough sweet tea. He was even nice to his discarded conquests.

  When Tawny came to visit him, hoping to rekindle their flame, he'd kindly said, "Any man would be lucky to have you, honey, but you deserve to be the center of his world, and that's just not my style."

  Kimberly had eavesdropped--the slag--and given Beck a hug. "That was considerate of you," she'd told him.

  Harlow had mentally flipped them both off and thought they should run away together and have a thousand considerate babies.

  Hate myself. Kimberly was everything Harlow was not, everything she wished she could be, and envy was eating her up inside.

  She hadn't had a chance to continue her seduction of West, mainly because she hadn't gathered the courage to present him with one of her letters; but then, she hadn't yet written the right one. Something was off about all of them. And she hadn't been able to forget the way West had pulled her aside not too long ago, blurting out, "We're going to be friends, nothing more. Get used to the idea, fast."

  At the time, she hadn't been worried. Friends? Awesome! As a dedicated lover of romance novels, she knew a great passion could bloom from a friendship. But nowadays West left a room anytime she walked into it, as if she were toxic waste.

  Hope was dwindling fast.

  The door to her office sprang open, startling her. Beck entered, his stride as graceful, powerful and sleek as a panther's. He wouldn't look at her as he said, "Hungry? Brook Lynn is here with lunch."

  "Really!" Harlow was on her feet and racing around him a second later. Her shoulder brushed against his chest, the heat of him instantly spearing her, all her girlie parts singing at once.

  Keep walking. Just keep walking.

  Brook Lynn clutched a basket filled with sandwiches, telling everyone in the office, "I need test subjects for a few of my new recipes, and you guys are going to be my guinea pigs. So. I've got honey and cheese, turkey and cranberry chutney, peanut butter and banana, marshmallow and bacon, and salmon with pickled tomato. Take your pick."

  "I want the bacon and marshmallow!" Harlow rushed out, reminding herself of a hungry dog who'd spotted the only bone in miles. Brook Lynn created the best foods out of the weirdest ingredients, but nothing could beat bacon. Ever.

  But Kimberly had said the same words at the same time, and they ended up staring each other down, willing the other to cave. Nice did not exist in a battle for bacon.

  Five step plan, remember? "I'll take the turkey and cranberry," Harlow said, her disappointment keen but hopefully hidden. "Unless someone else wanted that one?"

  No one spoke up.

  Brook Lynn's gaze stayed on Harlow a second longer than was probably polite, an odd--confused?--expression on her face as she handed over the sandwiches.

  "Thank you," Harlow said.

  "After you eat," Brook Lynn announced, "I'd like everyone to tell me if the sandwich was totally awesome, on the border of awesome, or not even close to awesome."

  "Will do," Harlow said, clutching the precious sandwich to her chest. What did she have to complain about, anyway? One bite of this one would blow a gasket in her mind, no doubt about it, making her forget bacon ever existed.

  Too far!

  Rephrase: making her forget bacon for a moment or two.

  Better.

  She turned and discovered Beck watching her with the same befuddled look as Brook Lynn, as if he didn't know what to think about her. Which she totally didn't understand! She hadn't done anything wrong.

  She forced a smile. He was the reason she had any sandwich at all, really. Without the job he'd given her, Brook Lynn never would have spoken to her, much less gifted her with a morsel straight from heaven.

  "I'll, uh, be in my office," she said.

  "I think you mean my office," he corrected.

  "I think you gave up your rights the first time you refused to enter because I was inside." She sauntered around him and kicked the door shut.

  Kimberly came in behind her, smiling yet rueful. "I thought we could have our lunch together. You know, do a little girl bonding."

  Harlow wanted to hate the woman with the passion of a thousand suns, but couldn't quite manage it and motioned to the couch. "I'm a little rusty, but I'm willing to try."

  The redhead reclined on the couch and dug into her bacon sandwich, moaning with delight. Harlow bit into her own sandwich--and had an instant mouth-gasm.

  What happened next would have embarrassed both of them if they'd been aware of anything but the food. They attacked the sandwiches like savages, no hint of manners, and they did not come up for air until the last crumb was consumed.

  "I have to ask you a question, and I hope I'm not overstepping," Kimberly said, wadding up the wrapper and tossing it in the wastebasket.

  "Go for it."

  "Is Beck seeing anyone?"

  Harlow tensed. "Define seeing."

  "Dating."

  "Define dating."

  Kimberly chuckled, as if they were playing a fun new game. "Is he sleeping with anyone?"

  "No. I don't think he does much sleeping when he's with his girls." Harlow tapped her chin and added, "I see him more as a wham-bam, out-the-door-the-moment-the-sex-ends-without-a-thank-you-ma'am."

  Kimberly sighed. "I suspected he was a player. I'd hoped otherwise."

  "You...want him?"

  "I do. He's just so delicious."

  Attack!

  No, no. "Yeah, well, you're actually perfect for him." Harlow's nails dug into her thighs as her gaze landed on Beck, who stood in th
e lobby with Cora. His sleeves were rolled up, his hands in his pockets. A man without equal. Strong, beautiful and unattainable. A dream that would flitter away with the rising of the sun.

  Don't water a dead flower, her mother used to say.

  Wise words. If only her body cared.

  "You like him," Kimberly gasped out. "Oh, Harlow. I'm so sorry. I didn't know, didn't realize..."

  She sputtered for a minute. "I don't... He's not... He's my boss. And my friend." Or rather, he used to be. Before he'd started giving her the silent treatment. "I'm interested in West."

  Kimberly blinked, shook her head. "West? Seriously? But... I've never seen you look at him the way you just looked at Beck."

  "You're wrong." The girl had to be wrong. "What do you think about Strawberry Valley?" she asked, changing the subject.

  Though it appeared she wanted to protest, Kimberly went along with her, saying, "It's hot, but pretty."

  "Pretty? It's gorgeous. Exquisite!"

  Smiling, Kimberly brushed a sandwich crumb from her skirt. "You're right, you're right."

  "That would be a first," Beck said as he entered the office.

  Every nerve ending Harlow possessed jolted in sudden awareness.

  "Kimberly, honey." He used his most devastating tone, pricking Harlow's hackles. "I need a moment alone with Miss Glass." He waited at the door, holding it open. "If you'll excuse us..."

  "Of course." Kimberly cast Harlow an encouraging smile before pushing to her feet and walking to the door.

  "I think you've gotten what you need for the day," Beck told her. "Why don't you head out? I'll pick you up at seven."

  The moisture in Harlow's mouth dried. "Seven?"

  "For our date," Beck replied.

  Kimberly's gaze darted to Harlow. "I, uh, really need to talk to you about that, Beck."

  "I'm afraid that's gonna have to wait, honey. My meeting with Miss Glass is urgent." He gave her a gentle push from the room and shut the door.

  "Date?" Harlow croaked.

  His features were blank, revealing nothing. "Earlier today she asked me out. I said yes."

  "She's sweet," she said, her voice hollow. "You'll have a great time."

  "I don't want to talk about her." He claimed the spot Kimberly had vacated, and Harlow felt a stab of something dark inside her, not liking the fact that the girl's lingering body heat now radiated around him. "I noticed you've been wearing your new clothes, but only the same ones over and over, and not any of the others." He draped an arm over the top of the couch and leaned back, a pose of rugged relaxation and total seduction. With so many glass walls and windows, sunlight was able to stream inside, catching on the rich hues of his hair. "Why?"

  Her fingers automatically sought her scars, tracing, tracing. "They're too revealing."

  One corner of his mouth curved into an adorable lopsided smile. "Why, Miss Glass. Are you a bit of a prude?"

  When it came to the hideous marks on her body? "Yes, sir. I am."

  "Well, now. That surprises me."

  "Why exactly does that surprise you?" She'd resisted his allure at every turn. He should wonder if she wore a chastity belt.

  "You're beautiful. I want to see you draped in beautiful things. That's all."

  Reeling...

  Suddenly agitated, as if he'd revealed too much, he stood and strode to the wet bar in the far right corner, where he poured himself three fingers of whiskey. "So. The reason I'm here. West has been hired to design yet another new computer game."

  Okay. All right. Time to get down to business. "Congratulations are in order, then."

  "Yes, but there's no time for a party. I'm in the process of composing a cast of characters for you."

  Excitement sparked. "Could you hurry? I mean, I'm not complaining, but I finished the last drawing you requested days ago." And she'd been itching to create another.

  "I'll have it done later today. I was also thinking I would have paints, brushes and canvas delivered to the RV. I'd like to hire you to paint my portrait."

  She almost bounced out of her seat, but caught herself with a single thought. Can't appear too hasty. "Okay," she said, playing with the edge of a piece of paper. "If you insist. And if the price is right." She'd drawn countless images of him, but the thought of painting him to scale and seeing him in full color intoxicated her. She could play with different shades of gold, brown and bronze, and even a wealth of greens to get the emerald flecks hidden so deeply in his eyes just right.

  Maybe Kimberly had nailed it. Maybe Harlow had stared at Beck for reasons that had nothing to do with the job.

  "Name a figure." He slowly, leisurely, walked back to the couch and eased down, the whiskey in hand. "Whatever it is, lollipop, I'll pay it."

  The new endearment startled her, considering he hadn't used one these past three weeks. The fact that he'd gone with lollipop, something sweet and edible he'd never called the others...

  I'm special to him.

  Oh, no, no, no. Red alert! Red alert! That was the true danger of him. Somehow, he made everyone feel special.

  "That's a daring thing to say," she stated quietly.

  "But true nonetheless."

  She placed her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. "Very well. The price is..." Inspiration struck, and she smiled evilly. "You can't have sex for a week."

  His eyes narrowed to tiny slits, but he appeared far from angry. "Why do you care about my sex life?"

  "I care about you, and I think abstinence will help build character."

  He didn't miss a beat. "Very well, I accept." No time to celebrate. "With two caveats," he added. "The week won't start until the painting is done." He smiled now, and it was a wicked one. "Also, I want the painting to be a nude."

  Her breath caught in her throat, only to exit on a gust. "I... You... Excuse me?"

  "A nude. Meaning I won't be wearing any clothing. If you want to strip down, that'll be okay, too."

  This was punishment for daring to impede his sex life, wasn't it? "I've never actually painted or even drawn what you're suggesting, and I'm not sure I have the skill." Or if she would survive.

  "I have complete faith in your ability. And as an artist, a professional, I'll expect you to view me strictly through objective eyes. You can do that, can't you?"

  "Of course," she said. She could absolutely, 100 percent view him through objective eyes...if he wore a cloak of invisibility. But even then it would be iffy. "Why do you want a nude?" she demanded, hoping to shame him into retracting his request.

  "Maybe I enjoy the thought of disrobing for you." His voice had gone low and husky, a caress of unfettered temptation, making her shiver. "Maybe I like the thought of your eyes on my bare skin and your hands forming the shapes of my body."

  She gulped. Having only ever dealt with boys, never with men, she had no idea how to respond to so blatant a statement.

  "Or," he said, his voice returning to its normal fun, flirty tone. "Maybe I'm narcissistic and want to immortalize every inch of myself. How is one to know?"

  How, indeed. "When would you like to start?"

  "Tonight."

  I'm going to hate myself for reminding him of this, but... "What about your date? I can't--won't--hurt Kimberly."

  "I think we both know she was about to cancel on me. Which makes me wonder what the two of you were discussing."

  Shifting uncomfortably, she said, "I will never betray a confidence."

  "I could change your mind, but I won't. I admire your mind-set." His gaze dropped to the pulse fluttering in her neck. "I'll arrive at seven, and I'll bring dinner."

  "Yes. I'd like that." A lot. And it wasn't the thought of food that made her heart race, but the thought of having him in her space. Alone... Naked. Within reach.

  She sucked in a breath. Oh...crap. The worst had happened, hadn't it?

  Kimberly had figured it out, but Harlow had done her best to deny it until the truth practically vibrated in her bones. How had she ever fooled herself into think
ing she could fall for West...when she'd already fallen for Beck?

  "What's wrong, dove?" he asked gently. He came around the desk and sat at the edge, turning her chair to trap her between his legs. "You were twinkles one moment, sullen the next."

  He always read her so well, while she always struggled to make sense of his moods. Life wasn't fair. "It's nothing I want to discuss right now," she said, refusing to lie to him. But she had to talk to someone about this.

  Who? She had no confidants, and any secrets she revealed to others could be used as a weapon against her. A game of "humiliate Harlow for sport."

  "What will it take to get you to trust me, hmm?"

  Was he serious? "Beck, for the past three weeks you've treated me like I'm a carrier of cholera. Why do you want my trust?"

  "You're my friend."

  But I want to be more. "Yes," she said, and cleared her throat. "You're right. I am."

  "So talk to me like a friend. Share your past with me. Tell me what changed you in high school."

  Her mouth went dry. Always they circled back to this. "Forget I agreed to be your friend. We're enemies."

  "You'll tell me what's easy, but nothing that's hard."

  "I don't like to think about what changed me. It hurts."

  "Pain fades. Rip off the bandage and give the wound a chance to heal."

  "No." If she told him, she'd have to show him. If she showed him, he'd never want her again. And right now he wanted her. He had to. The way he was looking at her...

  He leaned down until his nose almost brushed against hers. "One day, Harlow, you'll open up to me."

  "One day," she whispered. "Maybe. But probably not."

  He cupped her nape, the heat of him making her gasp. "Definitely. And in more ways than one. I'll make sure of it."

  CHAPTER TEN

  BECK KNOCKED ON Harlow's door. This might be the biggest mistake of his life, but he suspected it would also be his favorite.

  He'd kept his hands to himself for nearly a month, even as the hot little piece paraded around the office in the sexy summer dresses he'd bought for her, the material clinging to her perfect body in a way that should be illegal. He'd done his rock-solid best to ignore her. She desired West. Or at least she thought she desired West. Beck had watched her more and more closely with every day that passed, seeing nothing romantic in her dealings with the guy and everything awkward.