Truth or Dare (14 page)

Jared blinked sudden moisture from his eyes.  She was hurting so badly. 
What?
he wanted to ask.  What had happened?  What threat did Shotz pose?

As he slowly stroked the bare skin of her back, unbidden tendrils of heat curled through his veins.  He cursed himself for wanting her at a time like this.

But then, it seemed he always wanted her.  Every minute of every day.  Even right now, when she was so upset.  Right here in his office, with a hundred people milling around less than twenty feet away.

He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms loosely around her.

Rachel's breathing finally slowed.  She stirred in his arms, then shivered.  Still holding her close, he led her to the sofa across from his desk.  Carefully, gently, as if she were made of fragile glass, Jared sat her down.

When Rachel
finally
became aware of her surroundings
some time later
, she was surprised to find herself on Jared's couch, with his arm around her.  His strength and warmth felt so good, she leaned against him and sighed.

An instant later, it all came rushing back.

Lyle Shotz was here.  Her past had just caught up with her.

She tried to straighten, but Jared held her close.  "It's all right, it's only me.  Rest a minute and catch your breath."

Her breath?  There was nothing wrong with her breath.  Then she remembered that terrible feeling of suffocating, of not being able to draw air into her lungs.  She took a cautious breath, then another, savoring the simple act of breathing.

"I'm all right now."  She pulled away, and this time he let her go.

"Is he the one?" Jared asked slowly.  "Is Lyle Shotz the man who attacked you?"

Rachel blinked.  Considering the way she'd panicked, she could see why Jared would ask that.  "No."  She shook her head.

"Then do you want to tell me what happened just now?"

What could she say?  He'd taken care of her, helped her when she needed him.  All she wanted to do was fall into his arms again and stay there, safe and warm forever.  Instead, she was going to lie to him.  "I'm not sure.  Maybe it was something I ate."

Jared took her hand and held it firmly.  When he spoke, his voice was soft, yet it held a ring of steel.  "Look at me, Rachel."

"Jared, please."  She tried to pull her hand from his suddenly tight grasp.

"Look at me, damn you."

Rachel swallowed the bile that rose to her throat and turned her eyes to face his hard, uncompromising gaze.

"It was not something you ate."

Each word came out sharp, determined.  Certain.  She tried to look away, but his eyes wouldn't let her.

"We've been together nearly every day for three months now.  We've shared good times, bad times, and a lot of in
–
between times.  I'm attracted to you, you know that.  I care about you, and I think you feel the same.  So what in the hell does it take to get you to trust me?"

Rachel stared into his bright green eyes, reading anger, even pain in their depths.  She should tell him.  She should just tell him and get it over with.  She no longer believed he would react the way others had.  She should just say it.  Simple.  No problem.

"Jared, I . . . I . . . ."  She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him, and tried again.  "I . . . oh damn.  I . . . I can't."

"Can't what?" he demanded harshly.  Then his voice softened as he released her hand and stroked a knuckle across her cheek.  "Can't trust me enough to tell me what's wrong?"

She opened her eyes and felt the sting of tears.  "It isn't that," she said, shaking her head.  "Not really.  I just . . . can't talk about it.  Not right now."

She pulled away from him then, and was grateful that he released her.  His touch was too compelling.

She rose and was halfway to the door before she realized why she felt so comfortable.  Her bra was unfastened.  She stopped and folded her arms across her chest before turning around and heading for his bathroom.  "Excuse me."

In the bathroom, Rachel forgot what she'd been about to do and sagged against the wall.

Shotz.  Lyle Shotz was here. 
What was she going to do?

She closed her eyes and tried to think, to plan.  There seemed no other way except to tell Jared the truth, yet she had tried a few minutes earlier and hadn't been able to.

What was she going to do?

"Rachel?" Jared called from outside the door.  "You all right in there?"

Rachel took a deep breath and straightened away from the wall.  "I'm fine," she called.  "I'll be out in a minute."

Remembering why she'd come to the bathroom, she reached beneath her blouse and found one side of her bra clasp ripped from the fabric.  It was ruined.  After undressing enough to take off her bra, she put her blouse and jacket back on.

She started to toss the bra into the waste basket, but, no, the basket was empty.  She didn't want Jared or the janitor to see her underwear, for heaven's sake.  She tucked the bra into her jacket pocket.

She straightened her wig, took another deep breath, then left the bathroom.  Jared stood beside his desk.  "Anything wrong?"

Only everything, she thought.  Then she frowned at him.  "You ruined my bra."

He raised a brow.  "Good.  I'll ruin the next one, too, if you ever try to stuff that 34
–
C body of yours into a 32
–
A bra.  You damn near passed out earlier because you couldn't breathe.  It's stupid, it's dangerous, it's got to be uncomfortable as hell, and it isn't necessary.  If you'll recall, I've already seen the shape of what you're trying to hide."

He came closer.  "And while we're on the subject," he said, taking a menacing step in her direction.  "Get rid of that damn wig, too.  Whatever you're hiding from, my guess is that it just caught up with you.  If it isn't just your modeling, and if he's not the man who attacked you, then what's going on?  Talk to me, Rachel."

She wanted too, knew she should.  "I
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
I can't.  I'm sorry.  Not just now."  She left him there and returned to her desk.

*  *  *  *

The events of the morning put Rachel behind in her work.  A half hour past quitting time she was still there.  Unfortunately, so was Jared.  She had the sinking feeling he intended to stay as long as she did, whether he needed to or not.

When she walked past the door to his office on her way to get a soft drink, she kept her gaze averted.

Expecting the coffee shop to be empty, Rachel was panic stricken to find Lyle Shotz heating a sandwich in the micro
wave.

Shotz ran his gaze casually from her head to her toes and back again.  "I'll say it again, Rachel Anne, you sure do look different from the last time I saw you."

White hot anger settled like a glowing ember in the pit of her stomach and fought with the terror already there.  "Still invading peoples' privacy, Shotz?"  When he only smiled at her, she asked, "Just out of curiosity, how did you recognize me this morning?"

"You've got to be kidding."  His smile widening to show a set of perfect white teeth.  She wondered why he didn't file them.  Surely they should be more pointed.  "With all the footage I've got of you, do you honestly think I could ever fail to recognize those legs?  Besides," he added with a cocky grin, "I recog
nized your maiden name on your name plate."

Rachel turned her back on him and jammed her money into the coin slot of the soft drink machine, then whopped the third button with the side of her fist.

"Since we're going to be working together, maybe you'll finally give me that interview I've been wanting."

"What?" she shrieked, spinning around to gape at him.  "After the stories you did about me in St. Louis?  You've got to be just about the cockiest bastard that ever walked.  Don't you even
think
about doing another story on me, or I'll
—
"

"You'll what?  I'd be careful with threats if I were you," he said, his smile never slipping.  "The way I figure it, the only reason for a woman to disguise her looks to the extent you have is that you don't want someone to know who you are.  Like maybe our esteemed boss?  Would I be messing up your little setup here if I happened to whisper a few tidbits in his ear?"

Rachel's body went from boiling hot to freezing cold in an instant.  "You're just cruel enough to do it, aren't you?" she whispered.

"What's happening here?"

Rachel stiffened at the sound of Jared's voice.

"I could hear the two of you all the way down the hall.  Would either one of you like to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Between the reporter's arrogant threats and Jared's obvious anger, Rachel felt trapped.  She had to get out of there.  Now!  Let Shotz tell his dirty little tales.  What did it matter?  She couldn't stop him anyway.  Men like Shotz had no conscience, no finer side to appeal to.

It was over.  All her plans, her hopes for a stable future for her and her children, her dreams of living peacefully, anonymously.  Over.

She pushed her way past Jared and ran down the hall toward her office.  She cut the corner too sharply and caught the drinking fountain with her left hip.  Her breath sounded harsh to her ears and she had to double over and clutch her side while trying to run the rest of the way to her desk.

With tears clouding her vision, she picked up the phone.  Her hands shook so badly she had to start over three times before she punched in the right numbers.  When she started to give the address for the taxi, Jared caught her by the shoulder and took the phone from her hand.

In a grim voice, he said, "I'll drive you home."

He didn't say a word during the entire trip.  His silence made Rachel want to scream.  Everything made Rachel want to scream.

When he stopped the car and killed the engine, Rachel had her door open before she realized they weren't at her house.  Instead of turning on her street, he had driven another block and parked the car at the far end of the supermarket parking lot.  "What are we doing here?"

He took a deep breath, then let it out.  "You need a little more time before I take you home."  At her inquiring look, he said, "If you walk in your door looking like you do right now, your kids are going to think you've had a run
–
in with an axe murderer.  Just sit here a minute.  Let a little color come back to your cheeks."

Rachel pulled her door closed and slumped back in the seat.  He was right.  She even felt pale.  She must look like the walking dead.  "Thank you," she whispered.

After a few minutes, Jared leaned toward her and braced his arm on the seat back behind her head.  "Rachel, talk to me.  You're important to me.  Tell me what's wrong."

Rachel stared at him in dismay. 
Important?
  "You don't even know me."

"Then tell me.  Tell me who you are.  Tell me whatever it is that's so terrible it makes you react the way you did today.  There's nothing you could say that would change the way I feel about you."

Rachel pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples and gazed, unseeing, out the window at the traffic on the street.  It was all she could do to keep from wailing.

She cleared her throat.  "Shotz can tell you plenty, if you really want to know."

"Dammit, I don't want to hear what he has to say.  I want to hear it from you, whatever it is."

She dropped her hands and clenched them until her nails dug painfully into her palms.  "I can't, Jared, I just can't.  But if you meant what you said . . . if . . . if I mean anything to you, then don't listen to him.  Don't talk to him."  She swallowed and forced her hands to relax.  "It doesn't matter anyway.  There's nothing for you and me.  Nothing.  It's pointless."

Jared felt like he'd been punched in the gut.  Nothing for them?  Pointless?  No.  Never.  He couldn't, wouldn't accept that.  He took her face in both hands.  "Is this pointless?"  He brushed his lips against hers and felt the spark he'd known would come.  He tasted, nibbled, then kissed her fully.  When she whimpered, he started to pull back, afraid he was scaring her.  But her lips clung to his, and Jared knew he was lost.

He groaned, wanting to wrap his arms around her, wanting to crush her close against his chest.  Close to him, flush against him, part of him, where she belonged.  He clamped down on the urge, afraid of pushing her too far, too fast.

His heart thundered.  Ragged breathing filled the car.  Jared felt his control slipping away and tore his mouth from hers before it was too late.  He leaned his forehead against hers and gasped, "Not pointless.  Not pointless, Rachel."

When his breathing finally slowed, he started the car and drove her home.  She didn't say a word before getting out and walking to her door.

*  *  *  *

Jared returned to his office and let out a weary sigh.  When he sat down and rubbed at the ache in his neck, he noticed someone had left a three
–
quarter
–
inch video cassette on his desk.  Beneath the logo of a St. Louis TV station were scrawled the words, "Rachel Anne."  He picked it up, frowning, wondering where it had come from.