The Hotter You Burn

by Gena Showalter

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HARLOW TRUDGED OUT of bed and dressed in a pair of frayed jeans shorts and her high school cheer shirt--go Stallions! Very little else in the RV belonged to her. She hadn't paid for anything with the weekly checks she'd earned as a WOH employee because she hadn't needed to; Beck had always given her cash plus bags of groceries, toiletries and clothing, allowing her to build a small savings. So, suspecting she would soon be kicked out, she didn't bother packing. She wondered if Beck would knock on her door as usual, not to tell her to "rise and shine" so they could leave for work, but to tell her to take a walk of shame off the property. Or maybe he just expected her to head off on her own without being told.

  She'd been watching the clock... Any second now the answer would become clear...

  Two hard raps sounded at the door. "Harlow," he snapped. "Get up. Let's go."

  She yelped and tugged at the knob, not sure why she was surprised, considering she'd been waiting an eternity for this moment to arrive. He stood in the sunlight, his dark/light hair brushed back from his face, his lids narrowed, the tension from last night seeming to have doubled.

  He looked her over and frowned. "That's how you want to go to the office today?"

  He wasn't firing her or kicking her out? "Well...I wasn't sure I'd be welcome at the office."

  His gaze flipped to hers and narrowed further. "Always thinking the worst of me."

  Guilt gave her a good old-fashioned kick in the heart. "I don't always think the worst of you. I think the worst will happen to me. There's a difference."

  "Whatever you need to tell yourself, honey. Let's go."

  For once, he didn't open the car door for her, and all vestiges of his flirtatious side were gone. He switched on the radio, discouraging further chatting, but the hard rock soon grated at her ears.

  She turned off the radio and said, "Are you--"

  "I don't want to talk about last night."

  "Good. Neither do I." She was still too raw. Still reeling. One kiss had ripped away her every defense, making her forget her long-term goals. "I was simply going to ask if you were coming over tonight so I can work on your portrait."

  "No. I'm going out."

  "With whom?" The question whipped from her before she could stop it, and she considered jumping out of the car. Eating asphalt would be less painful than this conversation.

  "That isn't any of your business."

  She dug her nails into her thighs, cutting into skin. Just last night he'd had his tongue in her mouth, and now he treated her as if she were nothing special. Because--let's be honest--she wasn't. Not to him. But how much worse would it have hurt if she'd actually had sex with him, and then had to go through this same routine today? Count my blessings.

  "You're right. Forget I said anything," she managed with a carefree tone. She turned the radio back on.

  When they arrived at the office, she didn't wait for him to come around the car--or not. She got out on her own and as casually as possible walked inside the building. The supplies she needed to sketch the new cast of characters were waiting in her office, as promised. The descriptions, the pencils and the notepads. There was a note from Kimberly, as well.

  Dear Harlow,

  I never meant to encroach on your territory! I truly had no idea you were interested in Beck. For your peace of mind, you should know we canceled our date. Also, I'm heading back to S&S Financial. I'll be rooting for you. If anyone can tame a playboy, it's you. You're like a rose, thorns and all. You leave a mark. (And that's a good thing!) Make sure to send me an invitation to your wedding.

  Kimberly

  Harlow's heart skipped a treacherous beat.

  She heard Beck come into the room, the clunk of his briefcase as he set it down, the thump of his shoes as he left the room. The swish of the door as it closed. Her heart drummed. She glanced up in time to watch him enter West's office, which was currently empty.

  Disappointment and despair washed over her. Beck hadn't fired her or kicked her out, but he sure had written her out of his life. And she wasn't sure why. She'd told him she didn't want a one-night stand, and before that, he'd known she was interested in a long-term relationship. Why act as if she'd ripped out his heart and trampled on it?

  Maybe Kimberly was right. Maybe Harlow had left a mark.

  Shouldn't get my hopes up. Letting the descriptions of the character profiles play through her mind and guide her hand, she worked for several hours. One image after another came to life on the page, but none of them satisfied her. There was no spark. The images fit the narratives but lacked any sign of life. When she found herself subconsciously adding Beck's features to the hero of the game, well, she decided to call it quits for the day.

  She had to talk to someone about what was going on. She desperately needed advice, her inexperience cloying, choking her. She'd never get anything done, otherwise. But who could she call?

  Beck was her only real friend, but the only advice he'd give her was get naked and get in bed.

  Brook Lynn might be willing to listen. While they weren't bosom buddies, they didn't hate each other, either. At least Harlow hoped not. There was only one way to find out...

  Harlow picked up the phone and dialed. Beck had given her a list of names and numbers soon after she'd begun working for him, just in case she had questions about something when he wasn't around.

  Brook Lynn answered on the third ring. "Hey, Beck. What's up?"

  "Uh, it's Harlow."

  "Oh. Um. Hi."

  "Listen. I know it's weird I'm calling, and you will never be my biggest fan, but I have nowhere else to turn, and I need help."

  One beat of awkward silence, two. "Are you calling to discuss your plans for the zombie apocalypse?"

  "No. Nothing like that." Harlow peered through the glass into West's office. Beck had a phone to his ear. He threw back his head and laughed at whatever the speaker had just said. Confirming plans with his date tonight? A knife of jealousy stabbed at her chest.

  "Then what do you want, Harlow?" Brook Lynn prompted.

  "Harlow? As in Harlow Glass?" Jessie Kay said in the background. "What's she doing calling you?"

  Ignore her. "Well, the problem is Beck, and I--"

  "I'm going to stop you right there," Brook Lynn said. "I won't give you any dirt on him."

  "She wants dirt on him?" another voice gasped in the background. Kenna Starr, maybe.

  "I don't want dirt," she rushed out. "Besides, I already know about his past."

  "How?" Brook Lynn demanded.

  Okay, so, this call had been a mistake. Noted. "He told me. How else?"

  "He told you?"

  "Yes." But that had nothing to do with her problem. "Look, I shouldn't have--"

  "What did he tell you?"

  Curses! Would the girl always interrupt? "You'll have to forgive me, Brook Lynn, but I won't give you dirt on him, either. I don't know what he's shared with you and what he hasn't. I won't betray his confidence."

  Silence.

  Would Brook Lynn hang up now?

  "All right. How can I help you?" the girl asked again, and this time a layer of warmth wrapped her tone.

  Uh, talk about confusing. But if the spunky blonde who'd managed to snag the town dragon was finally willing to listen... "Well, Beck and I kissed last night and now--"

  "You kissed?"

  "They kissed!" Jessie Kay demanded.

  Argh! "Would you please stopping butting in? You are the most frustrating person on the planet right now."

  "Sorry, sorry," Brook Lynn said. "Where are you? No, you know what, forget I asked. You're at Beck's office. Duh. Caller ID. In just a few minutes, Beck is going to get a call. Soon after, he'll leave. And soon after that, I will arrive--I'm currently at Two Farms--and we will finish this conversation in person."

  Click.

  Okay. Wow. But true to the girl's word, Beck received a call on his cell phone before he stuck his head into Harlow's--his--office.

  "I have to g
o," he announced. He wouldn't meet her gaze.

  "Oh. Is something wrong?" Did she sound too breezy?

  "Nothing I can't handle." He was gone a few seconds later--and she realized she missed him already.

  What the heck is wrong with me?

  As she began to pace, she noticed Cora received a call, as well, and left soon after. Then Brook Lynn arrived with her sister and, yep, Kenna Starr. The best friend. Harlow was too worked up to care about the potential hate mob.

  The girls invaded the office, each pulling a chair up to the desk. Brook Lynn appeared giddy, Jessie Kay suspicious and the redheaded Kenna befuddled.

  "How did you get Beck to leave?" Harlow asked.

  "Had Jase call him for a bro-mergency," Brook Lynn said. "Meaning Jase is finally telling him how Tawny Ferguson has been coming to the house, asking questions about Beck. She's there now, in fact."

  What!

  I mean, whatever. Wasn't as if an old flame of Beck's mattered. He never went back for seconds. "You are here to help me, right?" Harlow asked, hesitant.

  "Yes," Brook Lynn and Jessie said in unison.

  "Yes?" Kenna asked. She was a beautiful woman, her hair like living flames, her eyes steel gray and her pale skin adorably freckled. And, lightbulb! She would be the perfect model for Midnight Romp, one of the characters in West's game. Fierce avenger by day, seductress by night.

  Harlow was making a mental note to ask her to model when Brook Lynn said, "So...how was the kiss?"

  "Oh, she liked it, no doubt about it," Jessie Kay piped up. "She didn't have to tell me that part. I just know from experience."

  A twinge of jealousy. Not important, either.

  "Jessie Kay is right. I liked it. But now I don't know what to do about it," Harlow said. "I would have done more than kiss him, but I want forever and he wants a single night, so we called it quits and now he's treating me like I'm the devil."

  Kenna opened her mouth.

  "I'm not," Harlow insisted, and Kenna closed her mouth. "Not anymore."

  "This sounds made-up. Beck is always nice," Jessie Kay said. "Even to his leftovers. Again, I know this from experience."

  "I guess I really ticked him off. But I have no idea how."

  Jessie Kay tapped a fingertip against her chin. "I have a suspicion, but I need more info before I voice it. Tell me how he's treating you, exactly."

  Easy. "He snaps at me. He glares at me, and he's stopped opening my car door for me. He doesn't call me lollipop or dove."

  "Wait. Let's backtrack just a bit. We want to help Harlow Glass...why?" Kenna asked.

  "There's a good chance she isn't the girl we once knew," Brook Lynn explained.

  Not quite a shining endorsement, but she'd take it.

  "So we like her now?" Kenna asked.

  "We're deciding." Brook Lynn settled deeper into the chair. "But either way, we are helping her today."

  "Can you?" Harlow asked, not daring to hope. "What was your suspicion, Jessie Kay? You never said."

  "Well, I think he still wants you, despite your desire for forever. And since you denied him, and he thinks he can't give you what you want, he's acting like a baby whose favorite toy was taken away."

  The storm raging inside her stopped, just stopped, the sun suddenly shining brightly.

  "Game changer, right?" Jessie Kay asked. "Do you now just want Beck to be nicer to you--or do you still want him to commit to you?"

  "Both?" Could he commit? Why did he go for so many women? Just because he could, or was there a deeper reason behind his he-slut behavior, the way there'd been a deeper reason behind her bullying?

  What did she know about Beck's past? The loss of his mom, the rejection of his father, the family members who'd kicked him out. The foster system. No telling what he'd seen, heard and experienced as he was shuffled from one home to another.

  Mental note: study problems foster kids might develop later on in life.

  Fingers snapped in front of her face. She blinked, found Jessie Kay leaning over the desk in a bid to gain her attention.

  "Where'd you go?" the girl asked.

  Harlow propped her elbows on the desk, rested her chin against her knuckles. "That's not important. What is? Boys."

  "Boys?" Brook Lynn echoed.

  "They're all I know, but Beck is all man, and I'm out of my league with him. My last date took place my junior year of high school, and I rarely ever went out on a second with the same guy, and never... Well. You know."

  "Never what?" Jessie Kay perched at the edge of her seat. "My mind is going to some strange places right now."

  If she said it, there would be no going back. These girls would know one of her secrets, and as Brook Lynn had said, they hadn't yet decided if they were her friends or not. They could betray her, strike at her while she was down the way she had once struck at them.

  Just do it. Tell them. How they responded would reveal their true intentions toward her. And perhaps ruin what little happiness she'd managed to eke out for herself, but whatever.

  "I'm... I've never...been with anyone, okay?" she finished in a whisper.

  "What!" Jessie Kay yelled. "No way my sweet little ears just heard such a lie. Are they bleeding? They feel like they're bleeding."

  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

  BECK 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.