"I have a heart. I care."

She didn't seem to hear him, plowing ahead. "You know, there are plenty of guys in town. Why focus all my efforts on just one? I'm sure lots of guys would like a chance to get to know the new me. I can bring them back to my RV-"

"My RV."

"-and practice being married, just the way you suggested."

Beck would burn the RV to ash first.

Too far gone to fight his sense of possession, he hooked his foot around the bottom of her chair and forced her chair closer, closer still. Their thighs touched, and she gasped, perhaps at the force he'd used, perhaps with a desire of her own.

He grabbed her by the waist and easily hefted her onto the table, on his feet and between her legs a second later, glaring down at her.

"I want you, and it's past time I showed you how much. You'll keep your sweet a.s.s parked on this table and you'll show me your skills. Me. No one else." And then his hand was cupping the back of her neck, drawing her forward.

WHAT THE HECK was happening?

The question echoed inside Harlow's mind as Beck smashed his mouth against hers. She lost her breath, shook with need, desire and heat, so much heat. Two seconds ago, she'd wanted to lash out at him for his part in tonight's debacle. Now? She just wanted to melt into his arms.

The mint-and-sugar taste of him tantalized her, and she instantly craved more. Her head swam, their tongues dueling, and even though she clutched at his shirt for balance, she still felt off-kilter. Been so long since I've been the center of a guy's world, but never like this.

He worked her mouth expertly, the pressure fierce but not stinging, as if she were a treasure he wanted to enjoy and protect at the same time. His fingers curled through locks of her hair, angling her head, allowing him to take her mouth even deeper.

Pleasure burned through her, nerve endings she'd never known she possessed coming alive with sensation. Her blood fizzed in her veins, and sitting still became impossible. She ran her hands up the strength of his chest, around his back, desperate to touch more of him, greedy for it.

She felt knots of tension as hard as rock and dug her nails in deep, urging him closer to her. His chest brushed against hers, creating the most delicious friction, sending waves of heat deep in her belly.

"Beck."

He bit at her bottom lip, and like that, a kiss she'd already considered wild spun completely out of control, tearing through any resistance she might have still harbored. He caressed his hands down the ridges of her spine and cupped her rear. When he squeezed her, skin to blistering skin, she realized the hem of her dress had ridden up.

"You feel so good, Harlow."

He'd said her name rather than a silly endearment, and somehow that was ten thousand times sweeter. He'd just made it clear he knew the woman he held in his arms. He knew who he kissed as if his life depended on it.

"More," she demanded. "Please, more."

"I'll take care of you." He tilted her back and nipped his way along her jaw. He licked and sucked on her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He laved at her hammering pulse, and she nearly shot off the table. The heat of his mouth on her skin...the wet...

Moaning, purring, she tunneled her fingers through his hair to hold him in place.

"The sounds you make...they're killing me, baby."

Only fair, since parts of her were dying brutal deaths, as well. The loneliness. The heartbreak. The guilt and shame for a past she couldn't redo. Here, now, there was only Beck. And his mouth. And his hands. She existed for pleasure, his pleasure, aching to the point of pain.

Led only by instinct, she had no finesse, no defense as she grabbed hold of his belt and pulled him forward, arching her hips. The long, hard length of him ground into the apex of her thighs, and she gave another low, needy moan.

"You said you'd...take care... Beck, please."

This time, she didn't have to urge him physically. He ground against her again and again, every point of contact making her gasp and plead for more. If he decided to rip away her panties and take her here and now, she would let him. It didn't matter that anyone could walk in on them. Didn't matter that they'd had no discussion about what this would mean, or how this would change the foundation of their relationship. She'd reached a place of no...yes, yes...like that...there!

He rocked into her harder, faster, causing the table to inch backward, banging into the wall. One of the pictures rattled, threatening to fall.

"Wrap your legs around me," Beck commanded.

The words yanked her out of the moment. He'd said them before-wrap your legs around me-but not to her... To another woman. To Tawny the night Harlow had broken into his house.

One and done.

She was about to give herself to a man who'd made no promises beyond tonight.

It mattered, she thought, cold realization slapping her. This night would mean something to her, but it would be one night in a long line of nights for him. She would want more-always more-but he would be finished with her. One and done. No exceptions. She would have to watch him move on to his next conquest.

Harlow pushed against his chest. He was too strong to budge, but he did lift his head. In the light, his eyes were molten gold, his lips pink, moist and kiss-swollen, and as the tension she'd felt in him revealed fine lines around his eyes, he'd never looked more devastatingly beautiful. A warrior straight from battle, determined to enjoy his prize.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No. We can't do this."

"We can."

"We shouldn't."

"You want me. I want you. I don't see a problem."

He wouldn't, would he? "You never see a problem, Beck. Not with anyone. And that's a problem for me."

Releasing her as if she'd just sprouted horns and fangs, he ran his tongue over his teeth. A cry of disappointment bubbled in her chest, but she swallowed it back.

"I don't want to have a one-night stand with you," she whispered, wishing she would stop trembling. West wasn't the man for her and never would be-she got that-but neither was Beck, even though he drew her with invisible chains, and oh, c.r.a.p, the urge to curl into a ball and sob bombarded her.

"We'll enjoy ourselves, Harlow. That I can promise you."

"I know. But to taste what you have to offer and then have it taken away? No," she said, shaking her head. I've lost too much already. "Give me forever, or give me nothing."

He gazed at her with longing.

He gazed at her with terror.

He gazed at her with fury.

He backed a step away, and the nerve endings he'd awakened within her stopped singing, suddenly screaming in protest. They hadn't gotten nearly enough of him. She hadn't gotten enough.

His features shuttered, hiding his emotions. "I don't know what I can give you, but however long we last, it won't be forever. The future is too unpredictable."

"Then it's nothing," she said, tears welling. There was a part of her, deep inside, shouting for her to girl-up and fight for him. Walking away would be easy. Emotionally gut-wrenching, but easy. And really, "easy" would be her only reward. Fighting for him would be difficult, but the potential for payoff would be far greater. But the potential for hurt and failure, losing what little she'd gained in her life... It scared her to the bone.

"It's not enough," she said.

He laughed bitterly. "That's the thing, sweet. I never am."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

HARLOW TRUDGED OUT of bed and dressed in a pair of frayed jeans shorts and her high school cheer shirt-go Stallions! Very little else in the RV belonged to her. She hadn't paid for anything with the weekly checks she'd earned as a WOH employee because she hadn't needed to; Beck had always given her cash plus bags of groceries, toiletries and clothing, allowing her to build a small savings. So, suspecting she would soon be kicked out, she didn't bother packing. She wondered if Beck would knock on her door as usual, not to tell her to "rise and shine" so they could leave for work, but to tell her to take a walk of shame off the property. Or maybe he just expected her to head off on her own without being told.

She'd been watching the clock... Any second now the answer would become clear...

Two hard raps sounded at the door. "Harlow," he snapped. "Get up. Let's go."

She yelped and tugged at the k.n.o.b, not sure why she was surprised, considering she'd been waiting an eternity for this moment to arrive. He stood in the sunlight, his dark/light hair brushed back from his face, his lids narrowed, the tension from last night seeming to have doubled.

He looked her over and frowned. "That's how you want to go to the office today?"

He wasn't firing her or kicking her out? "Well...I wasn't sure I'd be welcome at the office."

His gaze flipped to hers and narrowed further. "Always thinking the worst of me."

Guilt gave her a good old-fashioned kick in the heart. "I don't always think the worst of you. I think the worst will happen to me. There's a difference."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, honey. Let's go."

For once, he didn't open the car door for her, and all vestiges of his flirtatious side were gone. He switched on the radio, discouraging further chatting, but the hard rock soon grated at her ears.

She turned off the radio and said, "Are you-"

"I don't want to talk about last night."

"Good. Neither do I." She was still too raw. Still reeling. One kiss had ripped away her every defense, making her forget her long-term goals. "I was simply going to ask if you were coming over tonight so I can work on your portrait."

"No. I'm going out."

"With whom?" The question whipped from her before she could stop it, and she considered jumping out of the car. Eating asphalt would be less painful than this conversation.

"That isn't any of your business."

She dug her nails into her thighs, cutting into skin. Just last night he'd had his tongue in her mouth, and now he treated her as if she were nothing special. Because-let's be honest-she wasn't. Not to him. But how much worse would it have hurt if she'd actually had s.e.x with him, and then had to go through this same routine today? Count my blessings.

"You're right. Forget I said anything," she managed with a carefree tone. She turned the radio back on.

When they arrived at the office, she didn't wait for him to come around the car-or not. She got out on her own and as casually as possible walked inside the building. The supplies she needed to sketch the new cast of characters were waiting in her office, as promised. The descriptions, the pencils and the notepads. There was a note from Kimberly, as well.

Dear Harlow, I never meant to encroach on your territory! I truly had no idea you were interested in Beck. For your peace of mind, you should know we canceled our date. Also, I'm heading back to S&S Financial. I'll be rooting for you. If anyone can tame a playboy, it's you. You're like a rose, thorns and all. You leave a mark. (And that's a good thing!) Make sure to send me an invitation to your wedding.

Kimberly Harlow's heart skipped a treacherous beat.

She heard Beck come into the room, the clunk of his briefcase as he set it down, the thump of his shoes as he left the room. The swish of the door as it closed. Her heart drummed. She glanced up in time to watch him enter West's office, which was currently empty.

Disappointment and despair washed over her. Beck hadn't fired her or kicked her out, but he sure had written her out of his life. And she wasn't sure why. She'd told him she didn't want a one-night stand, and before that, he'd known she was interested in a long-term relationship. Why act as if she'd ripped out his heart and trampled on it?

Maybe Kimberly was right. Maybe Harlow had left a mark.

Shouldn't get my hopes up. Letting the descriptions of the character profiles play through her mind and guide her hand, she worked for several hours. One image after another came to life on the page, but none of them satisfied her. There was no spark. The images fit the narratives but lacked any sign of life. When she found herself subconsciously adding Beck's features to the hero of the game, well, she decided to call it quits for the day.

She had to talk to someone about what was going on. She desperately needed advice, her inexperience cloying, choking her. She'd never get anything done, otherwise. But who could she call?

Beck was her only real friend, but the only advice he'd give her was get naked and get in bed.

Brook Lynn might be willing to listen. While they weren't bosom buddies, they didn't hate each other, either. At least Harlow hoped not. There was only one way to find out...

Harlow picked up the phone and dialed. Beck had given her a list of names and numbers soon after she'd begun working for him, just in case she had questions about something when he wasn't around.

Brook Lynn answered on the third ring. "Hey, Beck. What's up?"

"Uh, it's Harlow."

"Oh. Um. Hi."

"Listen. I know it's weird I'm calling, and you will never be my biggest fan, but I have nowhere else to turn, and I need help."

One beat of awkward silence, two. "Are you calling to discuss your plans for the zombie apocalypse?"

"No. Nothing like that." Harlow peered through the gla.s.s into West's office. Beck had a phone to his ear. He threw back his head and laughed at whatever the speaker had just said. Confirming plans with his date tonight? A knife of jealousy stabbed at her chest.

"Then what do you want, Harlow?" Brook Lynn prompted.

"Harlow? As in Harlow Gla.s.s?" Jessie Kay said in the background. "What's she doing calling you?"

Ignore her. "Well, the problem is Beck, and I-"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Brook Lynn said. "I won't give you any dirt on him."

"She wants dirt on him?" another voice gasped in the background. Kenna Starr, maybe.

"I don't want dirt," she rushed out. "Besides, I already know about his past."

"How?" Brook Lynn demanded.

Okay, so, this call had been a mistake. Noted. "He told me. How else?"

"He told you?"

"Yes." But that had nothing to do with her problem. "Look, I shouldn't have-"