"If he can do more than drool," Jessie Kay added, "he's a stronger man than I am."
Brook Lynn rolled her eyes. "As if there's ever been a stronger man than you."
"This is true."
Harlow would have given anything to be part of their family. They had such an easy camaraderie. They supported each other, loved each other, no matter what.
Brook Lynn glanced down at her vibrating phone and sighed. "That's Jase again. He says I'm needed home stat. I swear, ever since he learned Dorian Oliver is coming to town, he's been freaking out."
"I should probably stay here," Jessie Kay said. "You know, as Harlow's moral compass."
"You are not inviting yourself on tonight's date--or into Dorian's pants," Brook Lynn told her. "And if you're a moral compass, I fear for the world."
"What about you and Daniel Porter?" Harlow asked.
Jessie Kay looked to the floor, hiding her eyes. "We're still dating, but not exclusive. He just got home from a yearlong military tour and isn't ready to commit."
Ugh. He might not be ready, but Jessie Kay surely was. Been there, living that. Harlow reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry."
"It is what it is. The story of my life."
"You two are depressing." Brook Lynn tugged her sister to the door. "Come on, let's go before you make Harlow cry a river."
They were gone a few seconds later, and Harlow wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her thighs. This was her first date as an adult woman. Why had she insisted Beck come along? Now she had to rebuff this Dorian guy without looking as if she were rebuffing him, while encouraging Beck without looking as if she were encouraging him.
Easy.
A hard rap exploded at the door, making her gasp. It was six forty-five, and Beck had never been early for anything. She figured the girls had forgotten something and had come back to get it, her smile of welcome fading as the door swung open to reveal Beck dressed in a pin-striped suit, as promised, looking gorgeous and sophisticated and totally out of her league.
A man she'd never met stood next to him, Brook Lynn and Jessie Kay hovering in the background, gaping at him. Jessie Kay even fanned herself and pretended to faint.
Beck whistled with appreciation. "Lord have mercy, hag. You've fried my brain. I can't even stay mad at you for desecrating my bedroom walls."
"Hag?" the stranger asked.
"A nickname that will likely get some part of Beck removed in the near future," she said. "And I did not desecrate his walls. I made them better. They were beige."
Stranger laughed, and she would have sworn fairies wept. "I think I'll stick with Harlow, then." He extended his hand. "I'm Dorian Oliver."
As they shook, she took his measure. He topped out at six foot, an inch shorter than Beck. He had a lion's mane of pale hair, his eyes a startling mix of smoke and sunset, and his face...
His features were the most symmetrically perfect she'd ever seen. "I want to sketch you," she blurted out.
Beck stepped in front of him, thin white brackets of strain around his mouth. "There's no time for that. We have dinner reservations."
"We?" Dorian asked from behind him.
His gaze never left Harlow. "Did I forget to mention my darling requested a bodyguard?"
His darling? "I've changed my mind about that," she said. "You can stay--"
"Too bad." Beck gave her the evil eye. "There are no take-backs."
"Don't worry about it," Dorian said. "Don't hate me, but I actually considered asking him to join us when he first called to set us up. I've never done the blind date thing, and I wasn't sure I'd like it." He winked at her. "I'm a big fan right now."
Flattered, she smiled at him. "I feel the same. I'll just...um..." Brain dead much? "I'll fetch my purse and we can be off." But all she had to do to "fetch" her purse was reach back and curl her fingers around the handle. So much for a needed reprieve.
Both men offered a hand to help her down the step. Glancing at Beck, all you did this to yourself, she accepted Dorian's, twining their fingers.
"I have an idea," she told him. "We'll pretend Jerkbag isn't with us."
Dorian released another magical laugh, and Beck grunted.
"I'll drive," he announced when they reached the driveway full of cars.
"Excellent. Harlow and I will sit in back and get to know each other better." Dorian helped her inside.
Before he could walk around the car and take his own seat, Beck stopped him. The two engaged in a heated conversation for what seemed forever, their voices muffled. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but was it too much to hope Beck had realized his mistake and was telling the guy to go home?
Apparently it was too much to hope. They got inside, Beck behind the wheel, Dorian in back with her, as planned.
"Anyone want to tell me what that was about?" she asked.
"No," Beck said.
"Jerkbag gave me a lecture about minding my manners," Dorian said, amused.
"Were they too good?" she quipped.
Beck reached back and squeezed her knee, making her squeal. Then he had the gall to say, "Are you trying to make me have a wreck? Control yourself back there."
She pushed his hand away and leveled a smile at Dorian. "So. How did you and Beck meet?"
"Same foster home."
"A good one, I hope." What had these boys endured over the years?
"It was one of the best." Dorian smiled fondly. "I was happy for the first time in my life and didn't want to leave."
She placed a hand over her heart. "Do you realize you just opened up to me and revealed a little about yourself? Are you a unicorn-shifter?"
"I don't know what a unicorn-shifter is." Beck expertly turned a corner. "But I open up all the time."
"Yeah, but I have to use pliers."
They reached the restaurant, a quaint little Italian place just outside city limits, and Dorian exited to hurry around and open her door. Street lamps surrounded the parking lot, chasing away most of the night's shadows. The parking lot was surprisingly empty considering an open sign flashed neon red over the entrance.
"Thank you," she said.
"What about my door?" Beck asked as he emerged.
"Why don't you stay in the car?" she suggested. "Enjoy a little peace and quiet."
"That's the thanks I get? After I rented out the entire restaurant?"
Dang him, she melted. He'd put her comfort-- Wait. I'm falling for this? She was on a date with a man he'd selected for her, for goodness' sake. "I'll send you a fruit basket tomorrow." She raised her chin. To Dorian, she added, "Sorry about this. I'm being rude, ignoring you, but--"
Dorian chuckled as he drew her several steps ahead of Beck. He leaned toward her, whispering, "Look, I know there's something going on between you two. West called me earlier and told me you belong to Beck and I'm to keep my hands off you while helping him realize the terrible mistake he's making."
West was rooting for her?
"Speak up so the rest of the class can hear." Beck trudged in front of them, opened the restaurant door.
Giddy, and feeling just a little evil, Harlow leaned her head against Dorian and petted his arm. "Isn't it obvious? We're getting to know each other better...and maybe even falling in love."
*
ROUND ONE DID NOT end in Harlow's favor, and she pouted the entire drive home. Besides the three of them, there had been two other people in the restaurant: their waitress and the chef. Both happened to be females. Of course. Beck had claimed the table across the room, and when he hadn't been flirting shamelessly with the waitress, he'd been in back flirting shamelessly with the chef.
Without the pressure of having to rebuff Dorian, Harlow was able to relax and enjoy herself, doing a little flirting of her own, hoping to fan the flames of Beck's jealousy. He'd hardly seemed to notice, and as the night had worn on, he'd only become more charming with the staff.
Now, with the evening coming to a close, Beck parked in the driveway of the farmhouse.
Dorian helped her out, saying, "I'll walk you to your door."
Beck got out in a hurry and patted him on the shoulder. "There's no need for that, my friend. I've got it from here."
"How kind of you," Dorian said.
"Isn't it? We had a great time, by the way."
Harlow glared at Beck. "Will we be calling him for another date?"
Beck flashed his teeth in a grin utterly devoid of humor. "We'll discuss it."
Dorian tried to mask a laugh with a cough. "Well, I certainly hope you do, Harlow Glass. I don't remember the last time I've had so much fun."
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, the ends slapping Beck in the face. "You are a man of great taste. Unlike some people I know."
Beck gave the guy a push toward a cute little '65 Nova. "I'll call you tomorrow and let you know the verdict."
"Please do," Dorian replied.
"Actually, bypass the middleman. You have my number," Harlow reminded him, and he winked at her before sliding into his car.
"You gave him your phone number?" Beck thundered.
Shouldn't grin. "Do you have a problem with that?"
At first he offered no response, watching as Dorian's car roared to life and meandered out of the drive. When the taillights at last disappeared around the corner, Beck whirled on her and shouted, "Hell, yes, I have a problem with that. I shouldn't have to tell you this, pumpkin, but he's not right for you. I could tell within five seconds. Why couldn't you?" He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her toward the RV. "I did you a favor, sending him away. He would have tried to kiss you at the door."
Maybe, but only for Beck's benefit. Even if she hadn't been enamored with someone else, she and Dorian would not have been right for each other. Beck nailed it. They'd lacked chemistry.
"Did you ever stop to think I might want to be kissed?" she asked.
"Baby, you should fall to your knees and thank me for being here to save you from yourself."
She stepped in his path and placed her hand on his chest, stopping him. It was then she felt the barely suppressed tension in him, the knotted muscles and the swift pounding of his heart.
"A kiss isn't a big deal, Beck. Is it?"
Glowering, he said, "It certainly should be."
I'm getting somewhere with this man. Have to be. "Has it ever been a big deal for you?"
"Only with you." He was on her a second later, pressing her against the cool RV wall. His lips smashed into hers, his tongue driving into her mouth to demand its due.
She told herself to pull away, to push him away--something. They hadn't come to any kind of understanding, and he'd just arranged for her to go out with another man. But she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life, even tilting her head and welcoming him deeper. The desire always simmering below the surface of her skin boiled out of control, spilling over, consuming every inch of her.
Her legs trembled, her knees weakened. He balled the hem of her dress and pulled it to her waist, right at her panty line. Warm, sultry air brushed against her tingling flesh.
"You wet for me?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Only me?"
She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.
A muscle jumped beneath his eye. "Let's see." He moved his hand to just under her navel and slowly traced his fingertips down, down, sliding under her panties.
The anticipation was too much. "Beck. Please."
"Wider." He nipped at her ear and, not content to wait, kicked her legs apart. As she gasped, he wedged one of those big fingers inside her. He groaned, and she moaned, arching forward, seeking more.
"Soaking," he praised. "Let me taste."
She thought he would pull his finger out, maybe lick it, and that would have been the hottest thing she'd ever seen. But he dropped to his knees, and her breath hitched. This was hotter.
"Hope these aren't your favorite." With a single tug, he ripped the side of her panties, baring her to his view.
Tremors of excitement, of need, cascaded over her. The moon was out, and the porch light was on, both casting muted golden ribbons their way, but the wall of the RV cast a wide shadow the ribbons couldn't reach, hiding them from prying eyes.
"Wish the sun were shining," he said, and he sounded drugged. "I want to see you bathed in light."
"Beck."
He leaned in, his warm breath fanning over her. His tongue flicked out, touching her for the first time, and she cried out in delight. Her hips moved of their own accord, following his motions.
It was... He was... Can't think.
"So sweet," he praised. "You are like honeyed cocaine, baby."
He'd aroused her before, and he'd made her come, but the arousal had never been this ragged or intense. Her new cries, panting breaths and whimpers echoed through the night, a song of desire.
"Beck, I'm so close."
"You hold out as long as you can." His voice lashed with command. "I'm not even close to being done with you."
Hold out? She tried, oh, she tried, but his tongue worked her harder and faster, worked black magic. Then he brought his fingers into play, sinking two inside her, stretching her, and she saw stars behind her lids, screaming as she finally fell over the edge of desire.
As she quaked with aftereffects, he pushed to his feet. He towered over her, his expression one of absolute hunger, the playful side to him utterly vanquished, his gaze devouring her face the way his mouth had just devoured another part of her, practically consuming her whole.
"I want you." He unbuttoned his pants, lowered the zipper. "Here, now."
Yes. "Beck, I..." Stop. Think.
He gripped his length with one hand, wound a lock of her hair with the other. "Say yes, Harlow. I'll take care of you. I swear I'll take care of you."
But for how long?
Crap! Crap, crap, crap. Ice-cold waves washed over her, invading her bloodstream, dousing the fire he'd stoked, and she realized she was right back where she'd started: going nowhere fast.
"Beck..." She had to tell him the truth, and she had to make him understand why she wanted what she wanted. "I can't do this. I'm not casual about sex. I've never been casual about sex. I... Beck, I've never been with a man, and I can't--I won't--give my virginity to a one-night stand."
He stiffened, shook his head as if he'd misheard her. "But...you can't be..." He scrubbed a hand over his face, different emotions playing in his golden eyes. Anger. Longing. Relief. Even possessiveness?
"I've been up-front about my long-term goals from the beginning. I plan to give myself to the man I'm committed to, and no one else." Be that man. Please.
He released her, refastening his pants as he backed away. Considering she'd nearly gone up in flames a few moments before, the forced separation almost killed her; she had to swallow a cry.
"I... I'm sorry, Harlow," he stammered. "I didn't know, or I never would have pushed you..." He looked so lost, so broken. "You're a prize, and you're worth more than what I can give you. I'm sorry," he repeated. Then the stubborn male turned, walked up the drive and disappeared inside the farmhouse.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A WEEK PASSED. An entire week without a phone call or text from Beck. Actually, no, that wasn't true. Harlow received a text from him the morning after she'd revealed her virgin state. He told her to take the day off, that he had things handled at the office.
As one day bled into another, he stayed away from her as if she'd told him she had an infectious disease--or that she was the only woman in the world who could get pregnant with eye contact. Not once had he shown up in the morning to drive her to work, so she'd holed up in the RV to sketch, leaving the game sets and characters she finished on the desk in Beck's bedroom.
Through it all, two things had given her hope, making her think she'd lost a battle rather than the actual war. He still hadn't changed the locks on the door, and he hadn't painted over the artwork decorating his walls.
But her hope was dwindling fast. He'd l
eft last night and he hadn't come home. Had he gone on a date?
This morning, she'd finally broken down and called Brook Lynn, seeking more advice, which was how she'd ended up at Two Farms for lunch with the entire girl gang.
"He's been a beast," Brook Lynn said as she buttered a roll. "Gripes about everything, yells at everyone."
Jessie Kay nodded. "You'd think you told him your hoo-ha is actually a Venus flytrap and his penis will be severed if he has sex with you."
"Do you have to say that word while we're eating?" Daphne asked.
"Which one? Penis?" Jessie Kay bellowed. Some patrons gasped. Some glared at her. Others shook their heads, all bless her heart. "The word penis is not the equivalent of maggots, you know. Though it probably should be."
"And now I've lost my appetite," Daphne said, pushing her bowl of chicken potpie away.
Kenna threw a piece of fried cheese at Jessie Kay. "Have some class and call it a baby maker or something."
Everyone at the table went still.
"Are you trying to tell us you're pregnant?" Brook Lynn demanded.
"No!" Kenna burst out. "What? We're waiting until we've had a few years together. You can call it the trouser snake, for all I care."
Trouser snake? Really? "What about man meat? Or even the middle leg?" Harlow suggested.
Jessie Kay nodded thoughtfully. "Or we could go with something simple like the peen. If we wanted to get technical, we'd have to go with the meatsicle. Or the anaconda, but that's on a case-by-case basis."
Daphne tried for a stern expression, only to ruin it with a snort. "I am not playing this game. But if I were, I'd suggest we call it the weenie wonka."
How had they ended up on this subject? "Ladies." Harlow clapped her hands to gain their attention. "Can we please return to bad-mouthing Beck?"
"The guy who's been serving out Mr. Happy Meals to satisfied customers for years? Yes. Please continue." Jessie Kay gave a regal wave of her hand.
And I actually asked her for help? "Why would he ignore me since learning of my...you know...untouched state?"
"He hasn't talked about it," Brook Lynn said, an apology in her voice. "To be honest, I had no idea what was going on until you called."
Great! "Why did you agree to help him find me a new man, anyway?"
"I didn't agree--I suggested it."
"What? Why?"
"To tick him off and make him admit he wants you all to himself." Brook Lynn grinned. "He pulled me aside the other day and told me not to set you up with anyone. He would be handling all the details."