The Hotter You Burn (The Original Heartbreakers 2)

A sad smile curled the corners of Patricia’s mouth. “Don’t worry. I get it. I’ve been where you are.”

“What happened?”

“What always happens when the fairy tale ends, I suppose. I lost him.”

Beck’s heart pumped faster, his breath coming in short pants. Then she made everything worse by adding, “I’ve never recovered.”

* * *

SOMETHING WAS WRONG with Beck. For the next three weeks, he spoke very little to Harlow. Every morning at seven, he knocked at the RV’s door. Two hard raps, that was all, but he never came inside, and he never complimented her on the new clothes. He remained silent as they drove to the nerdatory, and while there, he just handed her pages typed with instructions. Draw this set and that character. He would then leave her in his office while he worked inside West’s, pretending she didn’t exist.

Despite his current abysmal treatment, she found herself watching him interact with others. On a purely scientific basis, of course. She had to acknowledge he was an even better guy than she’d realized. He coached a youth soccer team. He donated money to charity and time to town members who came in looking for advice. He checked on Cora to make sure she had enough sweet tea. He was even nice to his discarded conquests.

When Tawny came to visit him, hoping to rekindle their flame, he’d kindly said, “Any man would be lucky to have you, honey, but you deserve to be the center of his world, and that’s just not my style.”

Kimberly had eavesdropped—the slag—and given Beck a hug. “That was considerate of you,” she’d told him.

Harlow had mentally flipped them both off and thought they should run away together and have a thousand considerate babies.

Hate myself. Kimberly was everything Harlow was not, everything she wished she could be, and envy was eating her up inside.

She hadn’t had a chance to continue her seduction of West, mainly because she hadn’t gathered the courage to present him with one of her letters; but then, she hadn’t yet written the right one. Something was off about all of them. And she hadn’t been able to forget the way West had pulled her aside not too long ago, blurting out, “We’re going to be friends, nothing more. Get used to the idea, fast.”

At the time, she hadn’t been worried. Friends? Awesome! As a dedicated lover of romance novels, she knew a great passion could bloom from a friendship. But nowadays West left a room anytime she walked into it, as if she were toxic waste.

Hope was dwindling fast.

The door to her office sprang open, startling her. Beck entered, his stride as graceful, powerful and sleek as a panther’s. He wouldn’t look at her as he said, “Hungry? Brook Lynn is here with lunch.”

“Really!” Harlow was on her feet and racing around him a second later. Her shoulder brushed against his chest, the heat of him instantly spearing her, all her girlie parts singing at once.

Keep walking. Just keep walking.

Brook Lynn clutched a basket filled with sandwiches, telling everyone in the office, “I need test subjects for a few of my new recipes, and you guys are going to be my guinea pigs. So. I’ve got honey and cheese, turkey and cranberry chutney, peanut butter and banana, marshmallow and bacon, and salmon with pickled tomato. Take your pick.”

“I want the bacon and marshmallow!” Harlow rushed out, reminding herself of a hungry dog who’d spotted the only bone in miles. Brook Lynn created the best foods out of the weirdest ingredients, but nothing could beat bacon. Ever.

But Kimberly had said the same words at the same time, and they ended up staring each other down, willing the other to cave. Nice did not exist in a battle for bacon.

Five step plan, remember? “I’ll take the turkey and cranberry,” Harlow said, her disappointment keen but hopefully hidden. “Unless someone else wanted that one?”

No one spoke up.

Brook Lynn’s gaze stayed on Harlow a second longer than was probably polite, an odd—confused?—expression on her face as she handed over the sandwiches.

“Thank you,” Harlow said.

“After you eat,” Brook Lynn announced, “I’d like everyone to tell me if the sandwich was totally awesome, on the border of awesome, or not even close to awesome.”

“Will do,” Harlow said, clutching the precious sandwich to her chest. What did she have to complain about, anyway? One bite of this one would blow a gasket in her mind, no doubt about it, making her forget bacon ever existed.

Too far!

Rephrase: making her forget bacon for a moment or two.

Better.

She turned and discovered Beck watching her with the same befuddled look as Brook Lynn, as if he didn’t know what to think about her. Which she totally didn’t understand! She hadn’t done anything wrong.

She forced a smile. He was the reason she had any sandwich at all, really. Without the job he’d given her, Brook Lynn never would have spoken to her, much less gifted her with a morsel straight from heaven.

“I’ll, uh, be in my office,” she said.

“I think you mean my office,” he corrected.

“I think you gave up your rights the first time you refused to enter because I was inside.” She sauntered around him and kicked the door shut.

Kimberly came in behind her, smiling yet rueful. “I thought we could have our lunch together. You know, do a little girl bonding.”

Harlow wanted to hate the woman with the passion of a thousand suns, but couldn’t quite manage it and motioned to the couch. “I’m a little rusty, but I’m willing to try.”