Men Of Honour

There was more than enough room for misconstrued emotions—on both ends.

Poor Dare, to find himself in such a complex romantic situation. It was going to be interesting to see how things rolled out.

Chris turned around on the desk stool. “Did you want me to clean up after you’re done in here?”

“I can do it,” Molly volunteered.

“Morning is soon enough for that, too.” Dare checked the veggies with a fork and decided they were steamed enough.

Since Chris didn’t care much for cleaning—immaculate conditions were Dare’s forte—he finished off his juice and put the glass in the dishwasher. “I left messages on your desk in the library, but did you maybe want them on your bedroom desk instead?”

“That’d be fine.”

“Some of them were from Trace. I think he’s hoping to somehow help with your …” He started to say complication, but when he glanced at Molly, he decided to censor the usual mockery and instead nodded toward her with his head. “With her.”

“I’ll touch base with Trace tomorrow, but he should really just concentrate on Alani right now.”

“True,” Chris said. “I’ll put an updated calendar in your room, too, although the next few weeks are pretty clear—”

“Dare?”

They both looked at Molly.

Chris noted her unease.

Dare must’ve, too, given how he gave her his full attention. “What is it?”

Hesitation had her fidgeting, but in the next breath she straightened her shoulders. “You said you don’t want me signing in to any of my online accounts.”

“No, I don’t.” He served up the meal on two plates. “We don’t yet know who wanted you taken, and I don’t know how smart or connected that person might be, but someone with a little computer experience could trail you here through your online activity.”

“I don’t think I know anyone with those types of skills.”

“You didn’t think you knew anyone who would have you shanghaied to Mexico, either, right?”

Expression tight, she said, “Which is why I’m happy to defer to your expertise.”

Chris stared at her with new respect. A lot of people quailed under Dare’s intense manner, but the way Molly said that was patronizing as hell.

No quailing for her.

“The thing is,” Molly continued, “I need something more respectable to wear, especially if we’re going to be four hours on the road. And it’s not a complaint, but it’s downright cold here in Kentucky, and in Ohio, too. I’ll need some warmer things.”

Dare looked over her casual clothes and agreed. “I suppose you do.”

“I think she looks comfortable,” Chris said. “Sort of sloppy-cute.”

“That’s because you have the fashion sense of a goat.”

Glad that he’d led Dare into that one, Chris said, “So you don’t think she’s cute?”

“Excuse me?” Molly looked at each of them with clear censure. “Do you think we could use your account to do some online shopping? I know my credit-card numbers and can charge it to myself but have it delivered here overnight. I don’t need much, because once we get to my apartment, I can grab my own things.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Chris said before Dare could. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Oh, no.” Opposed to that idea, she shook her head. “You were ready to go to bed. Really, I can do it.”

But Chris was already back on the computer. “Do you have a favorite place to shop and an idea of what you want? We can get it done right now.”

Dare didn’t hide his exasperation. “I wanted to talk to her about her disgruntled readers.”

“I multitask, as you know. Once she tells me what she wants, I can take care of most of it.” He went back to the computer. “Where do you shop?”

Deflated and probably overwhelmed, Molly gave in and told him.

Dare set her plate and a tall glass of water in front of her. “Eat up. And be sure to stay hydrated.” Ever so briefly, he touched her cheek. “I know you feel better, but you aren’t fully recovered yet.”

She smiled, then inhaled the fragrance of real food. “It smells fantastic.”

“Told you he was a good cook,” Chris said, amused by that telling exchange. “Okay, got it. Where to first? Slacks, tops, dresses or jeans? I’d put an outfit together for you, but as Dare already told you, I’m a fashion disaster. So, what are you thinking?”

Molly gave him direction in between eating.

Dare kept nudging the water at her until she drank half the glass.

Pulling up certain brands she’d suggested, Chris found that she was very easy to please. With little fanfare she chose dark designer jeans, black ankle boots, a simple white blouse and a thick charcoal pullover sweater with a self-tie belt.

“Here’s a nice corduroy blazer that’d go with it. What do you think?”

“That’ll work, but get it a size larger so it’ll fit over the sweater. Maybe a scarf, too?”

“Not a problem.” When he was ready to check her out, she came over and, leaning around him, typed in her credit-card numbers.

“To stay on the safe side, I’ll have it delivered to our post-office box in town. But don’t worry. I can go pick it up as soon as it arrives.”

“You make an amazing assistant.”

Dare gave a rude sound over that. “He’s a pain in the ass, but I tolerate him.”

Grinning, Chris turned on the stool toward him. “I’d like to say that you’d be lost without me, but that would be a lie. However, I know for a fact that I make your life more comfortable.”

Lifting his glass, Dare saluted him. “Yeah, I’ll give you that one.”

Chris accepted his due with a nod. To Molly, he said, “Dare has many areas of expertise, only one of them being organization and a certain finesse at details. But I excel at comfort—my own and others’.”

Molly smiled. “Comfort is high on my list of priorities, too. It’s one reason I’m a writer. I can write from my own home, in my jammies, drinking hot cocoa and listening to the music of my choice.”

“A dream job. If only I had the talent to write …”

“But you don’t, so you’re stuck with me.” Dare focused on Molly. “Tell me why you think a reader could be responsible for your abduction.”

She waved off his question. “I didn’t really mean that. I was just being snarky.”

They both waited for an explanation of that.

She pushed away her mostly empty plate. “Well, the thing is, my last book garnered a lot of controversy. There was a vocal group of readers who really …” She looked from Dare to Chris, and shrugged. “They were really pissed off with a certain twist in the plot.”

“How do you know?” Chris asked.

“Trust me, readers make sure you know when you’ve let them down.”

Chris noticed that she didn’t look overly hurt by that.

“They reach authors through online reviews, emails, written letters. And that’s a good thing, just not so fun when there’s so much of the negative stuff.”

Dare sat back in his seat. “How’d the book do with all that reader disgruntlement?”

“Great, actually.” In an effort to explain to them, she leaned forward, elbows on the stone bar. “With every book, there are good reviews and bad reviews, rants and raves, readers who love it and readers who hate it, and a whole bunch of reactions that are in between those extremes. You know the old saying where you can’t please all the people all the time. The same goes for reviewers and readers.”

Dare didn’t look convinced. “So it wasn’t a big deal?”

“Well, it was a big deal to me, at least in some ways. Given the level of anger over it, I’m sure I lost some longstanding readers. No matter what, I hate to disappoint anyone, but I especially hate to let down loyal readers who’ve been reading me from the beginning.”

“Bummer,” Chris said.

“But …” She lifted her shoulders. “I also gained new readers and expanded my audience. Truth is, if I had it to do over again, I’d do it exactly the same way, because I have to write a story the way it wants to be written, not the way readers want me to. That’s how my muse works. If I fought that natural process, I’d probably never get a book done, and I probably wouldn’t be as successful.”

Still not entirely sure he understood, Chris told her, “Good for you.”

“The level of anger you mentioned,” Dare said, bringing the conversation back around to possible suspects. “Give me an example.”

A little embarrassed now, she glanced away. “There were threats, with people wanting to beat me up, people wishing terrible things would happen to me. But most of it was posted online for all the world to see, so I can’t imagine that anyone was serious. They were just letting off steam. In a way, it’s really a compliment.”

Chris stared at her. “How the hell do you figure that?”

“If the reader wasn’t so invested in my characters, it wouldn’t matter enough to get angry over it. Right?”

“If you say so.” Dare left his seat and headed for the computer. “Where can I find this stuff on the Net?”

Aghast, she said, “You’re going to look at it right now?”

“Why not?”

“Well …” Again she looked at both men. “Okay, call me vain, but I don’t really want you to see all the bad stuff said about me or my books.”

Chris couldn’t help but grin. “Think we’ll get the wrong impression?”

“Of course you will.” She left her seat to rush after Dare. “Seriously. There’s no point—”

They both stopped next to Chris. Dare touched her chin, lifting her face up and silencing her at the same time. “You promised to trust me and to do as I said.”

“Sure. But you don’t know anything about this industry.”

“No, but I understand you, and you’re worried that I’ll feel sorry for you.”

She drew back, surprised.

Chris wasn’t. In most instances, Dare was damned astute. But in this case, things were pretty obvious. Molly didn’t want sympathy after the ordeal she’d suffered, so of course she wouldn’t want it over a few internet slights.

“Look,” Chris said, “if you said it’s routine to get slammed on occasion, I buy it. What section of the entertainment industry doesn’t get hammered on a regular basis? And besides, you have a book being made into a friggin’ movie. How awesome is that? You’re a star, and regardless of what a few reviews might say—”

“Over three hundred reviews.”

Dare lifted both brows. “Seriously?”

Chris blew it off. “Whatever. You’re still a resounding success.” Rather than drag out the suspense for her, he turned back to the computer. An internet search of her name brought up plenty of hits. “Bingo. Found some sites.”

Molly went rigid. “Fine, you two want to see all the gory details, go ahead. But you can do it without me. I’m going to bed.”

She was almost through the kitchen doorway when Dare said, “Molly?”

Shoulders still stiff, she paused. “What?”

“If you need anything during the night, my room is across the hall, next to the great room.” He stared at her back. “Anything at all.”

“Thanks.” And with that squeaky reply, Ms. Molly Alexander fled the room.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MOLLY LAY IN THE BED well past 2:00 a.m., trying to go to sleep and failing. At one point she got up and opened the French doors to look out at the beckoning lake. She loved water, being near it, on it or just listening to it.

With the night so quiet, she could hear the water lapping gently at the shoreline. Crickets sang, leaves rustled and the world seemed at peace.

Yet a strange turbulence boiled inside her. Fear, anxiety, insecurity and a sort of conspicuous yearning all left her too unsettled to sleep.

As she went back to the bed and burrowed under the soft, warm quilts, she promised herself that tomorrow she would investigate the area. This time of year the air was crisp and everything newly green. Maybe Dare had a boat and they could go out for a ride.

She wanted—needed—to find some perspective, to grasp some normalcy, even if short-lived.

Once they returned to her home, what would happen? If Dare found nothing amiss, would he be … done? Would he consider it safe for her to remain there while he looked for the culprits alone?

Shudders went over her, as much from the chill breeze blowing in as deep-boned fear.

Finally, with her thoughts churning and an expanding uneasiness creeping in, she pushed the quilts aside and left the bed. She tried turning on the lights, but that just made her feel foolish. Pacing, she tried to figure out what to do, how to get settled—but being alone in the room kept her skin crawling.

That awful hysteria built until she bolted from the room and, barefoot, rushed down the curving stairs. She held tightly to the railing so that she wouldn’t fall, and was grateful for the bright moonlight pouring through the windows, as well as for the tiny, glowing green security lights on monitors and alarms.

She wanted to go to Dare’s room, but what would she say? I’m scared? No, never.

Instead, she veered into the kitchen and decided on a glass of juice to help her calm down. And maybe she could find a cookie or two. A small snack—that’s all she needed.

Remembering where Chris had gotten the glasses before, she went to the cabinet. The tile floor froze her feet and, maybe because of that, she trembled. Badly. Deep breathing didn’t really help.

She found a thick mug and decided it would do; no reason to keep rummaging around, breaching Dare’s privacy. After her snack she’d sneak back to the room and stay there.

She had just opened the refrigerator when she heard movement from behind her.

Pure, illogical terror imploded. As she turned with a silent scream stuck in her throat, the mug dropped from her hand and broke into large chunks. Every sound seemed amplified, echoing again and again inside her thoughts.

Vision closing in on her, she stared straight ahead—and saw Tai, the older of Dare’s two dogs, sitting on her haunches, staring back at Molly. Beside her, Sargie waited for any sign of welcome.

Oh, dear God.

The haze faded—and mortification leached in.

Going weak, Molly sank down onto her knees. With tears stinging her eyes, she stared at the dogs. “You girls scared me half to death.”

Her whisper must have sounded like an invitation, because both dogs surged forward.

“No,” Molly hissed, holding up her hands and trying to see past the tears that kept welling. Though the broken glass from the mug hadn’t splintered too much, she didn’t want to take any chances. “Stay. Please.” She’d die if either of Dare’s pets got cut because of her ridiculous reaction.

The overhead lights came on, blinding Molly.

She shielded her eyes and found Dare standing there in the doorway. Hair rumpled and eyes heavy with sleep, he took her measure, looking at her there on the floor and then at the broken mug near her. His gaze came back to lock on hers.

He wore only boxers, and he had his big bare feet braced apart.

Molly’s heart launched into a wild, frantic rhythm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He released her from the snare of his bright blue eyes and instead called the dogs over to him. He petted them both. “You girls want to go out?”

When both dogs enthusiastically agreed, Dare said to Molly, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

There was no emotion in his tone, no censure or surprise or … anything. She didn’t know what to make of that.

He strode past her across the kitchen and into the family room to a back door. Frozen, humiliation choking her, Molly stayed right there on the floor. She wasn’t sure she could move.

When he returned, she heard herself say, “Go back to bed, please,” when that was the very last thing she wanted him to do. “I’ll clean this up and—”

“Shush, Molly.”

That was the gentlest tone she’d ever heard from him, and it made even more tears well up and spill over. Molly pressed her fists to her damp eyes, trying to stop the flow of emotion, but all that did was choke her up more.

She was not a weak woman. She was not a woman who sat in the middle of a kitchen floor all but begging for … what? Comfort? Company? She hated it, and at that moment, she hated herself.

Still with her eyes covered, she sensed Dare’s movement near her, heard the clink of glass, then the closing of a cabinet.

Seconds later she knew he was near, though only the heat of his body touched hers.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

His impassive tone left her grateful; any real sympathy from him and she’d be bawling like a baby.

Unable to look at him, she shook her head. “I … I didn’t mean to drop it. The dogs startled me.” But that wasn’t true. “I forgot you had dogs. I just wanted a snack.”

“You wanted not to be alone.” He took her wrists and pulled her hands down, placed them on his shoulders, and then, before she could even assimilate what he planned, he scooped her up into his arms.

She didn’t mean to, but she wrapped her arms tight around him and buried her tear-damp face against his neck. He strode off, maybe taking her back to her room, and she couldn’t find a single word to say.

But it wasn’t her room they entered. It was his.

As he lowered her to sit on the side of his mattress, she had no choice but to stop hiding. Dare pulled up a quilt from the bottom of the bed and wrapped it around her. “You’ll be warmer in a minute.” He rubbed her arms through the quilt to help hurry things along.

She hadn’t realized she was so cold, not until he mentioned it, and then she felt every chill, every shiver that racked her spine.

Furious at herself for the pathetic display, she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I feel so stupid.”

Again he caught her wrists, stilling her movements. “Don’t. There’s no reason.” He went through a doorway in his room and came back with a handful of tissues that he pressed into her hand. “Stay here. I’m going to let the girls back in, and then I’ll be right back.”

When she said nothing, he tipped up her chin, giving her no choice but to meet his direct gaze. His thumb brushed her cheek, smoothing away a tear. “I want to find you sitting right here when I return. Understood?”

The softness of his tone kept it from sounding like an order. Appreciating his calm manner, Molly nodded.

He wasn’t gone long, but Molly used those few minutes to try to gather herself. She blew her nose, wiped away the tears and took several deep breaths.

Hoping for a distraction, she studied Dare’s room, starting with the incredible, multilevel tray ceiling. The room wasn’t square but instead had one wall of windows that extended out in a semicircle. The curtains were open, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Molly saw a million stars shining.

Heavy, masculine furniture included the bed set but also an upholstered couch and chair in a sitting area. An interior door led to his master bath. Curiosity got her off the bed, and she peeked into that sumptuous room. It, too, had a wall of windows that jutted out. They surrounded a large, sunken Jacuzzi tub. The entire bathroom was tiled for a spa-like feel.

Given her father’s wealth, she wasn’t unfamiliar with luxury. But in Dare’s home, he mixed it with a kind of functionality that was both cozy and comfortable. She could spend days just admiring the various rooms in his home, Molly thought as she cleared away the last of the tears, tossed her sodden tissues in a waste can and then headed back to her seat on the king-size bed.

Emotionally spent, she touched the indent in Dare’s pillow, proof of where he’d been before she’d so rudely awakened him.

She heard the dogs’ nails on the floor as they charged across the kitchen tiles, skittered to a turn and entered the room a few steps ahead of Dare.

Dare stopped in the doorway to scrutinize her, but the dogs headed straight for the bed.

When they jumped up onto the mattress, Dare made no move to stop them, leading Molly to believe that the dogs slept wherever they pleased.

She liked that about Dare. He was an orderly man, very particular about cleanliness, but a little dog fur didn’t put him off. There was something very appealing about that down-to-earth quality, especially in a man with his ability.

Tai circled once, then dropped down at the foot of the bed and closed her eyes with a lusty sigh. Sargie tried to get her whole body into Molly’s lap and ended up half sitting on Molly’s thighs. Giving a watery, choked laugh, Molly hugged the dog tight and buried her face in her ruff.

Silence filled the room. The bed dipped when Dare sat beside her, but he said nothing. He didn’t press her, didn’t hold her. He simply sat there beside her, his shoulder touching hers, his nearness calming her and, at the same time, filling her with new, different sensations.

Molly knew she couldn’t continue this way. When she stopped squeezing Sargie, the dog thumped her tail twice and snuffled Molly’s neck with her nose. But when she didn’t get a reaction, she crawled off her lap, over Dare, and flopped down next to Tai.

Awareness of Dare beside her, mostly undressed, expanded by the heartbeat. Molly glanced at him. His muscled, hairy thigh was right next to hers, pinning down the quilt he’d wrapped around her. She licked her lips, inhaled deeply and breathed in his hot masculine scent.

It was already familiar, comforting, enticing.

Her gaze skimmed up to his throat, his shoulders. He had the most remarkable chest, wide, strong, sculpted with obvious strength. Even relaxed, his abs remained defined. And a very sexy trail of dark brown hair led from his navel down into his snug boxers.

Beneath the soft cotton material she saw the bulge of his sex.

“Want me to lose the boxers for you?”

She jerked her gaze up to his. His slow smile showed more satisfaction than humor.

For Molly, one thought overshadowed the rest. “This should be awkward, but it’s not.”

“No.”

“I mean, the crying and being stupid and weak is awkward, but being here with you is just … nice.”

The smile faded, and his eyes warmed. “You feel better now?”

“Yes.” And she did. That thrumming panic was no longer a part of her, leaving her at a loss. “I don’t know what happened. I swear I felt fine earlier today.”

“I know.” He put a hand on her thigh, over the quilt. “But trust me, that sense of well-being is ephemeral at best. After your ordeal, you can’t expect it to last. Not this soon. You need to cut yourself some slack. We’ll get there eventually, I promise.”

We? Did he mean that?

No, how could he? Dare barely knew her, and what he did know was shaded by extreme circumstance, not the routine, day-in-and-day-out parts of her life; not the mundane parts that made up the real her.

All in all, her mostly solitary life of research and writing equated to a very boring existence. Her life revolved around her desk, in her apartment, in a quiet town in Ohio.

Nothing exciting about that.

Even the few book signings and speaking appearances she did were low-key, attended by die-hard fans only.

With this one exception, she was not a woman who gained real enemies, or got kidnapped or abused, and she was definitely not a woman who crumpled under stress.

What would Dare think of the real Molly Alexander? When she wasn’t so needy, would he still be drawn to her? Or was it his heroic nature that made her seem appealing to him now?

Soon, when she returned to her normal routine, he would continue on with rescuing those in need, facing off with danger, and making a mint in the bargain. He was a high-stakes player … and she was the girl next door.

Dare squeezed her thigh. “Molly?”

“Oh, sorry.” She shook herself. This was no time to go meandering off mentally. “I was just … I’m better now. Thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But the next time you feel that edginess coming on, don’t wait until it’s full-blown, okay? Just come to me. Let me help.”

Whatever tomorrow might bring, or next week or next month, she needed to get through tonight first. “Fine. I accept that I need time.” She would regain herself. Somehow, she would.