The Hotter You Burn Read online

  "I'm sorry for your loss. I'm also sorry you did what you did. I liked the images and hoped to preserve them, but you'd made sure nothing could be salvaged."

  The words shocked her. "You actually liked my art?"

  "You painted them?"

  "Well, yeah. Why so surprised?"

  He paid no heed to her question, saying, "Your talent is amazing, honey."

  "Thank you." Glowing at his praise, Harlow took in the rest of the bedroom. "I never would have guessed you were a fan. I mean, you decided to go with beige walls."

  "You don't like beige?"

  "Beige is boring."

  "The house I lived in before this one had beige walls."

  "And now you can't live with a little color?"

  A flash of annoyance in those golden eyes, quickly replaced with the flirtatious glint she was so used to seeing. "Did you see my sheets? They're blue."

  Will not look at the bed.

  "Why don't you take a shower and relax?" he said. "There are towels in the cabinet by the tub and clean clothes next to the sink. And, honey? If you crawl out the window, I will hunt you down. You won't like what happens afterward." He paused, smiled slowly, wickedly. "Or maybe you'll like it a little too much."

  How embarrassing. He knew the effect he had on her. "Beck--"

  "Shower." He shut the door, sealing her inside.

  Fine. She made her way into the bathroom. Once upon a time, the walls had been tiled in pink, her favorite color. Now everything was white, black and chrome: sleek and sexy for a modern man. But the changes didn't bother her so much anymore. Maybe because they reminded her of Beck.

  She brushed her teeth once, twice for good measure, then stripped and stepped under the hot spray of the shower. Steam filled the air, the scent of Beck--masculine and sultry--joining it as she shampooed and conditioned her hair. She'd gotten used to cold showers, having to sneak them from the outdoor hoses of nearby homes after the owners sped off to work, and she'd come to prefer them. At least, that's what she'd told herself. Here, now, she admitted she'd only been fooling herself, trying to make herself feel better about her situation.

  While the water continued to rain on her, she settled on the stall's black-and-white floor. Would Beck want to chat with her when she finished? Yeah. Would he kick her off the land for good?

  He had every right to do so, but...but... Hot tears scalded her eyes. Why couldn't things go her way for once? Just once?

  *

  BECK PACED IN the living room, trying not to picture Harlow naked, soap and water trickling over miles of delectable skin he would sell his soul to touch. Trying, and failing. He wanted his hands on her, doing things. Bad things. Sweet things. Making her squirm and gasp and beg for more. Always more.

  The desires were heightened, just like his reactions to her. But then, anger he'd rarely ever allowed himself to feel had burned away what remained of his restraint. Harlow lived as she did to punish herself, whether she realized it or not, and that crap ended today.

  From now on, she would know only pleasure.

  For the first time in his life, he craved a specific woman, and no one else would do until his desires for her were sated. Another change, one that bothered him, but not enough to stop him. He wanted her, she wanted him, and so he would have her.

  "She here?" Jase asked as he entered the room.

  "Yeah. Did you find out what crimes she supposedly committed as a teen?" Last night, after a little prompting from Beck, Jase had done his bro-duty and questioned his girlfriend in-depth about Harlow's past.

  "Typical bully stuff. Called people awful names, made fun of them, made them cry. Stole boyfriends from other girls, only to dump the guys soon after. Everything stopped halfway through her junior year when she dropped out."

  "Why, exactly, did she drop out?"

  "Brook Lynn didn't know. No one does, apparently."

  Something must have happened to her. Kids didn't just drop out for grins and giggles. Especially the ones who ruled the school with an iron fist.

  "You want me to hire someone to look into what happened to her?" Jase asked.

  "Already done." He'd made the call last night.

  "Yeah, but your people aren't my people. My guys will look places yours don't even know about."

  Illegal places. "I don't want to go there." He trusted Jase, but he didn't want Harlow brought to anyone else's attention. "But thank you."

  "Not a problem. Just let me know if you change your mind."

  "Will do." Pipes whined, signaling the shower had just been shut off. He had to tamp down his excitement. "I know Jessie Kay is on her way over to help Brook Lynn with her sandwiches, but have your girl call her and tell her to cage the rage. No name-calling. No insulting." Seeing the way Jessie Kay and Sunny had gone for Harlow's throat yesterday had sharpened his shiny new protective instincts into razors. "If Jessie Kay can't manage civil, she needs to stay away from Harlow."

  "You're putting me in the middle of a shit storm, my friend. You know that, right?"

  "I do, and I'm sorry." He hated asking Jase for anything. "I'm also grateful."

  "Hey, I wasn't complaining," Jase said with a grin. "I like make-up sex."

  "Then I guess you owe me."

  Jase snorted and strode from the room. Right on time. The faint pitter-patter of bare feet echoed from the wood floor. Harlow rounded the corner--and Beck reacted as if he'd just been kicked in the gut.

  Her fingers twisted in the hem of her shirt, a nervous gesture. For what he had planned, she should be very nervous.

  Wet hair clung to her neck and arms. Her white T-shirt was damp in spots, revealing the outline of her lacy crimson bra. He'd had to guess her size: small, but perfect.

  He couldn't wait to get the little plums in his hands.

  The shorts she wore had been cut from his most comfortable sweatpants, revealing mile-long legs that would wrap around his waist and hold on tight till the end of the ride.

  "Have a seat," he said, motioning to the couch.

  She shifted from one foot to the other, remaining in place. "Beck, I don't want to talk about my past."

  "Then you won't." Again he motioned to the couch. "Sit. Please."

  Frowning, she walked over and eased down. He settled in the chair across from her, wanting distance, hell, needing it to clear his head. But it didn't help. Her scent had changed subtly, the strawberries now dusted with sandalwood, saturating the air, filling his nose, going straight to his head--and his groin.

  "Whether you want to or not, we are going to talk about your future. You, Harlow Glass, work for WOH Industries, effective immediately." Yet another change. Too much, too fast, like everything else about her, and enough to make his head spin. But there was no better way to take care of her and keep her close.

  "Wait." She shook her head, as if she were certain she'd misheard him. "Come again."

  "Your talent is incomparable. Which is why--"

  "But you've only seen my ruined murals. How do you know my talent is incomparable?"

  "I can't believe you have to ask. While your superpower is painting, mine is X-ray vision. I saw beneath the splatters to the bones of the picture." And, okay, there were photos of her amazing work in the box. "May I continue now?"

  She nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded.

  "You are going to design the sets and characters West uses in his games. You'll do it on paper, which he will then scan digitally. An RV will be delivered to my front yard later today, and you will live in it. A signing bonus for your services, one I would give to anyone I hired." Probably. "We don't always work normal hours."

  "But...but...you haven't even seen my resume. Which, to be fair, I submitted to one of your assistants when you first opened up shop here."

  "The assistant stayed long enough to hire a receptionist from Strawberry Valley, not an artist. And I don't need to see your resume. Your work speaks for itself." When she continued to gape at him, he decided to forge ahead. "Say thank you, but don't
make the mistake of thinking your job will be easy. You will be at our beck and call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If we want you to draw a character sketch at two in the morning, you will."

  "Do you even need an artist on staff?"

  "Yes. West works way too much, and constantly recruiting freelancers takes a ton of time. This will take a major burden off his shoulders."

  "So why haven't you hired an artist before today?"

  Rather than admitting the truth--new hires usually gave him hives--he said, "Maybe I hadn't found the right slave. I mean, the right person yet."

  Her lips twitched at the corners, as he'd intended.

  Then the slam of a car door registered, and she stiffened. "Expecting company?"

  "Just Jessie Kay."

  The color drained from Harlow's cheeks. "She's going to be so mad I'm here. I should probably sneak out the back before you're forced to break up a catfight."

  "First, I would never break up a catfight. I would watch it. Second, don't be silly. This isn't her house, and you're my guest. She'll deal."

  The awe she leveled at him made him uncomfortable--and hot as hell.

  Jessie Kay stopped to glare at Harlow, then at Beck. Then she beat feet to the kitchen, calling, "Brook Lynn. Let's get to cookin' before I put a brick through a window."

  The stiffness gradually abandoned Harlow. "Well. That went better than I expected."

  A shirtless, sweaty West charged out of the workout room, and there was no need to guess why. He'd hoped to catch a glance of Jessie Kay.

  West was like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet around that girl. Problem was, he refused to buy a ticket to the meal.

  Upon first arriving in Strawberry Valley, Beck had asked her out, slept with her, and when they parted on friendly terms, she ended up hooking up with Jase. Another one-time deal, but the damage had been done. To West, whose attraction to her had only developed after Beck and Jase's association with her, the statute of limitations would never run out. She was forever off-limits.

  "Hi, West," Harlow said, smiling and waving at the guy. "We haven't been officially introduced. I'm Harlow Glass, and I would love a chance to get to know you. Join me? I'm certain Beck was just about to leave."

  Excuse me? "I wasn't."

  She flushed but didn't rescind her flirtatious invitation.

  West glanced between them before smiling and walking over. "Well. This should be interesting."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HARLOW PRETENDED TO sink more comfortably into the couch as West eased beside Beck. Meanwhile, she wasn't freaking comfortable. This might just be the most nerve-racking experience of her life. The man she wanted to want was side by side with the man she shouldn't want, the first watching her with amusement she didn't understand, the other with an angry glower she didn't appreciate.

  Trying to dredge up the confidence she'd had before the scarring incident, she batted her lashes at West. According to the seduction book, she had to be bold, and she couldn't be afraid to show interest. She had to let the object of her affections know he had a chance with her, and just how far she would go to be with him.

  "Tell me about yourself," she said with a forced smile. "I'm interested in every detail, and I would enjoy nothing more than sitting here and listening."

  Beck gave his friend's shoulder a hard shove. "All right. You are now officially dismissed."

  West leaned back, crossing his arms at his middle and an ankle over a knee. "Why would I leave? My schedule is wide-open right now, and I've got a past to unveil."

  Beck ran his tongue over his teeth and focused more intently on Harlow. "A new company policy has just been instated. No flirting with the staff. Ever."

  "But I wasn't flirting." Trying to flirt would be a more accurate description. "Learning about my new employer will give me an idea about what to expect on the job." The one at WOH now, and later the one as West's (possible) forever girlfriend.

  "Since it's for the job I just hired you for..." Beck shifted, his knee brushing against hers, making her gasp. "How about I tell you all about me?"

  "You? Talk about yourself?" Her breathless tone embarrassed her, but she continued anyway. "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Yes, Beck," West said, no longer fighting the smile. "Go ahead and tell us all about your life. We are figuratively dying of curiosity."

  A soft animallike growl rose from Beck, the intensity of it baffling her. "Aren't you needed elsewhere, Westley?"

  What was his deal? He was acting like a jealous boyfriend who'd--

  She fought another gasp, this one steeped in shock. Was he jealous?

  No. No, of course not. As a one-and-done man, such an emotion was beneath him. Right?

  "Schedule's wide-open, remember?" West rubbed his hands together. "Start with your first memory as a child and end with your secret crush on--"

  "Go." Beck pointed toward the door.

  "Me," West finished with an outright laugh. He tried to cover the sound with a cough, then glanced at his wristwatch. "Well. I might have overstated my availability." He cleared his throat and stood, already walking away. "I think I hear-- What's that, Jase?" he called, though no one had said anything. "You need me? No problem. I'm on my way." He paused in the doorway to wink at Harlow. "We'll have to do this again sometime."

  "Yes, please." Had it been love at first sight? No. Was it a romance in the making? Maybe. As far as first interactions went, it wasn't the worst she'd ever had. Go, me!

  Beck peered at her for a long while, silent and brooding. "Want to tell me what that was about?"

  "No, actually, I don't." He would just rat her out to West, maybe even warn him away.

  The purr of a very large engine registered, followed by the sound of crunching gravel. Through the crack in the curtains, she caught a glimpse of a brand-new, luxurious RV. Beck had been dead serious about the signing bonus.

  Tides of excitement boosted her to her feet. "That's really mine? No matter what?"

  "Are you accepting my job offer?"

  And see her dream of becoming a paid artist come true at last? "Yes!"

  He slowly unfolded from his seat, towering over her, both menacing and protective. "Then it's yours. No matter what."

  "Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you, Beck." She wanted to hug him. She wanted to climb him like a mountain. She settled for patting his shoulder. "I will be forever grateful."

  His gaze locked with hers, flames practically dancing in those golden irises. "I don't want your gratitude, Harlow."

  The rough tone of his voice made her breath catch. She waited, staring up at him as her heart drummed out of control, but he never told her what he did want.

  *

  HARLOW MARVELED. In a single day, her world had been dumped upside down and turned inside out. Again.

  After months of sleeping in a patchwork tent, she'd finally slept in a real bed, utter softness enveloping her. She'd taken a hot shower in a bathroom all her own, lingering until the steam died out. She'd eaten her fill anytime a hunger pang hit, and had drunk a tall glass of juice anytime her mouth went dry.

  Life was suddenly, amazingly perfect, and in the bright light of the new morning, sprawled in her new bed in her new RV, she laughed. The queen-size bed consumed the back of the vehicle, the sheets a decadent caress against her skin. No more fearing the coming winter, warmed by old clothes, ratty blankets others had discarded, fires she'd started, and finicky rays of the sun.

  A brand-new cell phone rested on the nightstand. An actual phone with apps and everything. The fridge was fully stocked, even though she'd devoured enough food to feed an army.

  She lacked only one thing. Someone to share her good fortune.

  She imagined Beck lying beside her, his strong arms embracing her, his warm breath tickling her hair, and tendrils of electric heat curled around her. Silly Harlow. He might be her benefactor, but there was no white knight lurking underneath his beautiful he-slut shell. He was temporary. She was for
ever.

  "Knock, knock," the male in question said as he entered the RV without knocking. "Rise and shine, thornbush."

  "Thornbush?" She sat up, not bothering to clutch the comforter to her chest. She'd fallen asleep with her clothes on, for which she was suddenly grateful. Seeing him set off a chain reaction of sensations inside her. Tingles along her flesh, a conflagration in her veins, both stealing the air from her lungs.

  "I'm trying out different nicknames until I find the one that works for you," he said with a shrug.

  "What's wrong with the usual honey and sweetheart?"

  "They don't fit you."

  Wow. Okay. Talk about a major punch in the gut. But she sucked it up and offered him the brightest smile she could manage.

  He rolled his eyes. "It's a good thing. You're memorable. The others were not."

  Oh.

  "Well, here's an idea," she said in an effort to mask her delight. "Try Harlow. It's easy. Say it with me, Harrr-looow."

  "Hayyy-booow."

  She giggled. He laughed, then held out two paper coffee cups, the scent of caffeine, sugar and cream wafting from the rims. "You want one?"

  "Yes!"

  He placed both on the granite countertop in the small kitchenette. Just out of her reach. A clear incentive to "rise and shine."

  "You are a cruel, cruel man."

  "I do what I must." He propped his shoulder against the frame of the open doorway, looking inhumanly beautiful in a dark pin-striped suit, his hair brushed back from his face, a slight glint of stubble on his jaw.

  My heartbeat is not quickening. My blood is cooling, not growing hotter.

  "This is your first day working for me," he said.

  "You mean for WOH Industries."

  "No. I mean me." He arched a brow, daring her to contradict him a second time. "Are you nervous?"

  "Hardly."

  "You should be. Your boss will yell at you if you're late."

  "You're my boss and my ride."

  "Exactly. I'm always late."

  There would be no understanding him today. Noted.

  "Before we head off, I should probably go over the ground rules." He didn't give her a chance to respond. "At the office, I'll call you Miss Glass. You will call me Mr. Ockley." A gleam of mirth brightened his expression, somehow doing the impossible and making him more beautiful. "Or you may call me sir. Yes, definitely go with sir."

  "No way. We are not part of an erotica novel," she said.