Truth or Dare (13 page)

Listening to Caro was one thing.  Listening while Mike watched her like a hawk was something else entirely.  He was much too observant for her peace of mind.

What did that look on his face mean?

CHAPTER SIX

Until running into Jared at the softball game, Rachel had been seriously considering dropping at least part of her disguise.  If she had to wear a bra, she'd at least rather wear one the right size.

But after the way Jared reacted to seeing the real her, and equally important, the way she'd reacted to him, she decided firmly against it.  The less she revealed of herself, so to speak, around Jared Morgan, the better.

So Monday morning it was the same familiar bag lady who showed up for work.  But she could tell by the look in Jared's eyes, after the irritation fled, that her disguise wasn't all that safe anymore.  He knew what lay beneath it.

She tried to ignore the feelings
—
fear, anxiety, and yes, anticipation
—
his look stirred.  She strove for friendly distance when she passed his desk to get herself a cup of coffee from his kitchen.

When she came back out into his office her first thought, when she saw his empty chair, was one of relief.  He'd left.  Then she saw him at the door, closing it, and walking slowly, purposefully toward her.

She cleared her throat and licked her lips.  "Did you want something?"

He gave no answer, just kept coming, he and those damned, jungle cat eyes.  And like a jungle cat, he was stalking his prey.  And she was it.

Rachel meant to hold her ground, she really did.  But her knees began to shake.  In an effort to steady them, she took a step back.  "What are you doing?"

He just kept coming.  When he stood directly in front of her, a deadly serious look on his face, she swallowed heavily.  She couldn't take her eyes from his.  She felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.  She couldn't move.  Couldn't look away.

"I promised myself," Jared began as he took the coffee cup from her hand and set it on his desk, "that I wasn't going to push you into anything you weren't ready for.  I know we agreed to pretend that night in Las Vegas never happened, but I can't do it any more," he said.  "I can't pretend I don't know what your lips taste like against mine, what your hands feel like when you touch me."

"Jared, don't."

"Can we talk about it?"

"There's no point, and you know it."

"Because you're afraid of me?"

It might be simpler letting him think that, but she couldn't let him blame himself.  "It's not you I'm afraid of.  It never was."

"Maybe, if we took it slower this time
 
.
 
.
 
."

"It doesn't matter, Jared.  Even if I got over my fear, there are too many other reasons you and I should stay just friends."

"Name one."

"For starters, anything other than friendship is a
good way to mess up our working relationship."

"I know," he said.  "I've never
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
been attracted to my own secretary.  Not to any employee.  It goes against my own rules, my own common sense."  His gaze roamed her face.  "But that doesn't seem to matter to me anymore.  I can't get you out of my mind at all.  I think I'm going crazy.  I've been this way since before Las Vegas."

Rachel was dumbfounded.  "Before?"

"Yes, before."  He brushed a strand of black hair from her cheek.  With a wave at her wig and her clothes, he said, "Why are you still dressing this way?  If you want me to back off, just say so.  But if you think this costume of yours is going to discourage me, think again, lady.  I want you.  I think I've made that obvious."

Rachel held his gaze for as long as she could, then looked away.  How did she tell him that she wanted him, too, but that she was afraid?  Afraid she would panic again in his arms.  Afraid if she didn't, she would end up disappointing him.  Afraid of what she feared would be only a casual fling to him, of what he'd think of her if he found out about the rest of her past, the part he didn't know yet.

Afraid he'd walk out of her life and she'd never see him again.

The phone in the outer office buzzed.  She slumped with relief. 
Saved by the bell.  How trite, but true.

"I . . . have to get the phone."  She pulled away from him, eager to go, yet reluctant to leave.  His look said he wanted her to stay.  She picked up her coffee, spilled a drop due to her shaking hands, and left the room.

A half hour later, she was still shaken by his words, but was starting to function normally again.  She really had no choice
—
the damn phone wouldn't quit ringing.  The world wouldn't stop so she could get her act together.

The phone rang yet again.  This time it was Peter Michaelson, the news director.  After hanging up a moment later, she had to force herself to go in and talk to Jared.

"Peter says he'll be up in a few minutes to introduce his new reporter to you."

"Fine."  He lowered his head to sip his coffee, but didn't take his eyes off her.  It made her want to fidget.

"I'll, uh, be in the mail room.  I . . . need to use the copy machine."

She managed to stay gone from the office for twenty minutes before deciding she'd rather not have Jared come looking for her.  Slowly, reluctantly, she headed back down the hall.

As she approached her door she heard male voices from within Jared's office.  Peter came out first and nodded to her.  Another man, about five foot eight, red hair and narrow shoulders, wearing a plaid sport coat, had his back to her and was shaking hands with Jared.

"Welcome aboard, Lyle.  It's good to have you," Jared said sincerely.

Lyle.  No.
  Her stomach knotted.  It couldn't be.

Rachel halted beside her desk, rooted to the spot.  Fear and dread poured through her veins.

"Thanks," the smooth, reporter's voice answered.  "It's good to be here."

The man turned toward her.  Rachel gasped and turned her back, clutching frantically at the edge of her desk.  The room spun crazily as she tried to think. 
Think, dammit.
  A second later, she remembered she was in disguise.  Surely not even Lyle Shotz, Ace Reporter from St. Louis, Missouri, could recognize her now.  After all, it had been a long time.  Even if he'd been looking for her, he wasn't looking for a frumpy woman with black hair.

Jared frowned at Rachel's behavior.  She'd always been polite and friendly to everyone who'd come to his office.  Never had he seen her deliberately turn her back on anyone, much less a new employee.  In fact, she was more inclined to go that extra step and show the new person around and make him feel welcome.

He glanced at Channel 3's newest reporter to judge his reaction to Rachel's behavior.  The man looked at her briefly, then looked away.  His eyes seemed to catch at something on her desk.  He stared at it for a long moment, then looked sharply back at Rachel, who puttered nervously with the stack of papers in her arms, her back still to him.

When Lyle Shotz ran his gaze slowly, deliberately, down Rachel's back, then up again, Jared stiffened.  A wicked gleam sparkled in Shotz's eyes, and a self
–
satisfied smile parted his lips.

"Well, well," Shotz drawled.  "The world just keeps getting smaller and smaller.  Hello, Rachel Anne."

Rachel's stomach rolled over and heaved.  He recognized her!  But how? 
Dear God, how?

This couldn't be happening.  She couldn't have come all this way, gone through all this trouble to build a new life for her and her children, only to have
him
show up and recognize her.  It just couldn't happen.

But it had happened . . . was happening.  Here and now.  What was she going to do?

She turned around slowly.

"I had wondered what happened to you," Shotz said with what to Rachel looked like a particularly vicious gleam in his eyes.  "It's good to see you again."

Rachel's skin, from her face to her feet, turned cold and clammy.  She could feel Jared and Peter staring at her, waiting for her to greet their newest employee.  For her it would be like welcoming a viper into her nest.

"That's right," Jared said.  "Rachel is from St. Louis, too.  I hadn't thought you two might know each other."

Shotz grinned.  "Oh, yeah.  We've known each other a long, long time, haven't we, Rachel?  Although, I must admit you do look, ah, different from the last time I saw you."

Knowing she had to answer, Rachel hugged her stack of papers tighter against her chest and swallowed the sour taste in her mouth
—
the taste of fear and revulsion.  She tore her gaze from his eyes and stared at the papers in her arms.  Her knees were shaking.  She managed a jerky nod and said, "Shotz."

Peter said something then, but all Rachel heard was a buzzing in her ears.  She thought Jared answered, then Shotz, but their words were merely sounds battering against the panic that threatened to send her running from the room.

Running.  She latched onto the word.  Could she run again?  Could she pack up her children and leave town?

She wanted to, badly.  Her chest swelled with the urge.

But could she?  Could she take them out of school for a second time this year and drag them God only knew where?  They were just settling in.  Running meant uprooting them, forcing them to start over making new friends.  Another city, and for her, another job search.  Holding her breath and praying no one would recognize her.

Oh, God, what was she going to do?

Her breath rasped in her throat as though she were already running.  Running for her life.  The papers in her arms started slipping away.  Rachel blinked and found Jared taking them from her.  Frantic, she searched the room.  Gone.  Thank God.  Shotz was gone.  Peter, too.

"Rachel?"

She couldn't look at Jared, at the questions she knew would be in his eyes.  Her breath came harder, her heart whacked against her breastbone.

"Rachel, talk to me."

Talk?  She wanted to cry, to scream
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
to run.  But talk?  No.  She couldn't.  Her vision blurred.

Think.
  She had to think, to calm down.  Decide what to do.  Her choices seemed to narrow down to just two.  She could do nothing, and wait for Shotz to tell what he knew, or she could run.

Oh, God, help me, help me.

Jared took her arm, alarmed at how badly she trembled.  Something was drastically wrong, and he intended to find out what.  He'd never seen anyone so pale in his life.  "Rachel, are you all right?"  Stupid question.

She didn't answer, just kept gasping for breath and jerking her gaze around the room, eyes wide and glassy with what he swore was sheer terror.  His heart ached for her, even as he wanted to shake her and demand to know what was wrong.  In the state she was in, he doubted he would get any answers.  She didn't seem to be aware he was even in the room.  She didn't seem to be aware of anything.

Whatever was wrong, it obviously had something to do with Shotz, with that part of her past she had never revealed.  She was terrified.

Past.  Terror.
  Jared's chest tightened.  Could Shotz be the one who had attacked her?  Cold rage filled him.

His rage, and his questions, would have to wait.  If he didn't get Rachel to calm down and breathe, she would hyperventilate and pass out.

"Rachel, it's all right."  He led her slowly into his office and closed the door behind them.  "It's all right, it's just you and me.  Take it easy."

She wasn't hearing him.  Her mind was still on whatever had set her off.  And she was breathing harder, getting paler by the minute.

His own hands were none too steady when he pulled her into his arms and felt her violent trembling.  Her chest heaved hard and fast.  The wheezing sound of her breath made his throat ache.  "Ah, damn, Rachel."

He ran a hand up her back, trying to soothe her, and felt where the damn bra that squashed her chest flat cut into her flesh.  No wonder she couldn't breathe.

He reached beneath her jacket and tugged the back of her shirttail free from her skirt.  The bra was so tight he couldn't release the clasp.  "Hang on, honey, hang on," he murmured.  "We'll get you some air in just a second."  He tried again and heard something rip as the clasp came free.  He felt her lungs expand.

"Okay.  It's okay now."

He held her gently in his arms, terrified of scaring her even worse, yet unable to let her go.  With his hand still beneath her blouse, he stroked her back and encouraged her to breathe slowly.  "Easy, sweetheart, easy.  That's it.  Just breathe."