Men Of Honour. Lori Foster
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Molly paused with a spoonful of cereal almost to her mouth. That made no sense to her.
Teasing, Chris said, “It’s a four-hour drive, five if you stop to eat. You really never know when you might need a … room.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Why would we …” And suddenly she caught on: Chris was referring to what he’d heard last night. From her.
Aghast, Molly threw a piece of wet cereal at him, hitting him dead center in the chest. The cereal bounced off onto the table but left a spot of milk on his sweatshirt.
Not even trying to hide his laughter, Chris snatched up the cereal and popped it into his mouth. “I’m all done here.” He rose from his seat. “If you see Dare, tell him I’ll be back within an hour.”
With heat still throbbing in her face, Molly tried to play off her embarrassment. “Where are the dogs?”
“Downstairs with Dare.” Chris walked toward her, paused to give her shoulder a squeeze and then whistled as he snatched up keys and left the kitchen.
Dare had warned her about Chris, but he hadn’t mentioned how much the man liked to tease, and his lack of propriety.
At a loss as to how to proceed, Molly took her time finishing her cereal. She didn’t even know herself anymore. Not only had Chris reminded her of last night, but she’d just behaved like a child by throwing her food at him.
Propping her head on her fist, she wished she at least had the dogs for company. She’d gotten used to their constant shadowing. But it made sense that now that Dare was around they wanted to be with him. She could see how much he loved Tai and Sargie, and how much they loved him.
It would help her to sort things out if she knew more about Dare. Things like how much time he actually spent away with his work. And more details about his work would be nice, too. He obviously did very well for himself, given his property and his ease in spending money. Did his career choice often involve killing monstrous bad guys? Or had her situation been somehow unique?
Given the oddity of his work, when did he last have a steady girlfriend? Was a steady girlfriend even possible?
Molly wanted to know about his family, other friends he might have, preferences and dislikes and … everything.
She didn’t have Chris or the dogs to keep her company, but when the noise in the basement continued, she decided she’d do well to stay busy.
After clearing away the breakfast mess, she dragged herself back upstairs to write. This time her attempts at that distraction didn’t last beyond a half hour. Her muse wouldn’t cooperate anymore.
She tried going out the French doors for some fresh air, but instead she ended up staring at the dock and … remembering. Her skin tingled and warmed, and her body felt tight.
Sometimes a steamy shower helped kick-start her muse. She spent almost half an hour under the hot spray, and even washed her hair again, adding extra conditioner. Afterward, her hair was fluffier and her skin glowed, but overall the effort was wasted.
As Molly stared in the mirror, she couldn’t help but pay attention to the bruising that colored her skin. The once-purple marks were already fading to a sickly yellow and pale green.
Her stomach twisted in that now-familiar way, wrenched by remembered fear and choking uncertainty. Those men had hurt her so much, not just physically, but her pride and her spirit. Never in her life had she been so scared, and so despondent. Never had she thought anything so awful could happen to her.
Now she knew, and her life would never be the same.
If it hadn’t been for Dare, she might be there still. Or she could have even been killed, and no one would have ever known what happened to her.
But he had saved her. In a no-nonsense way, he’d reassured her, cared for her, protected her.
And last night he had touched her, giving her new memories to focus on.
The ugliness of captivity faded as she thought about Dare and how he’d made her feel. She almost felt it again, just remembering.
Her pale, marred skin now had a becoming flush. Thanks to Dare and what he’d done, she looked better, but she couldn’t lie to herself.
She was still an average thirty-year-old woman, and nothing would change that.
To hell with it, Molly decided. She’d never been vain, and she wasn’t going to start now. She liked herself, and she was satisfied with her looks. No, she wasn’t glamorous or flashy. She would never turn heads. But neither would anyone call her a troll, even with a few discolored bruises.
With new resolve, she went back downstairs and stood right outside the basement door. Dare worked for her, she reminded herself. In the end, she would be paying him an indeterminate yet surely hefty fee. That meant she was due a few answers, whether she had a romantic involvement with him or not.
As soon as she opened the door, she could hear a steady punching sound accompanied by loud, hard music. At least she had one curiosity satisfied; Dare liked hard rock, just as she did. Surely music wouldn’t be the only thing they had in common.
Her heart pounded in time to the beat. Putting her shoulders back, Molly descended the steps.
EVEN BEFORE SHE showed herself, Dare sensed Molly’s approach. So did the dogs. They jumped up, and the tail-wagging began.
Few people had ever encroached into his private workout territory, but oddly, he didn’t mind that she was here. In fact, he’d been thinking about her, wondering how her writing was going, and if she’d eaten.
Worrying for anyone, especially a woman for whom he’d accepted responsibility, was new to Dare. He’d always been able to separate the liability of the job with emotional attachment.
But with Molly, every damn thing seemed different, and very personal.
When he felt her burning gaze on his back, he paused and looked toward her. As a man who always noted the smallest details, he realized right off that she’d taken extra care with her appearance. To impress him?
His eyes narrowed at that thought. If the woman understood how much restraint it took to resist her, she wouldn’t be so comfortable with him.
As their gazes locked, Molly tried for a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Holding back, she stayed a good distance from him, as if unsure of her welcome.
That bugged him.
Picking up a towel and wiping sweat from his face, Dare turned toward her. “You look nice, Molly.”
Color tinged her cheeks. “Thank you.” And then, in a rush, “There’s really not much I can do. I mean, not without makeup and styling products for my hair—”
“You look damned good without it.” He liked it that she didn’t spend hours in the bathroom primping. Or maybe she did under normal circumstances. He couldn’t know.
He had to remember that in many ways, Molly was still a stranger to him.
What he did know about her counted for a lot, though.
She’d dealt rationally with her ordeal, forfeiting the expected hysterics as much from bone-deep pride as a commonsense need to survive. In a crisis, Molly would be a help, not a hindrance. Under pressure, she kept her wits about her.
Most of all, he knew that she was a fighter. And damn, but he admired that. Too much.
“So.” Aware of how she stared at his naked, sweaty chest—and lower—Dare studied her stiff posture. He sounded gruff when he asked, “Did you need something?”
“No.” She looked around the gym area. “Not really.”
Other than filling the basement with fitness gear, he’d never bothered to do anything with it. He had plenty of living space upstairs, and he sure as hell didn’t need