Every nerve ending Harlow possessed jolted in sudden awareness.

"Kimberly, honey." He used his most devastating tone, p.r.i.c.king Harlow's hackles. "I need a moment alone with Miss Gla.s.s." He waited at the door, holding it open. "If you'll excuse us..."

"Of course." Kimberly cast Harlow an encouraging smile before pushing to her feet and walking to the door.

"I think you've gotten what you need for the day," Beck told her. "Why don't you head out? I'll pick you up at seven."

The moisture in Harlow's mouth dried. "Seven?"

"For our date," Beck replied.

Kimberly's gaze darted to Harlow. "I, uh, really need to talk to you about that, Beck."

"I'm afraid that's gonna have to wait, honey. My meeting with Miss Gla.s.s is urgent." He gave her a gentle push from the room and shut the door.

"Date?" Harlow croaked.

His features were blank, revealing nothing. "Earlier today she asked me out. I said yes."

"She's sweet," she said, her voice hollow. "You'll have a great time."

"I don't want to talk about her." He claimed the spot Kimberly had vacated, and Harlow felt a stab of something dark inside her, not liking the fact that the girl's lingering body heat now radiated around him. "I noticed you've been wearing your new clothes, but only the same ones over and over, and not any of the others." He draped an arm over the top of the couch and leaned back, a pose of rugged relaxation and total seduction. With so many gla.s.s walls and windows, sunlight was able to stream inside, catching on the rich hues of his hair. "Why?"

Her fingers automatically sought her scars, tracing, tracing. "They're too revealing."

One corner of his mouth curved into an adorable lopsided smile. "Why, Miss Gla.s.s. Are you a bit of a prude?"

When it came to the hideous marks on her body? "Yes, sir. I am."

"Well, now. That surprises me."

"Why exactly does that surprise you?" She'd resisted his allure at every turn. He should wonder if she wore a chast.i.ty belt.

"You're beautiful. I want to see you draped in beautiful things. That's all."

Reeling...

Suddenly agitated, as if he'd revealed too much, he stood and strode to the wet bar in the far right corner, where he poured himself three fingers of whiskey. "So. The reason I'm here. West has been hired to design yet another new computer game."

Okay. All right. Time to get down to business. "Congratulations are in order, then."

"Yes, but there's no time for a party. I'm in the process of composing a cast of characters for you."

Excitement sparked. "Could you hurry? I mean, I'm not complaining, but I finished the last drawing you requested days ago." And she'd been itching to create another.

"I'll have it done later today. I was also thinking I would have paints, brushes and canvas delivered to the RV. I'd like to hire you to paint my portrait."

She almost bounced out of her seat, but caught herself with a single thought. Can't appear too hasty. "Okay," she said, playing with the edge of a piece of paper. "If you insist. And if the price is right." She'd drawn countless images of him, but the thought of painting him to scale and seeing him in full color intoxicated her. She could play with different shades of gold, brown and bronze, and even a wealth of greens to get the emerald flecks hidden so deeply in his eyes just right.

Maybe Kimberly had nailed it. Maybe Harlow had stared at Beck for reasons that had nothing to do with the job.

"Name a figure." He slowly, leisurely, walked back to the couch and eased down, the whiskey in hand. "Whatever it is, lollipop, I'll pay it."

The new endearment startled her, considering he hadn't used one these past three weeks. The fact that he'd gone with lollipop, something sweet and edible he'd never called the others...

I'm special to him.

Oh, no, no, no. Red alert! Red alert! That was the true danger of him. Somehow, he made everyone feel special.

"That's a daring thing to say," she stated quietly.

"But true nonetheless."

She placed her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. "Very well. The price is..." Inspiration struck, and she smiled evilly. "You can't have s.e.x for a week."

His eyes narrowed to tiny slits, but he appeared far from angry. "Why do you care about my s.e.x life?"

"I care about you, and I think abstinence will help build character."

He didn't miss a beat. "Very well, I accept." No time to celebrate. "With two caveats," he added. "The week won't start until the painting is done." He smiled now, and it was a wicked one. "Also, I want the painting to be a nude."

Her breath caught in her throat, only to exit on a gust. "I... You... Excuse me?"

"A nude. Meaning I won't be wearing any clothing. If you want to strip down, that'll be okay, too."

This was punishment for daring to impede his s.e.x life, wasn't it? "I've never actually painted or even drawn what you're suggesting, and I'm not sure I have the skill." Or if she would survive.

"I have complete faith in your ability. And as an artist, a professional, I'll expect you to view me strictly through objective eyes. You can do that, can't you?"

"Of course," she said. She could absolutely, 100 percent view him through objective eyes...if he wore a cloak of invisibility. But even then it would be iffy. "Why do you want a nude?" she demanded, hoping to shame him into retracting his request.

"Maybe I enjoy the thought of disrobing for you." His voice had gone low and husky, a caress of unfettered temptation, making her shiver. "Maybe I like the thought of your eyes on my bare skin and your hands forming the shapes of my body."

She gulped. Having only ever dealt with boys, never with men, she had no idea how to respond to so blatant a statement.

"Or," he said, his voice returning to its normal fun, flirty tone. "Maybe I'm narcissistic and want to immortalize every inch of myself. How is one to know?"

How, indeed. "When would you like to start?"

"Tonight."

I'm going to hate myself for reminding him of this, but... "What about your date? I can't-won't-hurt Kimberly."

"I think we both know she was about to cancel on me. Which makes me wonder what the two of you were discussing."

Shifting uncomfortably, she said, "I will never betray a confidence."

"I could change your mind, but I won't. I admire your mind-set." His gaze dropped to the pulse fluttering in her neck. "I'll arrive at seven, and I'll bring dinner."

"Yes. I'd like that." A lot. And it wasn't the thought of food that made her heart race, but the thought of having him in her s.p.a.ce. Alone... Naked. Within reach.

She sucked in a breath. Oh...c.r.a.p. The worst had happened, hadn't it?

Kimberly had figured it out, but Harlow had done her best to deny it until the truth practically vibrated in her bones. How had she ever fooled herself into thinking she could fall for West...when she'd already fallen for Beck?

"What's wrong, dove?" he asked gently. He came around the desk and sat at the edge, turning her chair to trap her between his legs. "You were twinkles one moment, sullen the next."

He always read her so well, while she always struggled to make sense of his moods. Life wasn't fair. "It's nothing I want to discuss right now," she said, refusing to lie to him. But she had to talk to someone about this.

Who? She had no confidants, and any secrets she revealed to others could be used as a weapon against her. A game of "humiliate Harlow for sport."

"What will it take to get you to trust me, hmm?"

Was he serious? "Beck, for the past three weeks you've treated me like I'm a carrier of cholera. Why do you want my trust?"

"You're my friend."

But I want to be more. "Yes," she said, and cleared her throat. "You're right. I am."

"So talk to me like a friend. Share your past with me. Tell me what changed you in high school."

Her mouth went dry. Always they circled back to this. "Forget I agreed to be your friend. We're enemies."

"You'll tell me what's easy, but nothing that's hard."

"I don't like to think about what changed me. It hurts."

"Pain fades. Rip off the bandage and give the wound a chance to heal."

"No." If she told him, she'd have to show him. If she showed him, he'd never want her again. And right now he wanted her. He had to. The way he was looking at her...

He leaned down until his nose almost brushed against hers. "One day, Harlow, you'll open up to me."

"One day," she whispered. "Maybe. But probably not."

He cupped her nape, the heat of him making her gasp. "Definitely. And in more ways than one. I'll make sure of it."

CHAPTER TEN.

BECK KNOCKED ON Harlow's door. This might be the biggest mistake of his life, but he suspected it would also be his favorite.

He'd kept his hands to himself for nearly a month, even as the hot little piece paraded around the office in the s.e.xy summer dresses he'd bought for her, the material clinging to her perfect body in a way that should be illegal. He'd done his rock-solid best to ignore her. She desired West. Or at least she thought she desired West. Beck had watched her more and more closely with every day that pa.s.sed, seeing nothing romantic in her dealings with the guy and everything awkward.

Then, of course, there was her undeniable attraction to Beck. As many lovers as he'd had, as much experience as he'd garnered throughout the years, he could detect a woman's desire for him even if he were blindfolded. Every time Harlow looked his way, her electric blues projected longing hot enough to make him think total-body third-degree wounds would be fun. And when he neared her, her breathing altered. When he touched her, goose b.u.mps broke out over her skin. When he'd talked about posing nude for her, her expression had gone slumberous, as if they were already in bed together.

She wanted him the way he wanted her. And despite all her talk of relationships, she would settle for what he could give her-a night of pa.s.sion so hot they'd forget their own names. Temptation demanded its due.

She opened the door, wearing a tank and a pair of shorts, and smiled nervously in welcome. "Right on time."

His skin burned for contact, but he kept his arms at his sides. "Always."

"Except for the times you're late, right?" As she stepped back, he prowled inside and handed her the dish of food he'd brought.

Her eyes widened with delight. "I smell bacon."

"I had Brook Lynn make you some kind of stuffed peppers with your drug of choice."

"Seriously?"

At his nod, she ripped the foil off the dish and squealed with delight.

"It's not bacon and marshmallow, I know, but she ran out of marsh-"

"It's perfect!" She threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you, Beck. Thank you so much."

The softness of her body conformed to the hard, masculine planes of his. She was curvier now that she'd been eating properly, and he liked it. A lot. Her strawberry scent overshadowed the smell of the peppers and bacon, fogging his brain, and her warmth stroked over him, heating him, reminding him of the first rays of sunlight after a long, harsh winter. He held her tighter than he'd intended, antic.i.p.ation building inside him, the burning only growing worse-and better.

The urge to pick her up and set her on the kitchen counter nearly overwhelmed him. One b.u.t.ton on those shorts. Probably one hundred and fifteen teeth in that zipper. A tug of his wrist would leave her in a pair of panties. One strip of cloth separating his fingers...his mouth...from her sweet spot.

Not yet. He forced himself to release her. He'd thought about this, about her reclusiveness and the hatred of the townsfolk, and he doubted she'd been on a date since high school. He wasn't sure how far she had gone back then, only knew boys her age wouldn't have known their way around an o.r.g.a.s.m with a map and a flashlight. He had to take this one step at a time.

Still smiling, glowing so brightly she made his chest ache, she skipped to the kitchen table. Did she have any idea how much he wanted her?

Earlier, the perpetually sweet Kimberly had finally revealed a pair of claws-for a bacon sandwich. Harlow, who had seemed to covet the item more than lottery winnings, had graciously relinquished her claim. The girl who had spent the past however many months starving had willingly given food to the one who had never known lack. It was that second, that moment, that slice of life, that Beck's icy facade had melted.

After that, there'd been no denying the truth. No holding back, his reserve nothing but a crumbled heap. He wanted Harlow, and so he would have her. No matter the consequences.

"Aren't you hungry?" Harlow asked, offering one of the peppers.

"Starving," he said, his voice low, nothing but gravel. At the table, he claimed the seat next to hers, making sure their shoulders and thighs brushed together.

He heard a hitch in her breath, saw a scatter of goose b.u.mps on her arms-felt yet another fire ignite in his veins. In unison, they turned their attention to the food. Probably for different reasons. They ate in silence, the air between them still crackling with ever-sharpening tension. She'd missed so many of his cues today, but this closeness...this she couldn't deny.

Her hand trembled as she took a drink of water. She licked a drop from her bottom lip, and he hardened painfully, imagining the other things she could lick up with that little pink tongue.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, folding the edge of the sandwich's wrapper.

"Honestly? You're not ready for the answer." He tugged on the end of her hair. "Besides, I'd rather talk about the lies you told me when we first met."

Shame caused her shoulders to hunch in. "I'm sorry about that. But I promise you, I will never lie to you again, no matter how painful the truth is."

"Good. Prove it by telling me something about your past." When she opened her mouth to protest, he added, "Start with a favorite memory of the farmhouse." The need to learn more about her had yet to lessen.