THE HOTTER YOU BURN by Gena Showalter
ON SALE 7/28/15
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The Original
Heartbreakers
New York Times
bestselling author Gena Showalter is back with a sizzling Original
Heartbreakers tale featuring a troubled playboy and the woman he can’t resist…
Beck Ockley is
ruthless in the boardroom...and the bedroom. He's never been with the same
woman twice, and vows he never will. With a past as twisted as his, meaningless
sex keeps the demons at bay. His motto: One and done. No harm, no foul.
Harlow Glass is
the most hated girl in town. The beautiful artist is penniless, jobless and
homeless. When she sneaks into Beck's home—her ancestral estate—for food, she's
shocked by his early return...and her immediate, sizzling and intense
attraction to him.
For the first time
in Beck's life, he can't get a woman out of his mind. All too soon, friendship
blooms into obsession and he'll have to break her heart...or surrender his own.
“I’m leaving, that’s what,” Harlow said. Determined
words, snotty tone. She attempted to wrench herself from Beck’s grip.
“Oh, no.” Beck merely tightened his hold. “We’re
going to have a glass of sweet tea while you two crazy kids get to know each
other better.”
Harlow anchored her hands on her hips. “You know
what? You’re right. We are going to get to know each other. But
your presence is unnecessary, Beck. Leave.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“We don’t need—”
He cut her off, whispering, “If you and West get
married and live happily ever after, you’ll have to get used to having me
around.”
She snapped her mouth shut, then lifted her chin
and grumbled, “That’s a very sad point.” She flashed a too-bright smile at West
and eased into the chair Jase had vacated. “I’m game if you are.”
Beck vibrated with irritation as he carried a
pitcher of tea and three glasses to the table and settled between the pair. “My
girl here has certain ideas about the kind of man she wants to end up with,” he
explained, “and I’d like to know if the two of you are compatible.”
Understanding dawned on West’s features, a smile
nearly breaking free. He cleared his throat and donned his most uncaring
expression. “Sure. Whatever.”
Beck poured the tea, handed out the glasses, and Harlow
clutched hers as if it were a lifeline.
“Kick us off, sweet pea,” he said. “Tell my good
buddy Lincoln—that’s his first name, in case you didn’t know—a little about
yourself.”
“Well.” There was a slight tremor in her voice. “I’m
twenty-six, and I’ve never been married.”
“Would you like a medal?” West muttered, while
staring down at his cell phone, playing one of the games he’d created.
She glared at Beck, but he merely arched a brow.
Don’t make
plans with men you don’t know.
“Yes, actually, I would like a
medal, considering I’m hot but don’t realize it, which makes me even hotter.”
The tremor had vanished, the snotty attitude firmly in its place. “It’s a
miracle no one’s snatched me up. But then, most men are idiots, so…”
West smiled, realized his mistake, and glowered at
his screen.
Beck braced elbows on the table. “You’re
suggesting outward beauty is all that matters.”
“Hardly. My personality is hot, too. But Beck,
darling.” Sugary-sweet tone now. Too sweet. “You aren’t part of this get-to-know-you
session, even though you insist on being a total third wheel, so do us all a
favor and zip your stupid lips.”
Then, she dismissed him. Looking to West, she traced
her fingertips over the collar of her shirt, so feminine Beck’s every masculine
instinct growled, hungry for the next meal. “So. Lincoln. How old are you?”
West played the video game a little longer before
deigning to answer. “I’m twenty-eight, but I’ve got the stamina of an
eighty-year-old coma victim. Horrible lover. Even worse cuddler.”
“Well, those skills can be taught,” she said,
reaching over to caress his shoulder. “Anyway, you’re quite young to be so
successful. It’s impressive.”
It was impressive. Beck wasn’t sure where
he would have ended up without the guy.
West shrugged. “I work hard,” he said, then added,
“probably too hard. I tend to ignore the people in my life. Especially women.”
“Well, I understand how taxing such a busy work
schedule can be, and I commend you for it.” She gave his shoulder another
caress, and Beck almost jerked the two apart. “I hope the lucky ladies in your
life are as understanding as I am.”
“I guess,” West said and shrugged again.
“Wow, just look at these muscles, West. You are
amazingly strong, aren’t you?” She cast another narrowed glance Beck’s way,
presumably to make sure he was watching as she scooted her chair closer to West’s.
“You know,” she said, the tip of her finger toying with the rim of West’s
glass. When she caught a bead of condensation, she brought it to her lips and
sucked, causing Beck’s groin to twitch behind his zipper. “I have a skill of my
own, but it’s quite naughty.”
West glanced up, phone forgotten. “Do tell.”
“Yes. Do.” Beck simmered with renewed anger—even
more desire. He smoothed a lock of hair from Harlow’s face. One touch, but he
was greedy for more.
Her breath caught, but she leaned away from him,
getting closer and closer to West, until her mouth was poised at the shell of
his ear. In a husky voice low enough to be considered a whisper but loud enough
for Beck to overhear, she said, “I’m super good at parking.”
Stick a fork in me. I’m done.
Done with the conversation. Done with watching the object of his obsession
doing her rock-solid best to arouse another male. “West doesn’t need to hear
about that. Let’s go—”
“Even boys from two counties over dreamed of
making out with me in the backseat of their trucks,” she continued with an
effortless sensuality. “I’m very bendy.”
Beck slammed his glass on the table, tea sloshing
over the sides of the rim. “Harlow here is looking to settle down forever,” he barked.
“She thinks you’d make an awesome groom.”
“Marriage?” West sneered with distaste. “Me? Hell,
no. Never.”
“He’s all for others tying the knot, but when it
comes to himself he thinks the Newlywed Game should
be called the Dig Your Own Grave game,” Beck explained, relaxing now that the
conversation had taken a new direction.
Harlow unveiled a brittle smile. “Maybe you just
haven’t met the right person, Lincoln. You don’t mind if I call you Lincoln, do
you?”
“Call me whatever you like, but I have
met the right person.” His voice cracked. “She died.” He stood, his chair
skidding behind him, and strode out of the kitchen.
Harlow rounded on Beck, all hint of supple,
willing female gone. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. You did this.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” The words were nothing more than a
hiss. “You wanted me to know I can’t win the affections of anyone else, that I’m
stuck with you, destined to be your newest conquest.”
“Stuck with me?” he snarled.
“Yeah, that’s right. You aren’t the prize you
think you are, Beck Ockley, but maybe West is. Maybe he’s worth fighting for. Maybe,
unlike you, he has a heart and the ability to care for someone other than
himself.”
“I have a heart. I care.”
She didn’t seem to hear him, plowing ahead. “You
know, there are plenty of guys in town. Why focus all my efforts on just one? I’m
sure lots
of guys would like a chance to get to know the new me. I
can bring them back to my RV—”
“My RV.”
“—and practice being married, just the way you
suggested.”
Beck would burn the RV to ash first.
Too far gone to fight his sense of possession, he
hooked his foot around the bottom of her chair and forced her chair closer,
closer still. Their thighs touched, and she gasped, perhaps at the force he’d
used, perhaps with a desire of her own.
He grabbed her by the waist and easily hefted her
onto the table, on his feet and between her legs a second later, glaring down
at her.
“I want you, and it’s past time I showed you how
much. You’ll keep your sweet ass parked on this table and you’ll show me
your skills. Me. No one else.” And then his hand was cupping the back of her
neck, drawing her forward.
GENA
SHOWALTER
Gena Showalter is a New
York Times and USA Today bestselling author whose
works have appeared in Cosmopolitan and
Seventeen magazines, as well as Entertainment Weekly. Her novel Red Handed has been optioned by Sony
Television. Critics have called her books “sizzling page-turners” and “utterly
spellbinding stories,” while Showalter herself has been called “a star on the
rise.” Her mix of humor, danger and wickedly hot sex provides wildly sensual
page-turners sure to enthrall.
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