"One-track mind," she said, and tsk-tsked. Also a dangerously bone-melting answer, just not the kind of info she was looking for. "Worst memory. And if you say losing me, I will probably kiss you, and then I will definitely slap you."

"A warning like that is also known as encouragement," he said with a wink. But he set his gla.s.s aside and drained hers.

"The memory's that bad, huh?"

When his fingers laced with hers, she felt a tremor flow through him.

"Beck," she said. "Whatever it is, I won't judge you, I promise."

His lips lifted in a humorless smile. He leaned into her, saying quietly, "I'm sure you heard the rumors about Jase. He went to prison for beating a guy to death when we were eighteen...but here's what you don't know. I was with him when it happened. I was part of it."

The p.r.o.nouncement didn't exactly shock her, but it did give her pause. Sweet, flirtatious, helpful Beck had beaten a guy to death? "Why? I mean I heard Jase defended a girl's honor."

"He did. We all did. We had a friend. Tessa. Jase and I loved her like a sister. West loved her. One night she went to a party, and a guy a.s.saulted her."

Harlow's scars began to ache in sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

"We went after the guy, beat him and just didn't stop. He died from his injuries. Jase took full responsibility. Nine years behind bars. I could have come forward at any time to alleviate his burden, but never did."

"Why?"

"The three of us, we've always lived by a code-do whatever's asked by the others, no questions. For the longest time, we had no one to rely on but each other. We each knew loss and regret and needed someone we could count on no matter what."

Her mother had been the one she counted on, supporting her through the worst of times. She understood the need.

"You suffered your own punishment, I'm sure. Violence of any kind leaves a mark, whether on the skin or in the soul."

Beck squeezed her hand, almost hard enough to bruise. "What you endured hurts me in a way I never imagined possible. You did not deserve what was done to you."

The waitress arrived with their dinner, piping-hot bowls of chicken and dumplings. Delightful scents combined with perfect harmony: bread yeast, sweet vegetables and the cream in the sauce.

"Is what I did a deal breaker?" Beck asked as soon as the girl was out of earshot.

Was it? He'd committed the crime as a teenager. Eighteen, old enough to know better. But what if he held her crimes against her? She hadn't killed anyone physically, but she'd certainly killed a few spirits.

"No," she said and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Eat, Harlow. Please." He caressed her cheek. "You've lost weight."

Weight she couldn't afford to lose. She took a bite, then another, then paused as she recalled the clock on their conversation. "You still wrestle with guilt over the crime," she said, a statement, not a question. "And over Jase. Right?"

"Yes."

Learning about his past was helping her connect the dots to his present-and his future. Maybe he didn't think he deserved a happily-ever-after.

"Do you-" He pushed her bowl closer to her, and she took another bite before finishing her question. "Do you think you'll ever get married?"

"There was a time I would have said no. Now? I won't rule out the possibility."

It was progress. More than she'd dreamed, considering he hoped to protect a fragile heart that had been battered and bruised countless times as he was taken from foster homes he'd come to love. As Jase was taken from him, and he couldn't allow himself to help.

"Do you want kids?" When she'd imagined herself married to Prince Charming, she'd also imagined a brood of rug rats.

But if she didn't end up with the right man, that dream family would simply fall apart, wouldn't it?

"I never wanted kids with a one-night stand, but again, I won't rule out the possibility any longer." He arched a brow. "Deal breaker?"

"No." As much has she loved him, she wasn't sure anything would be a deal breaker.

He smiled at her.

She swallowed the last bite of her meal and opened her mouth to ask her next question.

"Sorry, baby, but it's too late. You're done eating. It's my turn now."

Well, c.r.a.p. She should have eaten slower. "Ask your one question," she said.

"For the information I crave, we need to be alone." He leaned into her and nibbled on her earlobe. "Let's go back to the inn."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

BECK MADE A PALLET on the floor.

Harlow demanded to know his question again and again, but he said, "In a minute," every time. Under her watchful gaze, he slowly stripped to his underwear.

"Those muscles don't fight fair," she grumbled.

"And you think those legs of yours do?" He got as comfortable as possible, considering desire burned in his bones.

She snuggled comfortably in bed and switched off the lamp, throwing shadows over the room.

"While you're up there on that cold, hard bed, I'm down here on these soft-as-silk sheets." Silk, sandpaper-whatever. "It's like you're punishing yourself when I only want to pamper you."

"Nice try, Becky, but I'm not buying the bull you're selling."

He covered his smile, realized she couldn't see him and let it stretch wide. "Becky? That's the nickname I get?"

"Hate it?" Relish dripped from her tone.

"Darling, it's absolutely perfect. Come down here and let your good friend Becky keep you safe all night."

She snorted. "Ask your question already. I'm about to fall asleep."

With darkness surrounding them, he kept his voice whisper-soft, almost like smoke. "What's your dirtiest fantasy?"

The rustle of covers. He couldn't see her, but he could easily imagine she'd just rolled to her side in an effort to a.s.suage the ache between her legs-one only he could end.

"I like to fantasize about you and me..."

Just like that. Hard. As. A. Rock. He stroked his length up, down. "Go on."

"We're in one of the rooms here at the inn...and I'm wet, throbbing..."

"What do I do?" he croaked.

"You slowly...sweetly...make the bed for me."

He barked out a laugh. "Evil woman. I said dirtiest fantasy."

"You've seen these sheets. You know they're filthy. Besides, watching you clean would be total girl p.o.r.n."

"Me doing anything should be Harlow p.o.r.n."

"It is. It really is. You're my fantasy. But what's Beck p.o.r.n?"

Anything Harlow, and that was the honest truth. She moved, and he hardened. She breathed-h.e.l.l, she looked at him or entered a room, and he wanted her. Just her. Just to be near her like this. She eased something inside him, as if the missing part of his life had finally been found.

And maybe-maybe this time he could keep her. She hadn't run when he'd confessed his greatest sin.

"Did you enjoy your first official date with me?" he asked, choosing not to answer her last question.

"I did. You were charming-"

"I'm always charming."

"And witty. And what do you mean, always charming? You most certainly are not."

"Hey, it's not my fault you're unable to recognize charm every time it bites you."

"Ha!"

He blew her a kiss, even though she couldn't see him. "Go on to sleep, Harlow. Get some rest." You're going to need it.

Covers rustled again. "Beck?" she whispered.

"Yes, Harlow."

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too." Though it took him hours to fall asleep, when he did, he was smiling.

THE NEXT DAY began poorly. Beck woke up to find Harlow had already taken off, crushing his need to kiss her goodbye.

Mood souring by the second, he dressed in his usual suit and tie and, before heading to the office, stopped to talk to Carol about Scott and Tawny. He learned the two had already checked out-saving their lives-and asked that any new customers be turned away, as Beck would be paying double for every room. The less Harlow had to do, the more energy she would have for other activities.

At work, he watched the clock, waiting for time to tick by and cursing its ability to slow to a crawl.

By 5:03 p.m., he was certain Harlow had finished with her ch.o.r.es. But why hadn't she called him?

"You should be embarra.s.sed," West said, plopping into the chair in front of his desk.

"Why?"

"You're even more of a goner than Jase, and I'm pretty sure his b.a.l.l.s have shriveled up and died."

"They most certainly have not," Jase said. "I know, because they are currently hanging in Brook Lynn's trophy case."

Beck leaned back and folded his hands over his middle. "You're one to talk, Westley."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There's a certain sa.s.sy blonde you like to stare at... This ringing any bells for you?"

West glowered at him. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't want Jessie Kay."

"Keep lying to yourself. Maybe one day you'll even believe it."

Eyes narrowing, West said, "If I wanted Jessie Kay, I wouldn't be on the prowl for my next relationship, now, would I?"

When West decided to "be in a relationship" he always picked a woman he found attractive but didn't actually enjoy being around. Jessie Kay seemed to fit the bill. Why not go for her?

"Anyone particular in mind?" Beck asked.

"No one I'm willing to discuss."

"Too bad. Where's she from? Strawberry Valley or the city?"

West glowered. "The city. Why?"

"Curiosity." If West decided the girl was the one-and continued with his date-and-dump pattern-he'd have her moved to Strawberry Valley by the end of their first month together. But this time, Beck suspected there would be more to the relationship than usual. Like keeping Jessie Kay at a distance.

Beck glanced at the clock-5:08 p.m. Harlow had a second job, d.a.m.n it, and as her boss, he deserved a little consideration.

He jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. We'll continue this conversation after you've made up your mind...between the girl in the city and the one you really want here in Strawberry Valley."

West hurled anatomically impossible curses at him as he stalked from the office.

Beck didn't bother with his car, just barreled down the street on foot. Mr. Porter and Mr. Rodriguez were playing checkers, as usual, and called out a greeting.

"Going back for your girl?" Mr. Porter gave him a thumbs-up. "Good for you, son. Good for you."