The Harder You Fall (16 page)

This time, her sister rolled her eyes. “Your warped sense of humor—”

“Makes you want to throw something at me. Go ahead. I did you wrong, and I deserve to suffer for it.”

“—is one of the things I love best about you.”

Boo. Hiss. “Hey, just out of curiosity. If I were to spit in someone's food, would I lose our bet?”

Horror contorted her sister's features. “Yes! Oh, my gosh, yes!”

“Dude. You should see your face right now. There's a vein
pulsing
in your forehead.” She swiped up a new tray, blew her sister a kiss and returned to the party, determined to avoid Monica and her insults...as well as West and the ache that came with him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I
WILL
SAY
this once and only once.” West pinned Monica in place with a gaze usually reserved for businessmen trying to shortchange him for work he'd already completed. “If you talk to Jessie Kay like that again, you won't like what happens.”

Now wasn't the time to push him. He'd been in a terrible mood since yesterday's lunch when Jessie Kay had looked at Daniel with adoration—and rightly so. The guy had stepped up in a big way, giving Jessie Kay the support and devotion she'd always wanted.

Maybe he'd guessed what West had. She feared not being good enough—which was why West had set out to prove she was one of the best people he knew. But Daniel, the bastard, had beaten him to the punch.

“West. Please.” Monica grabbed hold of his lapels. “Don't be mad at me for chastising the girl. You can't see it, but she's trouble.”

He'd dreaded this night. Because of Monica, who'd texted nonstop since he'd agreed to be her date, who'd even complained about Jessie Kay—
that blonde from the wedding
better not mess everything up
. Because of Jessie Kay, whom he'd wanted to chain to his bed and keep safe from this very thing. Among other things. Because the last party he'd attended was the one he'd thrown in Tessa's honor. He'd gotten drunk, and if he'd known a dealer in Strawberry Valley, he would have gotten high.

Jessie Kay hadn't judged him that night. She'd offered to leave the barn, where the party raged, and hole up in his bedroom to watch movies. In return he'd kissed one of her friends in front of her.

“Don't say another word to Jessie Kay,” he said, “and we'll make it through the party without any more problems.”

Fat tears welled in Monica's eyes.

He'd pulled her into the hallway right outside the ballroom—where he could still smell the champagne—not wanting to embarrass her in front of her employees. A courtesy she hadn't extended to Jessie Kay. One more insult, however, and he would unleash the kraken, uncaring who watched.

Already he battled an unholy rage. As Jessie Kay had raced off, hurt and humiliation had colored her cheeks. The girl with a heart as soft as marshmallows shouldn't be made to feel as if she were garbage.

“West—”

“I mean it, Monica. She's off-limits. In word and in deed.”

The tears dried, an unholy rage of her own sparking to life. “You protect her?
Her?
Who is she to you?”

His roommate. His friend. His tormentor. His every fantasy made flesh. “You and I are not a couple, Monica.” In fact, he wouldn't be seeing her again. In any capacity. “We never will be. I owe you no answers.”

She whimpered...and then she erupted. “You bastard!” Steam practically curled from her nostrils as she stomped her foot.

Here comes the beast I read about online in three...two...

“I mean something to you,” she hissed, “you just don't know it yet. You don't remember me, damn you. I never wanted you to remember, only wanted you to fall for the woman I am. Now I don't see any other way.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “You've lost me.”

“Add a hundred and twenty pounds to me. Any clue yet?” She laughed bitterly. “Four years ago, you dated Patience Ludwick, my roommate.”

Light bulb. Monica, the dark-haired girl who'd peered at him as if he were a god, who'd hung on his every word as if he were unveiling the secrets of the universe. She used to lament her lack of boyfriend, and he'd often complimented her to help build her self-esteem.

“For two months, you came to our apartment almost every evening. While Patience slept, you spent hours talking with me. You were always so nice to me.” She tightened her grip on his jacket. “I knew you would fall in love with me if I lost weight. I knew it! But one day, out of the blue, you dumped her, said you didn't love her, that you would never love her. You took off and never came back, breaking her heart. Breaking mine!”

She'd just described every relationship he'd ever had since Tessa. “Patience knew how long the relationship would last before she ever agreed to be with me.” He'd made sure of it. And there at the end, her heart hadn't been involved. He'd simply hurt her pride, because she'd thought—like so many others—that he would soften, change his mind. A critical mistake. He would never soften, and he would never change his mind. He'd set a schedule for reasons that hadn't changed, and he would stick to it. For better or worse.

But Monica still had stars in her eyes. “I knew deep down you just needed to see the woman I was inside, the skinny one, so I dieted and worked out and kept tabs on you, watching you date other women for two months, once every year, before you walked away. Whether you realized it or not, you were waiting for me, West. And don't try to deny it. When you saw the new me, you picked me. Me! The one you love inside and now, outside. We can be happy together. You just have to give me a chance to prove it.”

He stepped away from her, severing contact. Shit. Shit! This wasn't his first boiling-bunny experience, but it
would
be his last. From now on, he would screen potentials more thoroughly. And yeah, okay, guilt welled up, spilling through him, hot enough to burn. He'd dated and dropped a lot of good women without any thought to their feelings, consoling himself with the knowledge that he'd been up-front and honest.

“West. Please.” Monica reached for him, but again he stepped back. “Let's blow the party. We'll go to my place, drink wine, talk like we used to and finally make love. By morning we'll laugh about the blonde, I swear.”

No, he would never laugh about his feelings for
the blonde
. “I'm sorry, Monica.” He used his gentlest tone, not wanting to hurt her further but seeing no way around it. “I never should have asked you out. You and I never would have worked out. We want different things.”

She shook her head. “I saved myself for you. I want my first time to be with you.”

He'd been Tessa's first, and yes, it had been an honor, had made him feel as if he were king of the world. He'd experienced an extreme flood of triumph and had wanted to beat his chest like a gorilla—because of the girl, not her state.

Jessie Kay wasn't a virgin, and yet, if ever he got inside that woman, he'd still want to beat his chest like a gorilla.

He desired her more than he'd ever desired another.

Oh...shit. He did. The boy he'd been had desired Tessa, but the man he'd become desired Jessie Kay. There was no comparison.

“You and I would never work out,” he repeated. “I'm interested in someone else.”

Monica's eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “You're interested in
her
, aren't you? She's a whore!”

He took another step back, before he did something he would regret. “She's not a whore. And you and I...we won't be seeing each other again. Ever.”

“No. No!” Desperation tinged her voice. “Don't do this. Please, West. Remember how good we were together, all those years ago, how we talked and laughed. We can have that again.”

“I remember.” She'd been sweet and shy and barely able to meet his gaze. “Now we want different things. I'm sorry,” he repeated, and her desperation was instantly replaced by fury.

“Bastard! You're such a bastard!” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist, stopping her. “I hate you.”

“Hate me all you want. It's deserved, and I accept it as my due. But make sure you keep it directed at me.”

With that, he released her and strode from the room.

Her tearful cry followed him. “I didn't mean it, West. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. I love you!”

He had to circle the room twice before he caught sight of Jessie Kay—and of course, a swarm of drooling men surrounded her. He stalked forward, shoving his way to the center of the group.

“—tap my butt again, and I'll give you a high five. In the face. With my tray,” Jessie Kay was saying, her smile sweet.

“I'm pretty sure it'd be worth it,” the guy replied.

A punch of fury in West's chest, a kick of possessiveness in his gut. No one touched this girl. “You put your hands on her again, and you'll lose them.”

The kid in question paled. The rest of the crowd backed up several steps.

“West.” Jessie Kay stiffened, though her voice lacked any kind of heat. “How dare you. Threatening the guests is unprofessional.”

“We're leaving.” He did the smart thing—the only-way-to-survive-in-the-jungle thing—and kept the flaw in her admonition to himself as he confiscated her tray and handed it to the openmouthed kid. “Take this to the kitchen. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hey!” Jessie Kay placed her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”

“I'm
trying
to abscond with you.”

“Well, stop. You came with Monica. You can leave with Monica.”

He thought he detected jealousy, what he'd once hoped she'd feel. But not here, not now. Not anymore. Jessie Kay put on a good game face, but he saw the insecure girl lurking underneath. She had no idea of her worth, and as long as they were friends—or whatever they were to each other—she would need reassurance.

High maintenance, some would say. But then, he was higher maintenance. They were actually kind of perfect together.

“I want nothing to do with Monica.” He tugged Jessie Kay away from the crowd, and this time she allowed it. Had he ever felt skin so soft? So warm?

“West,” she said, breathless.

As he stopped to face her, he was hyperaware of her, locked in a world where only she existed. The sweetness of her natural perfume. The sudden hitch in her breath. The increasing velocity of her pulse. The way she leaned toward him, a subtle softening of her spine. The way her body readied itself for his possession, her breasts swelling and her nipples tightening.

With his free hand, he traced his thumb over the rise of her cheekbone. “What are you doing to me?”

She peered at him with eyes now heavy-lidded. “The same thing you're doing to me, I hope.”

A clench of need low in his gut. “Let's get out of here.”

“I want to, but I can't. Brook Lynn—”

“Will understand. The party is anathema to us both, kitten.”

A smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “There you go, using fancy words again.”

“Don't even think about protesting. I saved you from the clutches of a deadly spider, remember? You owe me.”

“West!” Monica screeched, and the rest of the world came crashing back into focus. He looked over at her. Black mascara streaked down her tearstained face. With no thought to the scene she was creating, she barreled toward them. “West!”

“She looks... Wow.” Jessie Kay's jaw dropped. “Did you murder her cat?”

“Don't know if she has a cat. I broke things off, not that we were ever together.” He tried to drag Jessie Kay away, but she dug in her heels.

“Slow your roll, sugar bear, and explain. I know you said you wanted nothing to do with her, but what do you mean by
broke things off
?”

“I told her I didn't want to see her again, and now she's out for blood. Yours, to be precise. Let's go.” He pulled.

She resisted. “Why mine? What'd I do?”

“Isn't it obvious?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You have the face I dream about and the smile I crave.”

“I
what
?” she squeaked.

“You heard me. Now let's go.”

Too late.

Monica reached them, hissing when she noticed their joined hands. “I was right. It's her. You have no idea what she's like. I asked around. She's trash! A slut! She'll sleep with anyone—and has.”

West felt as if he'd been swallowed by a fury so deep, so all-encompassing, he'd never find his way free of it.

And she wasn't done. “I hope you enjoy the STDs she'll give you.”

“You mean my
sexy table dances
? Oh, he will,” Jessie Kay snapped. “Trust me.”

West stepped between the two women, unsure what to do next, only knowing he could end up in jail if he handled things his way.

“Did tearing me down make you feel good, little girl?” Jessie Kay lifted her head with regal authority. “I hope so, because this next part is going to hurt you.” She pulled back her elbow and let her fist fly.

Smack!
Her knuckles went to war with Monica's nose, and the nose lost. Cartilage snapped. Blood spurted, and Monica howled with pain, stumbling back, losing her footing and falling.

“Ow,” Jessie Kay shouted, shaking her hand. “I didn't expect it to hurt me, too.”

West wanted to smile. He wanted to curse.

“You'll pay for this,” Monica rasped.

“For defending myself? Not likely.” Jessie Kay spun, meeting the gaze of everyone around her. “She came at me. Everyone saw. You know the truth. And someone tell my sister I did
not
lose my temper. I remained calm the entire time.”

West reclaimed Jessie Kay's hand—the uninjured one—as a tuxedo-clad Beck and Jase pushed their way through the crowd. Of course his friends had snuck in. Brook Lynn and Harlow were here.

“I know Brook Lynn probably feels her professional reputation is at stake,” he said to Jase, “so it's up to her whether she stays or goes, but I'm taking Jessie Kay home.”

“I know my girl,” Jase said. “Her sister was insulted. She won't want to stay.”

Both guys stalked off to find their women.

Outside the hotel, cars pulled up to the lamp-lit sidewalk, tainting the air with exhaust. Different valets rushed to climb inside different vehicles while guests meandered in and out, wearing everything from formal gowns to jeans and sweaters.