The Harder You Fall (22 page)

“You guys suck,” she muttered.

Both girls giggled as she flounced off. She stopped here and there to pick up fallen napkins and look over at West. He drew her gaze in a way no other man ever had, as if he were somehow connected to her.

Tie Whore was still at his side, but he'd clearly stopped listening to her. His eyes were hot on Jessie Kay, reminding her of a predator about to strike.

She shivered, liquid heat pouring through her.

He'd demand an answer, she thought, and he'd demand it soon.

* * *

J
ESSIE
K
AY
CURSED
. It was the butt-crack of dawn, the day after the party, and Brook Lynn was already blowing up her phone, here to collect her for their spa day. She'd stayed up way too late watching a movie with West. Well, pretending to watch a movie while her nerve endings wept for contact they never received.

Watch a chick flick with you just to see you smile.

Meanwhile, West, Jase and Beck would be playing—winning—a soccer game and enjoying time as best bros.

With a sigh, Jessie Kay rolled out of bed and grabbed her go-bag. A backpack stuffed with everything she might need in an emergency situation. A change of clothes, a box of baby wipes, a toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, an empty water bottle as well as a full water bottle, an Xbox 360 controller—just in case West offered to play a video game with her—a squeezable container of mustard, yellow dish gloves, a box of tampons, a six-pack of beer, one packet of instant coffee and a box of raw sugar packets. Plus the dress her sister demanded she bring.

On the drive to the spa, she brushed her teeth with the toothpaste and toothbrush and spit the suds in the empty water bottle. She cleaned her face and armpits with the baby wipes—a whore's bath, according to Momma—then changed out of her pajamas and into a wrinkled T-shirt that read “Zombies Only Love You for Your Brains” and a pair of sweatpants.

“So.” Kenna occupied the front passenger seat of Brook Lynn's brand-new SUV—a gift from Jase. She twisted to face Jessie Kay, who sat in the back next to Harlow, who held a jar of pickled okra. The breakfast of pregnant champions. “We've already talked to Harlow, asked her how she's doing—better, in case you hadn't guessed. Now we want to talk with you. Anything happen between you and West?”

“No. I stayed at the inn to clean up. He stayed and helped me, because he was my ride, then we went home and vegged out. We didn't really say anything to each other.”

What more was there to say, really? Other than “yes” or “no.”

“Did your bodies do the talking for you?” Brook Lynn wiggled her brows in the rearview mirror.

“I wish.” Her body hungered for that man in a bad, bad way.

The rest of the drive passed quickly, the slow pace of Strawberry Valley giving way to the hustle and bustle of the city. Brook Lynn parked in the spa's lot, and Jessie Kay glanced at her wristwatch. Right on time.

They made their way toward a metal warehouse.

“You sure we're in the right place?” Harlow asked.

“We'll find out.” Brook Lynn opened the front door, and Jessie Kay soared inside.

And oh, wow. Yeah. They were definitely in the right place. Perched in the middle of a luxurious lobby was a large waterfall fountain, a marble mermaid resting on the top tier and colorful seashells on all the others. Soft red carpet pillowed her feet, and the plush black chairs pushed against the walls beckoned the weary to relax.

A well-dressed twentysomething greeted them with a bright smile before showing them to a locker room, where they stripped, showered and donned white robes. Afterward, they were ushered into a smallish room in back.

“This is where you'll prepare for the magnificence to come.” With that, the receptionist—hostess?—was gone.

The only place to sit was the floor, where pillows and cushions were scattered around a blazing fire pit. A light mist that smelled of honey and sunflowers drifted from an array of vents above, the droplets heated by the fire as they fell. Soft music played in the background.

“So... I've been holding out on y'all.” Jessie Kay held her hands toward the fire. “West asked me to be his next two-month date-and-dump for the next
five
years. And don't ask me why there's a time limit. I won't say.” Betraying his confidence wasn't something she would ever willingly do, even for advice. “Anyway. I don't know what to tell him.”

“First off, we need more deets. Are we offended or happy on your behalf?” Kenna asked.

“Neither. Both. Oh, I don't know. Needless to say, he's offered me more than he's ever offered another.”

What would Mom say?

Do you want the whole enchilada or only a nibble?

Did she really need to think about the answer? “But if I do it,” she added with a sigh, “heck, even if I don't, I'll want more from him. I
do
want more. I want everything.”

Harlow reached over and patted her hand. “Trust me. I understand your dilemma. I've read more romance novels than you can possibly imagine. They've featured rakes and rogues and alpha douche bags. And let's not forget my real-life application. I bagged Beck, the one-night-stand king, after he offered me only twelve hours in his bed.”

But look at her now, the epicenter of Beck's world. Could Jessie Kay, the girl no guy had ever kept for more than a handful of weeks, pull off that kind of miracle? Could she win the guy no other woman could tame? Well, no other living woman.

If she were being honest with herself, she would admit...she wanted to try. Desire for West lived in her bones, and it wasn't going away, was only growing stronger. But oh, the fear of failure was entrenched in her
soul
.

See! Fear shackled.

“So far I haven't heard any advice,” Jessie Kay said. “Go ahead. Amaze me.”

“You'd actually trust my advice?” Brook Lynn asked. “You never have before.”

“You've always been like a grandmother to me. Of course I'd trust your advice.”

Brook Lynn rolled her eyes. “I don't think you need advice. I think you need...drumroll please...a pros and cons list.”

“What! No! Absolutely not.” Jessie Kay shook her head, adamant. “Your last list—”

“Was excellent,” Harlow said.

“Was something every woman should expect from her forever man,” Kenna agreed.

“Read by West,” Jessie Kay finished.

“Good.” Brook Lynn brushed her hands together, clearly considering the job well done. “Men do better when they have a user's guide.”

Yeah, but did the list ask too much from him? Or did it not ask for enough?

“I owe West an answer,” she said, “and I've already gone over a pros and cons list in my head. Like, a thousand times. What if I make the wrong decision? What if I ruin everything? What if he breaks my heart? Oh, my gosh, what if—”

Crack.

Brook Lynn's palm connected with Jessie Kay's cheek. The slap, though gentle, stung a little, and she glared at her sister. “What was that for? And did I just win our bet?”

“No way. I was calm and helpful.” Brook Lynn settled back against her pillow. “You were starting to panic and I had to act fast. You're welcome.”

Ugh. Those stupid panic attacks.

“I remember the good ole days when you two would throw each other on the ground and box it out,” Kenna said wishfully.

“Have I mentioned you guys suck?” Jessie Kay muttered.

“Look,” Brook Lynn said. “We saw the way he held you yesterday. You mean something to him. You mean
a lot
to him. But that doesn't matter if you don't mean
enough
.”

Good point. Depressing point.

Her shoulders slumped in. This wasn't the kind of advice she'd expected the girls to give her. Where were the old classics?
If anyone can win him, Jessie Kay, it's you. Just give him a little more time.

Kenna reached over and patted her hand. “If you're living in limbo while you wait for the guy you want to give you everything else you want, you're doing nothing but eroding your self-esteem. I love West. I do. But I also love you, and I want the best for you. You have to make a decision. Do you settle? Or do you walk away?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

W
EST
WAITED
IN
the lobby of the spa...
impatient
. Jase, Beck and Dane flanked him, and their big bodies ate up every bit of space, making him think the four of them were taller and wider than the people who normally visited the place, because damn. Sardine, anyone?

Wouldn't have been so bad if the receptionist hadn't stared at West as if he was a circus bear in a tutu.

“You're Lincoln West,” she finally said. “I
just
saw your picture in this morning's edition of
Other Worlds Daily
.”

Ah. About an hour ago, a reporter—Dan something—had emailed him a link to a story on the website.

Title:
Game On.

First line:

Lincoln West, creator of some of our most beloved video games, is a man of wealth and renown, and like the characters he brings to life, he has his choice of lovely ladies—it looks like he's finally chosen.

There'd been pictures of him at the party, several of him mingling with his friends. More of him with Jessie Kay, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his attention so intently focused on her it was obvious the rest of the world had ceased to exist for him. Seeing his desire for her so blatantly displayed had left him reeling. Would have scared the shit out of him...if he hadn't seen
her
desire for
him
just as clearly.

He'd printed the photos and planned to frame them.

There'd even been a few pictures of him with the brunette who'd cornered him and put a death grip on his tie. She'd asked multiple questions about his current workload, almost panicking every time he tried to walk away. Which now made sense. She, too, was a reporter, at the party only for a story.

“Can I have your autograph?” the receptionist asked.

“Sure.” He signed a blank piece of paper.

“How much longer?” Beck shifted from one foot to the other, unable to hide his impatience.

“Just a few more minutes.” She smiled at West. “They're dressing.”

While Jase had arranged for the girls to be pampered, West had insisted on paying Jessie Kay's part of the bill. He loved Jase, would die for him and even kill for him, but there was no way in hell his friend's money would finance anything having to do with Jessie Kay. West's sense of possession simply wouldn't allow it.
She's mine.

Whether they were together or not.

And, really, he liked the thought of money he'd earned paying for things that would make her happy. He'd had a freaking hard-on when he'd given her the key to her new car.

“I should have selected a spa in Strawberry Valley,” Jase muttered. “At the very least, Mr. Rodriguez could have given the girls a trim, and we could have collected them an hour later.”

“Rodriguez specializes in buzz cuts,” West reminded him.

“Your point?”

“Hate to break it to you, but you're both amateurs.” Beck gave them both a pitying frown. “You don't hand your girl to someone else. You draw her a bubble bath, light some candles, paint her toenails, and suddenly you're the best thing to ever happen to her—and you never had to leave your bedroom.”

I wish
. But the day of pampering had been necessary, and wouldn't end here at the spa. The guys—West included—had used the time apart to plan romantic dates for the girls.

Jase would be taking Brook Lynn on a hot-air-balloon ride. Beck would be taking Harlow to a book signing for some bestselling romance author, and Dane would be flying Kenna to LA to pick a new sword for her collection—like Brook Lynn, she believed the zombie apocalypse would kick off any day. West would be taking Jessie Kay to a candle-lit dinner. Their first date.

They had unfinished business.

Minutes ticked by, his anticipation only growing. Finally the girls filed into the lobby, squealing as they spotted their men. Jessie Kay gazed about excitedly, though warily, stopping when she found him. At the moment of connection, awareness jolted him.

With her, awareness
always
jolted him.

Golden waves tumbled to her elbows. Her makeup had been lightly applied, but her eyes were now smoky and heavy-lidded. Her skin glowed the most delicious shades of bronze and pink...an erotic flush he would kill to taste. Her dress was angelic white, flowing and loose, wickedly short.
Teasing me...

A backpack was slung over her shoulder, completely at odds with the elegance of the dress. So Jessie Kay.

Smiling, he offered his hand to her. She hesitated a moment—a hesitation he understood...this thing between them was too strong, too powerful—nibbling on her bottom lip. Finally she closed the distance and twined her fingers with his.

He kissed her knuckles. “You, kitten, are exquisite.”

Goose bumps broke out over her skin. “And you, sugar bear, are a dream come true.” Her navy blues swept over his suit and tie and heated. She straightened the tie, saying, “I wasn't going to ask, but I've decided what the heck. Who was the girl last night?”

“A reporter. Congrats. We made the front page of a digital paper.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He withdrew his phone and keyed the article.

A little laugh escaped her as she read, a sensual stroke along his senses. “Dang, I rocked that uniform, didn't I. No wonder you wanted to bang me.”

He bent down to run her earlobe through his teeth. “Want. Present tense.”

Her breath hitched. “I met the guy who wrote this. Well, I spilled drinks on him. He asked if we were dating.”

“What did you tell him?”

“No comment.”

“You can tell me,” he insisted. “I won't be mad.” As long as she'd told the guy they were, in fact,
something
to each other.

“I just did, dummy. I told him I had no comment for him.”

“Ah.” Well, it was better than the alternative. “You ready to go?”

“You're absconding with me?”

“Definitely. Guys,” he announced. “We're heading out.”

Beck patted his shoulder. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

“You do know you just told him it's okay to do every dirty, freaky fantasy he's ever had, right?” Jessie Kay winked at her sister and waved goodbye to the group. As West led her outside, she muttered, “Oh, crap! The cold!”

He draped his jacket over her shoulders, then opened the car door for her.

“I've been meaning to ask,” she said as he settled in his seat. “Have you heard from Monica lately?”

“No. Why?” He turned the heater to high and turned the vents in her direction. “Has she contacted you?”

“No. Maybe. I don't know. During my massage, I received eighteen calls from an unknown number. I answered the first few—and I don't need a lecture about forgetting phones to achieve proper relaxation, the masseuse already gave me a good one—but no one ever said anything, and I began to wonder if crazypants was the culprit.”

His hands tightened on the wheel. “I'll find out.” He had ways. “You don't need to worry about her showing up at our place.”
Our place.
He liked those words. “I have someone monitoring her 24/7 now.”

Her eyes went wide. “First, I wasn't worried. Second, you are paying someone to
follow
her around?”

“I don't take your safety lightly, Jessie Kay.” A fact she'd have to accept. In this, he wouldn't back down. “If ever she calls and says anything, let me know immediately. Or maybe we should change your phone number.” Maybe he should add an app that allowed him to track incoming calls, private number or not.

“But why? I mean, not the part about changing my number.” Her voice was small, filled with uncertainty. “Why am I so special to you? Were you like this with any of your other girlfriends?”

“Only with Tessa.” He knew Jessie Kay and he knew her insecurities—her personal demons—were coming out to play right now. Through experience, he knew some days were better than others, some battles easier than others. “Kitten, you are special to me because you
are
special. It's as simple as that.”

Features growing soft, luminous, she asked, “Do I remind you of her or something?”

“No. Not in the slightest.”

She shifted, the hem of her dress riding up, revealing more of her succulent thighs, making his blood heat—and his shaft press against his zipper. “Tell me about her.”

A command he would have refused if it had come from anyone else. But this was Jessie Kay, his greatest peace and his sweetest torment; they'd already shared so much with each other. Why not everything else? “I met Tessa not long after I met Beck and Jase. The three of us were assigned to the same foster home, and she lived down the street. We were young, not even teenagers. She was outside playing with her friends, and when a beam of sunlight hit her, I swore she was an angel come to save me.”

“Love at first sight.”

“Yeah, but I didn't know it at the time. I didn't exactly feel romantic toward girls yet. They had cooties. But she was fun and I liked her. When I moved to my next home, I stayed in contact with her, wrote her letters. Then, when I was sixteen, Beck, Jase and I pooled our resources to buy a car and I went to see her. We were together from that day on.”

“That kind of devotion is so rare,” she said, a wistful edge to her tone. “It's precious. A real treasure.”

He would be just as devoted to her. If she asked for the moon and stars, he would do everything in his power to procure both. But the time constraint he'd placed on their relationship... He'd never before resented his need to contain his happiness to short bursts, living in misery the rest of the year, but he hated it now.

“Tessa was incredibly smart—” he continued.

“Hey! I'm smart!” A pause. “Sometimes.”

“You're smart
all the time
. When I said you two were nothing alike, I meant in looks and temperament, nothing else.”

She nodded, satisfied. “Just so you know, you saved yourself from a beating.”

He fought a smile. “Her family placed little importance on education and she ended up dropping out her senior year of high school.” Amusement gone in a blink, his next words contained an edge. “She was never diagnosed, but I think she was bipolar. She had days of manic happiness, and days—weeks—of severe depression. Her emotions were a roller coaster.”

“Um, don't take this the wrong way, but she sounds a little difficult. What made you stay with her? Love isn't always enough.”

“The days she was happy, she glowed. She would laugh and dance and play. She could make
me
laugh, and for a little while I'd actually feel like the kid I was supposed to be, something no one else had ever done for me.” And maybe
he'd
suffered from white-knight syndrome. If he could save her, the way he'd failed to save his mom, he would be worthy of happiness.

Another pause, this one thick with tension. “How do
I
make you feel?”

“Crazy.” When she stiffened, he reached over, took her hand. “Impossibly hard. Wild. Unsure. Young again. Impossibly hard. Hungry. Calm.
Impossibly hard.
In other words...crazy.”

She tightened her grip on him. They remained silent—and connected—the rest of the drive. He wondered what thoughts rolled through her mind but knew guessing would do him no good. She was a complex woman who possessed a logic he was only just coming to understand. She was a wealth of contradictions—independent but starved for affection, as tough as stone and yet as soft as marshmallows. Both things he lo—

Liked
about her. Only liked.

The restaurant he'd chosen happened to be located in the middle of a historic hotel. The black-and-white marble floor mesmerized. Towering columns at every doorway enchanted, and a tin ceiling awed, reflecting light from two massive chandeliers.

“A hotel? A little presumptuous.” Jessie Kay gave his shoulder a teasing bump. “But not exactly unwelcome.”

“I'm a lot
hopeful
. But we're not here for a room. When I finally get you into bed, it'll be my own.” And they wouldn't leave for days. Maybe weeks.

Her breath caught, a sensual reaction, one that fueled his own, making him harden painfully—pretty much a constant state now.

“This is our first real date,” he said. “It could be the start of something great, and I hope our surroundings reflect that.”

“West,” she said softly, reaching out to trace her fingertips over the shell of his ear. “I hereby dub you Most Romantic Man Ever.”

He nuzzled her cheek. “Only with you.”

“You aren't crazy—you're crazy for
me
.”

A hostess interrupted them, almost earning a snarl from him when Jessie Kay dropped her arm to her side. The girl led them through a spacious room lit by hundreds of candles. The dark walls and carpet only added to the dim, dreamlike feel. As he'd requested when he called to make the reservation, their table was in a corner in back, as far away from other guests as possible.

He ordered the oldest red for Jessie Kay, despite her protests.

“Jase and Beck will drink in front of me, but only occasionally, and they're always uncomfortable about it. I don't want my hang-ups to deprive you of something you enjoy.”

“All right, but no wine. Gross. This girl likes whiskey, scotch and bourbon.”

He changed the order and as she sipped her whiskey, he sipped his water, leaning back in his chair to study the woman he was so determined to have. The soft, luminous candlelight looked good on her. But then, everything did.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asked.

“I've been in love with the idea of love.”

“No special man?”