Truth or Dare (12 page)

"I don't mind," he said with a shrug.  "I like doing it."

Rachel was silent then as Jared followed the Mustang and exited the interstate onto Northwest Expressway.  At the stop light, she felt his eyes on her as if they were touching her.  "You're staring."

"I know," he said softly.  "I can't help it.  I like looking at you.  This is only the second time I've ever really seen you, you know."

"No," she said, catching his gaze and holding it.  "This is the first time you've ever seen me.  That other person was someone else . . . someone I used to be. 
This
is who I am.  Jeans, sweatshirts, and two children."

Jared gripped the steering wheel harder.  It was all he could do to keep from reaching out to stroke that long golden curl that lay across her shoulder.  He wanted to feel the soft silkiness against his skin.  Wanted to touch her cheek.  Taste her lips.  Hear her sigh.  But he didn't want to scare her.

He turned and focused on the Mustang's tail lights, concentrating, trying to ease the sudden tightness in his loins.  There was no way he could get out of the car in this condition.

His grip tightened even more on the steering wheel, until his knuckles turned white.  He tried thinking of unpleasant things:  a losing softball season; low ratings for his new movie; low ratings in general; a strike in the newsroom; four
–
foot chunks of ice falling from the tower onto the roof of his car some winter.  None of those things helped.

What cooled his blood was the fear that if he ever got the chance to kiss Rachel again, she would panic as she had before.  He wondered if her ex
–
husband was the bastard responsible.

Jared parked behind Mike and got out without asking any of the questions in his mind.  He had agreed to pretend that night in Las Vegas never happened.  He would go along with her wishes.  For now.

Caro and Deb were still wound up with excitement, and they entered the restaurant first, followed immediately by Mike.  When Rachel reached the door, Jared grabbed her hand and stopped her on the sidewalk.  "Rachel?"

She looked up at him and he read hesitancy, uncertainty in her gaze. 
Easy, Morgan,
he cautioned himself. 
Don't push too fast.  Don't scare her off.
  But damn, it was hard, when all he wanted to do was hold her, feel her body pressed against his, feel the soft yielding of her lips.

He gripped her fingers tightly and cleared his throat.  "Is it possible for us to be friends, you and me?"

Her eyes widened.  "Friends?  Is that what you want?"

He felt the moistness of her palm, the trembling of her fingers.  At least he wasn't the only nervous one around here.  "Yes," he answered.  "Friends.  I want more than that, but for now, friends will do.  What do you say?"

"I'm . . . not interested in anything beyond friendship."

Liar,
he thought, reading the look in her eyes.  He smiled then.  "Fair enough.  Friends?"

After a moment, Rachel nodded.  "Friends."

Jared breathed a sigh of relief and held the door open.  One hurdle crossed.

The kids had taken over a round corner booth, with Caroline seated in the middle.  Rachel slid in next to Mike, so Jared sat beside Deb.

"Can me and Caro watch MTV on the big screen, Dad?"

"I don't believe I heard that," Jared said, one brow cocked.

Deb grinned at him.  "May Caroline and I please watch MTV on the big screen tonight, Father?"

Jared returned her grin.  "Yes, you may."

Caroline squealed.  "Did you hear that, Mom?  A big screen!  And
MTV
!  Wow!"

"I heard, I heard."

When the waitress came to take their order, it took several minutes to straighten out who liked which toppings.  When asked about drinks, Jared said, "I'll have a beer."

"The same for me," Rachel said, eliciting his surprise.

"Me too!" chimed in three other voices.

Jared and Rachel both gave mock glares to their grinning children.  "That's beer for the adults," Jared told the waitress, "and a soft drink of their choice for the children."

Deb and Caro both groaned and rolled their eyes.  Mike, however, wore a smug, superior look, until Rachel spoke up.

"All
three
children."

Jared stretched back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest as he let the conversation the other four were having drift around him.

This
was the Rachel he'd longed to know.  This easy going, smiling, laughing, vibrant, sexy Rachel.  How could a woman look so poised, so utterly desirable, with a string of cheese dangling from her lips?  It was all he could do to keep from leaning across the table and swiping at that cheese with his tongue.

When her own tongue flicked out to capture it he almost groaned aloud.  He forced his gaze away from her glistening lips and tried to concentrate on his food.  What was he eating, anyway?

Oh yeah.  Pizza.  In front of his daughter, and Caro.  And Mike.  He'd have to watch himself around Mike.  The boy acted more like an overprotective older brother than her son.

And the boy was sharp.  Maybe too sharp.  If Jared wasn't careful, Mike would be asking him what his intentions were.

And that was one question Jared didn't want to think about.

All he knew was that Rachel Fredrick fascinated him.  He wanted to get to know her.  Wanted to get close to her.  Close enough that she would never know fear again.  And if the truth be known, he just plain wanted her.  Wanted her the way he'd never wanted another woman.

*  *  *  *

The next day Rachel congratulated herself on getting a good night's sleep in spite of spending the evening with Jared.  Since he wasn't due to bring Caroline home until later, she changed into ragged cutoffs and an old T
–
shirt at noon, then put her hair up in a ponytail.  She would help Mike wash the car.

A while later, on her knees on the wet driveway, she called to Mike, "Toss me that soapy rag.  You missed a spot over here."

"I never!"

"You most certainly did," Rachel answered, laughing.

Mike dunked the rag into the suds, then, with it still dripping, threw it over the top of the car.  Just as Rachel stood up.  It caught her full across the face, and clung there.

Rachel screamed behind the rag and got a mouthful of suds.  Fumbling, cursing, she finally flung the rag away. 
Listen to him over there laughing.  I'll murder that kid.

But before she could even wipe the soap from her eyes, Mike, bellowing with laughter, had rounded the car and turned the spray nozzle directly on her face.  "How 'bout a little rinse, Mom?"

Rachel shrieked as the cold spray soaked her face, her hair, and her T
–
shirt.  "Michael Henry Harding!"

Mike laughed.

"I'll get you for this, you maniac.  Jared was right.  You can't possibly be my son.  Gypsies left you on my doorstep."

She put a hand in front of her face to divert the spray and made a grab for the hose.  Mike dropped it and ran to the other side of the car, whooping with laughter.

"I didn't mean it, Mom, honest.  It
—
"  His own laughter cut off his words.  "It was only an accident.  Just a little wash and rinse, that's all."

Rachel aimed the nozzle across the hood of the car.  "Wash and rinse?  I'll show you wash and rinse."  She turned the nozzle from spray to jet and let him have it.

"I give!  I give!  I'm sorry!  I'll never do it again!"

"Don't believe him, Mom.  He'll be trying to wax you next."

Caroline.

Rachel spun around at the sound of her daughter's voice, jet nozzle still in her hand.  The spray caught a laughing Jared square in the face.

Caroline and Deb squealed and ran from the spray bouncing off Jared as he tried to dodge the deluge.

Realizing she still gripped the nozzle, Rachel finally had sense enough to release the handle and cut off the water.  She could do no more than gape at her drenched boss, who looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or strangle her.

"Time to leave," Caroline yelled.  She grabbed Deb by the arm and headed for the house.

"I'm with you."  Mike followed, hot on their heels.

The slamming of the front door finally penetrated the thick fog in Rachel's brain.  Her lips twitched involuntarily.  A small sound escaped.  Then a louder one.  In the next instant she burst out with full
–
throated, uncontainable laughter.

After a moment of laughing at Jared's sober expression, she tried to turn away from him, and accidentally planted one foot squarely in the bucket of soapy water.

That set Jared off, and before long, they were somehow clinging to each other, both of them weak with laughter.

Still chuckling several minutes later, Jared lifted her out of the bucket and stood her on the driveway.  "Here," he said, bending to pick up the hose.  "Let me help."

"Don't you dare!"  Rachel, thinking she was going to get soaked all over again, tried to run.

Jared stopped her with a hand around the back of her knee.  At the innocent, playful gesture, they both stopped laughing.  Their eyes caught and clung.  Their smiles died.  Rachel's breath halted.  His touch was like fire.  A very pleasant fire.  His eyes, too, spoke of heat, and want.  As his gaze trailed down her face, her skin tingled, as if he were stroking her.

When his gaze scorched a path to her trembling breasts, she gasped but refused to look down.  She hadn't worn a bra.  Her shirt was soaking wet.  She could feel it clinging to her and knew it was transparent by now.  Her nipples, already puckered from the cold water, tightened even more under his hot gaze.

Jared knelt before her on one knee, his hand still holding her leg, his gaze on her quivering breasts plainly visible through the soaked T
–
shirt.  He tried to swallow.  Nothing happened.  He tried again.  His hand around her knee tightened, as did the hand holding the nozzle, in an effort to keep from reaching up and rediscovering the firmness of her flesh.

They were both brought back to the world with a jolt when he squeezed the nozzle too tight and a frigid spray caught her across the legs and him in the face.  He released the nozzle instantly, and closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I think I needed that," he murmured.

He squeezed the nozzle again, gently this time, and rinsed the soap from her leg, following the spray with his hand.  The sensation of cold water and hot, hard flesh trailing up and down her calf sent rivers of heat circulating through Rachel's body.

Jared cut off the spray, released her leg, and stood up slowly, only inches away.  With an index finger, he wiped a droplet of water from her cheek.

"I know you," he said softly, his deep voice sending tingles down her spine, his eyes once again holding hers captive.  "You're my new friend, Rachel.  We met last night."  He brushed another drop from her nose.  "Hello, Rachel."

The moisture left her mouth and pooled in other places, secret places, places that shouldn't be moist.  Not here.  Not now.  Not with
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
her boss.  A trembling seized her, but it wasn't of fear.

"The . . . ah . . . ."  She had to stop and clear her throat.  "The children are probably watching.  Let me go, Jared."

His eyes slowly roamed her face.  "I'm not holding you," he whispered.

It was true, she realized with a start.  He wasn't touching her.  Not physically.  She felt foolish then, felt her cheeks heat up.  She tore her gaze from his face and walked shakily to the faucet to turn off the water.

Jared followed.  "We came early, hoping you and Mike could go to lunch with us.  My treat."

How could he sound so calm, so casual, when she was coming apart at the seams?  Instead of answering him, she went in the house and to her room, where she dried off and changed clothes, at the same time trying to regain her equilibrium.

Rather than go out, since most of them were still a little damp around the edges, Rachel fixed sandwiches.  Jared acted as though nothing had happened, while Rachel played with her food and tried to stay on the opposite side of the room from him.

Yet, when he and Deb left an hour later, and Rachel, Caroline and Mike were playing scrabble in the living room floor, Rachel somehow felt . . . robbed.  Of her senses, her peace of mind.  Of his warmth.  His presence.

It didn't help any that Caro kept talking about him.  About how nice he was, how good
–
looking, how much fun.

Rachel found herself listening avidly to a detailed description of every room in Jared's large, two
–
story house, the big
–
screen TV, the swimming pool in the back yard, and Nora Allred, Jared's gray
–
headed, widowed, live
–
in housekeeper who made her own doughnuts from scratch.