From New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter comes another scorching Original Heartbreakers tale featuring an aloof bad boy and the rowdy Southern belle who rocks his world…

Millionaire video-game creator Lincoln West has a dark and tragic past. The sought-after bachelor lives by a rigid schedule and a single rule—one relationship per year, lasting no more than two months—until a brash beauty dredges up long-buried emotions.

A reformed party girl, Jessie Kay Dillon is determined to walk the straight and narrow. But her love-hate sizzle with West is just too irresistible. They can’t be near each other without tearing off their clothes, but the last thing she needs is to be his next two-month dump. Will she become the one exception? Because as any former girl-gone-wild knows: rules are made to be broken.

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter

“Showalter…rocks me every time!”

—Sylvia Day, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Showalter writes fun, sexy characters you fall in love with!”

—Lori Foster, New York Times bestselling author

“Sassy, smart characters and an expertly woven, unconventional plot, The Closer You Come showcases Gena Showalter in all her shining talent.”

—Kristan Higgins, New York Times bestselling author

“Showalter makes romance sizzle on every page!”

—Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author

“Emotional, heart-tugging, kept me turning the pages!”

—Carly Phillips, New York Times bestselling author

“With compelling stories and memorable characters, Gena Showalter never fails to dazzle.”

—Jeaniene Frost, New York Times bestselling author

“The Showalter name on a book means guaranteed entertainment.”

—RT Book Reviews

“The versatile Showalter…once again shows that she can blend humor and poignancy while keeping readers entertained from start to finish.”

—Booklist on Catch a Mate

“Gena Showalter is a romantic genius.”

—San Francisco Book Review

The Harder You Fall

Gena Showalter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To Allison Carroll for your invaluable feedback. And for taking me on despite my warnings about “the process.”

To Craig Swinwood, Margaret Marbury, Loriana Sacilotto, Dianne Moggy, Susan Swinwood, Michelle Renaud, Stacy Widdrington and Fritz Servatius—and so many others at Harlequin—for all you do on my behalf.

And to Lisa Wray for going above and beyond as we prepare for the launch of each new book.

And to one of the most awesome ladies I know, Liz Berry. I owe you a bear hug!

You guys rock so hard!

To Kresley Cole and Beth Kendrick, the Chef Boyardee gang!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Recipe

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

Sister dearest,

My darling Brook Lynn,

Yo!

So, check it. I’ve totally invaded your old bedroom to watch snow fall in the backyard. (Insert a couple minutes—or an hour!—of whining because your window alcove is better than mine.) BUT. Despite such a heinous injustice, I’m smiling so wide my jaw hurts. I remember the first time we built a snowman. I still think he looked like a puffer fish. Anyway. You cried “He’s dying” when the sun came out, and I collected snowman-blood (water) in a jar to host a proper bathroom funeral. We were pretty cool kids, huh? Now, though, we’re (technically) adults. Boo! You’re my best friend—yay! congrats!—but you’re also Jase’s fiancée. You’re part of his family, beloved by his friends, and that means I have to share you. I’m afraid, so very afraid, of losing you.

But then, I deserve to lose you. For years you took care of me like a mother takes care of her child. You sacrificed for me. You loved me when I was unlovable and helped me when I scorned you. Saying thank you a thousand times wouldn’t be enough. Saying I’m sorry a million times might be a start. You, sister, are a treasure. A gift. And I’m going to prove it. But not by giving you this letter.

No, this letter will self-destruct as soon as I’m done writing it because I don’t want to tell you everything you mean to me—I want to show you. And I will.

Yours forever,

Jessie Kay

ON A FRIGID December morning, the greatest snowpocalypse Strawberry Valley, Oklahoma, had ever experienced claimed its first victim. Jessica Kay Dillon’s pride. With a moan, the former beauty queen picked up her now-aching butt off the icy sidewalk, balanced her basket in her hands and, as bitter gusts of wind nipped at her, scanned nearby shop windows. No prying eyes watched her. Thank God!

If no one witnessed your epic fall, had it ever really happened?

Jessie Kay inched forward—careful, steady—but as she turned the corner her feet slipped and her arms flailed to no avail. Down she tumbled, landing with a hard smack. Dang it! She banged her fist into the ice-glazed concrete. She was going to die out here, and it was totally his fault. Lincoln West. One of the three owners of WOH Industries.

Stupid West and his stupid sandwich order!

She wouldn’t say she hated him, but she would maybe probably definitely unplug his life support to charge her phone. In only six months, he’d become the bane of her existence.

She should have listened to her sister and canceled today’s deliveries. Brook Lynn, the owner of You’ve Got It Coming—Busy life? Let us feed you!—believed safety came before commerce. But nooo, oh, no, Jessie Kay had insisted she could do the job, even though jumping from an airplane without a parachute would have been smarter. And yeah, okay, there was a perk to venturing out: the awe-inspiring winter wonderland. The hodgepodge design of shops—plantation-style buildings, metal warehouses and whitewashed bungalows—looked as if they’d been painted with diamond dust. But honestly? Awe-inspiring sucked buckets of ass right now.

Teeth chattering, she lumbered to her feet and carried on like a good little frozen soldier. At this point, giving up and returning to her car would be a blemish on YGIC’s sterling rep. Great start, deplorable finish. No, thanks. What it wouldn’t do? Melt the ice in Jessie Kay’s veins. The heater had been busted for years, the window scraper a necessary tool for survival. And it wasn’t like going home would do any good, either. The heater there basically operated on fumes and prayers.

In a perfect world, she’d fix both today. But this was a crap world and she needed more than the usual TLC—tears, lamentations and cursing. She needed cold, hard cash. Another reason she’d opted to brave the storm.

Brook Lynn, the sweetheart, paid her a hundred dollars a week to help prepare orders and make deliveries. Money she felt guilty for taking. I owe her, not the other way around. But take it she did. She had to. Pride, the whore, never made even a token offer to pay for anything.

The funds were just enough to cover utilities and the mortgage she acquired soon after Mom died. Tips covered essentials, like three squares a day. And to be quite blunt about the matter, she’d expected people to fork over more than the usual buck or two for today’s troubles. But had they? No! She’d gotten the usual, plus a few propositions from the sleazier men.

Wanna take a break, Jessie Kay? My wife’s stuck at her sister’s and my couch is real comfy...

Come on in and have a beer, Jessie Kay. I’ll warm you up with a little body heat...

Once a bad girl, always a bad girl.

If her parents still lived—God bless their precious souls—they would have wept fat tears of disappointment over her jezebel rep. They’d loved her and had only wanted the best for her even though they’d both had legit reasons to hate her before they died.

She would be the first to admit she sometimes tried to forget those reasons in not-so-healthy ways.

Well, used to try to forget in not-so-healthy ways.

A few months ago, Brook Lynn—the world’s greatest everything—had almost died, and Jessie Kay—the world’s worst—had been too busy partying like a rock star to help. Talk about a wake-up call! From that day forward, she’d sworn to walk the straight and narrow. If ever her sister needed her again, she’d be there. No ifs, ands or buts about it. Amen.

Every storm begins with a single drop of rain, Momma once said. Don’t despise small beginnings.

The good-girl thing, well, no one anywhere ever had ever had such a small beginning.

She slowly snaked around the next corner, relieved when she remained on her feet, and finally she reached the WOH offices. Despite the cold, she paused at the front window to prepare for the battle to come. And there would be a battle. There always was.

In the foyer, elementary-school-teacher-turned-receptionist Cora Higal manned her desk with military precision. There was no sign of West. Gorgeous, successful, too-smart-for-his-own-good West.

He possessed a charming wit and kind smile. For everyone but Jessie Kay.

In July, he and his two best buds slash business partners had left the big, bad city to move to her hometown. She’d drooled over the magnetic West at first sight, but when he’d shown no interest in her, she’d moved on to the suave Beck Ockley, who had.

What she hadn’t known at the time? Beck was the king of the hit and run. Well, he used to be, until he met Harlow Glass. Now he was the king of commitment. Anyway. His majesty’s “relationship” with Jessie Kay had ended after a single night.

That was fun, honey. I’ll see you around.

The rejection had stung, and she’d thrown a good old-fashioned pity party, getting drunk off her booty and sleeping with Jase, the trio’s designated hulk. But their “relationship” hadn’t gone anywhere, either. In fact, Jase hadn’t even waited until morning to get rid of her. He’d jumped ship an hour after the deed was done.

He later ended up engaged to Brook Lynn.

Apparently, all a guy had to do to find his soul mate was screw Jessie Kay.

West had to consider her sloppy thirds. A man-eater. A good-time girl. Fruit from the poisonous tree.

Well, he could suck it! Had she always made the smartest choices? No. She’d chased a sense of happiness with men rather than finding it within herself—and just how the heck was she supposed to be happy with herself? She’d also made mistakes so abysmal they belonged in record books. Just ask her dead parents! But what right did West have to judge her?

According to Brook Lynn, who had the inside scoop, West used to dabble with self-medication, too, drinking and getting high. And his track record with women? Deplorable. He only dated one gal a year for two months, no more, no less, then dumped her for some made-up reason when the clock zeroed out...and crap, it was too cold to stall any longer.

A bell tinkled as Jessie Kay entered the building, and much-needed warmth enveloped her.

Cora glanced up from the papers she was stacking, her black bob swaying at her shoulders. “Miss Dillon.”

“Ms. Higal.” She stomped her boots to dislodge clumps of snow as she studied an eclectic mix of boring and spectacular. The standard beige walls were decorated with stunningly detailed pictures of the video game characters West had designed. Tables she could have picked up at a local garage sale for less than five bucks were littered with shiny computer parts and what looked to be robotic limbs.

How cool was that? Her inner child, probably the most mature part of her, suddenly longed to play.

Cora said, “Mr. West is—”

“Not surprised you’re late.” The rugged male voice came from the back of the room, where West leaned a shoulder against the entrance to his office. “Tell me, Miss Dillon. Is making people worry a sport to you?”

Their eyes locked, and hated tingles spilled over her. For a moment, a single heartbeat, tension so intractable she couldn’t breathe thrummed between them. He was the sun she orbited, the vortex she couldn’t escape. Then he turned, revealing his back, and she was able to suck in a mouthful of air, but his image remained burned in her mind.

He stood well over six feet tall and had the lean, sexy muscle mass of a man who’d spent quality time in a gym. A fact perfectly complemented by the pin-striped suit he wore. He had dark hair and even darker eyes, the depths fathomless, mysterious and so sublimely sensual she sometimes forgot her new resolve to avoid ABBs. Adorable bad boys.

She wanted what her parents had. What Brook Lynn and Jase, Harlow and Beck had. She wanted more. And for the first time in her life, she was willing to wait for it. No more settling for scraps.

Sometimes people forget that falling in love isn’t enough. Momma, always so wise. You have to fall in like, too. Your dad...he thinks I hung the moon.

Jessie Kay had no doubts about that. When she’d helped her sister pack up to move-in with Jase, they’d found a secret panel in the closet. Stored inside were letters their dad had written their mom while the two were dating.

When you smile, my sweet Anna Grace, I see my future in your eyes.

No one had ever experienced that kind of reaction to Jessie Kay’s smile, and there was no way West would be the first. Which was one of the many reasons he wasn’t dateable, despite her crush on him. Well, not on him, but on his looks. Yes, there was a big difference. While she would love to give his face and body a tongue bath, she only wanted to give his brain the finger.

“Well, don’t just stand there drooling, Miss Dillon, go on back,” Cora said, pulling Jessie Kay from her musings.

“Thanks.” For nothing. She clutched the wicker basket closer to her chest and trudged forward.

The moment she crossed the threshold into West’s office, the temperature seemed to rise another twenty degrees, the air saturated with the heady scent of caramel. Her tingles returned and redoubled.

He’d removed his jacket and now sat at his desk, rolling the sleeves of his white button-down to his elbows, revealing strong forearms with mouthwatering sinew and a dusting of dark hair.

“Don’t pretend you were worried about me, Mr. West.”

He reclined in his chair and folded his hands over his middle, peering at her the way a snake must peer at a mouse—intent, ready to strike, hungry.

A ball of thorns grew in her throat, and she gulped. Maybe he wanted to devour her in a sexual way. A few times she’d wondered if he liked the look of her the way she liked the look of him. Or maybe he just got off on taking down an opponent.

Yeah. That one.

“Are you here to feed me or to stare at me?” His tone mocked her.

Jerk. “I’m here to correct you. You said I was late, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Breakfast orders are due to arrive between seven and nine.”

“It’s ten thirty-six.”

Oops. Was it really? “You didn’t let me finish. Breakfast orders are due to arrive between seven and nine except on ice days. I’m allowed an hour or so of leeway.”

“Again, it’s ten thirty-six.”

“I said or so.” When his expression failed to soften, she added, “Could I have picked up the pace to reach you sooner? Yes. However, falling and breaking my neck is your dream come true, not mine.”

He showed no mercy. “Since news stations have talked about nothing but this winter storm for the past week, I knew it was headed our way and did something revolutionary. I planned ahead.”

She offered him a brittle smile. The customer is always right, Brook Lynn often said. And Jessie Kay agreed...unless the customer was a douche bag, and then he was just a douche bag. “Had I planned ahead, I would have canceled your order.”

“But you didn’t. So. I’m assuming your tardiness means the food is free.”

She breathed in and out and remembered another bit of sage advice her mother had given her. You can’t control when a bird flies over your head, but you can control whether or not you let one build a nest in your hair.

In other words, she couldn’t stop certain emotions from rising up inside her, but she could stop herself from reacting to them.

And she had to, had to, had to stop herself. Brook Lynn recently challenged her to a bet. First girl to yell or throw things in a fit of temper had to let the supposedly composed sister pick her wardrobe for a week.

Knowing Brook Lynn, Jessie Kay would be wearing a nun’s habit. Shudder! She’d much rather see her sister in a bikini constructed with two pasties and a curl of ribbon.

Over the years, tormenting each other had become a very fun game.

“You’re wrong, as usual,” she told West with a sugar sweet smile. “Also, you’re too limited in your thinking. Time isn’t linear, it’s circular.”

That grabbed his attention. Intrigue brightened his eyes as he straightened, propped his elbows on the desk and linked his fingers just below his chin. “Explain.”

With pleasure. “Time has no beginning and no end. It always has been, always will be, and it never stops, which means time is an ever-continuing circle of new beginnings and new ends.”

The intrigue intensified and mixed with...admiration? “You’re implying the concept of being late is—”

“Bullcrap.”

“—erroneous because what is present will become what is past and what is past will become what is future. Therefore, no matter the lateness of the hour, you’re always on time.”

“I liked my description better, but yeah. And being on time in this weather means I’ve earned a bonus. Today, your sandwich is fifty dollars more than usual.”

He studied her for a long while, silent. “In terms of excuses, yours is the best I’ve ever heard. I’ll give you the extra fifty.”

She fought the urge to preen. “Should we make it an even hundred?”

“Why? Did you sprinkle the sandwich with crack?”

“No. But I did finally factor in my mental anguish.”

One corner of his mouth twitched as if—no way, just no way—he might smile. But of course, his frown deepened, and he turned his attention to his keyboard. “Leave the food. Get your money from Cora and go. I’m busy.”

Hot and cold. Sweet and sour.

He was soooo lucky Jessie Kay abandoned the dark side, or he’d be receiving special toppings on tomorrow’s order.

“I hope you—” choke “—enjoy.” She placed the bacon-and-marshmallow sandwich at the edge of his desk, in his periphery without actually broadcasting how precariously it teetered. Yes, the sandwich was protected by paper, but the floor was the floor and to a man of West’s fastidious nature, it would be utterly tainted the moment the two made contact.

Maybe she still dipped a toe in the dark side every now and then.

Just to be contrary, she said, “There’s a life outside of computers, you know.” He wanted her to go, so she would stay a little longer. “You should check it out.”

He never glanced her way. “Send me a link, and I will.”

Har har.

As she watched him click clack at the keyboard, she thought that maybe...wow, this was hard to admit but...being his friend would have been kind of awesome. Except for his weird dating quirk, he’d clearly managed to get his life together. A feat she only dreamed of achieving. He could have shared his secrets for success.

“You should be nicer to me, you know. I’m Brook Lynn’s maid of honor, and you are Jase’s best man. I can make your walk down the aisle easy, or I can make you wish you were dead.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Frustrating man! Why did he hate her so much?

She vividly recalled their first meeting at the town’s annual Fourth of July barbecue. She’d noticed the trio of new man-meat standing beside a booth selling strawberry ice cream cones. West had been the first to snag her interest, and when he’d looked over at her, she’d experienced an instant, full-body sizzle. Then he’d raked his dark gaze over her and his lips had twisted in disgust. Disgust! An emotion she’d easily recognized because she saw it reflected back at her every morning when she looked in the mirror.

Big girl that she was, she’d tried to talk with him about it. Problem? Let’s find a solution. But he’d turned to Beck and muttered, I can’t be here, as if her presence ruined his good time.

Her already fragile self-esteem had plummeted, and she’d eagerly accepted Beck’s offer of comfort. A man who’d made her feel like the center of his world.

Until the sun had risen the next morning.

Great. Now she wanted out of this office, like, yesterday. “The lottery is up to one hundred and thirty-eight million. I should probably buy my ticket.” She tried for a breezy tone, but just sounded desperate. “See ya around, West.”

“Lotteries are a tax on people who suck at math. You know that, right?”

“Someone’s gotta win, and I’m good at getting lucky.”

A muscle jumped beneath his eye, a testament to growing anger—why anger? “Which guy are you after now?”

Was that a slut reference? “I’ll tell you which guy I’m after,” she snapped—only to remember her bet with Brook Lynn.

Right. Hide the hurt.

“Ben and Jerry, that’s who. Hope you enjoy your sandwich,” she repeated. “Or not. Yeah, probably not.” With another sugar-sweet smile, she bumped her hip into the edge of his desk. The computer parts and papers scattered along the surface rattled and shifted, and as she glided toward the door, she heard a telltale thump.

A very black curse echoed off the walls.

Without turning around, she lifted a hand and waved her fingers at him.

“I expect a new sandwich, Jessie Kay.”

“Let’s see what that expectation gets you...”

She really needed to get out of the food-service industry. But first, she needed to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Besides gut-punching West at some point, of course.

Only one slight problem. So slight it probably wasn’t even worth mentioning. She’d barely graduated high school, had been too busy having fun to study, and she had no real skills other than tying a cherry stem with her tongue. Go me! As an aspiring millionaire, that little talent might not get her very far.

Cora clucked as she handed over a twenty and a fifty. Ten for the sandwich and five for the delivery, plus the five he usually gave her for a tip, on top of today’s time management tip.

“Listened to our conversation through the speakerphone, did you?” Jessie Kay asked drily.

“A good assistant must anticipate her boss’s needs. Speaking of, you should give him a break, Miss Dillon. He’s had a rough go of it lately.”

“Excuse me? Did you just say he’s had a rough go of it?” Please! “I’m an orphan schlepping a sandwich to an ungrateful bazillionaire during the new ice age. I deserve a break.”

A roll of the older woman’s eyes. “Both of his friends are now engaged.”

“So? My sister and best friend are now engaged. That’s a cause for celebration.” Except, she sometimes wanted to sob like a baby. She loved Brook Lynn and Harlow with all her heart, but sooner or later things were going to change. The girls would direct their full attention to their new families, and rightly so, while Jessie Kay, the only single gal, would become nothing but background noise.

Part of her wanted to pull away now, slowly, so it would hurt less, but the rest of her was determined to enjoy their time together while it lasted. To finally prove her love. “Just—” mind your own business “—have a nice day, Miz Higal.”

She soared through the door, cold air delivering a thousand bitch-slaps of shock. How she longed for the arrival of the next season—tornado—which would lead to her favorite season—hotter than hell.

Maybe she’d text her club buddy Sunny Day and go somewhere to blow off a little steam...and what the heck was she doing, reverting to old habits? No, no, a thousand times no.

Daniel Porter stepped from the shadows, stopping her in her tracks.

“Jessie Kay.”

“Move. Now.” She wasn’t putting up with insults from another man. And this one would insult her. They used to date, and they hadn’t parted on friendly terms.

“Sorry, but I’m right where I want to be.”

Stubborn to his core. But then, he was an Army Ranger, so he had to be.

He’d returned from an overseas tour a few months ago, and one of the first things he’d done was ask her out. She’d said yes so fast her tongue had practically caught fire. He was a beautiful man with dark hair and emerald eyes, the body of a warrior, and the aloof attitude that made (crazy) women dream of taming him.

It wasn’t long before she’d realized he expected to jump straight into bed, no dinner, no movie, and she’d gotten the impression he’d climb out the window the moment they finished. So, night after night she’d insisted on dinner and a movie, doing nothing more than kissing him goodbye every time they parted. Finally he’d moved on. But instead of being honest about his reasons for dumping her, he’d blamed her continued association with Jase and Beck, the men she’d once slept with. As if she’d ever go for round two with Brook Lynn and Harlow’s leftovers.

“Fine. I’ll move.” She sidestepped him, but he was used to dealing with hostiles and just sidestepped with her.

“I want to apologize for the way I treated you,” he said, and she stilled from shock alone. “For the way I ended things.”

An actual apology? That was a first. And after her interaction with West, it was also a soothing balm. Unless... “Is this a ploy to get into my pants?”

“Only partly.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up, and some of the starch faded from her shoulders. “Your honesty deserves a reward. You’re partly forgiven.”

“Good. Will you have dinner with me?”

“What!”

“Dinner. With me. Afterward, I’ll walk you to your door where we will part with a handshake.”

He’d just...asked her out? On a proper date? And he wasn’t going to push her for anything more than a meal? “I don’t... I can’t...”

“I miss you. I had fun with you, and fun isn’t something I’ve had in a long, long time. Walking away from you was a terrible mistake.”

Words every girl longed to hear. And part of her really, really wanted to say yes to his invitation. Any interaction with West tended to bruise her feminine pride, leaving her feeling battered and just a little unworthy of a happily-ever-after. A feeling she’d struggled with since her father’s death. A feeling that had only grown worse when her mother died...and as Jessie Kay made mistake after mistake. Now she had so many faults, her name should be San Andreas.

“I’m going to be fully honest with you, Daniel. I’m not interested in you romantically.” Once upon a time, she’d said yes to every guy who asked her out. She’d thought, He wants me. To him, I’m worth something. And what a high it had been. But the high had never lasted, and she’d always ended up having to chase a new one.

Better decisions, better life.

“But,” she added, “I could be convinced to become your friend.”

“I’ve never had a female friend. Especially one as hot as you.”

“Well, I’ve never had a guy friend as hot as you. We can break each other in nice and easy.”

A grin stretched from ear to ear. “All right. For you, Jessie Kay Dillon, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

For her. As if she was something special.

Ugh. Earlier she’d thought about clubbing and now she was flying high because a guy had given her a compliment. My self-worth is not dependent on others.

She raised her chin. “Great. But do us both a favor and remember we’re doing this on a trial basis. You screw it up, you get cut. In more ways than one.”

CHAPTER TWO

LINCOLN WEST NEARLY put his fist through the front door of the WOH building. Fury was a prowling, fire-breathing dragon in his chest as he peered through the window, watching Jessie Kay interact with Daniel Porter, a man she used to date. A man younger than West, and even younger than Jessie Kay. What the hell were they discussing? Daniel’s need for a diaper change? The latest in pacifier technology?

Had the two started dating again? The way Daniel was grinning at her...

An animal-like growl split West’s lips, surprising him. He didn’t give two shits who Jessie Kay dated. Yes, she was temptation wrapped in seduction, a Southern beauty with a viper’s tongue, a rapier wit and a bone-deep grit that rivaled his own. Yes, she’d basically blown his mind with her brilliant concept of time. But it didn’t matter; she was completely off-limits, which made his behavior today a complete non sequitur.

Knowing she would insist on making sandwich deliveries despite the weather, he’d waited outside her house this morning, his car hidden by a mound of snow. He’d followed her into town to make sure she arrived in one piece, and as she’d distributed the goodies in her basket, he’d sat in his nice, warm office staring at the clock, bordering on panic when she failed to arrive at a reasonable time.

He’d planned to follow her home as soon as she left the office. Now Daniel could have the honor.

“I’ve known that girl since she upended my third-grade class.” Cora stapled a bundle of papers together. “Always in trouble for talking, always tardy, but always kindhearted. If anyone was having a bad day, she’d be the first to offer comfort and whatever dessert her mother had packed in her lunch box.”

He wished he’d known Jessie Kay back then. He would have been the kid she comforted, the one who received her dessert. Maybe they would have grown up to be friends. He’d had very few of those over the years. Hell, besides Jase and Beck, both of whom he’d met in foster care, he’d been alone.

Boo hoo. Poor baby.

He snapped, “Not another word about her,” and stalked to his office.

He couldn’t afford to like Jessie Kay. He just...couldn’t. There was too much feeling there. Some of it good—too good—and a lot of it bad.

The day he’d met her, he’d flashed back to Tessa, the only girl he’d ever loved. The girl he’d lost. He’d promised to throw her an elaborate party, a “congrats for passing your GED exam” only to forget. When she’d shown up expecting an adoring crowd, flowers and balloons, she’d gotten a coked-out West, cold beer and leftover pizza.

She’d burst into tears and driven away...and he’d found out a few hours later she crashed her car and died instantly.

The flashback had unnerved him. There’d been no reason for it.

Jessie Kay looked nothing like Tessa. The two were as different as night and day, in fact. While Tessa had been short and slender with dark hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes that hinted at a multicultural heritage, Jessie Kay was tall and curvy with pale hair and navy blue eyes that were always simmering with enough heat to blister.

The only thing they had in common? Both were beautiful. And, honestly, they were the only two women in the world capable of jacking up his blood pressure with only a glance.

When he’d been sober, he’d treated Tessa like a queen. Now he was always sober, but he only ever treated Jessie Kay like a portal to hell. Not on purpose. Or maybe it was on purpose. The first time he’d seen her, he’d wanted her with an intensity that had scared him stupid, but she’d ended up sleeping with Beck, and later on, Jase.

It’s my turn now.

The thought—one he’d had many times before—pissed him off. There was no reason good enough to risk bad blood between him and his friends. Not that either guy would care if he and Jessie Kay hooked up. They encouraged him to go for it at least once a day. They liked her. The problem was West. If he had her—this woman who sometimes haunted his dreams—would he grow to resent his friends for beating him to the finish line?

The mere possibility always stopped him from making a move. Always pissed him off more than the “my turn” nonsense. He would let nothing come between him and his boys.

West tossed the contaminated sandwich in the garbage, fell into his chair with a grunt and loosened the knot in his tie, which was currently choking the life out of him. If food touched the floor, it never touched his lips. In one of the foster homes he’d lived, the father found it hilarious to watch the kids in his care eat off dirty linoleum, their hands tied behind their backs.

Get used to it, boy. Some people aren’t meant for better.

Not all of the homes had been hellholes. Most had been pretty decent, granting him a better life than he ever would have had with his mom. Della West had never mistreated him and might have even loved him, but she’d loved her heroin more.

A knock sounded at his door. He glanced up to find Beck standing in the open doorway.

The six-foot self-proclaimed sex god strode into the office and plopped into the chair across from the desk. Flakes of snow dotted the guy’s hair, giving the gold and brown strands a deeper depth of color.

He unwound a cashmere scarf and shrugged out of his coat. “Saw Jessie Kay and Daniel Porter on my way in. You all right?”

He wished his friends had never clued in to his struggle—wanting her, but not wanting to want her. “I’m fine.”

“Well, could you do me a favor and inform your face? You look like you’re constipated.”

“Haven’t you heard? Constipation is the new black. All the cool kids are doing it. Or not doing it.”

Beck snorted, his amber eyes twinkling. Unfortunately, the amusement didn’t last long. “Seriously, my man. You good?”

The guy worried about him. That wasn’t new. To be honest, West worried about himself.

As a kid, he vowed he wouldn’t end up like his mother. And for most of his teenage years, he’d succeeded, treating drugs and alcohol like the enemy. Then Jase was sent to prison for a crime West and Beck helped him commit, and West had wanted to escape reality, just for a little while. Coke isn’t heroin, he’d rationalized. The same rationalization he’d used the next time...and the next...

When Tessa died, it wasn’t long before the highlight of his day was cutting blow and snorting from any flat surface he could find—before he woke up nearly every morning covered in his own vomit.

Eventually he lost his scholarship to MIT, which was just another reason to get high. He’d failed himself, but more important, he’d failed his friends. Jase had taken full responsibility for their crime so West could go to school, get a degree and make something of his life. Beck wasted years trying to get him clean.

Even now, guilt was too strong to shake.

He’d failed Tessa worst of all. He’d even failed his mom. When he’d finally sobered up, putting himself in a place to help her with her own problem, it was too late. She was already dead. One overdose too many.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to relapse. I’m attracted to Jessie Kay, but I’m not in love with her.” He would never allow himself to fall so deeply again.

“Why not? She’s the total package. A lady in the kitchen and a wildcat—”

“Stop talking,” he said through suddenly gritted teeth.

“Everywhere else.” Beck had always dealt with tense situations in one of two ways: teasing or taunting. “Why? What’d you think I was going to say?”

Refuse to resent. “If she’s so world-class amazing, why didn’t you fall for her?”

“One of the hazards of jumping into bed too fast.” Beck shrugged. “You find out later you’re better off as friends. Besides, she’s not Harlow.”

She wasn’t Tessa, either. And now this conversation was over. “All right. If I’ve passed today’s sobriety test, I’ve got work to do.”

“Happy to say you passed the sobriety test. Sad to say you failed the asshole test.”

“Not that. Anything but that.” He shook a fist toward the ceiling. “Why? Why me?”

“And now you’ve failed the shithead test. Where’s my thanks for showing up just because my best friend is a workaholic and he’d throw a he-hissy if I suggested we take an ice break?”

“Here.” West flipped him off. “This is your thanks.”

Grinning, Beck stood and gathered his discarded garments. “Heartwarming. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Alone, West admitted that, despite his levity, he wasn’t actually in a good place. Could he pass a true sobriety test?

Let’s find out.

He unlocked and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. A bottle of Lagavulin stared up at him. He traced a finger over the cold glass.

Drink me, the whiskey said. Just a sip. I’ll help you relax.

Truer words had never not been spoken. But West knew the sense of relaxation would only last for a little while. Later he would fall back into his foul mood and he would need another drink...and then he’d turn to coke. The bane of his existence. The demon on his shoulder.

There’d been many mornings when, in the prime of his addiction, he’d frantically raced through his apartment on a hunt for money. He’d checked for loose bills under couch cushions and inside the washer and dryer, and when he’d found nothing, he’d snuck into Beck’s bedroom to rifle through dresser drawers. His desperation had been greater than his shame.

He’d needed a fix, and he’d needed it bad, but without cash, he wouldn’t get anything but grief from his dealer. He’d even contemplated doing what his mother used to do to get her fix...

He scrubbed a hand down his face, tried to forget... Can’t ever forget. His mother allowed her addict “friends” to do whatever they wanted to her body as long as they shared their supply. Sometimes she even sold herself to strangers. Anyone with a few dollars to spare.

One guy—

Call me Uncle Sam.

West shuddered. Whenever Sam had finished with Della he’d come looking for West. Not knowing what else to do, West had hidden in cabinets, under his bed and even inside the trash can. Sometimes he’d stayed hidden. A few times, he’d been found.

The fact that he’d ever considered selling himself...

He gave his head a violent shake to dislodge the claws of the past. His self-disgust remained.

“Drinking isn’t on my schedule.” He slammed the drawer shut, turned the lock and breathed in and out with purpose. He always stuck to his schedule. A habit he’d developed in rehab. Structure kept chaos—a trigger—at bay, every task a baby step that required time and attention to ultimately walk him to the end of his day as clean as a man like him could be.

Too many stains on my soul.

Speaking of his schedule... Four little words stared up at him from the screen of his phone. Follow Jessie Kay home.

Why had he penciled in such a thankless task?

Because he liked the way her sun-kissed skin flushed to a deep rose whenever she got angry? Because he liked the snarky things that came out of her mouth? A mouth he longed to taste. Because he liked the burn in his blood every time she stepped into a room? Liked the rush of matching wits with her?

Because he didn’t want the madness to end?

Idiot! Fool! A man could become addicted to a woman like her. Especially a man like him. And yet he still picked up the phone and pressed the button to connect him to Beck.

“I’m heading out for a little while.”

* * *

SATURDAY MORNING, WEST dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt that read “Goal Scouts.” During soccer season—March through October—he coached a team of underprivileged kids. Off-season, he played indoors with the big boys. A great source of therapy.

He anchored his shin guards in place, tied his shoes and glanced at the clock—8:59 a.m. Right on time. He smoothed the wrinkles in his comforter, ensured the lid to his dirty clothes hamper was closed and sailed into the kitchen to mix three protein shakes.

“Hey, man.” Jase strode around the corner, dressed and ready for the game.

Both Jase and Beck opted to join the indoor team rather than watching the action from the bleachers.

Jase played goalie. He had the body of a tank, and nothing got past him. Also, other teams tended to soil their pants with a single look at him. Everything from the spikes in his dark hair to the feral glaze in his green eyes said screw with me and pay the ultimate price.

Not exactly an idle threat. Having spent nearly a decade behind bars, he had a few issues and a whole lot of pent-up rage.

Aaand just like that, guilt burned through West like acid. “Hey.” He couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze as he slid one of the shakes across the counter. “Drink up.”

“Seriously?” Jase got in his face, forcing eye contact. “This is how you’re going to start the morning?”

“Since when do you have such a beef with protein?”

“I don’t care about the protein, and you know it. I care about the way you’re looking at me right now. Or trying not to look at me.”

Right. Jase actually expected West to forgive himself for the part he’d played in the prison sentence. And for a while, he’d tried. But guilt was the monster in the back of his mental closet, always there, always lurking, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. His friend had suffered unimaginable horrors, and for what? So West could throw his life away?

So, no, West wouldn’t be forgiving himself anytime soon.

“You’re the reason I’m what Brook Lynn refers to as a romance novel lover’s dream. Reformed and rich,” Jase said. “I’m grateful.”

West started WOH simply to keep himself busy during his recovery, but the hobby quickly became a cash cow. “You wouldn’t have gone to prison at all if I’d reacted differently to Tessa’s—”

He couldn’t say the word.

The night it happened, he’d been a newly minted eighteen-year-old kid fresh out of the foster system. He’d lived with his boys and had his eye on the prize: a happily-ever-after. Tessa had invited him to a party, but at the last minute he’d opted to stay home and tinker with a new motherboard. He could sell it, make money and buy his girl the world. She’d gone with her cousin, instead. Beck had gone on a date with a girl he’d met earlier that day, and Jase, a carpenter, had still been at work.

A sobbing Tessa had returned in the middle of the night. She’d always been an emotional girl, so he hadn’t reacted at first. Then she’d thrown herself into his arms and gasped out, “He...he... West, he forced me,” and everything had changed.

Dark rage swallowed West whole. He’d gotten the rest of the details out of her, picked up Jase and Beck, and hunted down the piece of shit responsible. The guy had been sleeping peacefully in his bed.

Yeah. They’d broken into his apartment.

West threw the first punch. When he felt cartilage shatter and saw drops of blood leak onto lips that had assaulted Tessa, he smiled without humor. He only wanted more blood, more destruction—wanted to deliver more pain.

The guy fell to the floor and cried, “She begged me for it!”

As he tried to crawl away, West kicked him in the ribs. A starting bell. Jase and Beck joined the boot party, and it was a brutal, savage thing. Wrath unleashed. Violence without equal. The three of them continued until the bastard stopped moving...stopped grunting...stopped breathing.

“West.” Jase’s voice drew him back into the present.

“You shouldn’t have asked us to hide our involvement.” Back then, they’d lived by a strict code. What one requests, the others do. The end. But West had soon found himself trapped in a prison of a different sort, one built from guilt and shame. “Especially me. You expected me to move to Massachusetts, to finish school and start a family with Tessa.” He released a sharp breath. “I never even set foot out of Oklahoma. And you know what happened to my girl.”

“I don’t regret my decision. I never have.”

No. Not true. “You must.” Emotion clogged his throat. “Beck and I used to visit you every week. I saw your bruises...know what happens to young, scrawny boys behind bars...” At eighteen, Jase had been extremely scrawny.

A muscle jumped in his friend’s jaw. “That’s the past. Over. Done.”

“Is it?” Sometimes West woke up to Jase’s screams.

Shouldn’t have brought this up. Too painful for us both.

I can do this. He pasted on a happy face and rolled with the punches. “You’re right. Of course. Over and done. Now drink your breakfast like a good boy.”

Jase peered at him for a long while, silent, before finally sighing. He tasted the shake and grimaced. “What’d you put in this thing? Arsenic?”

“Can’t be that bad.” West took a swig and shuddered. Yeah. It was that bad. “Arsenic would taste better. Brook Lynn awake?” The girl was magic in the kitchen. She could throw together—

“She left earlier this morning for a dress fitting. Something about gaining a pound and seams busting.”

Women and their weight. When would they realize skin-and-bones only impressed other women? Men preferred soft and lush...like Jessie Kay, rounded in all the right places.

Down boy. “Maybe Harlow—”

“Nope.” Jase shook his head. “She’s helping Jessie Kay with breakfast deliveries.”

First he’d thought the name. Now he’d heard the name. Can’t escape her.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Jase said, mercifully changing the subject, “I selected a construction company.”

“Good.” A few weeks ago, they’d decided to build two additional homes on the acreage. One for Jase and Brook Lynn, one for West and his misery. Beck and Harlow would keep the farmhouse since she’d grown up here and loved the place almost as much as she loved her fiancé. “What do you need me to do?”

“Call the owner on Monday and tell him what you want. I’ll text you his number.”

Beck stumbled into the kitchen. He was dressed and ready to go, but his hair was unkempt and his eyes rimmed with red. “What are you two yakking about?”

“Your bachelor party,” Jase deadpanned. “You want one stripper or four?”

“Dude.” Beck scratched his chest. “My life was a bachelor party. I don’t need another one.”

Jase snickered. “Afraid the little woman will protest?”

Like he wasn’t just as whipped.

“Actually, I’m afraid the little woman will ask the strippers for tips and I’ll die of a heart attack before I have the privilege of saying my vows.”

West handed him a shake. “Stop bragging about your love life and drink your breakfast, Becky. You need it.” The guy was an attacking midfielder, his skill with a ball unsurpassed. He remained calm under pressure, dishing out all kinds of abuse. “You step into the arena half-asleep and you’ll have your ass handed to you.”

“I should be so lucky.” Beck drained half the glass without reacting to the bitter taste. “It’s a nice ass.”

“Your modesty humbles me.” West was fast and agile, so he played center forward, stealing the ball—his ball—whenever it needed stealing. And it was his ball. Always. When he stepped onto the field, a sense of possession overtook him. Mine. Which was probably why he ended up the top scorer of every game.

That, and his skill, tenacity and strength. He spent a good portion of every day in the gym. He would never be weak again. He despised helplessness almost as much as he despised chaos.

“My modesty is just one of the many amazing things about me.” Beck finished off the rest of the shake. “Good stuff. Thanks.”

West glanced at his wristwatch. 9:28 a.m. All right. “Time to go.”

He grabbed the duffel containing a change of clothes and climbed behind the wheel of his Mercedes. Jase had called eternal dibs on the front passenger seat, so he claimed his prize and Beck settled in back, all without protest or complaint. The two respected West and his schedules.

My soul mates.

He drove through the town square, where different families meandered along the sidewalks. Everyone was bundled up for warmth, and everyone paused to smile and wave as he passed.

To West, it was a scene straight of out a movie, too picture-perfect to be real, but he smiled and waved right back.

“Who we playing today?” Jase asked as they crawled along the highway. Ice had been sanded and salted, but there were still slick spots. At this rate, they’d reach the downtown Oklahoma City arena in fifty years.

“The Ball Busters.”

“Last year’s league champions.” Beck grinned, the baring of teeth a little evil. “That’ll make our win today a thousand times sweeter.”

“Exactly. Show no mercy.” West adjusted the air vents, ensuring blasts of heat reached the backseat. “After we wipe the field with their faces, they’ll be knocked out of this year’s play-offs.”

“Trash talk already.” Jase nodded his approval. “I raised you boys right.” A beep from his phone. He checked the screen and cursed.

“What?” West and Beck demanded in unison.

Jase rubbed the back of his neck. “Brook Lynn will be late to the game.”

Such an extreme reaction over so little? As if the guy couldn’t go half a day without seeing his girl?

If West ever dated Jessie Kay—

Are you kidding me? Could he not go one day, one hour, without thinking about her? Without hating her and craving her, practically foaming-at-the-mouth eager to get his hands on her. To shake her and learn her... And anything else that came to mind.

“Jase, my man, I love you. I really do.” West turned on his blinker before changing lanes. “But codependency is an ugly bitch.”

Beck reached out to pat Jase on the shoulder. “What he said is true, but it doesn’t matter. Bitches adore us.”

Very true. Young, old, single or married, females simply couldn’t get enough, bad boys like Beck and Jase their kryptonite. West attracted his fair share of attention, but never in droves. The multitude must suspect he wasn’t just a bad boy; he was damaged beyond repair.

When he reached the arena, he parked in back, grabbed his duffel and beat feet inside, the frigid air like needles against his skin, smelling of car exhaust and burning wood rather than wild strawberries, a scent that somehow pervaded Strawberry Valley even in winter. A scent that had somehow come to represent home.

When Jase had voiced a desire for a fresh start in a small town with wide-open spaces and the sense of community he’d never gotten in foster care, West had panicked. Leave his penthouse apartment? His routine? Never! Except at the behest of his friends. Then he’d do both in an instant. He owed Jase and Beck his life, and by all that was holy, he would pay his debt.

Always better to be the lender rather than the borrower.

At first, he’d hated Strawberry Valley. Residents considered his personal life a reasonable topic of conversation, and his bank balance open to public scrutiny. And yet, those same residents had had Jase’s back at a time when anyone else would have chased him off with pitchforks and torches.

Now there was nowhere else West would rather live.

A few feet past the door, he drew up short, feeling as if he’d just been punched in the chest.

No. Please, no.

Jessie Kay was here.

She and Harlow stood in line at the concession stand, completely unaware of the crowd of drooling men staring at them, some of those men basically pawing at the ground like bulls about to charge.

Little wonder. Harlow had hair so black it gleamed blue and eyes the color of a morning sky. She was a Disney princess come to life. And considering her love of romance novels, the description couldn’t have been more perfect. Meanwhile, Jessie Kay was the villain of the tale. The merciless evil queen so beautiful, so utterly flawless, her every movement and word so touched with black magic, she entranced everyone around her.

It wasn’t just the skin that looked as soft as silk, or the waterfall of pale hair that begged for a man’s hands, or the eyes so deep and blue you drowned a thousand times with only a glance. It wasn’t even the lush, red lips made for sucking—and being sucked. It was the essence of her: pure, luscious seduction.

Her hands danced through the air as she spoke to Harlow, her chest heaving. A succulent chest covered by a too-tight T-shirt that read “Goal Scout Deliveries Free Today Only.” Her jeans appeared painted on, and the cowgirl boots she wore had enough rhinestones to outshine the sun.

She stole his breath.

Jase came up beside him and hammered his shoulder with enough strength to crush an ordinary man. “Now you know. Brook Lynn sent Jessie Kay in her place. I’d hoped we’d beat her here, and you’d never know she’d come. Sorry.”

Well. The guy’s he-fit after reading Brook Lynn’s text suddenly made more sense.

Beck stalked past them, an arrow with a target. As always, he devolved into an intense, possessive manimal whenever his fianceé was near, casting a warning glare at every man in her vicinity, all mine, I’ll kill before I’ll share.

Harlow squealed, happy to see him. Jessie Kay stiffened and slooowly turned toward the door, as if she needed a moment to prepare herself for a coming blow. Her gaze linked with West’s and...just like that, the rest of the world ceased to exist. Desire burned through him, even vibrated in his bones. The air between them thickened, suddenly supercharged with enough electricity to bring down a rhino. Breathing was far more difficult—when the ability at last returned.

How did she do this to him? How did she ensnare him so easily? And with only a look?

A drug. She’s a drug.

She had to be. Only cocaine had the same effect on him.

At the moment, he didn’t exactly care what she was. Devolving...

Mine. Want.

A group of people spilled through the entrance, and someone knocked into him. As West stumbled, managing to catch himself before a fall, the...whatever he had going with Jessie Kay ended, broken abruptly.

Anger replaced his fascination, and he growled a curse at the person responsible. A curse he then turned on himself.

“Sorry, sorry,” the guy called as he continued forward.

West returned his attention to Jessie Kay, unable to stop himself, hating himself, but she’d reached the front of the line and now worked her black magic on the pimply-faced teenager behind the counter.

Grinding his molars, West strode to the locker room to store his bag.

“—see the blonde?” some guy was saying. The guy who’d plowed into him, in fact. Without a coat to block the view, West was able to see the black-and-crimson shirt proudly boasting “Ball Buster” on back.

“The one in the cowboy boots? Dude. How could I miss her?” another member of BBs responded. “Those tits were spectacular.”

A command to move never registered, but suddenly West was across the room, the guy’s neck in his hand. He seethed with fury and aggression, his words lashing like a whip. “You’re an asshole.” He slammed the guy into the bank of lockers. “You don’t talk about her like that. Ever.”

Hazel eyes bugged out and air wheezed from a throat close to closing up shop.

“He’s sorry, man. We’re sorry,” the friend rushed out. “We didn’t know she was yours. Let him go, okay?”

“Let him go,” Jase echoed, now at West’s side. “Ending the life of a fool isn’t on your schedule.”

He was panting, West realized, as if he’d just run a ball up and down the field for several hours. Any second, he would snap, and there would be no stopping him until it was too late.

Can’t let that happen. Not around Jase.

West gave a final squeeze before unlocking his fingers and stepping back. The offenders raced out the door, practically leaving skid marks in their wake. Predatory instincts surfaced, the urge to give chase almost too strong to ignore.

“I know you want Jessie Kay,” Jase said softly. “I know you wish you didn’t. You need to go out with her or forget her, because you can’t go on like this. I see that now.”

He saw it, too, but he couldn’t go out with her and there was no way he could forget her.

Still he said, “I’ll clean up, dry out.” Recovery terms. One hundred percent accurate in this case. “You have my word.”

This behavior wasn’t good for him, and it certainly wasn’t like him. He was the one who thought everything through, who planned the beginning from the end before ever acting. But it was her, Jessie Kay; she was to blame for his uncustomary outburst. Months of looking at her, sparring with her and fantasizing about her without ever actually touching her had finally destroyed the calm outer shell he’d cultivated while living with his mom.

He remembered the day he’d learned it was better to hide his emotions than share them. He’d made the egregious mistake of telling his mom about Sam, and she’d cried for days, shooting up more than usual until finally overdosing. At five years old, he’d tried to give her CPR. He’d seen people on TV do it—the wrong way, it turned out. When he’d failed to revive her, he’d banged on his neighbor’s door, begging for help.

He’d helped all right. By calling 911 and social services. West was taken away for the very first time.

“We can’t afford trouble with the law,” Jase reminded him. “Especially this kind of trouble.”

“I know. Don’t worry about me. Seriously.” West’s hands curled into fists. “I’m just jacked on adrenaline because of the game.”

Disbelief shadowed Jase’s features, but he said, “Maybe you should take a breather and sit out the first half.”

“I’d rather eat nails. The field is the only place I can legally kick ass.”

“Just make sure the asses you kick don’t have to be carried away on stretchers.”

Those tits were spectacular.

West laughed without humor. “I can’t make any promises.”

CHAPTER THREE

JESSIE KAY SAT in the bleachers, embarrassingly awed. West was a warrior of old and the arena was his battlefield, his body his weapon. And what a weapon it was.

He owned the ball. When someone else had it, he took it. When he had it and someone tried to steal it, he knocked that someone into a wall with a full-on slam. He threw insults, elbows and knees like they were confetti.

Tomorrow, the members of Team Ball Buster would feel as if they’d tangled with an F5 tornado and lost, guaran-dang-teed.

It—was—hawt. West was hawt.

Jessie Kay’s gaze remained glued to him. Sweat glistened on his bronzed skin, and blood trickled from several cuts he’d sustained. The injuries only made him sexier. She wanted to kiss him all better. With tongue.

Dang. The future of her new good-girl status looked pretty bleak right about now.

He shoved someone else into the wall, a loud thud echoing, and she sighed dreamily.

Harlow gasped with concern. “Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. This sport is brutal. It’s making my stomach churn.”

“Churn with happiness, right?” Brutal equaled awesome.

“Would I need a vomit bag for happiness?”

“Not likely.”

“Then no, not happiness. Beck has such a violent past. I’m nervous this kind of aggression will lead to flashbacks and nightmares.”

Jessie Kay knew the guy had grown up in foster care, same as West and Jase, and that not all the homes had been safe havens. “Beck doesn’t look traumatized out there, honey. He looks as thrilled as a bull with teats.”

Harlow rolled her eyes. “A bull would not be thrilled with teats.”

“How do you know? A guy with boobs would be over the moon. Anyway. You mentioned Beck’s past. What do you know about West’s?” Subtle, Jessie Kay, subtle.

“About as much as you do, I’m thinking. Which means not a whole lot.”

Well, crap.

Her phone buzzed, and she checked the screen. Sunny Effing Day.

Got a line on party of the century 2nite. U in??

She didn’t have to think about her response.

No thanks, but tell me all about it in the morning :-) :-)

Sunny: Girl, U know there’s a big chance I won’t even remember the deets, right??

Yeah. And that was one of the bigger problems for Jessie Kay. She hated remembering the things she’d done, but she hated not remembering the things she’d done even more.

“So, uh, what do you think of him?” she asked Harlow. “West, I mean.”

Harlow’s gaze sharpened on her. “Well, he’s certainly a charming devil, isn’t he? Why?”

She ignored the question, saying, “Of course you’d think he’s charming. He’s nice to you.”

“He is, which is probably why I think he’s smart, driven and witty. And handsome. And strong. I love his dedication to Beck and Jase.”

“But?”

“But...sometimes he can stand in a full beam of light and I still think he’s surrounded by darkness.”

Yes! That! “I thought I was the only one who’d noticed.” She’d often wondered if something bad had happened to him as a kid. Something more than the bits and pieces she’d gleaned over the months. Orphaned at a young age. The death of a girlfriend. A lost scholarship. “I bet this kind of aggression is cathartic for him. And Beck. Because this conversation does not revolve around West. I bet brutal field play would be cathartic for me. Hey! Maybe we should start a team of our own.”

“No way, no how.”

Excitement filled her, and she clapped her hands. “We’ll call ourselves Victorious Secret and our motto will be ‘We Live to Spank You.’ Duuude. Yes! I’m basically the smartest person in the world. Ever. You in? Of course you’re in. Practice begins tomorrow.”

“I’m out.” Harlow shuddered with horror. “I have zero desire to be tossed around like some kind of meat bag just because I have possession of a ball anyone can buy at any sporting-goods store for less than twenty dollars.”

“Puss! You were the town bully for years. Where is your predator spirit?”

“In my pants,” she deadpanned, “where Beck likes to visit.”

Yeah. Okay. The fact that Jessie Kay hadn’t gotten any since the Jase/Beck debacle could maybe possibly definitely for sure begin to explain her desire to attack strangers and bask in their misery, perhaps even dance in their blood. That and the fear that she not only sucked as a person, she sucked as a lover. Why else would so many guys ditch her so fast?

Throughout her life, she’d had too many hookups and too few relationships, nothing ever lasting more than a few weeks. And more often than not—or, you know, every time—it had been the guy who’d left her, not the other way around.

Why was she such a failure? What made her so unworthy of more?

Her winning personality should only ever seal a deal.

Like Daniel said, he’d had the time of his life during their dates, laughing with her—not at her—until he pulled a muscle. And yet, he’d still let her go. And after him, she’d gone out with Dorian Oliver, a childhood friend of Beck’s who lost his wife to cancer years before. He hoped to find love again, and honestly, he’d seemed really into her, always making excuses to get his hands on her.

You cold?

But after only three dates, all of which had ended with a passionate kiss at her door, he’d pulled the plug.

A good thing, actually.

According to Momma, a girl shouldn’t give her pearls to pigs. Dorian was as far from pig-like as possible—a sweetheart who treated her with nothing but respect and kindness—but the message fit all the same. If she didn’t have a future with a guy, why waste her precious time? Especially considering she’d wasted so much already.

She was twenty-seven years old and the dreaded thirty was creeping up on her like an insidious disease. Or the worst thing on the planet—a spider. Did she have a single prospect? No! Because the only guy capable of eliciting a lasting response in her was a bastard of the highest order some days, most days, and a charmer without equal the others. Again, a charmer to everyone but her for reasons he’d never had the courtesy to share with her. Not that it mattered...even though he could melt her panties with only a glance.

The next piece of beefcake she welcomed into her bed would like the crap out of her, figuratively speaking, and that was that.

You outshine the sun, Anna Grace. There’s nothing about you I would change.

Her father’s words to her mother only solidified her vow. Jessie Kay’s next man wouldn’t set a timer on their relationship, like some people she knew. He would fight tooth and nail to stay with her, no matter what.

Basically, the relationship equivalent of West and his soccer ball.

Her phone buzzed again, and when she checked the screen, a smile bloomed. Since her run-in with Daniel earlier in the week, they’d stayed in constant contact.

Daniel: Come over tonight. We’ll eat SpaghettiOs, my fave. Just for the privilege of your company, I’m willing to watch The Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother or New Girl

Her: You know what would be cool??? If those 3 shows were combined. How I Banged the New Girl Before I Met Your Mother :-) :-) :-)

Daniel: OK. You owe me a new phone. I just spit coffee all over this one

Her: Consider it the price you pay for being friends w/such a “sass mouth” (as Mom used to say) and too bad for you, I’m hanging w/ my girls 2night

Daniel: Pencil me in soon. Pleeease (look at me, willing to beg)

Her: We’ll see!

Daniel: Since I’m not getting sex from you, I’m only in this friendship for the fun, remember?

Her: Fine. I’ll consider giving you a few minutes of JK time tomorrow—but I’ll hear your thanks NOW

Daniel: Someone needs to spank your ass...but thank you

She so did not want to be buoyed by his eagerness to spend time with her, but dang it, she was. Maybe she should try dating him again—

No. No! No second chances in the romance department. Ever.

Build a house on sand, and the first storm that comes along will topple it. Build on a firm foundation, and the house will withstand anything.

She would give anything for just one more conversation with her mom. Just one more hug.

The crowd erupted into bloodthirsty cheers, jolting her from her thoughts, and she glanced up in time to watch another member of Ball Busters hit the wall, impact so strong it even shook the bleachers. As the guy slipped to the floor, he left a smear of crimson behind. Through it, Jessie Kay met West’s stare.

She saw hunger...such gnawing hunger...

He gave her a look so raw and carnal, she felt stripped of every piece of clothing in less than a second. That look said he couldn’t go a minute more without having her in his bed. That he would suffocate without her. That she’d become the center of his world—his gravity.

It was a lie. A nasty, nasty lie.

Or she was only seeing what she wanted to see. A problem of hers.

Even still, goose bumps broke out over her skin and fire blazed in her veins. Savage, sexy beast. Gimme.

Before she did something stupid—like throw what was left of her panties at him—she buffed her nails.

“Hey, Jessie Kay, Harlow. I finally made it.”

She turned to see Brook Lynn climbing the bleachers and sighed with relief. Her sister had always been her saving grace.

The blonde, blue-eyed beauty had rescued Jessie Kay from certain disaster so many times over the years, she’d earned a JK life-preserver badge. If the little darling hadn’t become the mother they’d lost, despite being two years younger, Jessie Kay would have ended up on the streets...and oh, crap. Guilt gnawed on her soul. Guilt like she hadn’t felt in years—because she hadn’t let herself feel it, numbed by keggers and “romance.”

She was the worst sister ever. She’d destroyed Brook Lynn’s entire world. She was the worst daughter ever. She’d escorted her mother to death’s door, rung the bell and ran away. She’d insulted her father hours before he died and, and, and—

She focused on that, the least horrendous of her crimes, hoping to stop the panic attack in its tracks. And for a moment it worked, the arena disappearing, replaced by the kitchen walls of her childhood home—the home she still lived in—morning sunlight shining through the large bay window.

“Go change out of those shorts and into something appropriate,” her father demanded.

“But Daddy—”

“You’re still a child, Jessie Kay. My baby girl. You shouldn’t wear skintight pants with the word naughty scripted over your backside.”

“I’m not a child! I’m—”

“No argument. Just action.”

She stomped her foot. “Sunny has a pair just like them, and her dad thinks they’re cool.”

“He isn’t your dad. Go change.”

“Well, I wish he was my dad!” she shouted. “I like him better.”

She raced to her room, and a short while later Daddy left for work...but he’d never come home.

A manager at Dairyland, he’d been speaking to one of his engineers about a broken machine. A machine that exploded, killing them along with half the workforce.

He’d died thinking she wanted a different father.

“Hey, hey. You okay?” Soft hands cupped her cheeks.

Jessie Kay blinked and found her sister sitting beside her, familiar features darkened with concern. “I’m fine.” She gave her sister a big ol’ bear hug, and she probably held on far too long, probably clung far too tight, but dang it, she loved the girl. “Just thinking about Daddy,” she said when she pulled away, careful to articulate her words.

Brook Lynn was born with a severe case of hyperacusis—a condition that caused her to hear even the quietest everyday noises at a screaming volume—forcing her to wear bulky devices in both ears to muffle and even mute sounds.

“We’ve talked about this.” Brook Lynn gave her cheeks a firm pat. “Do I really need to give you another lecture?”

Parents and children fight. That’s part of life. You and Dad exchanged heated words, get over it. You both walked away knowing you were loved.

Brook Lynn hadn’t witnessed the fight, and Jessie Kay hadn’t wanted to spill the details, but she’d done it anyway. Panic attacks had been a way of life for her back then, and her sister deserved to know one of the many reasons why.

“No. I remember the last twenty thousand.”

“Good.” Brook Lynn nodded. “Now tell me what I missed game-wise.”

The soccer game. A life raft. “West has tried to murder everyone on the field, and Jase has guarded the goal as if it’s your virtue.

“In other words,” Brook Lynn said with a grin, “we’re winning.”

Exactly. “So how’d the fitting go?”

“You mean the modern-day torture session I willingly signed up for? Well, if you ever decide you’d like to acquire a few body-image issues, just gain a few pounds before trying to zip your wedding gown and watch the seamstress’s horrified expression in the mirror.”

No one insults my sis—but me. “So you’ve gained a few pounds. So what? You’ve done Jase a favor. You’ve given him more of you to love.”

Harlow snorted. “While your logic is impeccable—”

“I know, right? You’re welcome, Jase,” Jessie Kay shouted to the field.

He didn’t hear her over the cheers and boos rising from the crowd, but somehow West did and he frowned over at her. The distraction cost him. He’d been waiting for the ball to cross the centerline, and when it did, he missed it, for the first time allowing a member of the other team to soar past him, heading for the goal.

Oops.

“—going to have a pity party, invitation one, if yesterday’s brownies...and this morning’s cupcakes...ruin my wedding gown,” Harlow finished.

Jessie Kay barely paid attention to her friend, mumbling, “You’re getting married this freaking weekend. The only thing you need to worry about is the death of your dating life.”

“Before Beck, I had no dating life. My scars—”

“Are hideous. We know, you’ve told us.” She watched as West jumped back into the fray, slamming his big, delicious body into the guy who had his ball. “We love you, anyway.”

When the final buzzer sounded, the Goal Scouts won four to zero.

Her takeaway? Mercy didn’t exist in soccer.

Knowing the boys had to shower and change, she and the girls made their way to the lobby to wait. The Ball Busters emerged first, each man making an obvious point to avoid her gaze as he passed her.

Had she become total dog food since the game kicked off?

“Jase,” Brook Lynn squealed, rushing over when her fiancé stepped into the room, his hair damp and his skin scrubbed clean. “You were freaking awesome.”

He winked at her. “You know I can’t help that.”

“Hey. That’s my line.” Beck shouldered his way past his friend to get to Harlow. “We’re going out to celebrate our victory. Tell me you’re coming with us, love, or you’ll break the heart you resurrected.”

Harlow smiled sweetly at him. “Are you paying?”

Sweat beaded on Jessie Kay’s palms as West moved into view, his gaze hard and steady on the exit, as if he couldn’t wait to leave. He wore a black cashmere sweater and an old pair of jeans tucked into well-used combat boots. He was casual sophistication with a mule kick of dominant alpha, and he outshone every other man present.

“I’m not paying,” Beck said, and Harlow pouted. “But West is.”

Harlow—Jessie Kay’s ride—fist pumped.

West arched a dark brow. “I am?”

“Well, then, we’re definitely going.” Harlow nudged Jessie Kay with an elbow. “Right?”

A free meal? “Sure. Count me in.”

West motioned to the door with a clipped wave and she thought—hoped—he would put his hand on the small of her back to usher her forward. But as they walked to the parking lot, he maintained a steady distance between them. Of course, Jase decided to drive Brook Lynn’s car and Beck decided to drive Harlow’s, the two couples entering their respective vehicles and leaving Jessie Kay and West standing outside. Alone.

Wasn’t awkward at all.

He opened the passenger door for her. “Get in.”

Shocked by the gentlemanly gesture but not the bossy command, she slid inside the vehicle. And instantly regretted it. The air smelled like him, pure seduction and sweet caramel. Trembling, she buckled up and peered out the window, refusing to give in to the urge to watch his big hands molest the steering wheel.

“By the way,” he muttered, “you still owe me a sandwich.”

“It’s your word against mine.” Going for casual, she said, “So where are we headed?”

“A hamburger dive I’ve loved since I was a kid.”

“Wait. Hold everything. You were once a kid?” She gave a mock gasp, hand fluttering over her heart. “I’m sorry, but I demand proof.”

“Too bad. There’s none available.”

Please. “Surely there are pictures.”

“No.”

“Well, why the heck not? Did you destroy them? I bet you destroyed them. Didn’t think you looked handsome enough?”

Without any inflection of emotion, he said, “Actually, no one cared enough to take any.”

No. No, she refused to believe it. If he was potent now despite the shadows haunting his eyes and the tension that always radiated from him, he must have melted hearts as a child.

When she glanced over at him, however, her confidence withered. He kept his attention on the road, his posture stiff and his knuckles bleached of color. Just then, he was a man who’d revealed more than he liked.

He’d just told the truth, hadn’t he?

Wow. His own parents, however long he’d been with them—not to mention all those foster parents—hadn’t spared a few seconds out of their busy days to immortalize a moment of his childhood? How gut-wrenching. Wrong on every level.

Sadness for the little boy he’d been washed over her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Even if you’d looked like you were born downwind of an outhouse, I would have snapped a thousand photos of you. And then used those photos to blackmail you later, but my reasons are inconsequential.”

“Thank you?” He changed lanes to pass a minivan. “But it’s not like I have a monopoly on crappy childhoods.”

“In this car you do. I had a great one.”

“You sure about that? You were what, around thirteen when your dad died in an explosion at work? You were only seventeen when your mom drowned and your uncle showed up to save the day only to leave with the insurance money.”

She blinked over at him. The entire town knew her history—well, they thought they knew—so it wasn’t a big surprise West had the basic info. He was just the first person to ever state the facts so plainly. “I was a teenager in both instances, not a child. Big difference.”

“Not really. Pain is pain.”

“And don’t go thinking you know everything about me, either,” she added as if he hadn’t spoken. “There’s more to both stories. A lot more.”

“Do tell.”

And share her deepest, darkest secrets with the man who thought she’d been scraped off the bottom of a shoe? “No, thanks.” She had enough trouble with her past without adding his commentary.

Even now, she thought of her mom falling...because of me...her mom screaming, begging for help...because of me...and she wanted to bawl like a baby who’d lost her favorite blankie, hug Brook Lynn, apologize forever and, and, and—

As the panic attack knocked at the door of her mind, she forced her thoughts to fast-forward to her mother’s funeral, when she’d basically self-imploded. She’d gotten drunk for the very first time and given her virginity to the skeevy boy who lived down the street. The one who’d thought he was God’s gift to the entire town. The one who’d told all his friends she was easy.

From that point on, she had been.

She’d given no consideration to Brook Lynn’s care because she’d counted on Uncle Kurt to take care of everything. He’d promised. Only, like West had said, Kurt fled soon after collecting the insurance check. By then, Jessie Kay had been such a hot mess, the fifteen-year-old Brook Lynn had to pick up the slack, getting a job delivering papers, collecting donations from Strawberry Valley Community Church and doing everything within her power to keep two teenage girls together, fed, clothed and sheltered and, and, and—

Can’t breathe. Need to breathe.

A warm hand squeezed her knee, giving her the jolt necessary to focus on something other than the past.

“Jessie Kay?” The gentleness of West’s voice shocked her more than his touch.

Inhale, good. Exhale, better. “I’m fine. Really.” Or she would be. As soon as she reached her sister. Brook Lynn had a way of making everything A-okay.

“You sure about that?”

Convince, move on. She offered the brightest smile she could manage. “Are you okay? You actually seem concerned about my well-being.”

He yanked his hand away from her. “I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors, but my heart is made of stone. Of course I’m not concerned.”

She remembered the look he’d given her during the soccer game and decided his heart wasn’t made of stone but of fire.

Not that she’d share her observation. But maybe she could get him to admit it.

“You were right. About my childhood. It was absolutely tragic.” Offering an exaggerated frown, she traced a fingertip down both of her checks to mimic tears. “You should feel sorry for me and be super nice to me from now on.”

He suddenly looked as if he was fighting a smile. “You know, upon further reflection, I’m certain my childhood was far worse than yours. You should feel sorry for me and do everything I tell you.”

Well, well. “Color me intrigued. What’s the first thing you’d tell me to do?”

He glanced at her, proving her theory: he burned.

“I’d want you—”

She shivered and—

“—to tell me more about your childhood.”

Withered in her seat. “What do you want to know?”

“What did you want to be when you grew up?”

Polite interest? Or was he actually curious? “You’ll laugh.”

“Maybe. Probably.”

Had to respect his honesty. “Mostly I wanted to be that crazy cat lady.”

He choked on a breath. “An old woman who wears rollers and a robe, and has a hundred cats prowling through her house?”

“Exactly. I wanted a cat but Dad was allergic. Once a month Mom drove me to the shelter where I got to pet a roomful of strays. The employees used to joke about that crazy cat lady who came in every few weeks to adopt a new one. I was so jealous of her.”

“That is...” He frowned. “Ridiculously adorable.”

He sounded surprised. “What about you? What did you want to be?”

“Sorry, but we’re not done with you. When you realized crazy cat lady wouldn’t pay the bills, what’d you want to do?”

“Become a high school teacher.”

“Subject?”

“English.”

He wiggled his brows. “How do you come on to a high school English teacher?”

Her brow furrowed. “Uh...how?”

“Over? Under? To? Around? Outside?”

She snickered. “You preposition her.” Silly man.

Sexy man.

“Now I have to know your childhood dream,” she said. “Tell me!”

“I had big plans, was going to be the youngest, hottest cop on the force.”

A puzzle piece clicked into place. “Had fantasies about taking down bad guys, did you?” Made sense, considering some of the hellholes he must have lived in.

“Something like that.”

“Now you create video games that allow you to defeat every kind of bad guy imaginable, so in a way, you’ve achieved your dream.”

“That’s true.” A sizzling pause. “You’ve played my games?”

Caught! “Once or twice,” she admitted. For years she’d fought—and lost—an addiction to “Donkey Kong.” Barrels! The lady! Her dad taught her how to play, their special time together, and, well, winning became an obsession.

As soon as she’d learned of West’s accomplishments, she’d maybe kinda sorta rushed out to buy his greatest hits. “Alice in Zombieland.” “Lords of the Underworld.” “Angels of the Dark.” “Everlife.” Used, of course, because she couldn’t afford new.

“Evil is always afoot,” she added, “but the good guys always save the day.”

His frown returned, deepened. “Let’s listen to the radio.” He jacked up the volume.

Didn’t like her observations? “Giving you the silent treatment won’t be a problem,” she called over the music.

“Really? Because you’re still talking.”

“Oh, that wasn’t talking. This is.” For the rest of the drive, she chatted about nothing. Loudly. The weather, her love of donuts, the price of thongs—so little material should cost less!—and finally, her last gynecological exam.

They reached the diner just as she got to the part about the cold speculum. He parked in back and sighed with relief when she quieted.

Rather than waiting for him to open her door—would he? wouldn’t he?—she jumped out.

“Do you have to move like that?” West called as he emerged.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in heat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t like, don’t watch.”

“Impossible,” he might or might not have muttered.

What the heck!

The other couples were already inside, seated at a rickety table in back, next to a Christmas tree. Ugh. Christmas. Her least favorite holiday was only three and a half weeks away. She and Brook Lynn would have to celebrate—again—without their parents.

Hate the holidays!

Despite the holly-jolly decorations, Jessie Kay fell in love with the diner at first glance. The red vinyl booths and black-and-white-tiled floor charmed her. Though the mint-green walls were cracked and crumbling, and there were water stains on the ceiling, the flaws only added character. Life had happened here. And really, how could you complain about anything when the smell of hamburgers, bacon and chili dogs saturated the air?

Only two chairs were free at the table, and of course, they were right next to each other.

West pulled one out for her, his gentlemanly ways shocking her all over again.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she sat.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered back, sliding in beside her.

Things had always been strained between them, but now she knew the sweetness of his concern as she’d fought a panic attack, knew the feel of his hand pressed against hers, the kindness he showed to even a woman he didn’t exactly like, and the strain reached a whole new level. I want!

Danger! Headed to a hot zone.

“So...you guys been waiting long?” she asked, hoping for a distraction.

No one paid her a bit of attention. With Harlow marrying Beck—this freaking weekend—and Brook Lynn marrying Jase—in less than five freaking months—the girls were caught up in a conversation about the weddings while the guys reminisced fondly about Ball Busters they’d injured.

Dude. I think you broke his femur. Congrats!

The waitress arrived and, to Jessie Kay’s irritation, placed her hand on West’s shoulder, as if it had every right to be there. “Y’all know what you want to drink?”

Overfriendly much?

The group snapped to attention, Jase kicking things off. When it was West’s turn, the waitress stripped him with her predatory eyes and said, “Don’t worry, sweetie. I remember what you like. I’ll take real good care of you, promise.”

With a wink and a grin, she sashayed off, and dang it, even Jessie Kay had to admit her milkshake would bring all the boys to the yard. Short and slender, she had the kind of curves most women spent years in a gym—or thousands on surgery—trying to achieve. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and swished from side to side, acting like a summoning finger, demanding anything with a penis follow fast.

“Looks like you have a groupie.” The venom in Jessie Kay’s voice baffled her.

I’m not jealous. I can’t be jealous.

West meant nothing to her.

She tried for sweet. “How nice that must be for you.” And how nice for Ponytail. The fact that she hadn’t made the horrendous gaffe of sleeping with both West’s friends, well, she might actually have a chance to score him.

“A groupie?” He shook his head, the picture of masculine confidence. “How cute.”

“You should have seen the one who showed up at the office a few days ago.” Beck draped his arm over Harlow’s chair, something Jessie Kay’s dad used to do whenever he was seated next to her mom. Daddy could never go more than a few minutes without touching Momma.

When we’re not together, Anna Grace, I think of you. And when I think of you, I smile.

“She and West shook hands,” Beck continued, “and I swear they made a baby.”

“Twins.” West rubbed two fingers against the dark stubble on his jaw. “Maybe triplets.”

“You are such a romantic.” Jessie Kay clutched her napkin to her chest. “How does anyone resist you?”

“That’s a very good question.” He met her gaze, and it shocked her—thrilled her—to watch his pupils expand, black spilling over all that gold. A forest fire wafting smoke. “Why don’t you provide the answer?”

All eyes landed on her, and she shifted uncomfortably. “My opinion doesn’t count. To me you’re like a third cousin twice removed.”

“So...kissing cousins?” Jase asked her.

As she sputtered with indignation, Ponytail returned with their drinks, making sure to shove her cleavage in West’s face. Did she have no shame?

“Y’all ready to order?”

“Sure.” West petted the woman’s hand, which had once again migrated to his shoulder. “I’ll have the special, whatever it is.”

After everyone else had placed their orders— requesting the special as well—Ponytail skipped off to give their ticket to the cook.

“I take it back.” Jessie Kay frowned at West. “You don’t have a groupie. You are a groupie. Her twins had you completely entranced.”

“Hardly.” He peered at Jessie Kay for a while longer, the wheels clearly turning in his head. Finally he nodded, as if he’d just made a decision. He leaned toward her, coming closer and closer. His voice a rasp of heat, ensuring only she could hear him, he said, “I happen to be a fan of someone else’s twins.”

Her jaw dropped, and her mouth went dry. Had he just—no, no, impossible...but...maybe. Had he just come on to her?

Wide-eyed, she turned her attention to Jase. “Did West sustain a massive brain injury during the game?” First he’d been nice to her. Then he’d complimented her movements—in heat? Yes! Now he flirted with her.

Actually he might be more than injured. He might be dying.

“Why?” Brook Lynn and Harlow asked in unison, instantly concerned.

“What’s wrong?” Brook Lynn demanded.

The guys merely smiled slyly at her, as if they were privy to a secret.

“Maybe he finally had some sense knocked into him,” Beck said.

“Maybe someone else wanted what he wants, and he decided to take it. At long last,” Jase said.

Meaning...someone else had wanted her and West had decided to make a move?

No way. Absolutely no way. No one but Daniel wanted her, and he didn’t count.

Reeling, needing a moment to regroup, she tossed her napkin on the table. And, just to be tactless, she added, “I’m headed to the lady’s crapper. Alone,” she added for the girls’ benefit. “If I take a while, don’t come looking for me.”

Brook Lynn dropped her head in her upraised hands and moaned. “My sister did not just say those words at such a loud volume. I’m in a happy place. With butterflies and roses.”

West continued to stare at her, the forest fire growing hotter...so hot all that smoke reached her, twined around her. Barely able to breathe, she backed away from him. Whatever this was, whatever had changed between them, whatever he was doing, she wanted no part of it—because deep down she wanted all of it.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHAT IN SAM HILL was wrong with him? Had he suffered a brain injury? West wondered.

He’d teased Jessie Kay. He’d flirted with her, had actually come on to her, and he hadn’t been subtle about it. Before that, he’d even shared little tidbits about his past, something he’d only ever done with Jase and Beck. He’d even asked about her childhood, and he’d sincerely wanted to know!

And in the car, when she’d paled, gasping for breath, he’d felt an instinctive need to help her, whatever the cause of her distress. To make things better for her. To be better for her. The beautiful girl with the keen mind, sharp wit and vengeful nature. Who else would tell him about a pap smear?

She charmed him, and the madness had to stop. For every reason he’d already considered, and a thousand more.

If they ended up together, the relationship would fail in two months. No more, no less. Because yes, he scheduled his relationships like everything else. He never deviated, never would, for reasons he would never share.

He could handle Jessie Kay’s upset over the situation, but not everyone else’s. Brook Lynn and Harlow would side with her and hate him, and though Jase and Beck would side with West, they’d also have to side with their girls. Eventually, West would find himself cut from the family.

He needed his boys like his needed his lungs. Couldn’t live without one, couldn’t live without the other.

Brook Lynn threw her straw wrapper at him. “You better start being nice to my sister, Lincoln West.”

“I wasn’t mean. Not today,” he added with a grumble.

“She has a tough outer shell, but inside, she’s actually a marshmallow.”

Was she? He only knew a little about her past.

There’s more to both stories...a lot more.

If he knew everything about her, would he want her less? Or even more?

Could he want her more? He already ached for her every minute of every day.

Neither of his friends realized the attraction had flared at meeting one, and he would never tell them, didn’t want them dealing with guilt for taking something—someone—he wanted. The predicament was his fault, anyway.

He’d met Jessie Kay at a Fourth of July BBQ and a few hours after he’d walked away from her, he’d returned, thinking he’d reintroduce himself to the woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. But by then, Beck had set his sights on her. And when either of his boys expressed an interest in something, anything, West moved heaven and earth to ensure they got it. Period. Such deprived childhoods deserved extravagant adulthoods. Owe them everything.

He’d walked away again. And he didn’t regret his failure to step up and stake a claim on Jessie Kay. Nope. Not even a little.

Jase kissed his fiancée’s knuckles. “You just made a huge tactical error, angel. Never tell a man a woman is a marshmallow.”

“Why not?” she asked, truly confused.

Beck arched a brow. “Why else? Because he’ll want to eat her.”

Harlow slapped his chest. “Oh, my gosh! You are such a pig.”

But the guy wasn’t deterred. “Tell her, Westlina.”

He smiled without humor. “It’s true. If the guy has a sweet tooth.”

“The way you were looking at my sister...you better not have a sweet tooth.” Brook Lynn wagged a finger in his direction. “I worry about her enough, thank you very much. She lives alone in a crumbling house. She’s struggling to make ends meet, and she’s determined to trek the straight and narrow. There’s no reason to tempt her onto the winding and wide.”

Do I tempt her?

Every muscle in his body hardened like a rock. Every—single—one. “Don’t worry. I prefer savory to sweet.” At least, he always had before.

The stiffening got worse as Jessie Kay strolled around a corner. Her navy gaze avoided him. Probably a good thing. The scent of her—pecans dipped in cream and sprinkled with cinnamon—invaded his senses, more potent than any drug, heating him to the point of sweltering, intoxicating him until his head spun. A warmth and high he’d missed with every fiber of his being. A warmth and high he couldn’t allow himself to enjoy. The more he liked it, the more he’d crave it...the more difficult it would be to let go.

Clearly, he needed to select his next relationship. He usually had someone hooked and reeled by August and thrown back into the sea by October, avoiding the holidays. The move to Strawberry Valley had screwed with his schedule.

And even though sexual relief wouldn’t be a cure-all, it would be a bandage, and that was good enough. Anything was better than nothing right now.

“Y’all are suspiciously quiet.” With a frown, Jessie Kay eased into her chair. “I don’t like it. Makes me want to slap you to sleep, then slap you for sleeping. Someone say something before I go into detail about my last period.”

“Please say something,” West said, almost desperate.

Brook Lynn moaned. “Happy place, happy place.”

“Jessie Kay, why don’t you tell everyone about the indoor soccer team you’d like to start,” Harlow suggested.

Beck set his beer on the table with a clink. “You want to start a team? Have you ever played?”

“No, but I have plenty of experience knocking people around.” Jessie Kay threw a one-two punch at air. “I just need a coach...someone like West. His skill is—”

“Oh, no, no, no.” West shook his head for emphasis.

She ran her tongue over her teeth but still didn’t face him. “Why not?”

“We’d kill each other.” And, more important, he’d be on her before the end of session one.

“For all you know, I’m the next David Beckham,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Ball handling is not a skill you pick up like this.” He snapped his fingers.

Her gaze narrowed. Through a haze of fire and heat, a storm brewed, lightning flashing. “Well, good news. I’m already quite good at ball handling. Just ask your friends.”

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

Brook Lynn moaned, once again hiding her face in her hands. “Happy place. Happy place.”

Beck choked on the drink he’d just taken.

Harlow rubbed him between the shoulders, saying, “Jessie Kay Dillon, you lock that snark up tight right this second. You know my he-slut likes to pretend I’m the only woman he’s ever been with. Reminders of past escapades only confuse him.”

Jessie Kay wilted, looking like the very picture of remorse and shame. “Sorry. My temper...”

Maybe she was a marshmallow.

“Wait. Did I just win our bet?” Brook Lynn vibrated with excitement. “Huh, huh, did I?”

“No! Are you kidding me?” Jessie Kay pointed her fork at her sister. “You wipe that smile off your face. The parameters of our bet say something has to be thrown. A fist, an elbow, even a handbag.”

“Insults can be thrown,” Brook Lynn insisted.

“They sure can, but I just complimented myself. Everyone heard it.” She flipped her silken hair over her shoulder, the feminine action making his gut clench. “Since West is being ridiculous, I’ll just hire Beck—”

“No way.” Beck shook his head. “I love you like a sister, but no.”

She tried again. “Jase will—”

“No, Jase will not.” Jase gave a more insistent shake of his head. “I love you like a sister as well, but it ain’t gonna happen.”

Jessie Kay released a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll hire a stranger. If he falls in love with me, stalks me and murders me when I refuse to return his affection, it’s on you guys. It’s just... I neeeeed an outlet for my...temper.” The most adorable blush spread all the way to the collar of her shirt. “Yes. My temper. You heard Brook Lynn doing her best to provoke me, right? She’s a dirty, dirty cheater, and I can’t allow her to beat me.”

How much farther did that blush go? How hot did it burn?

Need for her, now sharper than razors, scraped at West’s chest. He gripped the arms of his chair in an effort to fight the desire to reach for her.

Just one touch...

The waitress arrived a second later, handing out plates piled high with a chicken-fried-steak burger, smothered with cheese and gravy, tater tots on the side. She was a new hire, and he’d interacted with her a grand total of four times, but she smiled at him as if they were the best of friends. Something she hadn’t done during his last three visits. He wondered if she’d looked him up and found out how much he was worth.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“You are so welcome, honey.”

“Get a room,” Jessie Kay said under her breath.

The waitress pretended not to hear and bent down to whisper into his ear, “You want to put in an order for dessert? We’re about to sell out of our world-famous brownie pie, but I’ll put one aside if you’d like...”

“Yes.” His gaze returned to Jessie Kay. “I suddenly have a craving for something sweet.”

“Well, then, maybe you’d like a side of me instead?” With a wink, the waitress sauntered away to help another table.

Jessie Kay took a bite of her burger. Her eyes closed, and she groaned the most rapturous sound of satisfaction. “Is this the best thing I’ve ever eaten? No.” She scooped up a dollop of gravy with the tip of her finger and sucked it into her mouth. “But try to take it away from me, and I will cold-bloodedly murder you.”

West had to fight a sudden grin, oddly charmed by her brashness. Unlike the waitress, he’d never had to wonder about her motives. She enjoyed what she enjoyed, disliked what she disliked, and wanted what she wanted. Very little else ever factored into her decisions.

“Try to take it away from her,” Brook Lynn whispered to Jase. “Help me win the bet. Please, please, please.”

Jase’s brows winged into the locks of hair hanging over his forehead. “Victory is more important than my life?”

“At this precise moment? Yes!”

The way they were together, leaning into each other, totally at ease, playful, flirty, assured of the other’s affections, made West envious. Made him miss Tessa more than usual—her laugh, the way she broke into song at random times and danced around the room. He more easily forgot the hard times, when she’d sunk into a deep depression and refused to eat or leave their bed.

Jessie Kay bumped her shoulder against his. “Hey. You never spoke up at the arena. You are paying for everything, right?”

“Right.”

She raised her arm, signaling the waitress. “I’m gonna need one of these to go.” She gave her sandwich a little wave. “Oh, and a dessert of my own. The brownie pie, to be exact. And don’t try to tell me you’re sold out. Bad things will happen.”

“But—”

She hiked her thumb in West’s direction. “Everything goes on his tab. He insisted.”

“Sure thing.” The waitress pursed her lips and hurried off.

“Happy place,” Brook Lynn muttered.

“What?” Jessie Kay gazed around the table. “What’d I do this time?”

Brook Lynn heaved a sigh. “Just because someone else is paying doesn’t mean you should order the lobster.”

Those bedroom blues brightened. “They have lobster?”

“Happy place. Happy place.”

Jessie Kay threw a tot at her sister. “Hey! I love you, and my lifelong goal is to show you just how much, but that’s not going to stop me from shaking your brain out of your ear if you don’t tell me whether or not they have lobster.”

“They do not.”

Jessie Kay’s shoulders hunched with disappointment, and West had to fight another grin. She might not like him for his money, but she sure wasn’t afraid to spend it. Strangely enough, he liked her more for it. She didn’t give a shit about his opinion of her. A singular experience.

The waitress reappeared, pouting at him. “Bad news. Because your sister demanded the last brownie pie, the only dessert we have left is the s’mores trifle. It’s really good though. That okay with you, gorgeous?”

“Sister?” Jessie Kay scowled. “Do I really look like his sister? I clearly come from grade-A stock while his ancestors made a few poor choices along the way.”

Singular creature. “Yes,” he told the waitress. “I’ll take the s’mores trifle, but make sure you add extra marshmallows.”

* * *

THE NEXT WEEK flew by, with only a few necessary adjustments to West’s schedule. Adjustments he made only because he’d found his next relationship. Monica Gentry, owner of Bodies by Monica.

She’d shown up at WOH Industries on Wednesday, hoping to hire him to film her first workout video, not realizing he only created computer programs, video games and animated commercials. They’d had lunch instead.

He’d found something familiar about her, but when he’d looked her up later that night, he’d realized he knew nothing about her. What he learned: A handful of her former employees hated her. They’d posted scathing reviews about her leadership style, calling her intense and neurotic. But who wasn’t neurotic?

And really, she’d had to be fierce to build her gym franchise from the ground up. A feat he admired. He and Beck had had to claw their way over, under and through wall after wall of rejection; but all the while West had continued creating games and programs and Beck had continued making calls and pitches, going door-to-door until Dane Michaelson of MG&E paid millions for exclusive rights to his flow software, a program tracking oil and natural gas from the ground to its buyer. Not only had the deal put WOH Industries in the crosshairs of other business, but Dane had become a close friend, even introducing West to Strawberry Valley, his hometown, which had led West to introduce Jase to the town when the desire to move struck.

West glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 7:59 a.m. Beck’s wedding was set to take place in three hours, one minute.

He stood, made his bed, then showered for ten minutes, towel-dried for two, shaved for another ten and when he dressed, he ditched the usual Saturday-morning soccer gear in favor of a tux.

He’d never thought this day would come and once upon a time he would have bet the bulk of his fortune Beck would remain forever single. Enter Harlow. The black-haired beauty had obsessed the guy from moment one, and in the end, he’d stepped up to be a better man for her.

Would I have stepped up for Tessa if she’d survived the crash?

The real question: Would he have gotten clean?

During her depressions, nothing he’d said or done had helped her. Guilt and frustration had eaten at him and more often than not, he’d ended up doubling his hit. And his hangover. And his bad mood. His bad mood had only fed hers. A poisoned cycle.

He glanced at the clock. 8:40 a.m. Right on time. Yesterday he’d called and asked Monica to accompany him to the wedding. She was an attractive woman in her late twenties, and she fit his usual criteria. Uncomplicated, eager, and he could take her or leave her. He didn’t crave her more than air to breathe and when they were apart, he didn’t wish they were together.

He stalked into the kitchen where Beck stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a surprisingly steady hand, the features many had referred to as “half angelic, half demonic” utterly relaxed and—joyous?

West took a seat at the table. “This is weird. You should be freaking out, demanding I help you sneak out of the country. Instead you’re making breakfast.”

His friend smiled, a peek at the angelic side. “I’m giving Harlow my name, legally binding her to my side. Why would I freak out?”

West could think of several reasons. “Your life will be forever altered. You’ll be set on a new, uncharted path and your happiness will be inexorably tied to someone else’s.”

“I mentioned Harlow will be legally bound to me, right? My life will be forever altered in the best way. I’ll traverse that new, uncharted path with her rather than alone, and my happiness is already inexorably tied to her. She’s my other half.”

He envied his friend. He couldn’t imagine being so optimistic. Not by marrying Tessa. Not by sleeping with Monica. Not even by sleeping with Jessie Kay.

Something low in his gut curled with heat. Maybe he’d feel a little optimism if he had the blonde in his bed.

He’d purposely avoided her all week, hadn’t so much as ordered a sandwich. Anytime she’d come up in conversation, he’d left the room. If he’d thought about her, he’d quickly distracted himself with work or exercise.

He’d worked and exercised a lot.

To his consternation, she’d remained at the forefront of his mind, a fascination he couldn’t shake. He’d even considered detouring from his usual MO—a feat in and of itself—and sleeping with her once, just once. No harm, no foul.

Problem was “just once” had never worked out for him in the past.

Beck slid a stack of pancakes in front of him, saying, “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately, thinking about Jessie Kay.” A statement rather than a question. “Don’t try to deny it. I recognize the signs. A glaze of hunger in the eyes. Tightness around the mouth. A muscle jumping in the jaw. Jase had the same look when he met Brook Lynn. I’m made of stronger stuff, of course, and managed to keep my cool with Harlow.”

“No, I—”

“Even now your hands are clenched.”

West studied his hands—yep, they were clenched. He eased the pressure on his fingers, saying, “Don’t kid yourself. You were practically foaming at the mouth with Harlow.”

“You do realize you’re describing yourself right now, yes?” Beck didn’t give him time to reply. “Why are you resisting your smart-ass Southern belle anyway? If you think Jase and I care—”

“I don’t.” He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms. “Would you resent me if you found out I’d slept with Harlow before you fell for her?”

A light sprang to life in Beck’s eyes. “Ah. I get it. You’re afraid you’ll get possessive of your girl and pissy with your bros.”

West adjusted his cuff links, gave a clipped nod.

“As Jessie Kay would say, you’re letting the horse out of the stall before the race has even started.” Beck tossed back a bite of pancake. “Let’s say you spent years with Harlow, banging the hell out of her. Today, this moment, it wouldn’t affect how I feel about either of you. You were her past, and I’ll always be her future. I love you both. I need you both. I’ll take you both however I can get you.”

An ache razed his chest. Were things really that simple?

“What’s doing?” Jase padded into the kitchen. His dark hair stuck out in spikes. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded sweatpants.

“West is deciding whether or not to make a move on Jessie Kay,” Beck replied.

“I change my vote to no. Unless you’re going to give her a real shot.” Jase scratched his chest. “She’s better for you than she ever was for us, but there will be serious aftermath when you dump her.”

When, not if. The end was never in question.

West pursed his lips. “You handled the aftermath of your one-night stand just fine.”

“And who says she’d want more than two months with him, anyway?” Beck asked. “Who says she won’t dump him?”

Yes. Who said.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “If I did date her, and I did dump her, and there was aftermath, your girls would hate me.”

Jase poured a glass of orange juice. “Agreed. Brook Lynn can forgive anything—except an insult to her sister.”

“But the girls love us and wouldn’t try to block you from our lives,” Beck said.

“Is that what’s had your panties in such a twist?” Jase asked.

“Maybe.” Agitated, West glanced at his wristwatch. Nine-sixteen. Shit. He’d planned to leave the house by nine-ten. “I’ve got to pick up Monica. I’ll meet you guys at the church.”

He made up the lost minutes on the road. He’d taken defensive driving classes a few years ago as research for a video game, and the skills he’d learned had come in handy ever since.

As he parked in Monica’s driveway, his phone beeped. He glanced at the screen, his gut tightening when he saw Jessie Kay’s name.

Which pair do you prefer?

Two photos accompanied the text. The first, a glittery heel with silk flowers sewn over the ankle strap. The second, a plain white flat.

He wrote back: Why does my preference matter?

Because your best friend is getting married & the woman he loves wants every detail to be perfect. You know him better than anyone else so... :-) :-) :-)

Your shoes are part of those perfect details?

Oh, those are Harlow’s shoes. She can’t decide between fashion & comfort, even though no one but Beck will see her feet—& he won’t see them till he strips her down & gives her the business. I should know, right!

His grip flexed on the phone. She loved reminding him of her past, didn’t she?

Then her next text came in and he forgot why he was irritated with her.

THESE are mine. :-) :-)

The accompanying photo revealed black hooker heels with a fat red bow perched on the ankle. A present ready to be unwrapped. With his teeth. After he stripped her and tossed her on the bed.

Sex fantasy about Jessie Kay? Now? Really? He punched the wheel, the horn releasing a short but thunderous blast.

A few seconds later, Monica strode out the door, and he felt like a total douche for not greeting her properly. Despite the frigid temperature, she wore a little black dress with spaghetti straps and a hem that ended a few inches below her pantyline. No hat, coat or gloves to keep her warm, proving she placed fashion before comfort. She didn’t race to the car but held up her index finger to demand he wait.

Having already budgeted for the standard fifteen-minute time suck all women required despite knowing when he would arrive, he gave her a curt nod. He could have followed her inside the house, a beautiful Craftsman-style bungalow with three stories and a wraparound porch, but he popped a caramel candy in his mouth and stayed put. Even though he’d expected the wait, the lack of respect always annoyed him.

He and Monica would be discussing it—and his expectations—tonight. If she proved amenable to his two-month time limit, the countdown on their relationship would begin. He would gift her with a wristwatch, and expect her to use it. They would go to bed, and by morning, he would forget he’d ever desired Jessie Kay.

His friends might approve of her, of them, but the risks were still too great, the rewards not great enough.

He sent her another text: Tell Harlow to go w/ out a bra & Beck won’t ever even glance at her feet.

Like a puss, he waited for a response. One that never came. He wanted to call her, and would have given in to temptation if Monica hadn’t bounded outside at long last. He checked his watch. Seventeen minutes. His sense of annoyance only intensified as he entered the cold to open her door for her.

Though her teeth were chattering, she paused to kiss his cheek before sliding inside. “Will I do?” she asked after he settled behind the wheel.

“You are flawless.” And she was. Nothing out of place, her makeup red-carpet worthy. Her dress every man’s wet dream.

So why am I not reacting to her?

“Oh, I wish.” She smoothed a hand along the hem of the dress. “I’d hoped to wow you, but my hair wouldn’t cooperate, and no matter how many hours I worked out, I couldn’t lose the extra pound I packed on.”

False modesty? Or straight-up female crazy?

Jessie Kay would have said something like, I know! You don’t deserve me. And he would have smiled, charmed. Always freaking charmed. But he didn’t pick his girlfriends for companionship, so he remained silent.

Monica’s gaze swept over him, and he thought he glimpsed a hint of the intensity some of her former employees had mentioned. “Look at you. Sex on a stick and absolutely delicious.”

“Thank you.”

She frowned at him. Waiting for him to protest?

“Seriously.” Her voice lowered, a whisper that drifted through the vehicle. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

How would Jessie Kay react if Monica petted him during the ceremony? With jealousy? Or indifference?

Jealousy, pretty please. He wanted to see jealousy on her so badly he shook, even though he had no right to the desire. No right to keep thinking about her. They weren’t together. In fact, he’d done everything in his power to push her away. He’d snapped at her, baited her. Insulted her time and time again.

I suck.

He’d been a total ass to her, and right then, right at that moment, it absolutely shamed him. His momma hadn’t raised him better, but only an idiot wouldn’t learn on his own.

Observe. Understand. Act.

Observe: He owed her an apology.

Understand: So he craved her. So what? So he wouldn’t let himself have her. So the hell what? That wasn’t her problem; it was his. He had no right to treat her like an archnemesis.

Act: He would offer that apology, and he’d do it with a smile. Afterward, there would be no more picking fights with her. No more snide remarks about anything. He would keep his distance, and he would be polite. He would wrap himself in Monica, literally and figuratively.

For the first time since moving to Strawberry Valley, his life would go back to normal.

CHAPTER FIVE

WEST HAD BROUGHT a date.

The realization hit Jessie Kay like a bolt of lightning in a freak storm. Great! Wonderful! While she’d opted not to bring Daniel, and thus make West the only single person present—and embarrassingly alone—he’d chosen his next two-month “relationship” and hung Jessie Kay out to dry.

And she knew the girl was a two-monther. West didn’t date outside the parameters of his crazy.

Jessie Kay stood in a hidden doorway in back of the sanctuary, one usually only used by church personnel. Harlow had asked for—cough, banshee-screeched, cough—a status report, so Jessie Kay had abandoned her precious curling iron in order to sneak a peek at the guys.

Scowling, she pulled her phone from the pocket of her dress with every intention of texting Daniel. Oops. She’d missed a text.

Sunny: Party 2nite?????

She made a mental note to respond to Sunny later and drafted her note to Daniel.

I’m at the church. How fast can you get here? I need a friend/date for Harlow’s wedding

A response didn’t come right away. Maybe he was still in bed. He’d gone on a hot date last night and the girl had stayed the night with him. She knew because he’d texted Jessie Kay to ask how early he could give “the snore queen” the boot.

Sooo glad I never hooked up with him.

Finally, a vibration.

Any other time I’d race to your rescue, even though weddings are snooze-fests. Today I’m in the city on a job

He’d started some kind of high-risk security firm with a few of his Army buddies.

Her: Fine. You suck. I clearly need to rethink our friendship

Daniel: I’ll make it up to you, swear. Want to have dinner later???

She stored her phone without responding, adding his name to her mental note. If he wasn’t going to ignore his responsibilities whenever she had a minor need, he deserved to suffer for a little while.

Of its own accord, her gaze returned to West. The past week, she’d seen him only twice. Both times, she’d gone to the farmhouse to help her sister with sandwiches and casseroles, and he’d taken one look at her, grabbed his keys and driven off.

Would it have killed him to acknowledge her presence by calling her by some hateful name, per usual? After all, he’d had the nerve to flirt with her at the diner, to look at her as if she’d stripped naked and begged him to have her for dessert. And now he ignored her?

Men! This one in particular.

Her irritation grew as he introduced his date to Kenna Starr and her fiancé, Dane Michaelson. Kenna was a stunning redhead who’d always been Brook Lynn’s partner in crime. The girl who’d done what Jessie Kay hadn’t, saving her sister every time she’d gotten into trouble.

Next, he made the introduction to Daphne Roberts, the mother of Jase’s nine-year-old daughter, Hope, then Brad Lintz, Daphne’s boyfriend.

Jase and Beck joined the happy group, but the brunette never looked away from West, as if he was speaking the good Lord’s gospel. Her adoration was palpable.

A sharp pang had Jessie Kay clutching her chest. Too young for a heart attack.

Indigestion?

Yeah. Had to be.

The couple should have looked odd together. West was too tall and the brunette was far too short for him. A skyscraper next to a one-story house. But somehow, despite their height difference, they actually complemented each other.

And really, the girl’s adoration had to be good for him, buoying him the way Daniel’s praise often buoyed Jessie Kay. Only on a much higher level, considering the girl was more than a friend to West.

Crap! Jessie Kay was actually kind of...happy for West. As horribly terribly insanely awful as his childhood had been, he deserved a nice slice of contentment.

Look at me, acting like a big girl.

West wrapped his arm around the brunette’s waist, drawing her closer, and Jessie Kay’s nails dug into her palms.

I’m happy for him, remember? Besides, big girls didn’t want to push other women in front of a speeding bus. Well, they might want to, but they never followed through.

Jessie Kay’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen.

Brook Lynn: Hurry! Bridezilla is on a rampage!!!

Her: Tell the soon-to-be Mrs. Ockley the guys look amazing in their tuxes—no stains or tears yet—& the room is gorgeous. Or just tell her NOTHING HAS FREAKING CHANGED

The foster bros had gone all out even though the ceremony was to be a small and intimate affair. There were red and white roses at the corner of every pew, and in front of the pulpit was an ivory arch with wispy jewel-encrusted lace.

With a sigh, she added an adorable smiley face to her message, because it was cute and it said I’m not yelling at you. My temper is not engaged.

Send.

Brook Lynn: Harlow wants a play-by-play of the action

Fine.

Her: Beck is now speaking w/ Pastor Washington. Jase, Dane, Kenna, Daphne & Brad are engaged in conversation, while Hope is playing w/ her doll on the floor. Happy?

She didn’t add that West was focused on the stunning brunette, who was still clinging to his side.

The girl...she had a familiar face—where have I seen her?—and a body so finely honed Jessie Kay wanted to stuff a few thousand Twinkies down her throat just to make it fair for the rest of the female population. Her designer dress was made of ebony silk and hugged her curves like a besotted lover.

Like West would be doing tonight?

Grinding her teeth, Jessie Kay slid her gaze over her own gown, one she’d sewn in her spare time. Not bad—actually kind of awesome—but compared to Great Bod’s delicious apple it was a rotten orange.

Jealousy struck her again, and struck harder. Dang it! Jealousy was stupid. Jessie Kay was no can of dog food in the looks department. In fact, she was well able to hold her own against anyone, anywhere, anytime. But...but...

A lot of baggage came with her.

West suddenly stiffened, as if he sensed he was being watched. He turned in Jessie Kay’s direction. Her heart slamming against her ribs with enough force to break free and escape, she darted into Harlow’s bridal chamber—the choir room.

Harlow finished curling her thick mass of hair as Brook Lynn gave her lips a final swipe of gloss.

“Welcome to my nightmare,” Jessie Kay announced. “I might as well put in rollers, pull on a pair of mom jeans and buy ten thousand cats.” Cats! Love! “I’m officially an old maid without any decent prospects.”

Brook Lynn wrinkled her brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone is here, including West and his date. I’m the only single person in our group, which means you guys have to set me up with your favorite guy friends. Obviously I’m looking for a nine or ten. Make it happen. Please and thank you.”

Harlow went still. “West brought a date? Who is she?”

Had a coil of steam just risen from her nostrils? “Just some girl.”

Harlow pressed her hands against a stomach that had to be dancing with nerves. “I don’t want just some girl at my first wedding.”

“You planning your divorce to Beck already?”

Harlow scowled at her. “Not funny. You know we’re planning a larger ceremony next year.”

Jessie Kay raised her hands, palms out. “You’re right, you’re right. And you totally convinced me. I’ll kick the bitch out pronto.” And I’ll love every second of it—on Harlow’s behalf.

“No. No. I don’t want a scene.” Stomping her foot, Harlow added, “What was West thinking? He’s ruined everything.”

Ooo-kay. A wee bit dramatic, maybe. “I doubt he was thinking at all. If that boy ever had an idea, it died of loneliness.” Too much? “Anyway. I’m sure you could use a glass or six of champagne. I’ll open the bottle for us—for you. You’re welcome.”

A wrist corsage hit her square in the chest.

“This is my day, Jessica Dillon.” Harlow thumped her chest. “Mine! You will remain stone-cold sober, or I will remove your head, place it on a stick and wave it around while your sister sobs over your bleeding corpse.”

Wow. “That’s pretty specific, but I feel you. No alcohol for me, ma’am.” She gave a jaunty salute. “I mean, no alcohol for me, Miss Bridezilla, sir.”

“Ha-ha.” Harlow morphed from fire-breathing dragon to fairytale princess in an instant, twirling in a circle. “Now, stop messing around and tell me how amazing I look. And don’t hesitate to use words like exquisite and magical.”

The hair at her temples had been pulled back, the rest hanging to her elbows in waves so dark they glimmered blue in the light. The gown had capped sleeves and a straight bustline with cinched-in waist and pleats that flowed all the way to the floor, covering the sensible flats she’d chosen based on West’s advice. “You look...exquisitely magical.”

“Magically exquisite,” Brook Lynn said with a nod.

“My scars aren’t hideous?” Self-conscious, Harlow smoothed a hand over the multitude of jagged pink lines running between her breasts, courtesy of an attack she’d miraculously survived as a teenage girl.

“Are you kidding? Those scars make you look badass.” Jessie Kay curled a few more pieces of hair, adding, “I’m bummed my skin is so flawless.”

Harlow snorted. “Yes, let’s shed a tear for you.”

Jessie Kay gave her sister the stink eye. “You better not be like this for your wedding. I won’t survive two of you.”

Brook Lynn held up her well-manicured hands, all innocence.

“Well.” She glanced at a wristwatch she wasn’t wearing, doing her best impression of West. “We’ve got twenty minutes before the festivities kick off. Need anything?”

Harlow’s hands returned to her stomach, the color draining from her cheeks in a hurry. “Yes. Beck.”

Blinking, certain she’d misheard, she fired off a quick “Excuse me?” Heck. Deck. Neck. Certainly not Beck. “Grooms aren’t supposed to see—”

“I need Beck.” Harlow stomped her foot. “Now.”

“Have you changed your mind?” Brook Lynn asked. “If so, we’ll—”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Harlow launched into a quick pace, marching back and forth through the room. “I just... I need to see him. He hates change, and this is the biggest one of all, and I need to talk to him before I totally—flip—out. Okay? All right?”

“This isn’t that big a change, honey. Not really.” Who would have guessed Jessie Kay would be a voice of reason in a situation like this? Or any situation. “You guys live together already.”

“Beck!” she insisted. “Beck, Beck, Beck.”

“Temper tantrums are not attractive.” Jessie Kay shared a concerned look with her sister, who nodded. “All right. One Beck coming up.” As fast as her heels would allow, she made her way back to the sanctuary.

She purposely avoided West’s general direction, focusing only on the groom. “Harlow has decided to throw millions of years’ worth of tradition out the window. She wants to see you without delay. Are you wearing a cup? I’d wear a cup. Good luck.”

He’d been in the middle of a conversation with Jase, and like Harlow, he quickly paled. “Is something wrong?” He didn’t stick around for an answer, rushing past Jessie Kay without actually judging the distance between them, almost knocking her over.

As she stumbled, West flew over and latched on to her wrist to help steady her. The contact nearly buckled her knees. His hands were calloused, his fingers firm. His strength was unparalleled and his skin hot enough to burn. Electric tingles rushed through her, the world around her fading until they were the only two people in existence.

Fighting for every breath, she stared up at him. His gaze dropped to her lips and narrowed, his focus savagely carnal and primal in its possessiveness, as if he saw nothing else, either—wanted nothing and no one else ever. But as he slowly lowered his arm and stepped away from her, the world snapped back into focus.

The bastard brought a date.

Right. She cleared her throat, embarrassed by the force of her reaction to him. “Thanks.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. A sign of anger? “May I speak with you privately?”

Uh... “Why?”

“Please.”

What the what now? Had Lincoln West actually said the word please to her? Her? “Whatever you have to say to me—” an insult, no doubt “—can wait. You should return to your flavor of the year.” Opting for honesty, she grudgingly added, “You guys look good together.”

The muscle jumped again, harder, faster. “You think we look good together?”

“Very much so.” Two perfect people. “I’m not being sarcastic, if that’s what you’re getting at. Who is she?”

“Monica Gentry. Fitness guru based in the city.”

Well. That explained the sense of familiarity. And the body. Jessie Kay had once briefly considered thinking about exercising along with Monica’s video. Then she’d found a bag of Kit Kat Minis and the insane idea went back to hell where it belonged. “She’s a good choice for you. Beautiful. Successful. Driven. And despite what you think about me, despite the animosity between us, I want you happy. I know! I’m as shocked as you are.”

And she didn’t want him happy just because he’d had a crappy childhood, she realized. He was a part of her family, for better or worse. A girl made exceptions for family. Even the douche bags.

His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “We’re going to speak privately, Jessie Kay, whether you agree or not. The only decision you need to make is whether or not you’ll walk out of this room. I’m more than willing to carry you.”

A girl also had the right to smack family. “You’re just going to tell me to change my hideous dress, and I’m going to tell you I’m fixing to cancel your birth certificate.”

When Harlow had told her to wear whatever she wanted, Jessie Kay had done just that, creating a blood red, off-the-shoulder, pencil-skirt dress that molded to her curves like a second skin...made from leftover material for drapes.

Scarlett O’Hara has nothing on me!

Jessie Kay was proud of her work, but she wasn’t blind to its flaws. Years had passed since she’d sewn anything, and her skills were rusty.

West gave her another once—twice—over as fire smoldered in his eyes. “Why would I tell you to change?” His voice dipped, nothing but smoke and gravel as he added, “You and that dress are a fantasy come true.”

Uh, what the what now? Had Lincoln West just called her a fantasy?

Almost can’t process...

“Maybe you should take me to the ER. I’m pretty sure I just had a brain aneurism.” She rubbed her temples. “I’m hallucinating.”

“Hallucinating isn’t a symptom, funny girl.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, snatched her hand and while Monica called his name, dragged Jessie Kay to a small room in back. A cleaning closet, the air sharp with antiseptic. What little space was available was consumed by overstuffed shelves.

“When did you decide to switch careers and become a caveman?” she asked.

“When you decided to switch careers and become a femme fatale.”

Have mercy on my soul.

He released her to run his fingers through his hair, leaving the strands in sexy spikes around his head. “Listen. I owe you an apology for the way I’ve treated you in the past. Even the way I’ve acted today. I shouldn’t have manhandled you, and I’m very sorry.”

Her eyes widened. Seriously, what the heck had happened to this man? In five minutes, he’d upended everything she’d come to expect from him.

And he wasn’t done! “I’m sorry for every hurtful thing I’ve ever said to you. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about who you are and what you’ve done. I’m sorry—”

“Stop. Just stop.” She placed her hands over her ears in case he failed to heed her order. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He gently removed her hands and held on tight to her wrists. “What’s happening? I’m owning my mistakes and hoping you’re in a forgiving mood.”

“You want to be my friend?” The words squeaked from her.

“Yes, I think I do.”

He thinks? “Here’s the problem. You’re a dog and I’m a cat, and we’re never going to get along.”

One corner of his mouth quirked with lazy amusement, causing a flutter in her pulse. “I think you’re wrong...kitten.”

Kitten. A freakishly adorable nickname, and absolutely perfect for her while also absolutely unexpected.

Oh, she’d known he’d give her one sooner or later. He and his friends were old school and enjoyed renaming the women in their lives. Jase always called Brook Lynn “angel” and Beck called Harlow everything from “beauty” to “hag,” her initials. Well, HAG prewedding. But Jessie Kay had prepared herself for “demoness” or the always classic “bitch.”

“Dogs and cats can be friends,” he said, “especially when the dog minds his manners. I promise you, things will be different from now on.”

“Well.” Reeling, she could come up with no witty reply. “We could try, I guess.”

“Good.” His gaze dropped to her lips, heated a few more degrees. “Now all we have to do is decide what kind of friends we should be.”

Her heart started kicking up a fuss again, breath abandoning her lungs. “What do you mean?”

“Text frequently? Call each other occasionally? Only speak when we’re with our other friends?” He backed her into a shelf and cans rattled, threatening to fall. “Or should we be friends with benefits?”

Aaand the tingles returned, sweeping over her skin and sinking deep, deep into bone. Her entire body ached with need so powerful it nearly felled her. How long since a man had focused the full scope of his masculinity on her? Too long and never like this. West took everything to the next level. Somehow he reduced her to a quivering mess of femininity and whoremones.

“I vote...we only speak when we’re with our other friends,” she said, embarrassed by the breathless tremor in her voice.

“What if I want all of it?” He placed his hands at her temples and several of the cans rolled to the floor. “The texts, the calls...and the benefits.”

“No?” A question? Really? “No to the last.” Better. “You have a date.”

He scowled at her as if she’d done something wrong. “See, that’s the real problem, kitten. I don’t want her. I want you.”

* * *

WEST CALLED HIMSELF a thousand kinds of fool. He’d planned to apologize, return to the sanctuary, witness his friend’s wedding and start the countdown with Monica. The moment he’d gotten Jessie Kay inside the closet, her pecans-and-cinnamon scent in his nose, those plans burned to ash. Only one thing mattered.

Getting his hands on her.

From day one, she’d been a vertical g-force too strong to deny, pulling, pulling, pulling him into a bottomless vortex. He’d fought it every minute of every day since meeting her, and he’d gotten nowhere fast. Why not give in? Stop the madness?

Just once...

“We’ve been dancing around this for months,” he said. “I’m scum for picking here and now to hash this out with you, and I’ll care tomorrow. Right now, I think it’s time we did something about our feelings.”

“I don’t...” She began to soften against him, only to snap to attention. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t.”

“You won’t.” But I can change your mind...

She nibbled on her bottom lip.

Something he would kill to do. So he did it. He leaned into her, caught her bottom lip between his teeth and ran the plump morsel through. “Do you want me, Jessie Kay?”

Her eyes closed for a moment, a shiver rocking her. “You say you’ll care tomorrow, so I’ll give you an answer then. As for today, I... I... I’m leaving.” But she made no effort to move away, and he knew. She did want him. As badly as he wanted her. “Yes. Leaving. Any moment now...”

Acting without thought—purely on instinct—he placed his hands on her waist and pressed her against the hard line of his body. “I want you to stay. I want you, period.”

“West.” The new tremor in her voice injected his every masculine instinct with adrenaline, jacking him up. “You said it yourself. You’re scum. This is wrong.”

Anticipation raced denial to the tip of his tongue, and won by a photo finish. “Do you care?” He caressed his way to her ass and cupped the perfect globes, then urged her forward to rub her against the long length of his erection. The woman who’d tormented his days and invaded his dreams moaned a decadent sound of satisfaction, and it did something to him. Made his need for her worse.

She wasn’t what he should want, but somehow she’d become everything he could not resist, and he was tired, so damn tired, of walking, hell, running away from her.

“Do you?” he insisted. “Say yes, and I’ll be the one to leave. I don’t want you to regret this.” He wanted her desperate for more.

She looked away from him, licked her lips. “Right at this moment? No. I don’t care.” As soft as a whisper.

Triumph filled him, his clasp on her tightening.

“But tomorrow...” she added.

Yes. Tomorrow. He wasn’t the only one who’d been running from the sizzle between them, but today, with her admission ringing in his ears, he wasn’t letting her get away. One look at her, that’s all it had taken to ruin his plans. Now she would pay the price. Now she would make everything better.

“I will regret it,” she said. “This is a mistake I’ve made too many times in the past.” Different emotions played over her features. Features so delicate he was consumed by the need to protect her from anything and anyone...but himself.

He saw misery, desire, fear, regret, hope and anger. The anger concerned him. This Southern belle could knock a man’s testicles into his throat with a single swipe of her knee. Even still, West didn’t walk away.

“For all we know, the world will end tomorrow. Let’s focus on today. You tell me what you want me to do,” he said, nuzzling his nose against her cheek, “and I’ll do it.”

More tremors rocked her. She traced her delicate hands up his tie and gave the knot a little shake, an action that was sexy, sweet and wicked all at once. “I want you...to go back to your date. You and I, we’ll be friends as agreed, and we’ll pretend this never happened.” She pushed him, but he didn’t budge.

His date. Yeah, he’d forgotten about Monica before Jessie Kay had mentioned her a few minutes ago. But then, he’d gotten used to forgetting everything whenever the luscious blonde entered a room. Everything about her consumed every part of him, and it was more than irritating, it was a sickness to be cured, an obstacle to be overcome and an addiction to be avoided. If they did this, he would suffer from his own regrets, but there was no question he would love the ride.

He bunched up the hem of her skirt, his fingers brushing the silken heat of her bare thigh. Her breath hitched, driving him wild. “You’ve told me what you think you should want me to do.” He rasped the words against her mouth, hovering over her, not touching her but teasing with what could be. “Now tell me what you really want me to do.”

Navy blues peered up at him, beseeching; the fight drained out of her, leaving only need and raw vulnerability. “I’m only using you for sex—said no guy ever. But that’s what you’re going to do. Isn’t it? You’re going to use me and lose me, just like the others.”

Her features were utterly ravaged, and in that moment, he hated himself. Because she was right. Whether he took her for a single night or every night for two months, the end result would be the same. No matter how much it hurt her—no matter how much it hurt him—he would walk away.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.