Truth or Dare (21 page)

But dammit, she was only thirty
–
five years old.  She didn't want to spend the rest of her life with nothing more to treasure than one night in the arms of the man she loved.  She wanted more nights with him.  And days.  And years.

But that was wanting.  A dream.  The reality was her past.  A past Jared may very well not want to deal with.  And she wouldn't be able to blame him.  A bitter taste formed in her mouth.

When she got to work Monday she didn't know whether to scream with frustration or weep with relief.  She'd made up her mind to tell him.  She was going to march right into his office, close the door, and tell him
—
straight out.

But he wasn't in.  The note he'd left her said he wouldn't be in until after lunch.  She checked his calendar and realized he had meetings and appointments scheduled back to back all afternoon, and even more meetings tomorrow.  For what she had to tell him, she needed more than three minutes between appointments.  Monday passed with no opportunity.

When the phone rang at home that night, she wasn't all that relieved that it was Jared.

"I missed you today," he said softly when she answered.

"You were rather busy."

"Yeah, and tomorrow looks just as bad.  I have to leave the office around three for a meeting across town.  Will I see you at the softball game at seven?"

She bit back a sigh of frustration.  "I'll be there."

"Is everything all right?"

"Of
—
"  Her voice cracked.  "Of course.  Everything's fine."

"Good.  I can't wait until tomorrow night.  'Til then."

"G
–
Good night."

Only it wasn't a good night.  Not for Rachel.  Once again she lay awake, tossing and turning, tying the covers in knots around her legs, trying to plan what to say tomorrow.

"You'll never guess what happened to me five years ago."

No.  Stupid.
  He already knew part of it.

Jared, please love me.  Please believe it wasn't my fault.  It was an accident.  Don't stop loving me.  Please.

*  *  *  *

At work the next morning Jared took one look at the dark circles beneath her eyes and made the movie salesman from MGM wait in the lobby.

It was all Rachel could to do keep from flinching when Jared grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.  "What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Nothing's wrong," she claimed, staring at the knot of his burgundy tie.

"Who are you trying to kid?  You look like you just lost your best friend."

"I'm just tired, that's all."

She had the distinct feeling that if the door to the hall hadn't been open, he'd have kissed her.  As it was, he released her chin and squeezed her shoulder.  "If you want to take the rest of the day off
—
"

"No, I'm fine.  Really."  Going home wouldn't help.

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

When he smiled, she breathed a sigh of relief.  A moment later she ushered the man from MGM in and went to work.

The rest of the day was an unmitigated disaster.  At ten, Jared needed a file while he was on the phone, and she broke two nails trying to find it.  At eleven, she tripped over a cable in engineering and dumped coffee down the front of her white skirt.  After lunch, she banged her knee on the corner of her desk drawer, giving herself a bruise and a runner at the same time.

At two
–
forty
–
five, Jared left for his three o'clock meeting, and at three
–
fifteen, it started raining.  Hard and steady.  Rachel went back to the weather department, tucked into a closet between the newsroom and the studio.  The weatherman told her there was no let
–
up in sight until late that night.  The girls' game would be rained out.

And at five, Rachel's world came crashing down around her shoulders.

Jared wasn't expected back until tomorrow, and Mike was late picking her up, probably, she assumed, due to the rain.  She was in Jared's office searching through a stack of video cassettes, looking for an audition tape from a perspective news reporter so she could return it to the newsroom, when she came across a tape with a label from a St. Louis station, bearing her name.  Not Rachel Fredrick.  Not even Rachel Harding.  Simply, Rachel Anne.

Her throat closed and shut off her breath.  She dropped the cassette like it was a live wire.  It crashed against the desk and fell to the floor.  Suddenly lightheaded, she closed her eyes and groped for the edge of the desk.

There was no need to play the tape.  She knew what was on it.  Oh, God, she knew!

"Rachel?"

At the sound of Jared's voice, Rachel whirled to face him.  Dizziness had her landing in the chair behind his desk.  Not able to look at him, she covered her face with shaking hands.

"Rachel, what's wrong?"

Eyes closed, she heard him come around the desk.  Heard his shoe connect with the cassette on the floor.  A strained silence filled the room.

Rachel forced her hands to her lap and opened her eyes in time to see Jared bend down and pick up the tape.  "How long have you known?" she whispered, her head spinning almost as fast as the room itself.

Jared straightened, the cassette dangling in his grasp.  "I
don't
know.  I haven't played the tape."

Two huge tears rolled down her cheeks.  "You
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
haven't?"

"No."

She shook her head, bewildered.  "Why?"

"Because I wanted you to trust me enough to tell me yourself.  Because whatever it is you're hiding doesn't really matter.  It has nothing to do with us.  Don't you know," he said fiercely, "that
nothing
in your past can change the way I feel about you?"

Coldness seeped over her.  She stood and gave Jared a choked laugh.  "You won't say that after you watch that tape."

"I don't want to watch the damned tape."  He flipped open the hinged door of the cassette with his thumb and started ripping the tape out.  "I
won't
watch it."

Rachel stared, stunned, as yards and yards of ruined tape piled up at Jared's feet.

"Why?"  She raised her gaze to his.  "All my ugly little secrets are on that tape.  Things you need to know about me."

"If they're important, you'll tell me yourself.  If they're not, you won't.  Like I said, whatever you're hiding can't change how I feel.  I love you, Rachel."

"Excuse me.  I'll come back later."

The cold in Rachel's bones turned to ice at the sound of the reporter's smooth voice behind her.  Rage, like she'd never felt in her life, consumed her.  Fair or not, here was someone she could blame.  He'd come here and stuck his nose in her business, ruining any chance she might have had for happiness, for a normal life.  She glared at him, remembering the way he had hounded her in St. Louis.

Lyle Shotz grinned.  "Guess I'm luckier than Sutton.  By the look on your face, if you had a gun in your hand I'd be dead."

Jared stiffened in shock.

At the look on his face, Rachel cried out.

Jared took one look at Rachel's haunted eyes and pale face and knew he'd meant what he said.  Whatever Shotz was hinting at, Jared didn't care.  Something about a gun and maybe a dead man, and he didn't care.  He only cared that Rachel not hurt anymore.

"She doesn't need a gun to deal with a weasel like you," Jared said between clenched teeth.  "Apologize."

"The hell I will."

Blind with fury, Jared grabbed Shotz by the throat.  He wanted to kill the bastard.  "Apologize. 
Now.
"

Shotz, his face turning purple, mumbled something unintelligible.

Jared heard nothing beyond the blood pounding in his ears.  He shoved Shotz against the wall.  "Repeat after me:  Ms. Fredrick, I'm
very
sorry.  Say it."

"C
–
Can't," Shotz managed.

"Say it!"

"She's
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
gone," Shotz said with a gasp.

When Jared loosened his hold to turn and look for Rachel, Shotz slid down the wall, gasping for breath.  Jared ignored him. 
She's gone.

Out the front window, he caught sight of the red mustang pulling away from the curb, driving off in the rain.

She's gone.

With cold purpose, Jared turned back to Shotz, who was just rising from the floor.  "Get out of my sight, and out of this station.  You're fired."

Shotz straightened the collar of his plaid shirt and smirked.  "You can't do that.  I've got a contract."

"Not anymore, you don't."

*  *  *  *

Rachel could tell Mike knew something was wrong, but she was grateful he didn't ask questions.  When they got home, she learned that Caro's game being rained out hadn't put a damper on the slumber party.  With her daughter gone for the night, and Mike still planning on going to Freddy's, Rachel went to her room and threw herself on the bed, shivering uncontrollably.

If they're important, you'll tell me yourself.  If they're not, you won't.

By his words, Jared was letting her off the hook.  He said her past didn't matter, wouldn't change the way he felt.  And he meant it.  She couldn't imagine how much faith he must have had in her to let him ignore that tape.  How much strength.  How much love.  He really believed her past wouldn't matter.

But only because he didn't realize that when her past came to light, as it would, it could destroy him.  The vicious gossip would start again.  It would affect his life, his daughter's life, his standing in the community.

She couldn't do that to him.  She loved him too much to make him pay for her past.  And she owed him, for the trust he placed in her hands, letting her make the decision as to whether or not to tell him the truth.  She owed him.

She owed him more than just the truth.  She owed him a peaceful life free of all the turmoil and pain she would bring him.  But dear God, the thought of leaving him took her breath away.  If she laid there and thought about life without him, she would never find the courage to do what she had to do.

With a deep breath and an angry swipe at her tears, she forced herself from the bed.

*  *  *  *

The walk up Jared's sidewalk at ten
–
twenty that night was the longest she'd ever made in her life.  By the time she reached for the doorbell, her hands were shaking so badly she missed the button and had to aim again.  She hit it on the third try.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans.

It seemed like she stood there forever.  He was home.  His car was in the driveway, and there were lights on in the house.  Would he answer the door?  Would she have the nerve to do what had to be done?

The heavy oak door swung inward, and there he stood.  He was barefoot, but still had his slacks on.  His coat and tie were gone, shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose.  Tiredness was etched across his face.  And his expression was blank.

Rachel panicked.  This was a mistake.  She should have waited.  They should have met in some neutral corner for her confession.

She stood on his doorstep, more uncertain than she'd ever been in her life.  But there was one thing she was certain about.  She took a deep breath and looked him right in the eye, ignoring the fact that her chin trembled and her vision was clouded with moisture.  "I'm sorry I didn't trust you.  I'm ready to tell you now."

The thread of tension holding him motionless snapped.  He let out a harsh breath as his arms came around her and crushed her to his chest.

"Oh, Rachel, Rachel," he moaned.  He buried his face in her hair.  "I was afraid you wouldn't come."

Rachel felt his heart answer the thundering in her own chest.  His arms were like steel, and she reveled in the fierceness of his embrace, knowing full well it might be the last time she ever experienced heaven.

Her heart quailed.  How could she give him up?

Yet how could she not?  For to stay with him, if he still wanted her after learning the truth, would be the worst thing she could do to him.

Her resolve firmed, she pulled free of his arms.

Jared took her by the hand and led her to the sofa in the den.  He sat beside her and held onto her hand.  "You don't have to tell me anything."

"Yes," she said.  "I do.  I should have told you the day we met."

"All right, then tell me what you think you have to, so we can put it behind us."

Rachel hung her head and stared at their joined hands.  "This isn't exactly the kind of thing that can be ignored."

"Rachel, I love you."