The Harder You Fall. Gena Showalter

The rugged male voice came from the back of the room, where West leaned a shoulder against the entrance to his office. “Tell me, Miss Dillon. Is making people worry a sport to you?”

      Their eyes locked, and hated tingles spilled over her. For a moment, a single heartbeat, tension so intractable she couldn’t breathe thrummed between them. He was the sun she orbited, the vortex she couldn’t escape. Then he turned, revealing his back, and she was able to suck in a mouthful of air, but his image remained burned in her mind.

      He stood well over six feet tall and had the lean, sexy muscle mass of a man who’d spent quality time in a gym. A fact perfectly complemented by the pin-striped suit he wore. He had dark hair and even darker eyes, the depths fathomless, mysterious and so sublimely sensual she sometimes forgot her new resolve to avoid ABBs. Adorable bad boys.

      She wanted what her parents had. What Brook Lynn and Jase, Harlow and Beck had. She wanted more. And for the first time in her life, she was willing to wait for it. No more settling for scraps.

      Sometimes people forget that falling in love isn’t enough. Momma, always so wise. You have to fall in like, too. Your dad...he thinks I hung the moon.

      Jessie Kay had no doubts about that. When she’d helped her sister pack up to move-in with Jase, they’d found a secret panel in the closet. Stored inside were letters their dad had written their mom while the two were dating.

      When you smile, my sweet Anna Grace, I see my future in your eyes.

      No one had ever experienced that kind of reaction to Jessie Kay’s smile, and there was no way West would be the first. Which was one of the many reasons he wasn’t dateable, despite her crush on him. Well, not on him, but on his looks. Yes, there was a big difference. While she would love to give his face and body a tongue bath, she only wanted to give his brain the finger.

      “Well, don’t just stand there drooling, Miss Dillon, go on back,” Cora said, pulling Jessie Kay from her musings.

      “Thanks.” For nothing. She clutched the wicker basket closer to her chest and trudged forward.

      The moment she crossed the threshold into West’s office, the temperature seemed to rise another twenty degrees, the air saturated with the heady scent of caramel. Her tingles returned and redoubled.

      He’d removed his jacket and now sat at his desk, rolling the sleeves of his white button-down to his elbows, revealing strong forearms with mouthwatering sinew and a dusting of dark hair.

      “Don’t pretend you were worried about me, Mr. West.”

      He reclined in his chair and folded his hands over his middle, peering at her the way a snake must peer at a mouse—intent, ready to strike, hungry.

      A ball of thorns grew in her throat, and she gulped. Maybe he wanted to devour her in a sexual way. A few times she’d wondered if he liked the look of her the way she liked the look of him. Or maybe he just got off on taking down an opponent.

      Yeah. That one.

      “Are you here to feed me or to stare at me?” His tone mocked her.

      Jerk. “I’m here to correct you. You said I was late, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Breakfast orders are due to arrive between seven and nine.”

      “It’s ten thirty-six.”

      Oops. Was it really? “You didn’t let me finish. Breakfast orders are due to arrive between seven and nine except on ice days. I’m allowed an hour or so of leeway.”

      “Again, it’s ten thirty-six.”

      “I said or so.” When his expression failed to soften, she added, “Could I have picked up the pace to reach you sooner? Yes. However, falling and breaking my neck is your dream come true, not mine.”

      He showed no mercy. “Since news stations have talked about nothing but this winter storm for the past week, I knew it was headed our way and did something revolutionary. I planned ahead.”

      She offered him a brittle smile. The customer is always right, Brook Lynn often said. And Jessie Kay agreed...unless the customer was a douche bag, and then he was just a douche bag. “Had I planned ahead, I would have canceled your order.”

      “But you didn’t. So. I’m assuming your tardiness means the food is free.”

      She breathed in and out and remembered another bit of sage advice her mother had given her. You can’t control when a bird flies over your head, but you can control whether or not you let one build a nest in your hair.

      In other words, she couldn’t stop certain emotions from rising up inside her, but she could stop herself from reacting to them.

      And she had to, had to, had to stop herself. Brook Lynn recently challenged her to a bet. First girl to yell or throw things in a fit of temper had to let the supposedly composed sister pick her wardrobe for a week.

      Knowing Brook Lynn, Jessie Kay would be wearing a nun’s habit. Shudder! She’d much rather see her sister in a bikini constructed with two pasties and a curl of ribbon.

      Over the years, tormenting each other had become a very fun game.

      “You’re wrong, as usual,” she told West with a sugar sweet smile. “Also, you’re too limited in your thinking. Time isn’t linear, it’s circular.”

      That grabbed his attention. Intrigue brightened his eyes as he straightened, propped his elbows on the desk and linked his fingers just below his chin. “Explain.”

      With pleasure. “Time has no beginning and no end. It always has been, always will be, and it never stops, which means time is an ever-continuing circle of new beginnings and new ends.”

      The intrigue intensified and mixed with...admiration? “You’re implying the concept of being late is—”

      “Bullcrap.”

      “—erroneous because what is present will become what is past and what is past will become what is future. Therefore, no matter the lateness of the hour, you’re always on time.”

      “I liked my description better, but yeah. And being on time in this weather means I’ve earned a bonus. Today, your sandwich is fifty dollars more than usual.”

      He studied her for a long while, silent. “In terms of excuses, yours is the best I’ve ever heard. I’ll give you the extra fifty.”

      She fought the urge to preen. “Should we make it an even hundred?”

      “Why? Did you sprinkle the sandwich with crack?”

      “No. But I did finally factor in my mental anguish.”

      One corner of his mouth twitched as if—no way, just no way—he might smile. But of course, his frown deepened, and he turned his attention to his keyboard. “Leave the food. Get your money from Cora and go. I’m busy.”

      Hot and cold. Sweet and sour.

      He was soooo lucky Jessie Kay abandoned the dark side, or he’d be receiving special toppings on tomorrow’s order.

      “I hope you—” choke “—enjoy.” She placed the bacon-and-marshmallow sandwich at the edge of his desk, in his periphery without actually broadcasting how precariously it teetered. Yes, the sandwich was protected by paper, but the floor was the floor and to a man of West’s fastidious nature, it would be utterly tainted the moment the two made contact.

      Maybe she still dipped a toe in the dark side every now and then.

      Just to be contrary, she said, “There’s a life outside of computers, you know.” He wanted her to go, so she would stay a little longer. “You should check it out.”

      He never glanced her way. “Send me a link, and I will.”

      Har har.

      As she watched him click clack at the keyboard, she thought that maybe...wow, this was hard to admit but...being his friend would have