When You Dare (22 page)

He put an arm around her. No reason to tell her that he’d intended to suffer in silence. Not now. “I’m fine. Tired, actually.” He urged her along the dock toward the house. “Time to call it a night.”

“But I wouldn’t mind—”

He had to interrupt her. If she offered herself again, no way in hell would he be able to resist. “My girls aren’t used to overnight guests.” Circling them with every third step, the dogs showed their excitement. Dare laughed. “Definitely not used to women sharing my bed. And they have no respect for privacy.”

Molly went silent, and it bothered Dare. What did she think? Was she feeling rejected?

Bending to her ear, he said, “The lake amplifies everything, even a whisper, remember? Whatever we say, Chris will hear.”

“Oh, my God.” She stopped dead in her tracks. “That’s what he meant…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dare’s arm around her back propelled her along the path. “But we might want to hold all conversation until we’re inside, okay?”

She looked toward Chris’s cabin. He’d turned the lights back out, but Dare was willing to bet that Chris was inside laughing his ass off.

Molly put her palms to her cheeks. “Was I…loud?”

She spoke so low that Dare barely heard the question. He hugged her into his side. “You were,
are,
beautiful, and Chris is just a dumbass. Don’t give him another thought.”

He opened the back door to the house, and they both stepped inside. Dark except for a low light over the sink, it was even more difficult to see in here. Dare drew her up against his body and put his chin to the top of her head. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head.

“Still cold?”

“I’m fine.”

Of course. She was always
fine
. “Then let’s turn in, okay? Together.”

She perked up, until Dare shook his head. “To sleep, Molly. I like having you next to me, but we’re not going to have sex tonight.” He used the side of his fist under her chin to lift her face. “Not because I don’t want you. You know I do.” He nudged his erection against her and saw her lips part.

So damned sweet and honest.

Dare opened his hand on her face and cradled her cheek. He couldn’t resist kissing her one more time. She leaned into him, languid and warm and ready.

When he lifted his head, her eyes slowly opened, and as she refocused she looked down at Tai and Sargie sitting beside him. The dogs started thumping their tails.

“No,” Dare said, reading her thoughts. “Not because of the dogs, either.” He loved his girls, but if they were the only thing keeping him from her, he’d put them on the other side of his bedroom door for an hour or so and not feel even a smidge of guilt about it.

Her exasperation sounded in a small huff. “Okay, then why?”

Might as well be honest with her—to a degree. “Because I think we need to go slow. I think
you
need to go slow.”

She licked her lips, bit them and cleared her throat. “You told me to tell you when I was ready.”

Yeah, he had, but he hadn’t expected her to be ready so quickly.

“Soon,” he promised her. He led her out of the kitchen and toward his room. “There are a few more things we need to clear up first.”

He could feel her consternation—and maybe a little annoyance.

“Like what?”

Like whether or not her father was enough of a monster to arrange for her kidnapping, and the abuse she’d suffered. But he knew from experience that bedtime was no time to dwell on upsetting possibilities. Whether Molly felt “fine” right now or not, she still had a lot of adjustment ahead of her.

“Let’s save that big discussion for tomorrow, all right?” Relieving her of the quilt, Dare eyed her clothes and asked, “Are you sleeping in all that?”

“No.” She stripped down to the T-shirt and panties and crawled into his bed.

Just like she belonged there. And maybe…maybe she did.

The dogs jumped up onto the bed after her, circled, found a spot and dropped. They, too, acted as though she’d always been a part of their lives.

As Dare went into the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth, he thought of what he’d learned about her father. He saw again those incriminating photos and felt the animosity Bishop Alexander had revealed toward his oldest daughter.

After he’d finished up and returned to the bedroom, he found Molly resting on her side, her hands beneath her cheek, her eyes watchful as she took in his every step.

Tomorrow, on the way back to her apartment, Dare would tell her what he’d uncovered so far. He hoped like hell she was as strong as she seemed, because she’d need that strength to come to grips with reality.

“I’m cold,” Molly said. “Are you ready to come to bed?”

“Yeah.” Dare undressed down to his boxers and got in beside her. After he turned out the light, he automatically reached for her, and she automatically curled into his side.

If someone hadn’t tried to harm her, and if that someone wasn’t still a vital threat, life would be pretty damned sweet.

A
FTER A REFRESHING
sleep, Molly woke before dawn. Dare had one big arm around her waist, one leg trapping both of hers. His chest hair tickled her nose, and she loved it. He was always so warm, so secure.

But she’d awakened with a fabulous idea in her mind, and she needed to write. It amazed her that, with very little time for recovery, her muse was back in full force. But then, it had always been that way for her. Writing was her escape, her entertainment, her catharsis for whatever bothered her. Through storytelling, she could set aside worries and instead immerse herself in someone else’s problems—problems that she could and did fix.

Trying not to awaken Dare, Molly scooted out from under his hold. Right before she left the bed, his hand snagged her wrist.

“What’s wrong?”

Oh, crud. She hadn’t meant to disturb him. “Nothing,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead he sat up and looked at the clock, then ran a hand through his hair. “It’s only five-thirty.”

“I know.” Now feeling foolish and very conspicuous, Molly tried to explain. “I wrote a few pages yesterday. I sort of stopped at a good spot, and I wanted to get back to it.”

“Where?”

“Where…am I in my book?” No way was she going to start trying to synopsize for him.

“No.” He scratched his chest. “Where did you write?”

Why did that matter? Molly shrugged. “In the room you let me use. Upstairs.” Since she’d yet to sleep there, she couldn’t very well call it
her
room.

In the dim, gray light, Molly watched him stretching. The bed shifted as he rolled to his feet. Then he walked off, and a second later the bathroom light came on. He pulled the door shut, but he wasn’t gone long.

Molly heard the toilet flush, then heard water splash in the sink. When he returned, he left the door open so that the light spilled into the bedroom.

God help her, but Dare looked delicious in the morning with his whiskers and his rumpled hair.

And his body mostly bare.

So much strength showed in his physique, without him being muscle-bound. Tall, strong, gorgeous… How was she supposed to resist that?

He went to a drawer and pulled out sweats.

Molly stopped staring and jumped out of the bed. That made the dogs attentive, too. “Dare, what are you doing?”

“I’m usually up by six anyway.” He sat to pull on white socks and running shoes. “It’s a good time to jog with the dogs.”

When they heard that, both dogs stood, ears perked, in preparation to following him.

Glancing out the window, Molly saw the darkness. The whistling of wind sounded cold. And he’d still be sleeping if she hadn’t awakened him. “You’re going jogging
now?
”

“Yeah.” He stood and pulled on a hooded sweatshirt. “I’ll wait for my coffee until I get back, but help yourself if you want it now. Otherwise, Chris will be over soon, and he’ll get it ready.”

The dogs looked from Molly to Dare—and excitedly went to Dare.

She trotted after all three of them as they started out of the room. “How long will you be gone?”

“An hour or so. Maybe longer.” He turned, and she almost ran into him. Dare caught her shoulders. “After that, I’ll be downstairs working out for a little while.”

Who crawled out of bed before dawn, ran and then worked out—without coffee? “You’re kidding.”

He bent and kissed her hard and fast. Sargie barked, reminding them both that she had need of a grassy spot outside.

“Take your time writing today. I don’t have any plans until the afternoon.” And with that, he turned and started down the hall.

Molly stared after him. Plans? What plans did he have? And what did that have to do with her?

Unless…he planned to take her home.

The idea was both tantalizing and frightening. She probably had a dozen important calls to return; she could only imagine what her editor and her agent thought about her disappearing in the middle of negotiations. But going home meant she was that much closer to ending her association with Dare.

Was he anxious to get rid of her? And if so, did it have anything to do with her botched seduction effort last night?

She dredged up every word she’d said, and even though she tried to reassure herself, one fact come slamming back into her brain: Dare had been generous, but not interested enough to take what she had so freely offered.

CHAPTER TWELVE

L
ONG AFTER THE FRONT
door had closed behind Dare, Molly stood there in the dim hall trying to understand him. Finally she decided that caffeine would help, so after snagging jeans and the all-purpose hoodie, she went into the kitchen and got the coffee started.

As it brewed, she went back to the room to clean her teeth and wash her face. Her hair was a mess, and she tried smoothing it with Dare’s comb, but she had no way of styling it. Blah. She looked terrible, and there was no way around it.

She found a rubber band in the library desk drawer where she’d seen the office supplies, and she pulled her hair back into a high ponytail. That at least kept it out of her face and gave the semblance of order.

It wasn’t until after her third cup of coffee that it really hit her:
she looked like hell.

Yes, of course she’d
known
it; she wasn’t obtuse about her own appearance. But in light of more important issues, she hadn’t really thought about it. She had so much on her mind, and so many adjustments, including the bombardment of feelings toward Dare….

Oh, God, she’d come on to him all hot and heavy while looking her absolute worst. If he had been a more average guy, it might not have been so bad. But Dare was gorgeous, the most physically fit man she’d ever seen, and she looked like…well, a haggard victim.

Groaning, Molly sat back in the desk chair where she’d been trying to work. The scene that she’d been polishing blurred in front of her. Not only was her hair frazzled and unkempt, but she had zip for makeup, and the physical mistreatment she’d suffered still showed in the hollowness of her eyes and the marks on her skin.

She looked as wretched as a woman could look, so why had she thought that Dare would want her? Her come-on had probably been embarrassing and uncomfortable for him. Sure, he’d had an erection, but after all, he was a guy, so that didn’t really mean anything. Physical arousal did not equal personal interest—which Dare had proven last night.

He’d been kind, telling her that he wanted her and that he only wanted to wait until she was truly ready.

How much more ready could she have been? She’d all but begged him to have sex with her.

And instead he’d given her an orgasm, then taken her to bed and slept with her held tight against him all night.

What guy did that?

Every male she’d ever known had made sex the number-one priority. It hadn’t taken seduction or even encouragement—a look was more than enough to get things rolling along. She couldn’t imagine any other man she’d dated ever turning down an offer for sex, not if he was attracted to the woman—and sometimes even if he wasn’t.

Even though she accepted that Adrian had never really loved her, he’d wanted her. Or maybe not her specifically, but he had wanted sex. For certain, he’d never turned her down; in fact, when she’d been uninterested from illness or stress, or when she’d just been too busy, he’d still tried to insist.

She’d accepted that as a natural way for men.

Did Dare hold back because he wanted to be rid of her, even though they didn’t yet know the one responsible for her abduction? Maybe, to his mind, sex would complicate things and in some way obligate him.

Too many unanswered questions made Molly’s head ache.

When she heard Chris in the kitchen, she saved her file and went downstairs, hoping for some insight into Dare’s personality.

Chris stood at the sink, staring out the kitchen window. Dressed in worn jeans and a faded sweatshirt with running shoes, he looked comfortable and handsome. She imagined he got plenty of attention wherever he went.

A
S SHE CAME THROUGH
the doorway, Chris glanced over his shoulder at her, and his expression warmed. “Hey.”

“Good morning.”

“Thanks for making the coffee.” He looked her over, but then turned to stare out the window again.

What was that about? Molly looked down at herself but saw nothing amiss. “I almost drank it all, too, so maybe you shouldn’t thank me.”

Holding up a mug, he showed her that he’d already gotten his, and he had another pot brewing for Dare. “Dare likes it stronger.” Leaning against the counter, he nodded toward the window and said, “Did you see this?”

“What?”

“The sun rising over the lake.” He beckoned her forward. “Come here. I think you’ll like this.” And then, more to himself than her, “Somehow coffee tastes better with such an amazing background.”

Intrigued, Molly walked over to the window, too. She bumped shoulders with Chris as she peered out, and her creative soul soaked in the sight.

“Wow. It’s beautiful.” From this distance, higher up the sloping landscape, she could see through the trees to the dock and boathouse, and beyond. Wisps of fog, mysterious and magical, floated up from the glassy surface of the calm lake. In select, glistening places, the sunshine cut through and reflected back on itself. “It’s almost breathtaking.”