The Harder You Fall Page 11

  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--"

  "Un-promise him. And don't be late," West repeated, his gaze locked on her, smoldering with so much heat she actually felt burned. A common occurrence in his presence. "If you don't respect my rules, kitten, I won't respect yours."

  Rules? "I've never given you any rules."

  "I can think of three offhand." He held up an index finger. "Always wear a shirt." A second finger lifted. "Stay out of your bedroom." Another finger. "Keep my hands to myself."

  Oh...crap. If he touched her...just one touch...what remained of her resistance might finally crumble.

  *

  BY THE TIME Jessie Kay finished her morning deliveries, she was thirty-seven minutes off West's stupid schedule and stressed to the max. She'd constantly glanced at the clock on her phone, sweating bullets despite the frigid temperature as one minute bled into another. How did West live this way? Why did he live this way?

  She finally caved and texted Beck for answers. He would be an easier nut to crack than Jase.

  I need your help. West moved in w/ me & I just received my 1st schedule. (shakes fist at sky) WHY ME????

  Beck: My boy called this morning, told us about the move-in. We're still in shock. You tell me what's going on w/ you two & I'll tell you about the schedule

  Her: You're gonna break bro code just for deets? You suck as West's friend but you rock as mine (good choice!) :-)

  Beck: Bro code will remain intact. As soon as we learned where West had gone, we decided to help you out for his benefit (& yours)

  Here went nothing.

  Her: What's going on between us: we've admitted we lust for each other, but we've decided to be friends, nothing more. Happy now? Talk!

  Beck: Ignoring lust only causes the fire to burn hotter. Just ask Harlow. But at least you and West are finally on the right path

  A flutter in her heart.

  Her: The schedule, please

  Beck: It's something he learned in rehab. Keeps his mind busy so he won't relapse

  Fear of a relapse. Ding, ding, ding. Of course!

  The people who said "a little fear is good for you" only lied to themselves. They claimed fear kept them from doing stupid things. Wrong! Common sense did that. Hello! Fear of any kind was a prison, keeping you shackled--she should know. So as much as West's schedules helped him, they also chained him. He allowed himself to do this but not that and vice versa, never leaving room for spontaneity.

  What would it hurt to show him there was a different way to live? If he liked it, he liked it; if he didn't, he didn't. But at least he'd be better informed.

  Excitement blooming, she texted West:

  On my way to lunch w/ the girls. You remembered I can't bring you a sandwich today right? :-) :-) :-)

  West: You have an emoticon addiction

  That was it? That was all she got? Oops. Spoke too soon.

  West: I remembered

  Well. Not the best response, but not the worst, either. Whatever. She had to kick off her plan now or never...

  Her: OH! Before I forget--I need a copy of YOUR schedule. You don't want me to accidentally screw it up, do you??? :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) (admit it, smiley faces make you happy)

  Casual enough?

  An email came in next. A freaking email.

  Lincoln_West@WOH.com

  Subject: Read it, love it, live it

  See attached. You're welcome.

  Smartass. She opened the document and read the intricately detailed plans for his day. Shower, cook a green pepper and mushroom omelet with bacon on the side for Jessie Kay, dress--he'd even written down what he planned to wear--drive to work. He'd logged the length of time he would be in the car, along with a sidebar in case there was a traffic jam. For work, he'd listed everything he needed to get done and every phone call he was to make and the minutes he would allow for each. He'd already scratched out lunch with her and penciled in a protein shake at his desk. He also planned to work out.

  Had to keep those muscles in top form.

  He'd scratched out, rewritten, scratched out and rewritten a call to Monica.

  A text arrived just as Jessie Kay finished reading.

  West: Naked pictures also make me happy

  She smiled with evil delight. The only way to show him what life was like without a schedule was to trash today's schedule. And he'd just given her the perfect way to do it...

  She looked the document over one more time, making note of the events she could liven up. The conference call with the star beside it. The meeting with Beck about upcoming projects. The call--not going to call--call to Monica. Excitement building, Jessie Kay set reminders on her phone before making her way to Two Farms, the only fine-dining experience in town. Said no one. Ever. Well, except for Mr. Calbert, the owner. He said it all the freaking time.

  "Hey, Jessie Kay. Wait up."

  As she meandered along the sidewalk, Billy Johnson raced across the street to keep pace beside her. They were roughly the same age, and he was kinda cute...she thought she remembered making out with him at a party one night.

  "I just left Style Me Tender." He raked a hand through his newly shorn hair. "Daniel Porter and his dad were there."

  "That's not exactly headline news, Billy." Mr. Porter and Mr. Rodriguez, the owner of the salon, were best friends and always together.

  "Yeah, but Mr. Porter asked Daniel if you guys were dating, and he said you were just friends."

  "He didn't lie."

  "Glad to hear it...because I just bought a new truck and would love to take you for a ride."

  "Take you for a ride" had always been code for "have sex at Make Out Hill." He really thinks I'm that easy.

  I'll wait forever for you, Anna Grace.

  "Do me a favor and spread the word," she said through gritted teeth. "Jessie Kay Dillon has closed the candy store. And now, good day, sir."

  "But--"

  "I said good day, sir."

  As he sputtered for a response, she marched the rest of the way to the restaurant. A bell tinkled as she entered. The girls had beaten her there and snagged a booth in back. As she made her way over, she took in the wood paneling, the hand-carved tables and the cement floor painted to resemble marble.

  She and Brook Lynn had worked here for years--and yeah, okay, her sister had worked a lot harder than she ever had, and guilt still burned inside her for it. But... Jessie Kay had despised this place with every fiber of her being. Not because she'd disdained the work but because different guys had come in at different times, requesting her as a waitress. They'd heard she gave a little something extra to her customers, aka a good time. Her butt had received multiple pats a day and once or twice her breasts had been squeezed.

  Now, at least, she didn't feel as if she were choking on disappointment every time she entered.

  She hugged her sister, saying, "Fess up. You recently lost your temper, didn't you?" before
plopping in her seat.

  "I most certainly did not. And stop trying to distract me." Brook Lynn planted her elbows on the tabletop, letting her know the seriousness of the subject trumped proper etiquette. "What's this we hear about West moving in with you?"

  Oh. That.

  In unison, Kenna and Harlow said, "Yeah. Tell."

  "He showed up last night, desperate to escape the inconsiderate, horribly disgusting couples who can't keep their hands off each other. How could I say no?"

  Brook Lynn buffed her nails. "Haters gonna hate."

  Harlow leaned forward, expression a little too feral. "Are you guys sharing a room?"

  "No," she said, then sighed. "Not yet." After seeing him in nothing but a towel and a sardonic smile...

  My resistance is basically toast. Hot, buttered toast.

  A chorus of "ohhhs" erupted.

  "Oh, my gosh." Brook Lynn pressed her hands together and placed the steeple over her mouth. "You guys are going to get married and have a million babies, I just know it."

  Jessie Kay rolled her eyes. "We were bitter enemies and now we're friends who have admitted to a mutual attraction. That's as far as we've gone."

  A warm, buttered corn-bread muffin hit her in the chest, crumbs landing in her hair.

  "Hey!" she said, scanning the table for the culprit.

  "What about your ban on sex?" Kenna picked up another muffin, ready to launch it. "Last time we had lunch, you told us you'd decided to wait for a man who would love you the way your dad loved your mom. You told us to hit you with a crowbar if you started crushing on anyone inappropriate."

  "I even brought one." Harlow lifted a freaking crowbar. "I love West, but unless you get him to break the two-month date-and-dump cycle, I can't let you mess around with him."

  These girls were kneecap-breaking serious about protecting her heart.

  She might not have found the romantic love her parents had shared, but she had something just as good, if not better. The love of her friends.

  "No need to worry. West asked me to sleep with him, a onetime thing, and I said no." Her phone beeped, and she held up a finger, requesting a moment as she checked the screen. She smiled. Time to send Mr. West his first schedule-crushing picture.

  "Why are you smiling that like?" Kenna demanded. "I don't like it."

  She opened the camera app on her phone. "Why? Smiles represent happiness."

  "Except you look like an evil overlord who finally destroyed the world."