The Harder You Fall by Gena Showalter

  "Because I'm destroying West's carefully constructed world. Trust me. It's for his own good." She took a cleavage selfie and texted the photo to his phone.

  Better than a smiley face???

  Harlow gaped at her. "Did you just send him a picture of your chest?"

  "My very ample chest, yes." If he responded as she hoped, he would be extremely uncomfortable during his conference call, but he'd also look forward to something that wasn't on his precious schedule--seeing her again.

  Aaand sixty-three seconds later, a beep sounded.

  YOU'RE NOT WEARING A BRA???

  She laughed with pure glee.

  Another text came in.

  Come to my office. Now. In-person showings are better than pictures

  She typed: Can't. I'm busy. But maybe I'll send another pic later...

  Maybe he'd be so eager to see it that he'd pencil in a spontaneous call to her, just to beg that she hurry.

  "Uh-oh. She's got it bad," Kenna said.

  "I know! Isn't it great?" Brook Lynn beamed.

  "Know what you want to eat, ladies?" Melba Redus, an older waitress Jessie Kay had worked with in the past, arrived with notebook and pen in hand.

  "We sure do," Jessie Kay said, hopefully ending the conversation about West.

  The moment Melba marched off, Brook Lynn got them back on track. "We need to be sure you don't sabotage your own happiness. Or rush into something you shouldn't. So, we're going to make some lists."

  No. Please, no. Not Brook Lynn's infamous lists. Jessie Kay remembered the last one. A fun list consisting of gems like:

  Drink blue Gatorade out of a Windex bottle in front of strangers.

  Become Cinderella for a day.

  Solve a mystery.

  Her sister hadn't realized those strangers would call 911, thinking death was imminent. Or that being Cinderella would mean toiling in summer heat all day long rather than attending a glamorous ball. Or that the mystery would involve a missing orgasm.

  Wait. Maybe a few lists wouldn't be so bad.

  No. Bad Jessie Kay! "Here's a list," she said. "'Things I need. Number one. New friends.'" She tapped her chin. "Yeah, that covers it. I don't need to add anything else."

  Kenna wagged a finger at her. "Zip it, Dillon. This is happening."

  "Since you're so resistant to help," Brook Lynn said, "we'll only make one list. It will detail all the things West has to do for you before you can even consider sleeping with him. You'll thank us later."

  Save me. "Guys, lists are as bad as schedules."

  As the girls ignored her and bounced ideas off each other--he can't glance at other women while he's speaking with Jessie Kay, he must introduce her to work associates with pride, and he has to hold her close all night long without making a move on her--her phone rang. The screen displayed a number she didn't recognize.

  Grateful for the distraction, she answered. "Hello."

  "I'm calling for Jessica Dillon."

  A woman's voice, unfamiliar. "This is she." Right? That sounded weird. "This is her." And that sounded even worse. Whatever. "This is me. Jessie Kay."

  Her dreams of being an English teacher had long since crashed and burned. With good reason!

  "Hello, Miss Dillon. I'm Hilary Dumas, executive assistant to Monica Gentry."

  Monica Gentry. The woman West had brought to Harlow's wedding. Jessie Kay's fingers tightened around the cell, nearly cracking the plastic case.

  "Who is it?" Brook Lynn whispered.

  Monica, she mouthed. She and Monica--Monica and her?--had spoken for a few minutes before the ceremony, and they hadn't parted on the friendliest of terms.

  He asked me out. He's here with me. I don't appreciate the way you're looking at him.

  Maybe you should talk to him about the way he's looking at me, Jessie Kay had replied.

  Maybe I will, but right now I'm talking to you. Back off, or I'll make you regret it.

  A threat she'd accepted as her due after what had transpired in the cleaning closet.

  "We'd like to hire You've Got It Coming to cater our first company Christmas party," Hilary continued. A pause crackled over the line. "This Saturday."

  What! "I'm not the one in charge of bookings. And please tell me I misunderstood and your party is not a mere two days away."

  Around her, the girls went quiet and peered at her questioningly.

  "I was given your number and told to call you specifically. I'm sorry for the last-minute notice," Hilary said, "but we are willing to compensate you for the rush. And if you're interested, I can email or fax the details within the hour."

  Why Monica wanted to hire Jessie Kay specifically, well, she could guess, and the reason had nothing to do with You've Got It Coming's sterling reputation and starred reviews. Perhaps West had told her about his new living arrangement, and she hoped to threaten Jessie Kay again. Perhaps the brunette wanted to make another play for him. Either way, money was money, and Jessie Kay said, "If by compensating us for the rush you mean paying You've Got It Coming triple the usual fee, we're on board." Surely Brook Lynn would agree.

  Hilary accepted the price increase without hesitation, and the call ended soon after. Reeling, Jessie Kay explained the situation to the girls.

  "Oh, my gosh. We've got a thousand things to do." Brook Lynn bounced in her seat. "Man, I wish Mom and Dad were here to see what we've made of the business."

  Jessie Kay withered. Mom isn't here to see what you've made of the business because of me.

  For all the days of her life, Brook Lynn would be deprived of the woman's presence, support and guidance, and it was clear, so very clear, there'd never been a worse sister than Jessie Kay, never been a person more deserving of being severed from the root of what she loved most, the very person she'd hurt more than--

  "You stop that right now, Jessie Kay." Arms wrapped around her, drawing her in for a bear hug. "I mean it."

  Her face pressed against her sister's neck, her accelerated breathing gradually calming.

  "What happened to Mom was an accident. You have to stop carrying the blame."

  Brook Lynn had been there, but she hadn't seen everything go down. She knew the worst of the details only because Jessie Kay had told her one night while drinking, desperate for her sister to understand all the reasons she should hate her. But even then, Brook Lynn had supported her, only increasing her sense of guilt.

  She drew in a deep breath and straightened. Unable to meet the gazes of the other girls, she said, "All right. We have a lot of planning to do and only a short amount of time to do it. Let's get to work."

  *

  JESSIE KAY RAN errands the rest of the day, gathering everything she and Brook Lynn would need for Monica's party. She paused when necessary to send West texts of different parts of her body--her feet strapped in the high heels she'd tried on but hadn't bought at Vintage Rules, where You've Got It Coming purchased all their tablecloths, then the curve of her hip with the barest peek at her red lace undies, then her lips, puckered and ready for a kiss. The photos were a welcome distraction from her troubles.

  So was West. All three times, he responded with texts begging for more. Texts she ignored. Well, pretended to ignore. She thought of nothing else, and couldn't stop smiling.

  How could she have known teasing him would be so much fun--for her?

  She texted Daniel.

  Hate to do it but I'm canceling dinner & practice. 1) new catering job 2) West is now my soccer coach so practice has been upped to 6. 3) Practice will take place at my house & there's no room for spectators

  Daniel: No prob. Got word your "candy store" is closed so I was thinking about canceling on you anyway

  Like he really wanted her treats. As their friendship had grown, they'd developed a brother-sister vibe. Well, stepbrother and stepsister.

  Her phone vibrated. Daniel again.

  Hey, did I ever tell you West came to my house soon after we broke things off?

  Her: WHAT! He did? Why? TELL ME!
/>
  Daniel: Oh, oh, oh. What's this? Is someone a little too curious?

  Her: I'm currently at Strawberries & More. If you don't start spilling, I'll buy yeast infection cream & tell everyone it's for you but you're too embarrassed to buy it for yourself.

  Daniel: You play too rough. And so does he. He told me he'd kill me if I hurt you again & no one would ever find my savaged body

  But...but...that had happened back when she and West were on unfriendly terms, always snipping and snapping at each other.

  He'd been looking out for her, even then?

  Daniel: The guy can be nice one minute & cold-blooded the next. If you're into him, be careful

  Jessie Kay stuffed her phone in her coat pocket and snatched a cart to push down the aisles of the grocery store--she wasn't really at Strawberries & More but some health food store in the city. Brook Lynn had made another of her infamous lists, this one detailing all the items needed for the health-conscious hors d'oeuvres Monica insisted on serving. Some things Jessie Kay had never heard of. Oca? Romanesco? Tiger nut?

  Not even gonna look that last one up.

  Despite her unfamiliarity with the ingredients, she'd volunteered to do the shopping. There had been a time not so long ago when Brook Lynn wouldn't--shouldn't--have trusted her with such an important task, but those days were behind them, and it thrilled her. Plus, she'd come up with a way to shake up West's dinner plans, at the same time replacing his memory of floor-eating. And she couldn't wait to begin.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WEST READ OVER his schedule, frowned, then read over it again. How was this possible? He hadn't done half the things he'd planned to do. Not that anything had been pressing. He'd gotten off course sometime during lunch and never recovered. Never even realized it until now. He'd been too busy watching the clock.

  Speaking of, he glanced at the clock on his office wall. 5:16 p.m. Forty-four minutes until Jessie Kay's soccer lesson was set to begin. He'd expected to feel nothing but dread, but right now he hummed with sizzling anticipation.

  "What's this I hear about Jessie Kay closing a candy store?" Beck asked.

  West forced his focus on his friend, who plopped into the chair across from his desk. "I heard the same thing." Several guys had visited the office to ask him if he'd heard the bad news. Several women had visited, too, demanding to know if he was engaged to Jessie Kay.

  His reply? "We're in talks." Let them stew on that.

  He'd added, "Since Daniel is gay, he'd make a great bridesmaid, don't you think."

  Jase, who'd driven Brook Lynn to her lunch with the girls, perched in the chair next to Beck. "By the way, you were staring at the clock as if you wanted to hump it."

  "It's a sexy clock. A twelve on a scale of ten."

  "Please. That clock is a hard five, and you know it," Beck said.

  "I was going to say soft six," Jase said.

  "That's because you spent a decade behind bars. You're desperate."

  Jase barked out a laugh.

  How could the two joke so easily about Jase's incarceration?

  West scrubbed a hand down his face. "Today has been...different." He and Jessie Kay had flirted nonstop via text, ensuring he maintained a low-level arousal even while going about his business. He'd loved every second, even as he'd hated every second.

  His curiosity about her was now off the charts. What had shaped her into the woman she was? What had driven her to parties and men she'd known were bad for her? What had changed her?

  Bottom line. The girl had flat-out enchanted him.

  He did not use such a puss word like enchanted lightly.

  If they continued at this pace, they'd end up in bed sooner rather than later. And yeah, hell yeah, he wanted her there. He wanted her there more than he'd ever wanted anything. He wanted her naked, wet and willing. But the obstacles in their way hadn't miraculously vanished. His reasons for avoiding an entanglement with her hadn't changed.

  In fact, he now had another reason to add to the list. He would hurt her, and he would rather die than hurt her.

  So why hadn't he stopped flirting with her?

  Observe. Understand. Act.

  He couldn't understand and didn't want to act.

  "Wait. That's all we get?" Beck spread his arms, all dude, you mean Santa isn't real? "Today was different?"

  "That's right--that's all you get." His phone buzzed. Thanks to Jessie Kay's illicit photos, the sound now caused a Pavlovian response, his blood heating in an instant.

  Jessie Kay: Are you done w/ work? Can you come home now? I've got something to show you... J J J

  "I've got to go." He jumped to his feet. As his friends sputtered a response, he swiped up his briefcase and coat and strode out the door.

  He drove so fast he set speed records. He also broke speed limits.

  Sheriff Lintz pulled him over.

  The lawman braced his arms in West's open window, the brim of his Stetson pushed back, revealing a kind but weathered face. "What's got you in such an all-fired hurry, son?"

  "Just eager to get home." The truth, but not the whole truth. No need to start more rumors.

  "Heard you'd moved in with our Jessie Kay."

  "Yes, sir."

  Dark eyes crinkled at the corners as Sheriff Lintz smiled. "Well, then, I can't rightly blame you for speeding, she's a mighty fine woman, but do me a favor and set your cruise to fifty. That way I won't have to give you a ticket and Jessie Kay won't show up at the courthouse pretending to be a lawyer, raving about the injustice on our roadways--again."

  West tried not to smile. "Did she really?"

  "Only every time one of her friends got a ticket." Sheriff Lintz straightened and tapped the hood of the car. "Go on now. Get home to your girl."

  Your girl.

  The words felt so...right.

  West obeyed the limits the rest of the way home, but flew up the porch steps as if his feet were on fire. Unfortunately, the front door was locked, and he had yet to get a key. No matter. With a couple of paper clips he removed from the documents in his briefcase, he let himself inside, warm air greeting him. He'd paid an obscene amount of money for an electrician from the city to drive out here and fix the heater in the middle of the night, while Jessie Kay had slept peacefully.

  "Jessie Kay?"

  "In the kitchen," she called.

  He schooled his features to reveal only mild curiosity as he strode through the living room. In the kitchen...

  He stopped short. She kneeled on a blanket that had been spread across the floor, and she was smiling up at him, bowls of food surrounding her.

  "Surprise! We're having a picnic. Oh, and I made this just for you. A gift to celebrate our new friendship." She held out a single cupcake with checkered black-and-white frosting. An edible soccer ball. "It's cookies and cream, soon to be your new favorite thing in the world."

  She looked so eager, so uncertain, but even with a blanket, the floor was the floor and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jessie Kay, but I can't--"

  "Don't say no," she rushed out. "We're roommates now. We need to take time to get to know each other."

  "We can take time at the table. Tomorrow." No way he'd eat tonight's offering.

  Pouting, she set the cupcake on a plate. "Why put it off? Tomorrow you'll probably do something dumb--it's time to face facts, you're a guy so it's inevitable that you'll screw up--and then I'll refuse to speak to you ever again."

  "That's a risk I'm willing to take." It wasn't. It so wasn't.

  "Are you sure?" She reached up to trace her fingers over the collar of her shirt. A new one with buttons--the top three were unfastened, drawing his gaze to the most succulent cleavage he'd ever seen. Cleavage he hadn't been able to get out of his mind all day. "I'm amusing and charming and you'd miss me terribly."

  "This is true."

  "So, save us from an argument and sit down. Talk with me, eat with me, and I'll give you a reward."

  Every muscle in his body clenched. "What kind of reward?
"

  "You tell me. What do you crave?"

  You. To finish what they'd started at the wedding. Finally. Blessedly. His body hungered for hers.

  Too many obstacles...

  There was only one thing he wanted as much as he wanted this woman in his bed.

  "Your secrets," he said.

  She frowned. "I have no secrets worth sharing."

  "You do. I want to know everything about you."

  The color drained from her cheeks. "But...we've only just agreed to be friends."

  "And what better way to cement our friendship?"

  "I can think of several. But if it's secrets you want--"

  "It is."

  "--why don't I tell you about the time a goat chased me down Main Street?"

  "That's not a secret. I've heard the goat story from at least six people in town. Tell me the bad stuff. The things no one else knows."

  "But..."

  "Consider this a trust exercise. You'll fall, and I'll catch. Or I can go to my room and starve..." He took a step back.

  "Wait." Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. "Will you be sharing your secrets?"

  Would he? "If you insist."

  "I do."

  He nodded reluctantly. "Then so be it."

  "But I get to eat the cupcake and--"

  "My cupcake." He sat on the blanket before he could talk himself out of it, clasping the cupcake in a kung fu grip. "My gift."

  Gift. The word echoed through his mind. It was a gift. A gift she'd made just for him. In all the years of his life, he'd received only two others. A bike from one of the better foster families--not that he was allowed to keep it when he moved--and a pair of shoes from Jase and Beck when his old ones fell apart, his feet far too big for them.

  "Thank you," he grumbled. He had no idea how to moderate his voice as different emotions flooded him...drowned him.

  "You're welcome. Now. Let's get started, shall we?" She picked up a plate and began to stack different ingredients in the center. "Guess who's finally getting his sandwich. Hint: he thinks I'm the most beautiful woman in the world."

  No reason to deny it. "He does." West loosened his tie, kicked off his shoes and tried to act nonchalant as sweat broke out on the back of his neck. "Why a picnic?" As if he couldn't guess.

  This morning, he'd told her how he'd once been forced to eat off the floor. This was her way of easing the sting of the memory. A sweet gesture, but not one he really appreciated.

  "Here's a better question. Why not a picnic?" She handed him the plate of food and put together much smaller portions for herself. "We're not just roommates, we're friends. You said so. I picnic with my friends."