If She Dares

“Actually, I was headed to see my accountant.”

“On a Saturday evening?”

“Well. He’s also my brother-in-law.” The middle Kendrick sister, Rochelle, was the only one married. She’d met her husband while they were both getting their MBAs.

Rochelle had once said that, of the three sisters, Riley was the perfect blend of traits. “Wren’s paintings are fabulous, when she bothers to finish them, but she’s flighty as hell. I have a brain like a calculator, but no imagination. With your web design, you balance creativity and content management. Plus, you’re braver than Wren and me put together.”

Before, maybe.

She sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall. “I’m not exasperated because I’m running late. I’m exasperated with myself.” For all that she wouldn’t have chosen to be in the dark, not being able to see more than Jack’s basic outline was liberating. It was easier to be candid when you didn’t have to meet a person’s gaze. “I’ve become quite the scaredy-cat lately.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over your little scream earlier. Most people would be alarmed by their elevator taking a sudden dip then stopping dead.”

Her lips tugged in a reluctant smile. “Shouldn’t the first rule between crisis buddies be not using words like dead?”

“Good point.”

A moment passed, and she admitted, “It’s not just the elevator falling that made me jumpy. Or even you coming around the corner the other night. A year ago, before I moved here, I... Sorry. I don’t normally treat neighbors like therapists.”

There was a rustle of movement, and she could tell he was sitting straighter, his demeanor alert. “Like I have anything else occupying my time right now? Besides, I’m a good listener. Coaxing details from people is a big part of my job.”

She had no intention of reliving the gritty details, but maybe reaching a point where she could calmly summarize what had happened was part of healing. “The short version is, I was supposed to go away for a long weekend with my sisters but turned back because of weather delays. Unfortunately, I walked into my house midburglary. I wasn’t really hurt,” she said in a rush, trying not to imagine all the ways it could have been worse, “but it left me...shaken.”

“Of course it did.” His voice was soft and sympathetic.

Had she given another person reason to see her as a victim? She hated the worry that lined her parents’ faces whenever they looked at her. “I’m totally fine,” she said, playing fast and loose with the definition of fine. “I just miss the old me. Do you have any siblings?”

“Nope.”

“I’m the oldest of three sisters, and growing up, everyone called me the daring one. Or, if they were feeling less charitable, the troublemaker. Now I don’t even have the backbone to cross a parking lot without imagining the bogeyman, or to stand up to the president of the tenant board.”

“That would be Mrs. Tyler?” His tone was the vocal equivalent of a shudder. “I met her. She may actually be the bogeyman.”

“Yeah, she does put the ty in tyrant.” Over the summer, it had crossed Riley’s mind that she might feel safer if she bought a dog, even just a small one; since she worked at home, it wasn’t as though it would be cooped up alone all day. When she’d petitioned the three-member board about getting a pet, as per building policy, Anna Tyler had reacted with the same civic outrage as if Riley had proposed starting a meth lab.

But Riley’s problem was a lot bigger than an unpleasant tenant board president. “I want to feel like myself again. I want to do something spontaneous, maybe even reckless! Like...” She cast about for an example, trying to remember the carefree way she’d once looked at life. “Like jump naked into the pool!”

His sharp intake of breath reverberated in the stillness.

What am I doing? Her new neighbor was more than a self-proclaimed good listener, he was also a very attractive and virile man. Mention of getting naked could lead to some awkward hallway encounters. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“It was a spontaneous declaration. So, good on you.”

She tried to amuse herself by imagining the scandalized expression on Mrs. Tyler’s face if tenants took to skinny-dipping. But it was impossible to picture the well-coiffed dictator’s outrage when Riley’s mind was focused on the man in the elevator, mere feet from her. The dark, which had seemed confessional in an anonymous and cozy sort of way, was beginning to foster an illusion of intimacy. Riley hadn’t dated much in the last year, despite her mother’s efforts. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt this pull of connection to a man.

“I’ve been skinny-dipping,” Jack volunteered.

The uncooperative imagination that hadn’t wanted to supply a picture of Mrs. Tyler looking appalled was perfectly happy to speculate on Jack Reed in his full glory. Though his chiseled face gave him a lean appearance, before the power had gone out, she’d gotten a good look at his muscular arms in that T-shirt. Not bulky, but sculpted. If the rest of him— Stop that!

She cleared her throat, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “Given your work with law enforcement, I assume this exhibitionism was on private property, where you weren’t breaking any public decency ordinances?”

“It was at summer camp. I was fourteen and had spent the week flirting with a gorgeous and worldly fifteen-year-old. She suggested a midnight swim, minus our bathing suits. Which would have been the most romantic night of my young life if she and her giggling friends hadn’t run off with my clothes. My skinny-dipping was followed by streaking through camp, swearing a string of profanities the likes of which Camp Kinahoopee has probably never heard before or since.”

She laughed. “Skinny-dipping, streaking and cursing? You rebel child.”

“What about you? You hinted that you made plenty of trouble in your day.”

“Contrary to what my poor mother probably believes, I rarely set out with specific intent to break any rules. I just loved anything that made me feel alive and exhilarated—like roller coasters and going off the highest diving board in the county.” And having sex her freshman year of college in her boyfriend’s convertible with the top down. Warmth spread through her again, but this time it wasn’t all embarrassment. A distant, disobedient part of her wondered what kind of car Jack drove. “I have always been a sucker for a double dare, which led to my involvement in a plot to steal our rival school’s mascot when I was sixteen. We returned it after homecoming.”

He chuckled. “Honor among thieves?”

“Honor, and the threat of expulsion. When I was eleven, a kid in our subdivision dared me to race my bike down Dead Man’s Hill with no helmet. I wiped out at the bottom, still have a faint scar midthigh, but what I remember most is the indescribable rush of freedom. The wind whipping against my face, the sense that I was flying.” When was the last time she’d felt so giddy and uninhibited? “I don’t remember the pain at all. Probably because I knocked myself unconscious when I flipped over the handlebars. Is it weird that I thought the concussion was worth it?”

“A little bit, yeah. Although maybe I’m not qualified to answer that, since I’ve never had a concussion. I did, however, court expulsion in high school.”

“Ooh, kindred spirit. Do tell.”

“I organized a student protest against the school dress code.”

“Did you protest it by streaking?” she teased.

“No, but if I’d thought I could talk any of the cheerleaders into that...” A wicked smile tinged his voice when he added, “I may or may not have persuaded the captain of the cheerleading squad into a one-on-one game of strip poker the summer after graduation. How about you, troublemaker? Any strip poker games in your past?”

“Yes, but...”

“But?”

“I’m not very good.” By nature, she was an expressive, forthright person. The ability to bluff eluded her.

“Maybe you just need practice.” That wicked tone was far more potent this time because he wasn’t talking about hypothetical cheerleaders from his adolescence. He was talking about her.

In that moment she might actually have worked up the nerve to ask if he was volunteering to coach, but an ominous groan sounded. The elevator creaked as if it could no longer hold their weight suspended. Then the lights blinked on, momentarily disorienting her, and back out again.

“Seems like the power’s trying to come ba-aaah.” Her last word turned into more of a yelp as the elevator dropped. It only lasted a moment; they might not have cleared a full floor, but it was a far different experience than the normal, controlled descent. When this is over, I am strictly a staircase girl.

Jack scooted closer to her, stopping when his hand encountered her calf. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. Not counting hugs from her dad, the last few times a man had touched her she’d reflexively flinched away. At the moment she didn’t mind the contact. Maybe because she was preoccupied by the prospect of plunging to her death.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Um. Sure.” And the award for least convincing goes to...

“What about shoplifting?” he blurted, clearly trying to distract her from any elevator-plummeting anxiety. “Ever steal anything during your misspent youth?”

“A friend dared me once. I went into a drugstore, wondering if I had it in me to palm a pack of gum, but I got distracted by the cute cashier and left with his number instead. My friend joked that I stole the guy’s heart and thus fulfilled my dare.” The elevator rattled again, and she had the juvenile urge to close her eyes—as if that would change anything. She was proud of herself for sounding calm when she asked, “Ever done a keg stand?”

He laughed. “Do people actually do those in real life? I thought it was just the kind of thing you see in movies about fraternities. Have you ever—”

The elevator lurched, and she instinctively reached for Jack’s hand. Sparks of awareness slipped past the wall of anxiety. It was starting to get really warm in the still air. Heat pulsed in parts of her body she hadn’t given much thought to lately. Rather than flinch away from the sensation, she found herself trying to cling to it.

Her voice sounded raspier than usual when she prompted, “Your turn to ask a question.”

“Ever kissed a stranger in the dark?”

3

THE QUESTION HADN’T been premeditated. Jack had set out to distract her, not make a move. But his once-noble intentions were muddled by the tantalizing mental image of her losing at strip poker—and by proximity to Riley and her lush curves. Her soft fingers were still wrapped around his, and their legs were practically entangled.

“N-no.” The husky catch in her voice was sexy as hell. “I’ve never done that.”

I dare you. The words shimmered in his mind like an incantation. If he said them, would she accept the challenge? Not that he would exploit the situation. And yet, had she just moved closer?

He inhaled the faint scent of raspberry lotion on her skin and wondered irrationally if she tasted like raspberries, too. He could feel the heat from her body and, as he angled his head toward hers, her breath feathered over him. Releasing her hand, he skated his fingers up the satiny flesh of her inner arm, within grazing distance of her generous breasts.

Which is when the lights buzzed back to life in what felt like a burst of accusation.

Riley’s eyes were wide, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. There was desire in her expression—but it was accompanied by apprehension, which kept him from leaning forward and kissing her. She abruptly pulled away, and Jack called himself a litany of names, dumb ass being the kindest. What in the hell had he been thinking? Hadn’t he learned his lesson about getting involved with women who lived in the same building?

Riley got to her feet and busied herself with the box she’d set down, but he couldn’t make himself look away from her yet. Jack also stood, keeping an appropriate distance while he surreptitiously studied her. She wore a charcoal sweater and black jeans. The outfit was flattering, outlining the curve of her hips and hugging perfectly rounded breasts, but drab. Thinking back to the night he’d met her, he recalled a beige jacket and dark slacks. After their unexpected conversation during the blackout, he realized now that there was another Riley beneath the surface, one too bold for neutral shades and plain cotton.

Her words echoed in his mind. I want to feel like myself again. There’d been such a plaintive note in her tone. Jack had learned young, when he couldn’t convince his mother to leave an abusive boyfriend, that it wasn’t in his power to rescue everyone around him. Yet he couldn’t help wishing he knew how to help Riley.

The ding of the elevator jarred him from his thoughts, and the doors parted.

Riley glanced through the opening then laughed. “I guess this is close enough?” They were about two feet off the ground, the elevator shaft visible through the top of the doors.

The property manager who’d given Jack the tour of his apartment stood outside the elevator, looking up at them. “You okay, Ms. Kendrick?”

“We’re all right. But I might need a hand with this box.” She passed it to him, then hopped down to the floor with the man’s assistance. Jack followed, feeling a little silly with his empty pizza box and the plastic bag he’d seized as an excuse to join Riley in the elevator. He was glad he had, though. The few minutes he’d expected to spend assuring her he was an amiable new neighbor had turned into something altogether more intriguing.

She smiled over her shoulder. “Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better crisis buddy.”

“Hey, what are neighbors for?” They were for borrowing cups of sugar or perhaps feeding your fish while you were on vacation. Not, he told himself, for the kind of carnal activities he was suddenly envisioning.

The last lover he’d had lived in a completely different part of the building from him, and he’d still felt compelled to move out after their affair ended. Riley lived directly across the hall. They were the only two people on that floor, with no one else to act as a buffer. So instead of falling in step with her and continuing their conversation, he hung back, making small talk with the manager about how he was settling in.

I will not pursue her. But, given that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, the vow lacked believability.

* * *

AS RILEY WALKED away from the elevator, it occurred to her that she now had the necessary reception to call her sister and explain why she was late. Yet she didn’t reach for her phone, too distracted by lingering prickles of awareness. Was it her imagination that she could feel Jack watching her? Or perhaps wishful thinking?

Looking back over the past twelve months, she recognized that part of her had wanted to become invisible, as if no one could hurt her if they didn’t see her. She’d forgotten how nice it could feel to have someone notice her, to appreciate her for something beyond programming and design skills. Jack had made her feel desirable, had made her realize how much she’d missed that.

Plus, the man was pretty damn desirable himself. Those dark, compelling eyes, that voice...

“Riley? Wait up!”

Speaking of Jack’s voice. Her pulse quickened, and it was a thrill to have her heart accelerate from an emotion other than apprehension. She turned to face him. “Yes?”

“I was thinking about what you said in the elevator.”

Her body tingled as she recalled the many things that had been said. What if he invited her over for a neighborly game of strip poker? Don’t be ridiculous. She knew their playful conversation had been a diversionary tactic more than anything else. Besides, she wasn’t a college kid anymore. She was a grown businesswoman; no way was she getting topless in front of her new neighbor.

Yet the forbidden fantasy was not without appeal.

“About what I said?” she echoed, trying to quell her overactive imagination.

“About being spontaneous and demonstrating backbone. The property manager was just filling me in on some details, like the tenant-board election next month. You should run against Mrs. Tyler for president!”

Uncertain whether she was relieved or disappointed that his suggestion wasn’t more risqué, she laughed. “Interesting idea, but I don’t think so.”

He grinned knowingly. “Dare you.”

“Oh, that’s just...” Why the hell not? “Okay,” she heard herself agree. She was well organized and, when not flinching at shadows, a reasonable person. She was certainly invested in the building’s security. Best of all, this was the most spontaneous decision she’d made in months. Since Mrs. Tyler was likely to mow her down in the parking lot once she found out, it even qualified as reckless.

“Seriously? You’ll do it?”

“I told you, I’m a sucker for a dare.” A mischievous thought struck her. “Of course, you never know when I might return the favor.”

“You mean daring me to do something? Like what?”

“I don’t know.” She beamed at him, her spirit lighter than it had been in nearly a year. “But I’ll think of something.”

4

“I QUIT MY JOB.”

Riley sighed. Typical Wren—her sister couldn’t even wait until she was seated before making a dramatic announcement. “Hello to you, too. I went ahead and ordered your drink,” she said, gesturing to the iced tea on the other side of the booth.

Wren shrugged out of her raincoat, then slid onto the high-backed bench. The hem of her jeans was soaked, as if she’d been splashing through puddles on the sidewalk, and her normally flat-ironed hair was curling into damp gold ringlets. “I’m counting on you to be supportive. Dad’s only response was a grunt from behind the newspaper—can you believe he still gets hard copies of the paper?—but Mom and Rochelle were both completely wigged. Honestly, I’m twenty-two. Did they expect me to be some CEO by now?”

“I think they were just hoping you could stick with something for longer than three months before getting bored,” Riley said gently. At her sister’s narrowed eyes, she held up her hands. “Not that I’m judging. Honestly, part of me admires your fearless spontaneity. Just...don’t let being spontaneous conflict with paying rent, okay?”

Her sister’s blue-gray eyes twinkled with mischief. “If my roommates kick me to the curb for not ponying up my share, I could always bunk with you.”

Because she loved her sister, Riley managed not to shudder. Wren had offered to live with her once before, when trying to dissuade Riley from putting her house on the market last year. If it would make you feel less vulnerable about being there alone, I’ll move in, Ry. A kindhearted sentiment, but working from home required a certain amount of organization—or, at least disorganization that Riley could control. Wren was a slob of epic proportions.

Luckily, she was only kidding this time. After flashing a quick smile, she reverted to the topic of her job. “I didn’t quit because I was bored, FYI. Waitressing is hella degrading! Oh...no offense,” Wren said to the waitress approaching their table. “I meant cocktail waitressing, trying to discourage drunken guys who want my number without being so blunt I lose my tip.”

The waitress made a sympathetic face then took their orders. Riley asked for a salad and cup of soup.

“Same here,” Wren said, “except, instead of the bisque, I’ll have the chocolate cake.”

After the waitress walked away, Riley asked, “So do you have a plan for life after cocktail waitressing?”

She nodded. “There’s an awesome lingerie store near me, Vivien’s Armoire. Upscale, but fun—my friend Becca had her bachelorette shower there. It’s owned by two sisters but since one’s planning her wedding and the other one is preggers, they need help. I’ll work there until my own business is up and running.”

Riley was almost afraid to ask. “Your business?”

“Making jewelry! Check these out.” Wren tucked her hair behind her ears, showing off colorful, funky earrings.

“Nice.”

“Glad you like them, because I have something for you.” Turning, Wren began to dig through her giant quilted handbag.

She was in full excavation mode, half the contents of her purse piled on the table—why the hell did she have a TV remote control?—when the waitress came with their food. Still focused on her search, Wren absently pushed her salad bowl forward. Riley exchanged her cucumbers for her sister’s tomatoes.

“Here it is!” Wren held up a small drawstring bag in triumph. “I made you this.”

She handed over the bag. Inside was a silver bracelet, beaded with tiger’s eyes and deep blue stones.

“Oh, Wren. Wow.”

“It’s a talisman bracelet, for protection. From...bad luck and stuff.” She ducked her gaze, her tone troubled. Of all the Kendricks, she’d seemed to take what happened to Riley the hardest. She cleared her throat. “Like getting stuck in elevators. Rochelle mentioned the power outage in your building over the weekend.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Riley’s lips. Would she describe the time she’d spent stranded with Jack as bad luck? No. Despite her initial trepidation and the inconvenient situation, the overall experience had turned out to be...fun. She hadn’t seen him in the two days since, but he drifted into her thoughts at odd moments.

His teasing encouragement had been uppermost in her mind this morning when she’d emailed the tenant board to declare herself in the running for the election in November. She’d written a first draft yesterday, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible, thanking all the board members for their hard work and saying she’d like to step forward and take her turn. In the event that Anna Tyler’s response to the email was to show up at Riley’s door with a bazooka, Riley had waited until she was ready to leave her apartment before hitting Send. Between this morning’s medical checkup, lunch with Wren and a self-defense class this afternoon, Riley hoped her hours of not being home gave the current president time to calm down.

Wren was busily scooping her belongings back into her purse. “I don’t know if the mystical qualities people ascribe to crystals and gems are real, but it can’t hurt to try, right? At the very least, maybe wearing them will make you feel braver.”

“The jewelry equivalent of a security blanket.” Riley’s tone was more defensive than she’d intended, as if she was embarrassed her little sister thought she was a wuss. She took a deep breath and tried again, determined to sound suitably grateful. “The bracelet is lovely, and I’ll treasure it.”

Wren smiled, looking relieved. “Once I’ve built up some inventory, I’ll want you to do my website.”

“Naturally. I’m the best.”

Laughing, Wren reached past her salad for the plate of chocolate cake. Riley snagged a forkful before the entire piece was gone, and the two of them chatted and joked their way through lunch. They jumped from topic to topic, from the weather—“Blecch” was Wren’s succinct opinion—to the most recently eliminated chefs on Wren’s favorite TV cooking competition. As lunch ended, Riley found herself wondering if it was odd that she hadn’t brought up Jack. There’d been several moments in conversation where it would have been natural to mention him, but she’d stopped herself each time.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t specifically told Rochelle about him on Saturday, either, had only said that she wasn’t alone in the elevator during the power outage and there’d been plenty of moral support. You barely know the guy. Not much to discuss. Yeah, that was probably it—not that she was holding the memory of his rough velvet voice close like a guilty secret. Ever kissed a stranger in the dark?

“You seem preoccupied,” Wren noted. “We were having a good time, then I lost you somewhere. Are you worried about getting to class on time?”