Triple Dare

“Too bad you’re not around more. I could use a bit of that magic every now and then.”

Holly’s husband, Nick, came up behind her and dropped a kiss on her upturned forehead. “How’s that for magic?”

“It’s a start.” Holly pulled him back down to her and kissed him soundly.

Ivy’s heartstrings tugged as she watched them, immersed in each other, clearly ass-over-teakettle in love. Not that she begrudged Holly her happiness. Her sister deserved it after everything her sleazeball ex-husband put her through. But part of Ivy—the part that wondered how much longer she could go on globe-trotting—couldn’t help wanting a little of that happiness for herself.

She hid her melancholy with a lukewarm chuckle. “Would you two get a room already?”

Nick came up for air and waved an arm at the rambling clapboard house across the lawn. “We’ve got ten of them. We just have to get rid of our guests.”

“How about we get Joy in her crib first? She’s had a long day, and it’s awfully chilly out here.”

Holly started to stand but Nick stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Relax. I’ve got her. You’ve done enough today.”

“I still can’t believe you kept Dad’s name thing going,” Ivy said, shaking her head at her sister. Their father loved Christmas and had played Santa in the local holiday parade for as long as anyone could remember. He’d given his children names reminiscent of the season: Holly, Ivy, Gabriel and Noelle. It had been a constant source of embarrassment as kids. And now Holly and Nick had followed suit with Joy.

“Did we really have a choice?” Holly exchanged a knowing look with her husband. “I mean, I married a guy with the same name as St. Nicholas.”

“And Joy was born on Christmas Eve.” Nick took the sleeping baby from Ivy’s arms. Joy stirred briefly, then settled into her father’s embrace.

“Why not Eve, then?”

“Too obvious. We were going for something more subtle.” Holly swiveled her head to watch Nick as he strode up the lawn toward the house. “Send Devin down,” she called after him. “And tell her to bring the stuff for the s’mores. It’s on the counter next to the stove.”

“Sure thing.” He disappeared into the increasing darkness.

“Too bad Noelle couldn’t stay for dessert.” Ivy stared across the grass to the dock jutting out over Leffert’s Pond. A rowboat bobbed at the end, partially obscuring the moon’s reflection in the calm, glasslike water. For the second time in as many minutes, she felt a twinge of envy toward her sister. Great guy. Great kid. Great house.

“I know,” Holly agreed. “She had to get back to the city for an early rehearsal tomorrow.”

“Mom finally get Dad out the door?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised he held out as long as he did. We offered to postpone the christening, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Stubborn Swede.” Holly gave a halfhearted shrug and tipped her head skyward.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Cade should be here any minute.”

Ivy barely stopped herself from bolting upright. She hadn’t seen Cade since he’d walked out of her studio two weeks ago. She continued to gaze out at the lake, her face an impassive mask. She hoped. “I thought you said he was on call.”

“Only until seven o’clock. That’s why he missed the ceremony. But he promised to stop by when he got off.”

Ivy closed her eyes against the image of Cade “getting off.” In the shower, head thrown back, one arm braced against the tile as he stroked himself to completion. In her bed, over her, under her, in her, until they both collapsed, exhausted but satisfied.

Damn. She thought she had it bad before. Seeing him nearly naked had sent her off the high dive into an ocean of lust.

“Are you okay? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine.” Ivy put a hand to her face. Red-hot. “A little too close to the fire, I guess.” She fanned herself. Like that was going to douse the inferno raging inside her.

“Rumor has it you got to see him in his birthday suit.” Holly leaned forward. “Is he as scrumptious as I think he is?”

“First off, he was not ‘in his birthday suit.’” Ivy put air quotes around the last four words. “He was wearing a thong.”

“That much, huh?” Holly snickered.

Ivy ignored her and played with the zipper on her hoodie. “Second, it was all business.”

“Some business.”

“And third, you’re married to People’s sexiest man alive. What do you care how Cade or any other guy looks naked?”

“Married. Not dead. I can still appreciate a fine male form.” Holly leaned in farther, resting her elbows on her knees. “So come on. Spill. How fine is he?”

Ivy let out a slow, resigned sigh. She hadn’t won an argument with her big sister in years, and it didn’t look like today would be any different. “Let’s just say December’s going to be a whole heck of a lot hotter next year.”

“December? That’s like a year and a half from now. Can’t you give me a sneak peek?”

“Nope. Photographers’ code of ethics.”

“There’s a photographers’ code of ethics?”

“Well, there should be.” Ivy tucked her knees to her chest.

“Fine. Be that way.” Holly settled back into her chair. “I suppose I can’t complain. I mean, you’re taking care of Dad. And the nursery. You know I’d stay and help, but...”

“It’s okay. You’ve got enough going on with the baby and your new show in rehearsals. It’s my turn to pitch in. Besides—” Ivy scanned the newly reconstructed dock, impeccably landscaped yard and sprawling house “—you’re letting me stay here. That’s not exactly a hardship. Especially when the alternative was staying with Mom and Dad.”

“They driving you nuts?”

Ivy could hear the smile in her sister’s voice. She smiled back. “Not yet. But close.”

“I just wish it hadn’t taken a heart attack to bring you home.” Holly reached out to cover Ivy’s hand on the faded wooden armrest. “I missed you.”

“Ditto.” A lump of guilt clogged Ivy’s throat. She’d fled Stockton, so desperate to reinvent herself she’d run from anything that reminded her of the girl she’d been. But in doing so she’d alienated herself from her family, too.

A mistake she needed to rectify. And maybe helping out her parents was a good start.

“This where the party’s at?” Devin’s voice drifted down from the house.

Ivy turned and saw her ambling toward them, a tray balanced on one hand. Gabe walked beside her and a third, shadowy figure lagged a few paces behind them.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Gabe gestured at the silhouette, whose features became more distinct with each step.

“Got room for one more?” Cade held up two six-packs of chocolate stout. “I brought suds.”

* * *

CADE TOOK A pull on his bottle of stout and leaned back in the weathered wooden chair, one of eight surrounding the fire pit. Holly had gone up to the house to see if her husband needed help with the baby, and Devin had followed a few minutes later, pleading exhaustion.

Leaving the Three Amigos to relive their glory days.

Sort of.

“That is so not what happened.” Ivy fixed her brother with a defiant stare.

“Is too,” Gabe countered. “I distinctly remember you falling into the pool in the middle of the boys’ swim team practice.”

“You’re delusional.” She shook her head, making her reddish brown curls, free from the bun she’d worn the last time he’d seen her, sway and shimmer in the firelight.

Cade stared into the flames, fighting the squeezing sensation in his gut. This—this feeling—was why he’d almost thrown Holly’s invitation into the circular file. But whatever issues he had with his mother, she’d raised him better than that. The Nelsons were like family to him, even more than his egg and sperm donors. They’d given him what his parents couldn’t—affection. Warmth. A sense of belonging.

And you didn’t skip out on family, no matter how hard it was for him to be near Ivy without getting turned on.

“Am not.” Gabe swigged his beer.

“Are too. Right Cade?” Even in the half glow of the fire, Cade could feel Ivy’s hazel eyes piercing him. “You were there.”

“Oh, no.” He waved a palm at her. “Leave me out. I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

“Traitor. I wouldn’t have been there in the first place if you hadn’t dared me to fill the pool with rubber ducks.”

Cade smiled at the memory. “You never could resist a dare. But you didn’t get the pool filled, did you?”

“Yeah.” Gabe chuckled. “Because she fell in.”

“I never said I didn’t fall in.” Ivy stuck out her chin defiantly. “Just not during swim team practice.”

“You know what that means?” Cade ran a finger around the rim of his beer bottle.

“Not a clue.” She pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her, emphasizing those full, firm breasts he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since the photo shoot. “But I’m sure you’re planning to enlighten me.”

He shifted in his seat to hide the evidence of his reaction to her. “You owe me. One dare.”

Gabe’s chuckle turned into a guffaw.

“Oh, please.” Ivy turned to Cade, swinging that damn curtain of hair and sending another jolt of tension through his midsection. “That was more than ten years ago. You can’t be serious.”

“As ammonium nitrate.”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Come on, Ivy.” He had no idea why, but he felt an instant, overwhelming desire for her to agree, as though some stupid dare would bring them closer together again. And why did he care about that anyway? She’d be out of town faster than a flashover as soon as her dad was on his feet again. It would be safer for both of them if he just kept his distance. So why couldn’t he? “For old times’ sake.”

“No way. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a professional, with a reputation to uphold.”

“I promise it won’t be anything illegal.”

“Yeah, right.” She dragged the toe of her sneaker through the grass.

“Or harmful.”

“Says the guy who made me drink an entire jar of pickle juice.” Ivy grimaced. “And then eat all the salt at the bottom of the pretzel bag.”

Yeah, Cade remembered that one. She’d puked her guts out. For hours. He’d felt terrible about it, not that he’d let her know. “Give me a break. I was thirteen.”

“Which only means you’ve had seventeen years since then to come up with something even more diabolical.”

Any snarky response Cade could have come up with was preempted by his cell phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pants pocket, knowing—and dreading—what was coming.

“Shit.” He pressed Reject, turned the damn thing off and stowed it back in his pocket.

“What’s wrong?” Gabe crossed to a pile of wood on the opposite side of the fire pit, picked up a log and tossed it into the flames, making sparks fly into the cool night air. “Your mother after you again?”

“Nah.” Cade glanced at Ivy, wishing he didn’t have to air his dirty laundry in front of her. He drained his beer, then opened the cooler next to his chair, dropped in the empty and pulled out a fresh bottle. “Sasha. She keeps texting and calling. Even showed up at the station this afternoon bearing brownies.”

He grabbed another beer from the cooler and held it out to Gabe.

Gabe took it and returned to his seat. “The guys must’ve loved that.”

Yeah. They’d never let Cade live it down. They were already calling him Brownie Boy.

“Can I have one of those?” Ivy pointed to the cooler. “And who’s Sasha?”

“Cade’s girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Cade amended, opening a bottle and handing it to her. Their fingers brushed and he felt a flicker of something electric pass between them. “As of two weeks ago.”

His date with Sasha the night of the photo shoot had been their last. Not that the session had anything to do with their breakup. It was pure coincidence he’d picked that night to call it quits.

Wasn’t it?

“Do I know her?” Ivy wrinkled her nose. “I don’t remember a Sasha from high school.”

“She’s a few years younger than us.”

“That’s an understatement.” Gabe snorted. “She’s barely legal.”

“She’s twenty-one,” Cade said through clenched teeth. “Almost twenty-two.”

“Let me guess.” Ivy swung her legs sideways over one arm of her chair and took a slug of beer. “The checkout girl with the—”

“Never mind.” Cade cut her off with a glare. “That’s not important. What is important is no matter what I say, she won’t leave me alone.”

“There’s your problem.” Gabe, always the analytical one, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know the old saying about actions speaking louder than words.”

“Sure.” Cade popped the top of his beer and took a long, slow sip. “But what’s that got to do with Sasha?”

Gabe crossed one Sperry-clad foot over his knee. “You need to show her you mean business, not just tell her.”

“Show her how?”

“By dating someone else.”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know.” Gabe lifted a shoulder. “You’re the local ladies’ man. You tell me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem.” Cade picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Stockton’s not all that big. I’ve sort of exhausted the dating pool.”

“Hello.” Ivy waggled her fingers at him. “Available female here.”

“Huh?” Cade couldn’t have heard her right. She did not just offer herself up to him like a virgin sacrifice.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

She did.

He continued to stare at her, not sure how to respond. Gabe, on the other hand, had no such problem. He burst into hysterical laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Ivy pressed her lips into a thin line.

“You?” Gabe choked out between laughs. “And Cade? You might as well be brother and sister.”

Only Cade didn’t think of her that way, not anymore. And that was exactly why he didn’t want to go out with her. Couldn’t go out with her.

“Look, Ivy, I appreciate the offer but...”

“But what?” She crossed and uncrossed her legs over the arm of the chair, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of creamy flesh under the hem of her shorts. “Are you chicken? Afraid you’ll succumb to my many charms?”

“Not exactly.” Liar.

“Hang on.” Gabe grinned over the lip of his beer bottle, his laughter finally contained. “The more I think about it, it’s actually pretty perfect. You don’t have to really go out. Just show up somewhere Sasha will be and pretend you’re a couple. That should be enough to get her to back off.”

Great. Pretend dating. Being together and not at the same time. “I don’t know...”

“Come on, man.” Gabe’s grin widened. “What have you got to lose?”

His mind. His heart. The only family he’d ever known if things got serious and then they crashed and burned.

“Tell you what.” Ivy’s tone softened. “Consider it my way of satisfying the dare.”

“Since when does the dare-ee get to decide her own terms?”

“Since the dar-er needs her help to get rid of his ex.”

“Okay.” The corners of his mouth curled upward as he thought of a way to play along without risking anything. “One date. You can come watch me tear it up at third base in the Battle of the Badges game.”

“Battle of the Badges?”

“Softball—cops versus firefighters. They kicked our asses last year.” Cade tipped back his beer, letting the rich, chocolatey liquid slide down his throat, and mentally patted himself on the back. It was genius. Him on the field. Ivy in the stands, cheering him on. Sasha watching the whole thing. He’d convince his ex it was over and still keep Ivy at a safe distance.

“One tiny flaw in your plan.” Ivy shifted her legs back over the arm of the chair and sat facing forward. “How do you know Sasha will be there?”

“Oh, she’ll be there,” Gabe chimed in. “It’s a huge event. Almost the whole town turns out. Winners get bragging rights and pizza after the game, courtesy of the losers.”

“How come I’ve never been? Never even heard of it.” Ivy’s nose wrinkled again. A habit of hers, apparently.

Cade frowned, wondering why he’d never noticed it before. What else had he missed? He shook off the thought and focused on answering Ivy’s question. “We only started playing a few years ago.”

“When is it?”

“Friday at six.”

“All I’d have to do is watch you play?” Ivy bit her lip. The unconsciously erotic gesture sent his sex drive into orbit.

Cade cleared his throat and scraped a hand through his hair. “And root for me. Maybe wear my extra jersey. Typical girlfriend stuff.”

A strange look crossed her face, and for a moment he thought she was going to say no. But then she stood, chugged the rest of her beer and faced him.

“Okay. Pick me up at five thirty. And don’t forget the jersey.”

3

IVY CURSED HERSELF for the thousandth time as she pulled back the curtain and peered out the upstairs window, watching for Cade’s SUV. What the hell had she been thinking? Or maybe she hadn’t been. One too many chocolate stouts and her damned ego had gotten her into this mess.

But she couldn’t help it. It had hurt like hell when Gabe and Cade started discussing the eligible female population of Stockton as if she wasn’t sitting two feet away. What, pray tell, was wrong with her? Did they think she wasn’t good enough for Cade, that no one would believe a super stud like him would date a girl like her?

She wasn’t Jabba the Mutt anymore. She wasn’t.

Not that those two dumb-asses recognized it. To them she’d always be an overweight, insecure, pimply-faced kid.

Well, she’d show them. Especially the chief dumb-ass. Cade.

Ivy abandoned her vigil at the window and headed for the full-length mirror in the master bathroom, needing one last confirmation that all her primping had paid off. Hair tamed in a ponytail, adorably pulled through the back of a Stockton Fire Department baseball cap she’d found in Holly’s closet? Check. Just enough makeup to hide her freckles and play up the pale green flecks in her hazel eyes? Check. Legs tanned, shaved and showcased in an appropriately snug pair of denim cutoffs? Check.

She smiled at her reflection, thinking back to a few years ago when tight had been a four-letter word in her fashion vocabulary. If there was one thing Andre had taught her—over and above all the lessons in photography she’d learned as his apprentice-turned-associate—it was that she wasn’t doing herself any favors wearing clothes that looked like they were designed by Omar the tent maker. “Remember,” he’d said. “You wear the clothes. They don’t wear you.”

Well, she’d wear the hell out of this outfit. She grabbed a pair of silver hoop earrings and her collection of Alex and Ani bracelets off the counter and started downstairs, humming the latest pop radio earworm courtesy of Taylor Swift. All she needed now was Cade’s jersey, which he’d promised to bring. She’d look a little strange if she showed up in only a sports bra. Even if it did wonders for her double Ds.

The doorbell rang when she was halfway down.

“Be right there,” she called, taking the rest of the steps two at a time.

But when she got to the door, her hand on the knob, she froze.

You got this, girl. Show him little Ivy Nelson’s all grown up.

Her heart pounding and her palms moist, she swung open the door. “Hi. Come on in. I’m almost ready.”

She stood back to let him pass, but he stayed firmly planted on the stoop with a dazed expression on his face. “I, uh, brought this.”

He thrust out one hand, a fire-engine-red jersey clenched in his fist. He wore an identical one, the initials SFD across his chest, tucked into a pair of form-fitting, gray baseball pants.

“Thanks,” she said, the tremble almost gone from her voice. Amazing what a little good, old-fashioned leering could do for a girl’s self-confidence. She pried the shirt from his fingers, tossed it onto her shoulder and motioned him inside. “I’ll go put it on and we can get out of here. Can’t have you missing batting practice.”

He followed her in. “We don’t have batting practice, but I should probably stretch before game time.”

“I can help.” She stood in front of the half mirror in the foyer and slipped on her jewelry. “A model taught me some great partner exercises on set in the Turks and Caicos.”

She didn’t mention that the model worked for Victoria’s Secret and that the shoot was for their swimsuit edition. No need to conjure up comparisons between her size-ten frame and the ideal 34-25-34 figure of a VS girl.

“Sounds good.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “Sasha ought to get the picture pretty quick if she sees us working out together.”

Right. How could she forget? This was all for show. For Sasha. Not real. Not for her.

Ivy unbuttoned the jersey and slipped it on, determined not to let Cade’s comment burst the bubble of self-assurance she was floating in thanks to his initial reaction. She had him for tonight, and she was going to make the most of it.

The shirt hung well past her hips, like she thought it would. A throwback to her Jabba days. But she had a plan for that. She pulled the ends together and tied them securely at her waist, checking in the mirror to make sure it had the anticipated effect of highlighting her breasts while revealing just enough—but not too much—skin.

Perfect.

“All set,” she said, turning to face him.

“Damn.” He eyed her up and down, his baby blues leaving goose bumps in their wake. “My shirt never looked so good.”

She eyed him right back, lingering a little longer than necessary between his legs, where the baseball pants weren’t hiding anything.

Down, girl.

“I don’t know.” She licked her lips. “It looks pretty fine on you, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pushed off the doorjamb and took a step toward her.

“Mmm-hmm.” She followed his lead, moving into him. “I’ve always been a sucker for a man in uniform.”

He cocked his head. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe.” Another step and she was close enough to put a hand on his chest, praying the whole time he wouldn’t brush it off. When he didn’t, she let her fingers curl into the soft fabric of his jersey. His heartbeat pulsed under her palm, almost as fast as hers. “Or maybe just practicing my witty banter. You know. For Sasha.”

His crystal-blue eyes darkened to indigo. “Anything else you want to practice?”

“Just this.”

She rose on tiptoes and brushed her lips across his mouth. She meant it to be a quick kiss. Sweet and gentle, something to whet his appetite and give him a tantalizing taste of the woman she’d become.

Something to leave him wanting more.

But the second her lips found his all thoughts of kissing and running flew out of her mind. She hadn’t counted on the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips or the soapy clean, all-male scent of him tickling her nostrils and sending a current of desire through her body.

She snaked her hand around his neck and pulled his head down, needing more. Needing him to respond. She couldn’t be the only one feeling this electricity between them, could she?

Ivy pressed against him and flicked her tongue against his mouth, willing him to open up to her. With a primal moan he surrendered, parting his lips and bringing his hands around to cup her bottom. The movement brought her impossibly closer to him, fitting her soft curves to his hard lines.

Oh. My. Bleeping. God. Seeing him in the G-string hadn’t prepared her for the delicious pressure of his growing erection against her. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the kiss, letting the sensations left in the wake of his roaming hands overwhelm her.

He released her and stepped back, leaving her breathless and shaky. The sudden rush of air smacked her like a wet towel. She tightened her ponytail and summoned her inner Scarlett O’Hara.

“I think that ought to convince her. Don’t you?”

Cade shoved his hands in his pockets. “It was pretty damn persuasive. But I doubt we’ll have to go that far. Just seeing us together should do the trick.”