The Harder You Fall (10 page)

“If ever I threaten you, kitten, you won't have to ask. I'm simply pointing out an obvious security fail.”

“Well.” Some of the starch left her. “I assure you, I have nothing worth stealing.”

“You sure about that?” He stroked his gaze over her, this woman who was so finely honed she had no equal. “I can name a few things I'd like to take.”

A hitch in breath that came faster and faster. “You're flirting.”

“You're welcome.”

She shook a fist at him. “Don't you know the very moment you start flirting with temptation, you've lost the entire war?”

“We're at war?”

“Yes! Your body clearly wants to invade mine.”

He snorted, then looked down and said, “At ease, men. We've entered hostile territory.”

For a moment, she looked ready to burst into laughter. But the moment passed and the sparkle of amusement faded. She sighed, toying with the ends of her hair, utterly feminine and sweeter than sugar. “Today was a really bad day.”

On instant alert, he demanded, “What happened?”

“What usually happens when I walk through a bone yard.”

He flipped through mental files, came up empty. “A bone yard?”

“A sea of boners. Horny dudes. Basically, a room full of guys I used to date.”

“Got it. What happens?”

Her face scrunched up with the most adorable disdain. “My butt got smacked. A lot more than usual. I think I'm bruised.”

A bomb of anger detonated inside him, sharp bits of shrapnel cutting through any sort of composure he managed to gain. “Who? Give me names, and I'll make sure it never happens again.”

“That's kind of you to offer,” she said, brightening. “Unfortunately, I'm going to decline. I already slapped the offenders.”

“Did you draw blood?”

She fluffed her hair. “A few specks.”

“Then I'm satisfied vengeance was achieved.” For now. “Just tell me one thing...” He shouldn't ask. He knew better. But he did it anyway. “Is Daniel Porter a former boyfriend...or a current one?”

“What! Gross. He's like a little sister to me.”

Some of the tension West had carried since his encounter with Edna suddenly evaporated. He had to fight a smile. “Start locking your door. Better yet, I'll start locking it for you.”

Navy blues flared with a mix of surprise and confusion. “Okay, I admit it. You've lost me. You're planning to come over every night just to lock my front door?” She arched a brow. “Are you going to tuck me into bed, too?”

“I'm willing to do both, yes, but I won't be leaving afterward.”
Keep it light, easy.
“Good news, kitten. I'm moving in.” At the diner, Brook Lynn had mentioned her worry about Jessie Kay being on her own, always struggling to pay the bills. Well, he could help out. He was altruistic like that.

Frowning, she cocked her hip to the side. “I think I just had a stroke. I
couldn't
have heard you say—”

“I'm moving in. Yes. We're going to be roomies. Starting tonight.”

One clipped shake of her head. One succinct denial. “No.”

“The farmhouse is overrun with happy couples and—”

“No. And there are only two happy couples. The place is hardly overrun.”

“Romance is a contagious disease. My insides need a shower before they become infected.”

“I bleed for you, I really do, but my answer is still no, no, a thousand times no. There are a bazillion other places you can stay. Your office. Or the inn. Hey, I know. What about your new girlfriend's place? I'm sure she'll be
thrilled
to have you.”

“First, I don't want to question your math, but three doesn't actually equal a bazillion. Second, I considered each of those places already, and yet here I am. Third, I don't have a girlfriend.”

Another shake of her head. “No. Just... I don't know...buy another house or something.”

“That'll take too much time.”

“Rent a house.”

“In this market?” He prayed she knew
nothing
about the market. Now that he was here, he didn't want to leave.

“What about our mutual lust?”

He liked that she didn't shy away from the issue or try to deny what they felt for each other.
Keep things casual.
“Can you not resist me? It's okay if you can't, but—”

She threw a dishrag at him.

“How about this?” He rubbed the wet spot just over his heart. “Let me stay and I'll pay rent.” He kept his starting offer low, giving her room to bargain.

No woman could resist a good bargain.

“No way—” She chewed on her plump bottom lip, reminding him of their time in the cleaning closet, when
he
was the one to torment that lip. “You'll pay rent
and
utilities. You'll even kick in a little extra for—”

“Let me guess.” He fought another smile. “Your mental anguish.”

“Such a smart boy.” She patted his cheek. “Oh, and just so you know, I'll be putting booby traps in my bedroom.”

“Just so
you
know, disabling booby traps is a specialty of mine.”

“Shooting a .22 is a specialty of mine.”

Was it really? “That's kind of hot.”

“That's not my problem. Now. I'll show you to your bedroom, since it's where you'll spend the bulk of your time. Did I forget to mention the living room and kitchen are off-limits?”

“Unless I pay extra, right?”

“A plus plus, Mr. West. Someone's in jeopardy of becoming teacher's pet already!”

He withdrew his wallet, presented her with a hundred-dollar bill. “This should cover all the extras.”

“For one night, yes.” She stuffed the cash in her bra before waving for him to follow.

He trailed her down the hall, and it was a special kind of hell. The sway of her hips mesmerized him. The curl at the end of her hair beckoned him.
Grab me. Fist me.
The shape of her ass dazzled him. Perfect twin globes with just the right amount of bounce. Toned and bitable.

This might not have been his brightest idea.

My favorite mistake.

“Well,” she said, stopping in the second doorway on the right. “This is it.”

He came up behind her, wanting to be closer,
needing
to be closer. At five-eight, she was tall, but at six-three, he was a lot taller. She stiffened...at first. As one second ticked into another, she softened. The heat that emanated from her intensified, wrapping around him until he felt embraced.

“What do you think?” she asked, breathless now. Just the way he liked her.

The room was small and furnished for a princess. The queen-size canopy boasted pink sheets and a ruffled skirt, the perfect complement to the white vanity with a beveled mirror. “Can't wait to do my hair and makeup,” he said drily.

“I'd stay in the rose family, if I had your skin tone.”

A subtle fruity fragrance danced through the air. A perfume he knew he'd soon find infused in his clothing. Glitter shimmered in the carpet threads—they were mini land mines, and it was only a matter of time before they exploded all over him and he would look like a stripper named Wild Wild West.

“Still want to stay?” Jessie Kay asked with a gleeful grin.

That grin nailed him in place, reminded him of the peace he'd felt at the wedding. The
rightness
. He wanted to stay
more than anything
. “You're stuck with me, kitten.”

“Your masculine sensibilities aren't highly offended by the décor?”

“Flash me a few times a day and my masculine sensibilities will be too drunk on testosterone to care.”

“Flash you? Sure thing.” She extended both her middle fingers. As he chuckled, she added, “Since I've been the only human living here—do
not
ask about the raccoons—I haven't had the toilet in the bathroom connected to your room fixed...or the one down the hall. So unless you want to cough up an extra thousand every time you use mine, you'll need to hire a plumber. On your dime, of course. Also, this is Brook Lynn's old room so don't go changing things around. If she and Jase break up, she'll move back, and I want the place to be perfect for her.”

“Are you serious? Those two will never split.”

“You telling me
you
believe in happily-ever-after?”

“Yes. With the right person.” He moved around her to enter the room. His only other option? Grab her and kiss the breath right out of her.

“So...you actually think everyone has a one true love? Do you also believe in unicorns and fairy dust?”

“And dragons and trolls.”

“Zombies?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

She snorted.

“You doubt because you've never fallen.” And, he realized as fury poked at him, he didn't like the thought of her falling in the future.

“I've seen true love. I don't doubt that it's real...for others.” A pause as deep as an ocean, as turbulent as a storm, all hints of playfulness leaving her. “Was Tessa yours?”

He gave a single incline of his head.

Wistful, she said, “How did you know she was the one you'd be with forever?”

“I looked at her and couldn't imagine a future without her.”

Longing softened already delicate features as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. “My dad said something similar about my mom.” A pause. “What do you see when you look at
me
?”

He could have sidestepped the issue, but he met her earlier bluntness with bluntness of his own. “I look at you and I get stuck on an image of you naked in my bed. I wonder if you'll taste sweeter than caramel, if you'll whisper my name or scream it. If you'll crave a soft and gentle ride or a hard one.”

Her hand fluttered to her heart as she backed a step away from him. “West.” A husky rasp.

He held her stare. “What do you see when you look at me?”

Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged.

“What do you see?” he insisted. He had to know.

“West...don't ask me... I don't think you'll like the answer.”

“Tell me, anyway.”

“I see...heartbreak waiting to happen. I'm sorry.” With that, she turned and fled into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

S
HOCKINGLY
WARM
AND
toasty for the first time since the arrival of winter, Jessie Kay stretched with lazy abandon. She blinked open heavy-lidded eyes, brilliant morning light streaming through the crack in curtains she'd made from her childhood comforter. She still loved the elegant ballerinas and colorful butterflies. What would West think of—

West!

She jolted to her feet, her heart racing at warp speed. He'd moved in. He was here, tucked away in the bedroom across from hers.

I look at you and I get stuck on an image of you naked in my bed. I wonder if you'll taste sweeter than caramel, if you'll whisper my name or scream it. If you'll demand I give you a soft and gentle ride or a hard one.

A whimper escaped her. Those words had floored her. They'd thrilled her. They'd scared the crap out of her. And really, they'd angered her. He'd looked at Tessa and seen his future. He looked at Jessie Kay and thought of sex. Because he equated her with lust and only lust. Not companionship. Not partnership. Not even happiness. Just garden variety lust, what any man could feel for any woman.

A girl can get a rise out of biscuits. Doesn't mean a darn thing.

I wish I'd listened to you a long time ago, Momma.

Sighing, Jessie Kay swiped up her phone, intending to send a message to Daniel. They were supposed to meet for breakfast, which was her favorite time to hang out with him. The perfect start to her day. She paused when she noticed two texts from Sunny.

What's this I hear about U getting flowers? Is some1 romancing my girl?

Hey, if I say “Party tonight” please tell me you'll B in. Pleeeeease! I miss the old days when U were fun!

Jessie Kay typed:
Sorry, chica, but this gal hung up her party hat for good. If you ever decide to knit sweaters or play bingo, I'm your girl!  :-)

She ignored the question about the flowers. What happened with West was private.

Sunny:
THIS IS CRAZINESS! U blow chunks!

No, for the first time in her life, she didn't.

She typed the message to Daniel, still amazed he'd become one of her most treasured friends so quickly. But then, he never made a pass at her, and he genuinely seemed to enjoy her company.

I'm too tired for breakfast. You free for dinner instead?

Lunch wasn't an option. Jessie Kay planned to meet her sister, Kenna and Harlow at Two Farms for a little girl bonding.

Daniel texted back.

I am now. I'll pick you up at 7

Her:
Pick me up at 5.

Daniel:
Only people over 60 eat at 5

Her:
We have plans after we eat (I'm taking up soccer & you're taking up watching soccer)

Daniel:
Any hot girls gonna be there???

Her:
You mean besides ME?

Daniel:
That's so obvious I didn't think it needed to be stated

Her:
Don't know about other hot girls (sorry) BTW you're driving

Daniel:
Fine. I'll suffer through the silver-fox special & your practice but you'll owe me

Her:
Buck up. You're getting the better end of the deal—my company

Already feeling peppier, she showered. She hoped the hot water would wash away the lingering effects of West's confession—the goose bumps, tingles, aches and the low-grade passion-fever—and for a while, it actually worked. But as she dressed in clothes too sexy for delivering sandwiches, the sensations returned and redoubled, tormenting her.

If she survived the day, it would be a miracle.

Hinges creaked as she opened her bedroom door and peeked into the hall. No sign of West. She released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Maybe he'd decided to break free of his workaholic shackles and sleep in this fine Thursday morning. Maybe she would go the entire day without seeing him. He hadn't yet placed an order.

As she tiptoed through the living room, confusion overwhelmed her. She felt as though she'd been transported into someone else's home. Empty wrappers and cans had been thrown away. Her blankets had been folded. A new—and bigger—TV sat in place of her old one. Three remote controls were perfectly aligned on the freshly polished coffee table.

In the kitchen—crap. West. And oh, wow. He was shirtless and pantsless. The only thing between her hungry gaze and his deepest secrets was the towel wrapped around his waist. Like her, he'd just taken a shower. His damp hair was several shades darker than usual.

Want to run my fingers through those strands.

He stood at the stove, his back to her. The strength she saw in those wide shoulders shocked and amazed her. She'd known he would pack a powerful punch underneath his suits and soccer gear, but she'd had no idea he would knock her into next week. The delicious ripple of muscle and sinew appeared carved from stone. The dimples on his lower back begged,
Kiss me here. Lick...

Computer nerds and desk jockeys should not look like this.

He dropped a piece of bacon, and rather than bending down to pick it up, he stared at it as if it had just threatened to castrate him. He even backed away from it, not stopping until he hit the counter, the fork in his hand dripping grease down his arm. The pieces of bacon still cooking in the pan began to smoke and burn, but he didn't seem to notice.

How odd. “I'll get it.” She raced over to remove the pan from the fire and turn off the gas. She picked up the manna from heaven—RIP, sweet morsel—tossed it in the trash and cleaned the grease from the floor.

As she straightened, she took in rope after rope of West's muscled chest. He had a tattoo of a human heart resting over, well, his heart with the name
Tessa
arched above it. A wave of longing swept through Jessie Kay. Oh, to have such a powerful man so devoted to her that he inked her name into his flesh. A brand marking him forever.

He continued to stare at the floor, where the bacon had gone to die.

Some kind of daydream? A space-out? Or, like with her and her panic attacks, a flashback of sorts?

Yeah. That, she thought, and her heart actually ached for him. She recognized the signs. The skin around his eyes and mouth had pulled tight, and his breaths were uneven.

The urge—the bone-deep
need
—to help him bombarded her. Brook Lynn had always brought her around with a touch or a joke.

Jessie Kay placed her hands on West's knotted shoulders, got all up in his personal space, and when he finally blinked at her, she said the most shocking thing possible to a long term commitmentphobe. “I'm pregnant with your triplets. Congrats, baby daddy!”

The blinking stopped, and he stared at her as if she'd just morphed into that discarded piece of bacon. “
Daddy
will never receive my nickname seal of approval.”

“Like that matters.” Relief was a soft brush of wind against her skin. “But what would you suggest I call you?”

“Sexy. Lover. My sun and stars.”

She laughed and he began to laugh with her. But they sobered all too soon. He circled her wrists with his fingers, sending her pulse into overdrive.

“Thank you,” he rasped.

“What happened?” she asked, hesitant.

At first, she thought he would refuse to tell her. Their friendship was new and tentative, not even close to tried-and-true. But he surprised her, saying, “One of the foster homes...we were only allowed to eat off the floor.”

“Oh, my gosh. West! That's terrible!” And it made her wonder how many other horrors he'd endured as a child. Made her hate herself for knocking his sandwich to the floor that day in his office.

Realization struck. West hadn't shed his baggage after all. Getting clean was only one piece of the puzzle.

There had to be a way she could help him. A way to replace bad memories with good ones.

“By the way, you're late.” He was all business now. Wishing he'd kept his mouth shut about the foster home?

She allowed the subject change because she wanted him relaxed and happy here. Because he was her tenant, and she was a kickass landlord.

“Late for what?” she asked. “My morning drool? From now on, you have to wear a shirt.”

A slow smile bloomed, and oh, it was a wicked, wicked sight. “Late for breakfast. Also, I took the liberty of planning the rest of your day. You'll find your schedule on the table.”

“A schedule? For me?” She swiped up the sheet of paper in question. “Seriously?”

THURSDAY

5:30—Breakfast with West

6:00—Leave for Brook Lynn's

6:15—Help prepare sandwiches

7:00—Leave for sandwich deliveries

Blah blah blah...
He'd even scheduled bathroom breaks.

12:00—Lunch at WOH offices (You still owe me a sandwich, kitten.)

Blah blah blah...

Finally the list ended with West tucking her into bed at 10:00 p.m., a side note mentioning the importance of beauty Zs.

He held up the coffeepot. “How do you take your life's blood?”

“Cream. Ten sugars.”

“I have no idea if you're kidding or not.”

“Of course I'm kidding. Twenty sugars.” She waved the paper in the air. “Are all your roommates this lucky?”

“Yes.”

“And your girlfriends?”

“Yes.” Said with a little more bite. He poured the coffee, but only added a splash of cream and two measly spoonfuls of sugar.

Amateur hour. She confiscated the saucer, poured in as much cream as her cup could hold and tipped over the container of sugar until her sweet tooth said
I guess that'll do—for now
.

“About that schedule. You can't just plan my day, West. That's
my
job.”

“A job you're not doing.” He took her cup, tasted the contents and grimaced. “If we're going to live together without killing each other, there has to be order. The early bird makes the schedules.”

Frustrating man. She reclaimed her cup and drained half the contents. Feeling a little more human she said, “I'm sorry, but your schedule—while totally
not
appreciated—won't work for me. I'm having lunch with my girls, dinner with Daniel and afterward, I'm going to my first soccer lesson, which starts at eight. In the city! A ten-o'clock bedtime is impossible.”

He went still, the muscles in his back knotting. “Dinner. With Daniel.”

“Yay. Your ears are working.”

“Why are you seeing him?”

“I told you. We're friends.”

“Friends who used to date.”

“Key words, ‘used to.'”

“I don't like the two of you spending time together,” he said very quietly, very firmly.

“Why? Because you're jealous?”

The moment the words registered, she gasped.

He growled.

She studied him anew. The stiffness of his stance. The to-the-death madness in his eyes. The flare of his nostrils each time he exhaled. The stark color in his cheeks. The hard line of his mouth. The stubborn set of his jaw.

Someone save me
. He
was
.

“I want the best for you, Jessie Kay. He isn't the best.”

Can't smile.
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But I was serious when I told you there's nothing romantic between us. I'm not attracted to him, and he's not attracted to me.”

“He's a guy. Trust me, kitten, he's attracted to you.”

Shivers, tingles, heat. “Let's be honest,
puppy
. You don't really have a right to—”

“I don't like it,” he interjected.

“Well, I don't like your association with Monica, but you and I aren't a couple. What we like and don't like doesn't matter. And don't go throwing a hissy he-fit. I'm not trying to manipulate you into asking me to be your forever girl or anything like that. I'm just stating facts.”

His motions jerky, he scraped the burned bacon into the trash. “Who agreed to coach you?”

Another subject change. Fine. “Some guy named Mark Polo. And yes, that's his name.” She'd called the indoor arena where the Goal Scouts practiced and played, and Mr. Polo had been the only person willing to take her on for the little cash she had to spare.

“He couldn't find a goal with a flashlight and a map.” West carried a different pan to the table, scooped an omelet onto a plate for her and another omelet onto a plate for himself. “Cancel the lesson.”

“Thank you for the food and the advice. I eagerly accept the first, but regretfully decline the second.”

“Too bad.” He sat across from her. “
I'm
going to teach you how to play soccer.”

What! “But you said—”

“I'll only charge you the use of the living room and kitchen whenever I want.”

It was a bargain she couldn't resist. The drive to and from the arena would be hell on her beater of a car and all her grocery money would have to be used on gas.

“You've got yourself a deal...my sun and stars.”

He smiled at her. “That's better.”

“Except I kinda feel like I should bleach my tongue to kill nasty germs.”

He took a bite of omelet, swallowed. “Your practice starts at six. Don't be late.”

“I'm meeting Daniel at five. That's not enough time to eat and—”

“Six. Do
not
be late. I mean it, Jessie Kay. Being on time is important to me. Every minute counts.”

“Why?”

A flash of panic—a flash she didn't understand. “It just does.”

“Fine.” She pushed out a sigh. “Before I forget, you should know Daniel is going to watch the practice. I told him—”

“No. He's not allowed to watch.”

“But I
promised
him—”