HardToHandle

by Hard to Handle

  She drew a shuddering breath.

  Even after last night, seeing him again sent her heart into a tailspin. She knew she was head over heels in love with him, but she didn’t really know what to do about it. Harley had never misled her, and she wasn’t about to kick up a fuss.

  But…God, it hurt.

  Cool air sent a chill over her skin and she picked up his discarded sweatshirt from the night before, slipped out of his room, and eased the door closed again.

  Had anything really changed between them? To her, it felt like a whole new dynamic had been added to their relationship. But she couldn’t trust in her own perspective, and she knew it. For her, sex was a commitment.

  For Harley, it was…sex.

  To clear her head and get her bearings, Stasia needed caffeine in a very bad way. After pulling on the sweatshirt, which hung to her knees and helped to ward off the chill, she crept to the kitchen.

  Everything about Harley’s home screamed male domain. It was obvious men had decorated the house, and that men lived in it. The furnishings were masculine and heavy and dark. Everything was functional, but tasteful, and it suited Harley.

  She found a jar of coffee in the cabinet above the sink, a coffee machine on the countertop, mugs, and sugar. Within minutes the scent of brewing coffee filled the air, rejuvenating her. Crossing her arms around herself, Stasia went to the kitchen window to watch the bright red sun rising over the snowy landscape.

  What would happen today? How would Harley act? How should she act?

  She honestly had no idea if he’d be pleased to find her still there, or wish her long gone. Either way, she had to be prepared. When he woke up, she hoped to already be dressed just in case her pride demanded a hasty exit.

  The coffee machine hissed to a finish and Stasia hastily prepared a cup of morale-boosting caffeine.

  She was just about to take her first drink when she heard a squeak behind her. Prepared to greet Harley, to bear his mood whatever it might be, she pasted on a firm, if uncertain, smile, and turned. “Good morning.”

  At the sound of her voice, Harley’s uncle drew back, let his gaze flash over her, head to toes, and glared daggers. “What are you doing here?”

  The mug of steaming coffee slipped right out of Stasia’s numb fingers. Glass shattered, and burning hot coffee splashed against her legs.

  JARRED from a sound sleep by the sound of breaking glass, Harley turned and looked at the other side of the bed.

  Empty.

  Sunlight poured into the room and a quick glance at the clock showed that morning had arrived. He’d slept through the night.

  With Stasia.

  Where the hell was she? He threw back the sheet and left the bed. Then he heard his uncle hiss, “Damn it, girl, look what you’ve done to yourself.”

  Harley stalled. Oh hell.

  What was his uncle doing home? Had Stasia left the bed naked? He glanced at the floor and saw all her clothes still piled there.

  Harley charged down the hall, down the short flight of stairs and around the corner to the kitchen.

  He came to a sudden stop.

  His uncle held Stasia in his arms. She wore only Harley’s sweatshirt, which in no way preserved her modesty. Crunching over broken glass while Stasia screeched and tried to free herself, Satch said, “Move, boy. She’s burned herself.”

  Slack-jawed, Harley stepped back while his uncle strode into the living room and put Stasia on a couch.

  She scrambled fast to readjust the sweatshirt. “Harley!”

  His uncle raced back into the kitchen.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Face pale, Stasia said, “I dropped my coffee and—”

  Satch returned, dropped to one knee, and slapped wet rags against Stasia’s bare legs even as he unleashed his temper on her. “You slept with him!”

  Her gaze scuttled from Satch to Harley and back again. “Satch…”

  “That wasn’t our agreement, damn it.” He patted the wet towels into place over her thighs. “I didn’t hire you for that.”

  “Hire her?”

  Stasia and Satch both jerked around to stare at him. Tears gathered in Stasia’s eyes. Satch looked furious.

  Harley glanced back into the kitchen at the shattered mug on the tile floor, the spilled coffee. He looked at his uncle, crouched in front of Stasia.

  Icy control came to the fore.

  Buck naked and uncaring, Harley strode to her. “First things first. How bad are you burned?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Satch snorted. “She dropped her mug and spilled steaming coffee all over her legs.”

  Satch moved out of the way as Harley knelt in front of her. “Let me see.”

  “Harley,” she implored, “you’re naked.”

  He lifted one cloth to look at her skin. It was bright red, raised, making him wince. “My uncle has seen me before.”

  “Not in front of me!”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” Satch marched out of the room but returned moments later with Harley’s jeans. “Put them on before she expires.”

  Harley stood. He felt curiously detached, from himself and from the situation. As he pulled on the jeans, he eyed Stasia’s overly composed posture. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No.” She smoothed out the towels on her legs. “I’m sorry, but the glass went everywhere.”

  He glanced at his uncle. “Satch?”

  “I’ll clean it up.” He didn’t move. “But first, why don’t you tell me what she’s doing here?”

  Harley didn’t look at him. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “You don’t want to explain to anyone, do you? Not the press and not your own uncle.”

  Harley’s jaw clenched. “My private life is no one’s business.”

  “It becomes my business when I get confronted with a mostly naked girl making herself at home in our kitchen!”

  “You weren’t supposed to be here.” Harley took the cloths from her legs and went into the kitchen to soak them again in icy water. He avoided the glass that had scattered everywhere.

  “So now I need to give you an itinerary? I got done early. That’s all.”

  “Give me a minute, damn it.”

  Grumbling, Satch went in search of a broom and dustpan.

  Harley came back to Stasia. As he gently placed the icy towels over her, he said, “It looks like you might get blisters.”

  She swallowed. “Usually I take creamer, but you didn’t have any, otherwise the coffee wouldn’t have been so hot.”

  His face felt frozen. Inside, acid burned in his guts. He stepped away from her and waited while his uncle cleaned up the bulk of the mess.

  “The floor will have to be mopped.”

  “I can do it,” Stasia offered, and Harley noticed that she watched him, waiting for an outburst.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, fighting the urge to check her burns more carefully, Harley eyed his uncle. “So you hired Stasia? Mind if I ask what for?”

  “She’s a life coach.” Satch dumped broken glass into the trash with unnecessary flair.

  “So?”

  “I wanted her to work on you. I thought she could talk some sense into you.” His gaze zeroed in on Stasia. “I didn’t expect her to be like all the rest.”

  Offering no denials, saying nothing at all, Stasia stared at Harley. When he stayed quiet too, she slumped a little, then stiffened her shoulders with new resolve.

  “I’m not working for Satch.”

  “When you first got here, you told me you wanted to make me your newest job.” He walked a slow circle around her, wanting to touch her but not trusting himself. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. “You’ve gone to the trouble of learning a lot about the sport.”

  “Yes.”

  Damn it, she was too calm, too collected to suit him. “A dedicated worker like you wouldn’t take a job without knowing what she was getting into.”

  Lifting the wet cloths
off her thighs, Stasia stood and carried them to the sink. She avoided the remnants of spilled coffee. The boxy sweatshirt curved beneath her derriere, showcasing her long—and now burned—legs.

  Still without a word, she left the kitchen and walked around Harley for the hallway.

  He wanted to follow her so badly, resisting the urge cut into him. He turned on his uncle. “You overstepped yourself too far this time, Satch.”

  His uncle responded in a fury, “You told me she wasn’t your type!”

  “Who is or isn’t my type is none of your damn business.”

  “I’m your manager.”

  “Maybe that was a mistake, too.”

  Falling back a step, Satch went pale. “What the hell are you saying?”

  He felt like he’d just ripped the life from his uncle. But damn it, he hurt too much to temper his rage. Pushing off the wall, Harley walked over to Satch. “If you want to stay my manager, you will never again involve yourself in my personal life.”

  “But—”

  “Never. Is that understood?”

  Suppressing his own fury, Satch nodded. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  Harley turned and almost ran into Stasia. In record time, she had dressed and now wore her coat. There was no color in her face or lips.

  She didn’t quite look at him. “I called a cab. I’m going to wait outside.”

  Harley thought his head would hit the roof. He worked his jaw, trying to find words while Stasia just stood there, her makeup smudged from the night before, her hair tangled, her expression…wounded.

  “God damn it.”

  She flinched.

  He wanted to put his fist through the wall, and he wanted to take her back to bed and pretend the morning hadn’t happened. “How much did he pay you?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “What?” He forced a laugh that sounded sick even to his own ears. “You enjoyed tormenting me so much, you did it for free?”

  Now she looked at him. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re angry, Harley. And I can understand that. But if you’d stop to think—”

  “Then what? I’ll realize you had only my best interests at heart?”

  Her mouth firmed. “I refuse to get into a big blowup with you this close to your title fight.” She turned her back on him and went out the front door.

  Harley couldn’t believe it. He rounded on Satch, but his uncle held up both hands. “I haven’t paid her a dime.”

  “So you still owe her?”

  Looking confounded, Satch crossed his arms. “I don’t really know. We never set a price, and she’s never asked me about it.” He looked down at the floor. “In fact, she told me she wouldn’t be your life coach unless you accepted her.”

  “In bed?”

  “No!” Infuriated, Satch said, “Damn, boy, get your brain out of the bedroom, will you?”

  Harley ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Fine. Explain yourself, damn it.”

  Glaring at Harley with every other step, Satch paced across the kitchen floor. “I meant as a life coach. She was real clear on that. She said it wouldn’t work unless you accepted her and wanted to work with her.”

  “And I didn’t.”

  Brows furrowing down, Satch said, “So maybe she wasn’t working for me.”

  Harley considered howling. “Then why the hell did you think she was?”

  “She showed up.” He lifted his shoulders. “Back at Echo Lake, when I told her I wanted to hire her, she said no because you never wanted to see her again and she didn’t want to bug you. I told her to think about it. She said if you contacted her, proving that you weren’t opposed to talking with her, she’d maybe come here and try to convince you to work with her.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I know you called her, Harley. So when she showed up, I just assumed…” He jutted out his chin. “Well, what else was I supposed to think? You told me she wasn’t your type.”

  “She’s not.” God knew, Anastasia Bradley was nothing like any other woman he’d been with.

  “If she wasn’t here for that, then why was she?”

  “Hell if I know.” Harley strode to the front door and got it opened just in time to see Stasia get into a cab. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

  He stood there in the cold, but she never once looked back.

  HARLEY called the hotel a half hour later, but didn’t get an answer. Throwing on the rest of his clothes, he rode over there and beat on Stasia’s door.

  She didn’t answer.

  He didn’t know what to think, but damn it, he hated that she had him tied into knots. He was pacing in the foyer when Barber emerged from his room and spotted him.

  He was practically strutting, and when he got alongside Harley, he said, “My night went well. Yours?”

  “I’m not in the mood, so don’t start.”

  Barber did a double take. “What’s your problem?”

  “I’m sick to death of everyone nosing into my damned business.”

  Giving him a long look, Barber muttered, “Well, fuck you, too.” And he headed for the coffeepot set up near the front desk.

  Feeling like an ass, Harley stomped up next to him. “I’m sorry. Anastasia is…missing.”

  “Again, huh? You should really keep better track of her.”

  “Barber…”

  His friend grinned. “Relax. She’s pulling into the lot right now.” He nodded at the front window.

  Harley watched her emerge from her truck, pick her way slowly across the lot, and all but creep inside.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Barber asked.

  Harley walked away without answering. Until he opened the door for her, Stasia hadn’t noticed him. When she did, she blanched, tucked in her chin, and forged past him in a stiff-legged walk.

  “Where were you?”

  “I went to get my truck.”

  “You need to see a doctor for those burns.”

  “No,” she said, glancing back at him. “I don’t.” She dismissed him again and continued on.

  “We’re going to talk, Stasia.”

  “Your uncle didn’t hire me.”

  Well, hallelujah. “I’ve already figured that one out for myself. So why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

  She got to her door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. “My burns aren’t bad, I promise, but I really need to get out of my jeans.”

  “Hell of an idea.” He pushed inside against her protests and shut the door. “Do you think a cool bath would help?”

  “I’m not changing in front of you, Harley.”

  “Why not? I’ve seen every inch of you.” Hands on his hips, Harley faced her. “I can keep my hands to myself.” Maybe.

  She shook her head. “I’d like you to leave, please.”

  “I’d like to talk to you.” Hating himself, Harley sat on her bed. “Don’t you think you could give me that much?”

  Her neck stiffened. “Fine.” She turned her back on him, rummaged in a drawer, and took out a nightshirt. “I’m changing in the bathroom first.”

  “Need any help?”

  “No.” Face hot, Stasia went around the bed and into the bathroom.

  Harley forced himself to lounge back on her bed. He wanted to see her thighs, to ensure she wasn’t hurt worse than she’d said. But he owed it to her to respect her privacy.

  When she came back out fifteen minutes later, she had her makeup washed off, her hair brushed and pulled into a ponytail, and her legs were bare.

  She perched on the edge of the bed beside him.

  Fighting the urge to touch her, Harley sat up on one hip. “How are the burns?”

  “Superficial at most. They sting, but no blisters. I’ll be fine in a few hours, I’m sure.”

  With her head bent forward, Harley could see the baby-fine hairs on her nape. His heart beat too hard. “Will it offend you too much if I look for myself?”

  One shoulder lifted, and she turned her face toward him. “As you said, I have nothin
g left to hide from you.”

  Why did it sound like she was talking about more than the details of her body? Torturing himself with the nearness, Harley braced one arm behind her back, leaned over her shoulder, and reached around to lift her shirt.

  The sight of her burned thighs hurt him. “Damn. Still pretty red.”

  “I put some ointment on that’s supposed to help.”

  “I hope it does.” Her thighs were smooth, too pink, and shiny with the medicine. He wanted to kiss her.

  “Your uncle startled me so badly.” Their faces were near enough, he could feel her breaths. “I thought it was you, and I was shoring up my courage to face you.”

  “Courage?”

  “The night had ended, and I was still there. I didn’t know how you’d feel about that. But I can read you pretty good.”

  “You think so?”

  She nodded. “If you were dreading the proverbial morning after, I knew I’d see it on your face.” She half-laughed. “Instead, it was your uncle, and he was furious, and all hell broke loose.”

  “And you burned yourself.”

  She hesitated, then pushed up off the bed and moved away from him. Wrapping her arms around herself, she accused, “You actually thought I’d work for your uncle.”

  No way was Harley going to be pulled into a verbal trap. “You said it yourself—all hell broke loose. I didn’t have much time to think either way.” Some facts remained. “He did ask you to work for him, though.”

  Restless, she strode to the dresser and straightened a few items there. “He wanted me to encourage you to do those things that he felt would advance your profile in the organization.”

  “The photo shoots, the exposé, the interviews?”

  “Yes.”

  Memories intruded. “That little conflict you two had at the gym. You told me that you thought my uncle was too intrusive.”

  “Yes. Satch approached me there and told me I should be working harder to get you to do the promo spots. We…disagreed on that.”

  Not once could Harley recall her urging him to make a decision one way or the other. “Instead, you just accompanied me for most of them.”

  “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to have to deal with other women.”