The Harder You Fall (15 page)

The group turned away in a hurry.

Ouch. Well, screw them.
More for me.
Jessie Kay popped a ball into her mouth. Hey! Amazingly good, especially given the assigned ingredients Brook Lynn had to work with. A real testament to her skill.

A blond god of a man approached her. “I'd love one of whatever you're serving.” He winked at her.

She took his measure in less than a second: another member of the royal one-and-done family. “A big boy like you should probably take two, don't ya think?”

He selected two, popped both into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Very good, but my appetite is far from satisfied. You offering anything else?”

“Just the food.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. He was a charmer. The kind of man she used to pursue, certain he was equally charmed by her. A pretense. Always a pretense. She lost her smile.

“I'm Evan, by the way.”

“Well, you'll have to excuse me, Evan. This tray of goodies is the only thing keeping me from a
Lord of the Flies
situation. If you'll excuse me...”

Where the heck was West? With his precious schedule, he should have arrived right at 8:00 p.m. She checked her watch. Her gorgeous, glittery watch worth more than she could earn in ten years—8:12 p.m.

Maybe her thoughts conjured him. He walked through the front door a second later, Monica clinging to his side. Jessie Kay skidded to a stop, her ability to breathe suddenly gone. His muscular frame was perfectly complemented by a tailored pin-striped suit. His dark hair had somehow appeared both tamed and rebellious. But his eyes...his eyes haunted her. They were cold, amber icicles, no longer blistering with heat.

Frigid, unbreakable steel for Monica? Smoldering fire for Jessie Kay?

The sweetest flood of relief left her light-headed, almost giddy. Made her ache. Oh, how she'd ached.

Holding out for love. Lust is nothing special.

But it wasn't just lust. Not with West. They were friends, too.

And as his friend, she'd decided to do something special for him. Something she'd dubbed Operation Collage.
Won't let his stupidity—or my jealousy—stand in my way
.

She balanced her tray with one hand and withdrew her cell phone from the pocket in her apron with the other. Camera—on. She zoomed to West and snapped picture after picture, making sure to cut out Monica.

He'd once said no one cared enough about him to take pictures of him. Jessie Kay planned to prove him wrong.

When she finished, her gaze snagged on Monica, and crap, the girl looked incredible. Her red dress glittered with countless rhinestones, the deep vee in front dipping all the way to her navel, the bottom hem ending just below her pantyline.

The woman wasn't just smoking hot, she actually had her life together, her future figured out.

Envy rots the bones
, Momma used to say.

Well, Jessie Kay's bones had just taken a major hit of decay.
I'm not even in the same league.

Needing a sec to recover, she slinked into a shadowed corner.

Momma also used to say, someone else's good fortune couldn't hinder her own and she should rejoice that good things still happened in the world.

Right. That was right, and in a minute or two, she would compose herself and return to offering heaven on earth to people who'd forgotten how to say “please” and “thank you.” Until then...

The gilded mirror in front of her offered an unobstructed view of the ballroom's occupants. Amid the sea of tuxedo-clad men and sequin-draped women, however, she lost sight of West and Monica. Was the girl still cuddled into his side?

“The indomitable Jessie Kay Dillon is
hiding
?”

Jessie Kay jolted in surprise, almost dropping her tray as she focused on a pale, shaky Harlow, who was dressed in the same uniform, holding a tray of bacon-wrapped shrimp with a sweet marshmallow cream sauce. The unhealthiest thing on the menu. Also the best.

She ate three of the things before she replied. “I'm on my smoke break.” Frowning, she waved a marshmallow-smeared fingertip from the top of Harlow's head to the sole of her feet. “What about you? You look like you've been chewed up and spit out.”

“You don't smoke. And I'm fine.”

“First, how dare you! I won't be discriminated against. As a nonsmoker, I deserve as many breaks as my coworkers. Second, did I mention you look like ten miles of bad road?”

“You are
so
good to me,” Harlow said drily.

“As Brook Lynn's second-in-command, I'm technically your boss, and I'm ordering you to take a smoke break and tell me what's wrong.” Not too long ago, the girl was poisoned by a trio of creepers unable to forgive her former bullying ways—and for snagging Beck. Mostly for snagging Beck. They'd only meant to cause embarrassing vomiting by putting eye drops in her drink, but they'd nearly killed her. She'd slipped into a coma for several gut-wrenching days. Jessie Kay still felt guilty for only visiting twice. Visits she'd managed only because she'd popped a few antianxiety meds.

In her defense, hospitals were death traps.

Despite the great waves of fatigue radiating off Harlow, a slow smile lit her entire face. “There's honestly nothing wrong with me. There's everything right. I'm actually... Well, I'm pregnant.”

“What!” Jessie Kay shouted, only to cringe as her voice echoed.

“Oh, wow, that felt good to say.”

More quietly, Jessie Kay asked, “Are you seriously heating a bun in your oven?”

“Yep. He or she will bake for another seven months, three weeks.”

“You sneaky little hooker!” The feels were almost too much. “Why are you just now telling me? Who else knows?” In other words, who would feel the worst of her wrath for daring to hide the news?

“No one. You're the first.”

Pleasure unfurled inside her. “
Of course
I am. Because I'm your best friend in the universe. Because you trust me to keep your secret as long as I possibly can while realizing
as long as I can
probably only equates to a day or two, but you love me so much you're willing to forgive me.”

Harlow laughed. “I know you. You're a vault. Anyway, Beck and I decided to tell everyone together, after we'd gotten used to the idea ourselves, but you insulted my baby glow and I had to defend it.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since the day of the wedding.”

The wedding. Duh. “That's why you were worried about Beck not wanting to be with you anymore. Too big a change for the guy who despises change.”

“Exactly. But he was
sooo
happy.” Harlow rubbed the slight bump in her belly. “We both are.”

“Well,
I'm
happy for you.” Jessie Kay held her tray out of the way to lean into her friend for a hug. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away, not wanting Harlow to see them and get the wrong idea. She was
over-the-moon excited for the girl, but also a little sad for herself. The future she'd envisioned—Harlow and Brook Lynn leaving her behind to raise their families—had come sooner rather than later, and oh, crap, what kind of terrible person was she, concentrating on her loss rather than her friend's gain? “This marks the dawn of a new and perfect era. A new breed of human. Superhumans, they'll be called. And okay, okay. There's no need for you to ask. Yes, I will be your birthing coach, but only as long as you commit to a home delivery. Hospitals are the cesspools of our generation.”

“Uh, wow, that's such a sweet offer. The best. But, uh, Beck is going to be my birthing coach. And I'm willing to risk the cesspool if it means I can be so drugged up I'll forget I'm pushing a watermelon through a pinhole.”

“A soft no. Got it. You just need more time to think. Meanwhile, go home.” Jessie Kay gave her a little push. “You shouldn't be on your feet.”

“I'll be fine. Will you?” Harlow peeked around the corner, her concern melting away. She snickered. “Never mind. West might be here with another woman, but he's looking for someone else. Want to guess who it is?”

“No. Because it's not me. We're currently avoiding each other.” When she'd woken up this morning, intending to sneak out, she'd discovered he'd already taken off. The jerk.

“He's getting mad, I think,” Harlow said. “Oh! I'm no lip-reader, but I'm pretty sure he just told a guy to get the eff out of his way. Go over there and put him out of his misery. Just... I don't know, be gentle with him or something.”

“What are you talking about? I'm always gentle.”

Harlow snorted. “You once drove your boyfriend's truck into his living room. On purpose. You, Jessie Kay Dillon, are no delicate flower.”

“The boyfriend in question cheated on me.” Among other things.

“Oh. Well, good call.”

As she peered from the shadows, dread and anticipation skittered along her nerve endings. West had moved into her line of sight. He stood in a circle of women. Monica still clung to his side, yes, and she was glaring at the interlopers, all
he's mine, bitches, back off,
but the bitches in question didn't seem to get the mental memo. As they spoke to him, they ran their nails down the sleeves of his jacket or playfully tweaked the end of his tie. To his credit, he remained stiff and distanced.

Finally, Monica got sick of the attention and shooed the women away. Of course, they were immediately replaced by a circle of businessmen who vied just as staunchly for his attention.

He scanned the room, searching for someone just as Harlow had claimed. Tremors nearly toppled Jessie Kay.

Please be me.

Please, please, don't be me.

When he reached her, he skipped right over her and her shoulders drooped with disappointment. But his gaze jerked back to her and stayed put.

As if she really was a treasure?

Trapped by his intensity, she could only stand there, staring back at him. The most delicious heat washed over her, flames licking and nipping at her. She felt like the only woman left in creation. The only woman West could see. The only woman he ever wanted to see.

The thick fan of his black lashes narrowed, and he tilted his chin to motion her over.

Harlow gave her butt a pat. “Go get him, tiger.”

“Okay, but only because you're forcing me.” Jessie Kay's tremors got worse as she moved forward. Men and women continually stepped in her path to snatch an appetizer, and by the sixth interruption, irritation got the better of her. She stuffed the last three faux sausage balls in her mouth, clearing her tray.

“All gone,” she told the seventh couple, and okay, yeah, little bits of mystery meat might have fallen out the side of her mouth. Her mother would have been horrified.

Never let your mood dictate your manners. Feelings are fleeting. Impressions are forever.

“Jessie Kay.” Amusement and desire fought for dominance in West's eyes. He leaned over to kiss her cheek and whispered, “You are completely adorkable.”

His compliment wrapped around her, a lover as dedicated to her pleasure as he was to her heart. A deception—right? “Mr. West. So good to see you again.”

“What are you offering?” His gaze slid over her body rather than her tray.

To you? Everything.

No, no. Nothing. Not while he was on a date with another woman. “I
was
offering big, delicious balls, but I ran out.”

The man at West's left choked on a laugh. He looked her up and down and grinned. “Why don't I escort you to the kitchen for a new tray? Along the way, we can get to know each other better.”

“She doesn't need your help.” West was stiff, stiffer than before, and a scowl pulled at the corners of his lips...lips that were full and pink, made for rapture...or slicing an enemy into pieces.

Monica nuzzled his shoulder and glared at Jessie Kay. “You're still on the clock, Miss Dillon. I suggest you stop fraternizing with my guests and actually do the job I'm paying you for. If that's too complicated, I can show you to the door.”

Ouch.
Been put in my place.

She could have lashed out; she wanted to. She was no stranger to catfights. But this wasn't the time or place to indulge in a down and dirty beat down. If she had to make nice with West's flavor of the next two months to preserve the good reputation of You've Got It Coming, she would. Anything for her sister. Besides, there was no way she'd lose the battle of tempers because of Monica Gentry. Especially since she'd
expected
Monica to act this way.

She cleared her throat. “You're right. Absolutely. I'll just mosey along to the kitchen—alone—and get those balls.”

“I'd like to talk to you in private, Monica,” West said with a decided lack of emotion.

Monica smirked at her before focusing on West. “Of course, darling.”

Darling?

With her sensible flats, Jessie Kay hurried across the room. In the prep station connected to the ballroom, she exchanged her empty tray for one overflowing with goodness. Brook Lynn rushed around like zombies were headed their way, arranging new sets of appetizers to be served.

“Tell me everything is running smoothly out there,” her sister demanded.

She pasted on a sunny smile.
Hide the hurt.
“Putting me in charge of the servers was the smartest thing you've ever done. I've only dropped, like, three trays, and thanks to the five-second rule, everyone loved the food anyway.”

Brook Lynn stopped with a handful of garnish halfway to a plate and gaped at her. “You served food that had hit the floor? Jessie Kay! I'll claw off your face!”

“Are you throwing a temper tantrum?”

“What? Me? No!”

“Because I was kidding. I only dropped
two
trays.”