When You Dare (25 page)

Ugly? Jesus, is that what she thought? Here he was, doing his damndest to be noble, and she thought she wasn’t appealing enough?

Through his teeth, Dare said, “You want me to spell it out for you?”

Uncertainly, she nodded.

“Fine.” Let her deal with the truth. “If all I wanted was a fuck, trust me, Molly, you damn well would have been fucked.”

Her mouth fell open.

Dare turned, pounded the heavy bag three more times, but it didn’t help. Knuckles aching, he dropped his hands. How the hell could he make her understand what he hadn’t yet figured out for himself?

Voice strained, he said, “I like you, Molly.”

He heard her inhale.

Over his shoulder, gaze sharp and temper primed, he looked at her. “I care about you.”

“You do?”

In two long strides, he closed the distance between them. She backed up, but then bumped into the wall.

“Tonight.” Because he couldn’t stop himself, Dare flattened his hands on the wall to either side of her head. He leaned closer, loomed over her without letting his body touch hers.

“Tonight?” she whispered.

At five-seven, she was considerably shorter than him, small, delicate, vulnerable. And he was wild for her. He wanted to carry her to the ground, pin her down with his body and take his fill.

Breathing hard, Dare bent and put his mouth to hers. He didn’t touch her in any other way. He didn’t dare tempt himself that much; he couldn’t go there, not right now.

The kiss was warm and firm, and though Molly didn’t realize it yet, it was possessive as hell. A line had just been crossed, and he didn’t give a damn. She’d asked for it, so she’d get it, and then they could deal with her reaction together.

When she moaned and touched her hands to his chest, he straightened and took a quick step back. “Tonight, Molly. If you still feel the same tonight, then I’m done objecting.”

“Tonight?”

Was she having second thoughts? “Make damn sure you know what you want before then, because I’m not a man who’s good with half measures.” He caught her chin, determined to make her understand. “Once we’re in that bed together, we’re going to be there for a few hours, maybe all damn night. And trust me, Molly, before we’re done, you’ll know there’s not a damn thing about you that I find unappealing.”

Her lips trembled; she covered his hand with her own. “All right.” She drew in a slow, shivering breath and started to reach for him again.

And Chris yelled down the stairs, “Is Molly down there? I can’t find her.”

Molly jumped back as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. Her reaction was amusing, but Dare was a long way from humor. “Chris was gone?”

She nodded. “He went into town to get my stuff.”

Dare studied her flushed face, and then he noted how her nipples had tightened beneath her sweatshirt. Without taking his gaze off her breasts, he yelled up to Chris, “She’ll be right there.”

“Ooookay,” Chris said, and they both heard the basement door close.

Chris was giving them privacy, but Dare didn’t want it. Not here, not like this. But now that he’d told Molly how he felt, the barriers seemed very insubstantial. If he didn’t get some space, he’d end up taking her on the cold concrete floor.

“I need to shower,” he told her, “and then I’ll be right up.” As dismissals went, that was pretty clear.

“Oh. Right.” Keeping her back to the wall, Molly sidled toward the stairs. “I’ll just be up there. With Chris.”

Dare couldn’t take his gaze off her. “Give me twenty minutes.”

She continued to retreat. “Twenty minutes.”

Obviously he’d thrown her for a loop. Seemed fair to Dare, given how she’d turned him inside out.

His jaw flexed. “Get going, Molly, before I change my mind.”

She turned and hustled up the stairs, fascinating Dare with that taut behind and the bouncing of her full breasts. He stood there transfixed, watching her until she reached the top of the stairs and disappeared from his sight.

Damn, but she was something. Pure. Honest.

A great contradiction to the life he’d built for himself, a life of precision, deception and detection.

Being around Molly felt good.

Today he’d make her confront her life back home, and, God willing, tonight she’d still want him.

K
ATHI
B
ERRY
-A
LEXANDER
finished giving directions to one of the well-mannered household staff before she started down the hallway of the mansion she shared with her husband, Bishop Alexander. All her life, she’d been groomed for the skillful organization and planning required for a residence this large—not that Bishop understood or appreciated her significant contribution to making their home comfortable. He was a very busy man, an important, influential man, and he couldn’t be expected to care about such things. She knew that, in many ways, he considered her dispensable.

But she loved him anyway.

She loved the prestige he provided, the social circle, the authority.

He might not be the most charming man around, but he was an excellent provider and a respectable husband that society admired and that some even revered.

Her parents had raised her with advantages, but they weren’t powerful like Bishop. Marriage to him ensured that she kept a prestigious edge over others.

She happily basked in the cold shadow of his success.

What Bishop couldn’t or wouldn’t give her, she was resourceful enough to get on her own.

As Kathi looked around at the beautiful artwork on the walls and the fresh flowers in multiple vases, she nodded in satisfaction. Meticulous detailing ensured that nothing would ever mar her perfect existence.

Mentally listing her duties for the coming evening, Kathi considered the yoga class in an hour, then lunch with friends before she’d visit the salon in preparation for a dinner party with her husband’s business contacts.

Everything revolved around those contacts. Over the years, Bishop’s business investments grew more diversified, and even extended into political backing. She didn’t understand all of his dealings, but she knew that he owned a chain of gun stores and several recreational properties. Business didn’t interest her; she received a generous household allowance and personal account, and should anything ever happen to Bishop, she was a major beneficiary of his will. The house, the properties, would remain hers.

She was satisfied.

As she strode along the marble floors, Kathi’s heels clicked rhythmically in a soothing cadence until she stepped into the master bedroom in search of her purse. That’s when she spotted Bishop out on the veranda.

Despite the cool day and brisk wind, he wore no jacket. With his cell phone to his ear and tension in his shoulders, he leaned on the ornate iron railing and stared out at the grounds.

He spoke in a tone harsh with anger, and Kathi couldn’t help but overhear him.

“Apparently she was missing, and I didn’t know it.” He paused, then added, “Well, of course it’s a problem, because that crude Neanderthal felt free to accost me at a goddamned club!”

Kathi couldn’t believe her ears. Someone had dared to confront Bishop? Out in the open? He didn’t appear hurt, but all she could see was his back.

Concerned, she started to go to him, but hesitated when he blasted the caller with rage.

“How could I tell him anything that I didn’t know?” Bishop ran a hand through his hair. “No, you can’t ask around. I already told you, he
threatened
me if I said a word to anyone. If you go blabbing, then he’ll damn well know I was talking, right?”

Stiffening, Kathy wondered who would dare to do such a thing. She didn’t understand the complexity of Bishop’s reach, but she knew her husband was a powerful man with many important friends.

And yet someone had the gall to encroach on their perfect existence? Unacceptable.

Bishop lost his control and shouted loud enough for the staff to hear.
“How the fuck should I know?”

Appalled, Kathi stepped out to the veranda, too, admonishing him. “Bishop, remember yourself.”

The look he sent her would have made most people quail. But Kathi cared more about appearances than his temper. She hadn’t worked this hard to have his bad humor fracture their sterling reputation.

“Come inside to talk,” she urged him. “I’ll give you the privacy you need.” She took his arm, but he jerked free of her hold and turned his back on her.

To her relief, he did lower his tone when he spoke again to his caller. “I’m telling you, this goon knew a lot of my personal business, so I’m not taking any chances. He claims to have all kinds of reach, and given what he already knows, I believe him. All I want you to do is find out—discreetly—who he is and how he knows me. No, I don’t have any suggestions on how you do it. That’s what I pay you for!”

Kathi watched as her husband almost threw the phone. She didn’t flinch, and in the end, he drew a calming breath, closed the cell and jammed it back into his pocket.

Inside, she was shaking, but outwardly she tried to give him what she knew he needed. “I apologize for blundering in on your private call.”

His eyes burned with disdain. “There’s never any goddamned privacy around here.”

Kathi steadied herself with a deep breath. “We’ve discussed this, Bishop. Your library is off-limits to everyone except during the morning cleaning.”

“I think it’s bugged.”

“Bugged?” She put a hand to her chest in shock. “Are you serious?”

Eyes narrowed and red, he paced past her, then back again. “I don’t know. But I feel exposed in there.”

She couldn’t credit such a thing, but she would not take chances. “Shall I have it examined?”

His teeth sawed together, and he glared at her. “Do you have an answer for every fucking thing? Damn it, don’t you ever get rattled?”

“Well, of course.” She touched his arm, and, despite his coldness toward her, she felt the fine, masculine hair there, the warmth of his skin. He was a handsome, powerful man, and she protected what was hers. “But I want to be here for you always. It’s my role to do whatever I can to help you—”

“Christ, woman,” he shouted at her, jerking free of her touch yet again. “You fucking smother me.”

She started to apologize again, but held back at the look he leveled on her. “Who is missing?”

He narrowed his eyes and almost as an accusation said, “Molly was taken.”

Kathi backed up a step. “Taken? What do you mean?”

“You run the house,” he told her. “You tell me.”

Bewildered, she shook her head. “Your daughter doesn’t live here. She’s not under my jurisdiction, so I have no idea—”

“That was sarcasm, damn it.”

“I see.” His temper was ripe today, scorching her.

Not bothering to hide his disgust, he pushed past her. “But one would think you could keep up with your stepdaughters at the very least. If you had, then maybe I wouldn’t have been taken off guard.”

And with that, Bishop stormed through the bedroom and, Kathi knew, out of the house.

He hadn’t said if Molly was okay or not, leaving her to wonder.

She took a moment to compose herself, but no more than a moment. Regardless of this unfortunate turn, she had duties for the day and she would never allow her own emotions to keep her from those responsibilities. Too many people depended on her. She would attend her yoga class as scheduled.

But first…first she had a phone call to make. And unlike her husband, she never did so without the privacy needed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
S
M
OLLY HURRIED UP
the stairs, her thoughts churning over what Dare had said and his promise for the night, a fantastic change in her plot occurred to her. That’s how her writing went—she got inspiration from everywhere, and Dare certainly inspired her muse in remarkable ways. So far, there was more sex in this book than in any of her others.

Her dad would abhor that, but she’d bet Kathi would appreciate the new scenes. Most of her readers seemed to enjoy a little steam now and then.

Since meeting Dare, she could understand why.

Closing the door to the stairs, Molly leaned back and grinned.

“Is that a look of satisfaction?”

She jumped at the intrusion. Somehow she’d forgotten all about Chris. “What? No. I mean…”

He laughed at her.

“You’re terrible,” she accused without any real insult. “Actually, I just worked out a plot problem, that’s all.”

“Mmm. Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

She opened her mouth, but could think of nothing witty to say. “Where’s my stuff?”

“I put the bags in the room you’re using upstairs.” His smile never wavered. “So, where’s Dare?”

“Taking a shower. He said he’d be up in twenty minutes.” That didn’t leave her much time. She wanted to get the words down before Dare finished. “I, um…” She edged away. “I need to go write.”

“Have at it.” Chris saluted her and went back to unloading some groceries.

Forty minutes and six pages later, Molly saved her file and returned to the kitchen. Chris was at the computer, but looked up to smile at her as she entered. “You done?”

She nodded. “For now.”

Dare stood at the stove, cracking eggs into a bowl. They shared a look. “Chris said you were writing.”

“My muse takes some wild jumps, and good plot twists just occur to me. I like to get it on paper while the idea is fresh in my mind.”

Chris sat back in his chair. “Am I old enough to hear the details?”

“Sorry, no.” He was teasing again, but Molly answered with a writer’s seriousness. “I never, ever talk about my stories while I’m writing them. It dilutes my creative energy.”

“We can’t have that.” Chris laced his fingers behind his neck and stretched. “So, how long will it be before I can buy a copy?”

“A year, at least.” It amazed Molly how comfortable she felt with them both already. She took a seat at the bar. “After I turn it in, which won’t be for a while yet, it has to go through production. But when it’s done, I’ll give you an autographed copy if you want.”

“Really?” Chris dropped his arms and leaned forward. “If you’re serious, that’d be great.”