Truth or Dare (17 page)

Jared looked up, surprised to see Mike standing beside him.  "What are you doing here?  I thought I just saw your car leave."

"That was Mom.  I'm going home with Freddy Howard for the night.  Well, I see you've already loaded everything.  See ya later."

Now that was sure interesting.
  Mike had known Jared was finished loading, so why had he come over and volunteered that tidbit of information?  What difference could it possibly make to Jared if Mike Harding spent the night with one of his friends?  And more important, why did Mike want him to know?

A moment later realization dawned on him, slow but sure. 
Well I'll be damned.
  He'd almost forgotten.  This was the night Susan Thompson, his left fielder, was having a slumber party for the whole team.  All the girls would be there.  Right this minute, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson were herding a giggling, screaming gaggle of twelve
–
year
–
old girls into their big van.

Deb was going.  She'd brought her clothes and sleeping bag with her.  Just then, she ran up and gave him a quick hug.

"See ya tomorrow, Dad," she called as she ran toward the overflowing van.

And Caroline Harding was right behind her.

Well I'll be damned.

Anticipation lit a fire in his chest as he hurried home to shower and change.  "Need any help, Coach?" Jared muttered to himself with a laugh.  "Yes, and thank you Mike Harding."

*  *  *  *

Rachel sat on the couch and listened to the silence echoing all around her.  It was rare for her to be home alone.  It was eerie.  It was lonely.

Then, into the roaring quiet, other sounds intruded.  City sounds of movement, of life.  Heavy Saturday night traffic on Northwest 63rd behind her back fence.  A siren off in the distance somewhere, probably headed for Baptist Hospital, or Deaconess.  Hard rock music blared from a car radio going past her house, followed a few minutes later by another car, this one blasting country and western.

A car door slammed nearby.  Her doorbell rang.  When it rang a second time, Rachel jumped with surprise, only then realizing it was indeed her doorbell.

She knew who it was without answering, but she answered it anyway.  When she flipped on the porch light and opened the door, there stood Jared, a scowl on his face.

"Don't you even look out the window before you open the door when you're home alone at night?  I could have been the neighborhood strangler."

Rachel held the screen door open with a laugh.  "Neighborhood strangler?  You've been watching too much television."

"In our business, I'll have you know, there is no such thing as too much television."

When she closed the door, quiet descended again.  Only this time it was different.  It was a Jared quiet.  It throbbed and pulsed vibrantly, expectantly.  She throbbed and pulsed with it.

He'd obviously been home since he left the ball park.  His clothes were clean and fresh, dress slacks and a short
–
sleeved pullover.  No trace of the dust and sweat that had coated him earlier.

"I would have called first, but I was afraid you'd tell me not to come."

Rachel was stunned to read hesitancy in those brilliant green eyes.  His very uncertainty put her at ease.  She tilted her head and gave him a slight, curious smile.  "Why did you come?"

"I wanted to see you.  To be able to look my fill, maybe even reach out and touch you once in a while without starting an avalanche of gossip.  To talk to you."  He smiled again then.  "To listen to your voice say something other than, 'You have a phone call.'"

They both laughed at that, then stopped laughing when Jared reached out and stroked her lips with his finger.  His voice grew husky.  "Maybe to even kiss you again, this time without an audience."

When his lips lowered to hers, she couldn't have moved away if she'd wanted to.  And she most certainly did not want to.  What started as light and tender, a mere touching of lips, quickly turned into something much more potent when his arms came around her and crushed her to his chest.  Panic was the farthest thing from her mind.

Rachel's hands, with no help from her head, slid up his arms and around his neck.  Her fingers thrust themselves into his soft, dark hair.  Her lips clung to his.  Her heart beat rapidly against his.  Her thighs brushed his.

And when he moaned, she moaned.

His hands spread fire across her back.  His tongue stroked hers.  In and out.  Matching the rhythm of his rocking hips as one hand lowered to her hips and pressed her firmly agains
t the hard proof of his desire.

Jared tore his mouth away and gasped for breath.  He rested his chin on top of her head, and gradually, finally, their breathing slowed.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.  "I meant to keep it light and easy."

Rachel was nearly devastated by the storm of emotions his kiss unleashed in her.  She wanted to laugh.  She wanted to cry.  She wanted to shout to the world, "This gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful man wants me, and I didn't panic in his arms."

And at the same time, she wanted to run and hide, to cover up her past, to shield herself from possible hurt.

What am I going to do?

Suddenly Jared chuckled and kissed the top of her head.  "How did you ever get to be a fashion model, anyway?  I thought all models were tall and skinny."  His hands ran up her ribs and brushed the sides of her breasts, taking her breath away.  "And flat chested," he added, laughter still in his voice.

Rachel shuddered at the feel of his hands.  "I was an ice breaker."

"Don't I know that.  You broke my ice a long time ago, lady."

He moved to kiss her again, but this time Rachel forced herself to turn away.  "Please don't, Jared."

"Why?"  The laughter was gone, replaced by a ragged huskiness.  "You didn't get scared this time."  She tried to pull free of his arms, but he held her tight.  There was no panic in her eyes.  "Something happens when we're together, something special.  I know you feel it too, so why do you keep pushing me away?"

She went limp in his arms, her hands resting on his shoulders.  "I don't push you away nearly as often as I should," she said.  "And every time I don't, I feel like I'm leading you on.  This . . . thing between us, whatever it is, is very likely leading nowhere.  It just . . . complicates everything."

"I'm sorry it's so complicated for you."  Jared raised her face and forced her to look at him.  "For me it's very simple.  I want you."  He brushed her lips with his.  "I'll take as much or as little as you're willing to give.  I want it all, but I'll take what you'll let me.  And I don't just want to take, Rachel.  I want to give, too."

Rachel searched his eyes for a long moment, reading his sincerity, forced to believe him.

He placed a quick kiss on her nose and released her.  "Enough serious talk.  Do you have anything to drink?  All this kissing makes me thirsty."

Rachel stepped back and shook her head.  Should she laugh, or scream?  The man was driving her absolutely crazy.  And by the look on his face, he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"We have a variety of soft drinks, plus milk, pineapple juice, orange juice, and apple juice.  Take your pick."

Jared raised a brow.  "You always keep such a large selection on hand?"

She laughed and headed toward the kitchen.  "I don't have a choice.  We each like a different kind of juice and a different brand of soft drink."

"Who am I stealing from if I have orange juice?"

"That's Mike's."

"Your son has impeccable taste."

"He'll be glad to hear it."

"Well, it's true."  Jared grinned at her.  "He even likes me.  Shows how smart he is."

Rachel narrowed her eyes in a mock glare.  "What makes you think he likes you?"

"Well," he drawled.  "I figure if he didn't like me so much, he wouldn't have made it a point to let me know you were home alone tonight."

"He what?"  This time her glare was for real.

"Now don't get excited.  He knows I'm trustworthy."

"Ha.  'Said the spider to the fly.'  Wait 'til I get my hands on that little traitor.  Somewhere in his upbringing, I must have made a wrong turn."

Jared took the can of juice from her and grasped her hand.  "You don't really mind that he told me, do you?  That I came over?"

Rachel glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at his face.  "No," she whispered, suddenly feeling shy.  "I don't mind."

"Then would you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Kiss me."

Rachel felt her heart skip a beat.  "But we just
—
"

"No, that was me kissing you.  I want you to kiss me."

She swallowed and moistened her lips, but didn't move toward him.

"Please."

Rachel's knees nearly buckled.  Was she supposed to be able to resist the plea in his eyes and on his lips?  The plea in her own heart?  She hoped not, because if so, she was going to fail.

Heart pounding, hands shaking, she stepped closer and raised her head.  He met her gaze, but not her lips.

So, he wasn't going to help.  But Rachel didn't care, for she suddenly wanted to kiss him more than she wanted to breathe.  Boldly, she put her hands behind his head and pulled his mouth down to meet hers.

At the first touch of her soft lips on his, Jared's breath caught.  The orange juice can gave slightly beneath the pressure of his fingers as he struggled to keep from wrapping his arms around her.  This was her kiss.  He wanted her to do it her way.

Her tongue brushed his lips.  He shivered and opened his mouth to hers.  The sweet gentle kiss turned hot.  Her hands clutched his head tightly.  He moaned.

"Kiss me back, Jared," she whispered.  "Put your arms around me and kiss me back."

With another moan, this one of surrender, Jared dropped the juice can to the floor and complied.  He had thought to make her want him so much she would forget whatever fear might be hovering in her mind.  His plan backfired.  It was he who forgot her fear as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him.

He forgot everything but Rachel.  She was like liquid fire in his arms, in his blood.  She fit against him as though made for that express purpose.  And when she moved against him, a pulse pounded strong and steady in his loins, dragging him deeper into the kiss.

Rachel reveled in his response.  Breathless, eager for more, she pressed herself against him.  Fire and yearning engulfed her.  With her hands on his back, she imagined what his skin would feel like, hot and sleek to her touch.  She imagined what his weight would feel like pressing her down against her mattress, his legs tangled with hers.  She felt his hardness against her, and imagined him filling the aching emptiness deep inside her.

And then she imagined she heard Hank's voice. 
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
disappointing, at best.

Jared felt the change in her instantly.  This was different than the panic that had gripped her that first time they'd kissed.  Rather than struggling, she went still.  And cold.

"What is it?" he whispered.

She shook her head.  "I'm sorry.  I guess I'm just not ready for this."

"Could have fooled me," he managed.

She pulled back and looked at him.  "I didn't mean to."

He'd pushed too hard again, dammit.  He gave her a slight smile.  "I know you didn't.  I didn't mean to let things get so out of hand, either.  I just can't seem to help it.  You take my breath away."

She swallowed.  "You
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
do the same to me."

His smile came slow and sure.  "Good."  He kissed her again, tasted her soft, alluring sweetness, then let go.  "I think I've pushed my luck far enough for one night."

CHAPTER EIGHT

During the next few weeks, as school let out and summer rolled in, Rachel hardly ever thought about the secret she was keeping from Jared.  When thoughts of it did intrude, she shoved them aside.  Later.  There would be plenty of time for explanations later.

Even Shotz seemed to have backed off.  She'd only seen him once in the past several weeks.  He'd been coming out of the newsroom and she had been heading toward him on her way to the coffee shop.  When he spotted her, he did an abrupt about face and ducked back through the door.

Well,
she thought with a satisfied smile. 
Maybe the man has a conscience after all
.  He'd made no attempt to talk to her since their confrontation weeks ago, when Jared had walked in on them.

And Jared had been as good as his word.  He wasn't trying to rush her into a more intimate relationship.  But he wasn't backing off any, either.  Every day was a test of her willpower to resist the heated suggestions in his eyes and the lingering touches when no one was looking.  And every day, her willpower slipped another notch.