“Stay away from Harlow Glass,” Beck had said the moment the guy opened his front door. They were roughly the same height, though Beck had him by at least fifty pounds of muscle—and a whole hell of a lot of skill. Cameron knew it, probably noticed the scars on his knuckles as he stroked two fingers over his jaw. “You don’t, and I’ll make you regret it.”
Cameron had sneered at him. “You chasing after her now, city boy?”
“She works for me, and I protect what’s mine. I saw the way you pushed her, and if it happens again, you won’t be walking away. You may not even be crawling.”
Cameron had narrowed his eyes. “If you live in the Glass house, you shouldn’t throw stones. I’m no woman beater, but if ever there was one in need of a good flogging, it’s that one. She only wants the guys she can’t have. But you think you’re different because you want her so bad, and I get it. Just like I get that you’re not really here to warn me about my behavior. You just want an open playing field.”
“What I want doesn’t matter right now. Only what you do in the future.”
“Man to man, I’ll give it to you straight. She’s poison, and she’ll ruin your life.”
“Man to man-child, your bitterness is showing. You need to get over the past, and you need to do it fast.” The past only served as an anchor, dragging you down, down, and only when it was too late did you realize you were drowning. Wasn’t that what Jase had tried to tell him every time he’d urged Beck to move on? To let go of his guilt and shame and grab on to hope...to the future. “What she did to you, she did a long time ago. She’s not the same person.”
Cameron had laughed. “You’re a goner, there’s no question about that. When you get the Glass Pass, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He’d shut the door in Beck’s face.
He’d nearly ripped that thing from its hinges to get to the guy. Harlow deserved a flogging? Them be fightin’ words. But as much as Beck protected what was his, she wasn’t his—not really—so he’d walked away.
He downed the rest of his beer in a single gulp, his mind jumping to another incident. A few weeks ago, Jase had had too much to drink and prattled on and on about the difference between sex and making love. How making love was an expression of deep and abiding affection, that it meant something, that it was an act of importance with an extreme emotional payoff.
Leaves you vulnerable in the best way, Jase had added. You adore the woman you’re with. She’s your partner, that one special person, and she adores you right back.
If that one special person had the power to drive you insane, then Harlow was certainly Beck’s. But for every healthy relationship like Jase mentioned, there were a thousand terrible examples. Could someone like Beck really be one of the few lucky ones?
Was it worth trying, just for the chance to be as happy as Jase?
A hard rap at his door. “Beck,” West called. “You got a moment?”
For his friends? “Always.” He switched on the lamp next to him and set the empty bottle aside. “What’s up?”
West entered, wearing his new favorite attire. A pair of sweatpants. He’d been working out again. Trying to keep his mind off a certain blonde? He eased onto the edge of the bed, saying, “I’ve been thinking about your girl.”
“She’s not my girl.” But the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Did he want her to be?
“Stop lying to yourself. You would give up your left nut for a taste of her and you know it,” West said.
“You’re right. I would.” Staying away from her hadn’t done him a bit of good. Maybe it was time to give in and go to her.
“Well, that’s a start.”
He noticed the wrinkled-up piece of paper in his friend’s hand. “Whatcha got?”
Tension radiated from West as he said, “Before I show you, you need to know I haven’t encouraged her.”
Beck went still. No. Damn it. No! If West claimed to have interest in Harlow...
I won’t be able to walk away.
“Jessie Kay went snooping through her things and gave this to her sister, who gave it to Jase, who gave it to me.” West held out the paper. “Now I’m giving it to you.”
Beck snatched it up and fell back into his chair. He unfolded it and found an etching of his face. A very lifelike rendering.
Harlow had drawn this, no doubt about it. And the expression she’d chosen to render? The one he’d thrown at her while they were in his office, when he’d had to fight to remain in his seat, hungry for a taste of her.
Satisfaction filled him, and he grinned.
Then West said, “Turn it over.”
He obeyed and discovered a letter. As he read, he lost his grin, a low growl rising from his chest.
My dearest West. Meeting you has the potential to be the greatest thing to ever happen to me. You seem to be a man of unparalleled sexiness character, and I’d love the chance to get to know you better. How about dinner a movie coffee? Yours Talk soon, Harlow
Rage unlike anything he’d ever known consumed him. She desired West.
“I’ll meet with her, but only to tell her I’m not interested,” West assured him.
Can’t force the one you want to want you back. Can’t convince a woman determined to leave you to stick around. The reminders grounded him, even as they reopened wounds that had only just begun to heal.