Книга - If She Dares

If She Dares
Tanya Michaels


I dare you…Riley Kendrick has officially lost her nerve. Since being robbed last year, her spontaneous side—the fun side—has been completely MIA. That is, until her new neighbor moves in. Jack Reed, aka Mr. Apartment 4B, is over six feet of hard, sculpted hotness with a dimpled smile…one that suggests that maybe it's time for Riley to get in touch with her once-naughty self.Now the dares have begun. What started in an elevator has quickly escalated to a game of sexy challenges, each more daring than the last. It's exciting, it's wicked, and as far as Jack's concerned, it's a safe, no-strings fling. But every game has its limits…and Jack is about to discover just how dangerous a dare can get!







“I dare you...”

Riley Kendrick has officially lost her nerve. Since being robbed last year, her spontaneous side—the fun side—has been completely MIA. That is, until her new neighbor moves in. Jack Reed, aka Mr. Apartment 4B, is over six feet of hard, sculpted hotness with a dimpled smile...one that suggests that maybe it’s time for Riley to get in touch with her once-naughty self.

Now the dares have begun. What started in an elevator has quickly escalated to a game of sexy challenges, each more daring than the last. It’s exciting, it’s wicked, and as far as Jack’s concerned, it’s a safe, no-strings fling. But every game has its limits...and Jack is about to discover just how dangerous a dare can get!


“Ever kissed a stranger in the dark?”

The question hadn’t been premeditated. Jack had set out to distract her, not make a move on her. But his good intentions were muddled by the tantalizing mental image of her losing at strip poker.

“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. Even if he hadn’t learned his lesson about getting involved with a woman who lived in the same building, he—

The lights came back on, accompanied by the faint hum of electricity. He’d known the two of them were sitting close—he’d been able to smell the faint scent of raspberry lotion on her skin—but now that they were looking directly into each other’s eyes, their physical proximity seemed downright intimate.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth...as if she were seriously considering his unspoken dare.


Dear Reader (#ulink_ef4b3688-5bd4-5fbe-9e81-60240d71ffd5),

One of the joys of writing fiction is creating characters who are different than me. In a game of Truth or Dare, I consistently pick Truth and what few scary movies I’ve managed to get through, I watched from behind my hands. I’m not the bravest kid on the block.

My heroine Riley Kendrick grew up with a wild streak—although she’s been having trouble accessing her bold nature since being held at gunpoint. She needs help getting past her nightmares and nerves to rediscover the free-spirited Riley who never turned down a dare.

Enter sexy new neighbor Jack Reed, who can see the feisty woman beneath the haunted gaze. Jack makes it his mission to draw Riley back into the light, but as their playful dares take a more intimate turn, they’ll both have to decide if they’re brave enough for the ultimate challenge: love.

I hope you’ll let me know what you think of Jack and Riley’s story! Follow me on Twitter (@TanyaMichaels (https://twitter.com/tanyamichaels)) or like me on Facebook (AuthorTanyaMichaels (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTanyaMichaels)) to let me know whether you’re a daredevil, a rule-follower or somewhere in the middle.

Happy reading!

Tanya




If She Dares

Tanya Michaels





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


TANYA MICHAELS, a New York Times bestselling author and six-time RITA® Award nominee, has been writing love stories since middle school algebra class (which probably explains her math grades). Her books, praised for their poignan cy and humor, have received awards from readers and reviewers alike. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative kids and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.


In honor of the talented and glamorous ladies of BadGirlzWrite.com (http://www.badgirlzwrite.com/), with a special shout out (or is it shout-out?) to Sally Kilpatrick, who fixes dozens of grammar errors and my constant misuse of hyphens.


Contents

Cover (#u48ed6612-683f-5466-81cf-36c2fbb8efd8)

Back Cover Text (#uebf201c2-d3e7-5900-a887-885904a4faa7)

Introduction (#u3b8696f2-a949-5f5b-b408-7c97970fb174)

Dear Reader (#ue727919f-69fe-5cce-ade2-ff1e40858856)

Title Page (#u6b4348a6-0bf9-5b03-a43e-2132f8c03f1d)

About the Author (#uc9eb0580-3288-5dc5-a2bf-b805cf538110)

Dedication (#u00742640-4758-57a3-ab75-e475ad35b825)

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Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


1 (#ulink_69b1d518-696e-5cb9-bb04-b5a520929ccb)

THE OCTOBER RAIN brought with it a nauseating déjà vu, resurrecting thoughts of another autumn night Riley Kendrick would rather forget. Worse, the soggy weather ensured that the parking spots closest to her apartment building had already been taken.

Peering through the windshield at the dark expanse of asphalt, Riley desperately wished the two lights standing sentinel over the parking lot were brighter. Although residents had to punch in a code to raise a mechanical arm—management’s way of making sure the public didn’t use the lot for free parking—it would be easy enough to duck under the blockade or hop over the short hedges on either side. Anyone could be lurking in the dark, a thought that kept her rooted to her seat.

Get out of the car, paranoid woman.

Maybe she should have stayed home tonight. She was coming up on the one-year anniversary of The Incident, and her nightmares had returned. Lack of sleep was making her jumpy. She wished she were in her apartment now, on the other side of two dead bolts and the security bar. But her youngest sister, a cocktail waitress who had Wednesdays off, had taunted her about being a workaholic shut-in, goading her until Riley took the bait. It was almost as if she’d been her old self, the boisterous Kendrick sibling who’d never been able to resist a challenge or turn down a dare.

Okay, then. I double-dog dare you to get your ass out of this car.

She hefted her purse onto her shoulder and clutched her keys, keeping her fingers wrapped around the canister of pepper spray that dangled from the chain. Not bothering with the umbrella that was somewhere in the backseat, she locked her car and hurried across the parking lot. After The Incident, she’d wanted desperately not to feel like a victim. She’d taken self-defense classes, bought pepper spray. She even owned a Taser, though it seemed unwise to deploy an electric weapon in the rain.

It wasn’t in her nature to be a scaredy-cat, but being held at gunpoint in one’s own home left scars. Maybe it would be different if the bastard who’d robbed her had ever been caught, but knowing he was out there somewhere...

When she woke from bad dreams, it was with his gravelly, two-pack-a-day snarl echoing in her head. Don’t turn around, Blondie. You move from this spot, I’ll kill you dead. Hell, I might come back and do it anyway.

She’d been facing the wall, praying that his painful grip in her long hair was the only way he hurt her. Two days later she’d gone to a salon and had her hair shorn in a funky, bold cut. Within the month, she’d put her house on the market. She’d hoped a change in environment, to an apartment where there were potential witnesses and people to hear a cry for help, would allow her to regain her psychological footing. But—

Boom. A crack of thunder split the night. In her head, it reverberated like a gunshot. Panic welled, fight-or-flight overtaking logic. Despite the slick pavement and puddled potholes that awaited her in the dark, she broke into a run, trying to suck in more air even as her lungs tightened. The entrance defied logic, seeming to get even farther away.

Just as the door was almost in reach, a man rounded the corner of the building. A choked scream burbled in her throat. Her arm shot upward, trembling fingers locked around the pepper spray.

“Whoa!” He rocked back, raising both his hands—either in an I-come-in-peace gesture or to help shield his face in case she dispensed the spray. Between his protective body language and his Atlanta Falcons hoodie, it was difficult to tell much about his features. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just coming back from the Dumpster.” He spoke slowly, his words measured and low, as if he had practice dealing with women on the verge of hysteria. “Name’s Jack Reed. I live here.”

Impossible. “I know everyone who lives in the building.” Though she’d never admit it aloud, she’d also memorized the makes, models and license plates of all the residents’ cars. In total, there were twelve apartments, and only one of those was vac—

“What about the guy who signed a lease on 4-B last week?” His tone held a note of gentle humor. “About yea tall? I hear he’s a good-looking devil, but he inherited dimples that aren’t very manly.”

4-B! 4-B, as in the apartmentacross the hall from hers? Crap. She hadn’t seen signs of anyone moving in, but then, she’d taken to working all night and sleeping while the sun was up because the dreams weren’t so bad during the daylight. Plus, with traffic, dinner and a movie, she’d been gone almost five hours. For all she knew, she’d missed this guy carrying an entire living room suite up the stairs.

He looked strong enough to move furniture, towering over her at about six feet, with broad shoulders and big hands. With the hood shielding his face from the rain, she couldn’t tell if he truly possessed dimples, but there was nothing unmanly about his appearance.

“Ma’am, I don’t want to make any sudden movements, but shouldn’t we both get inside where it’s dry?” He shoved his hood back, and she got her first clear look at him. His jawline and cheekbones were strikingly well defined, his hair and his eyes dark as sin. “Jack Reed,” he repeated in that same soothing drawl. “I can show you my ID and a business card if it would help.”

Her stomach churned. She’d wanted to feel strong and capable of defending herself, but now she just felt stupid. What a shame she had two months left on her lease—moving suddenly seemed like a splendid idea. “Of course we can go inside.”

She gestured for him to proceed, keeping a safe distance between them instead of turning her back on him to unlock the door. The fact that he had a key supported his story that he was a tenant. She planned to see whether he went for the stairwell or the elevator before making her own decision. On the one hand, now that she was crashing from a temporary adrenaline surge, her legs felt too shaky for the stairs. But she didn’t want to confine herself in an enclosed elevator with him.

Nor did she want to run into him again after this fiasco of a first impression. What were the odds she could permanently avoid someone who lived directly across from her?

She swallowed. “So...you moved in today?”

“Enough of my stuff that I can sleep here,” he said. “I’m bribing some police buddies with pizza and beer to help with the rest this weekend.”

“Police? I almost maced a cop?”

“Forensic artist, technically. Don’t feel bad about the pepper spray—no harm done. Besides, it was refreshing.” His lips quirked in a slow grin that, under different circumstances, would raise a woman’s temperature and lower her inhibitions. “My last building had a tenant board that welcomed new occupants with a muffin basket. Total cliché. The attempted assault with intent to blind was a nice change of pace.”

His kindness only heightened her mortification. The old Riley would have met his playful teasing with some of her own. But at the moment, she couldn’t summon a sense of humor about assault. “I have to go.” Abandoning her plan to wait and see which direction he went, she bolted for the staircase.

Her feet had already cleared the first step when he called after her, “I didn’t catch your name?”

She didn’t slow down to offer it. Why bother telling others who she was when, lately, she didn’t even know the answer to that herself?

* * *

LEANING AGAINST THE wall just inside his front door, Jack Reed used the tail of his T-shirt to twist the cap off his beer. Tony Lang, head of the auto-theft task force and the only one remaining of three men who’d helped Jack today, drank his beer on the sofa. The couch was probably more comfortable than the wall, but after hours of hauling furniture up stairs, Jack lacked the energy to navigate his way through the jumble of boxes. In the weeks leading up to Halloween, regional corn mazes were a popular form of recreation; maybe instead of unpacking, he should just charge admittance to the cardboard labyrinth.

Tony surveyed the progress they’d made with a grunt. “Remind me again why you didn’t ask Spence Evans to help us? That guy looks like he can bench press cars. He would have saved us some trips.”

“I barely know Spence.” Jack was friends with half the police department, but as a rule he avoided the K-9 unit. “Besides, I figured with you, me, Gardoza and Burke, we had it covered.”

“Warning for the future, this is the last time I help you move during monsoon season.”

“Technically, I don’t think Atlanta has a monsoon season.” It had been raining all week, though, and Jack was sick of it. Outside thunder rumbled, warning that this afternoon’s drizzle was building to a real storm. “But I don’t plan on relocating again anytime soon.” Moving had been a big enough pain that he almost wished he’d renewed his lease at the former apartment complex. He’d wanted a change of pace, though, not to mention the extra distance between himself and his increasingly erratic ex.

“Does it seem awfully convenient to you that Gardoza had barely shown up when his wife called with supposed labor pains?” Tony grumbled. “At least Burke made it a few hours before bailing.”

“You can have their share of the beer. Come back tomorrow to help me unpack, I’ll even spring for your favorite Scotch.”

“No dice. You know Sunday dinner with my family is mandatory. I could get shot on duty and Ma would still expect me to show. Which reminds me...”

“Oh, hell. That’s your I-need-a-favor face.”

“Hey, you asked me to sacrifice a Saturday afternoon, and I’m hoping you’ll reciprocate.”

“Are you planning a move I don’t know about?”

“Nah. My sister’s kid turns twelve the first Saturday in November. It’s my niece’s first birthday since the divorce, and Anita is trying to put together a big party on a budget. So we made a list of our most talented friends we could coerce into working for free. Any chance you’ll come do caricatures of the guests? Funny sketches these middle school kids can hang in their lockers? They’ll love it.”

Jack, an only child raised by a single mother, always had difficulty wrapping his head around Tony’s large family gatherings. “A Saturday afternoon surrounded by middle school kids? You owe me a bottle of Scotch.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

How could he say no after Tony’s help today? Smothering a groan, he nodded.

Tony saluted him with his beer bottle. “Knew I could count on you. Just promise me one thing—try not to smile at my sister. Or make eye contact with her. Or stand too close to her. Anita’s still vulnerable after that snake ex-husband broke her heart, and you know how you are.”

“How I am?” What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Women love you. It’s why every department wants you to talk to the female witnesses. Ladies access details they don’t even realize they saw just to impress you.”

“Oh, please.” Jack was uncomfortable with his friend’s assessment. “Women do not instantly and universally love me. Exhibit A... Celeste. You do remember the crazy woman who drove me out of my last home?” She’d lived on the first floor of his building. After the breakup, which had been far more dramatic than he’d expected, she’d taken to stalking him in the lobby, in the laundry room and in the resident gym.

“She loved you plenty. Which is why she went bonkers when you dumped her.”

And that, in a nutshell, was Jack’s problem with the mass delusion of “love.” People wielded the emotional excuse like a weapon, using love to justify bad behavior, desperate decisions and even heinous crimes.

“I’ll come to your niece’s party, but you should probably go before I change my—” Jack tilted his head, trying to better discern the sounds on the other side of the wall. Was the mysterious blonde in 4-C leaving the sanctuary of her apartment? As far as he could tell, she hadn’t poked her head outside since their encounter Wednesday night.

He’d been hoping to run into her again, to replace their first meeting with a less startling impression. As a sketch artist, Jack dealt with witnesses for a living. He’d seen his share of fearful, shell-shocked expressions—but not directed at him. It had disturbed him to know he was the cause of the raw emotions in her stricken gaze. He reasoned that she’d only been afraid because it had been dark and the rain had masked the sound of his footsteps, causing him to unintentionally sneak up on her. All he needed to rectify the situation was a brief, friendly exchange in the nonthreatening light of day.

“Hang on, Tony.” Jack cracked his door open and glanced down the hall.

His shapely new neighbor was shifting a box at her hip so that she had a free hand to press the elevator button. This was a perfect opportunity. Jack set down his beer and grabbed the nearest empty pizza box and a few other pieces of debris within easy reach. “Back in a sec!”

By the time he headed down the hallway, she was already in the elevator. The doors were starting to close, but Jack had long legs. He threw his arm between the sliding metal, and the doors obligingly rebounded.

He beamed at her. “Hello again.”

In return, she muttered a sharp expletive. Apparently, this particular female had missed the memo about how all women adored him. Her clear blue eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she ducked her gaze. Too bad. She had beautiful eyes. Beautiful everything. If anyone had asked his preference before now, he probably would have said he liked women with long hair. But his neighbor’s super-short style suited her. It gave her an edgy appearance while still highlighting delicate, feminine features.

And you’re staring. Not the best way to convince her he wasn’t some creepy parking-lot lurker.

“Sorry if my friends and I made a lot of noise with the furniture today,” he said as the elevator doors slid shut. “I’m mostly moved in, so it should be quiet from now on—although, I have been known to throw the occasional Halloween bash. As my neighbor, you would be invited, of course.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, and he wondered if she planned to ignore him for the entire descent. That would make for a paradoxically long four stories down.

But then she raised her head, glancing in his general direction while not quite meeting his eyes. “There’s actually a building-wide party, but I don’t—” The overhead lights flickered once, twice, before going out completely as the elevator dropped a few feet, then jerked to an abrupt halt.


2 (#ulink_e62993d0-d2c8-5116-a3ba-b4415866e028)

THE LURCHING ELEVATOR knocked Riley into the wall, and she dropped her box of files and receipts. A gasp of surprise escaped her—a really loud gasp. Or, if she was being honest with herself, a shriek.

“You okay?” Jack asked.

The dark was so absolute that she couldn’t see him, and fear clutched her. She was trapped in here with him. Take a deep breath. He isn’t going to hurt you. Yet her fingers shook as she fumbled for her smartphone, and her heart didn’t slow from its breakneck gallop until the light of her phone’s screen pierced the blackness.

Jack was frowning at her with concern, probably because she’d squealed in terror at something as basic as a power outage. “Are you claustrophobic?” he asked. Despite his kind tone, the question made her defensive.

“No! I’m not afraid of small spaces.” Are you sure? Lately, she seemed to be afraid of everything. In a quieter voice, she admitted, “I’m not crazy about the dark.”

“No judgment here. We all have our phobias.”

As a kid at sleepovers, she’d been the one who always suggested killing the lights and telling scary stories. I miss that kid. After the night she’d walked in on her house being robbed, she’d spent the next few evenings with every possible light on, determined never again to be ambushed by a man from the shadows. How long would her makeshift flashlight last? She’d talked to a number of clients today and had planned to charge her cell phone while she was driving.

Glancing down, she checked the phone’s battery power. Almost to the red zone.

“Got any bars?” Jack asked.

She shook her head. “I learned months ago it’s next to impossible to get a signal in here. My mom’s been cut off twice.” Her lips twitched at the memory of a phone call last week and how she’d evaded her mother’s latest attempt at matchmaking. “On the plus side, whenever I want to end a conversation, I just say I’m getting on the elevator.”

“Useful tip. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.”

“Hey!” A man’s booming voice came from above. “Jack? You okay in there?”

“We’re fine,” Jack called back. To Riley he said, “That’s Tony, one of my police buddies.”

“Pretty sure your whole building just lost power,” Tony reported. “If the elevator’s not moving, I guess there’s no backup generator. Want me to call the fire department?”

Jack darted a glance in Riley’s direction, as if assessing her panic level. She gave him a weak smile.

“The fire department can get us out,” he told her, “but this would be a low-priority call for them. Depending on what other outages or accidents have been caused by the storm, we may have to wait a little bit.”

“Understandable.” She mentally crossed her fingers that the power would kick back on any second now.

While Jack continued his conversation through the ceiling, she sat down, her back to the wall and her denim-clad legs stretched out in front of her. There was a lid on the old printer paper box she’d been carrying, and luckily none of her paperwork had spilled.

After Tony returned to Jack’s apartment, her new neighbor sat across from her, flashing a grin that brightened the darkness even more than her phone. “Since we’re crisis buddies, don’t you think I should know your name?”

“I’m Riley. Riley Kendrick.” The other people in the building probably just called her The Hermit in 4-C.

“Nice to meet you. Officially.”

Her cheeks heated as she recalled their last encounter. She turned off her phone’s screen to preserve the battery. If shutting down the phone also kept Jack from seeing her blush, well...that was a bonus.

“I apologize for the way I overreacted the other night,” she said. “Rainstorms make me jumpy.” Rainstorms, the dark, the sound of pipes settling, her own shadow. She’d spooked herself a few weeks ago when she’d caught movement from the corner of her eye. Her heart rate had tripled before she realized it was her reflection in the mirrored closet door.

If she did go to the tenant Halloween party in a couple of weeks, at least she knew what her costume should be—the Cowardly Lion. A frustrated noise caught in her throat, not quite a growl, but damn close.

“Riley?” Jack’s voice was rich with humor. “Please tell me that was you. Otherwise, we may be sharing the elevator with something not human.”

“Just me, snarling in exasperation.”

“About the power outage stalling you? Were you in a hurry to get somewhere?”

“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 (#ulink_05c9231e-6e6a-56fb-a3f8-43cfa513f9d4)

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 (#ulink_3b4655f4-2d27-5920-a312-39babb18f57e)

“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?”

“No, I still have a few minutes.” Riley used her straw to fish an ice cube from her empty drink. It felt too warm in the restaurant. “I was just realizing I haven’t told you about my new neighbor. Jack Reed.” There. No guilty secrets.

Leaning back, Wren raised an eyebrow. “You were staring into space and have flushed cheeks because you were thinking about a guy? He must be hot.”

Scorching. God, those mesmerizing eyes. “He’s attractive.”

“And is he single?”

“No idea.” That was a jarring thought. Truthfully, she didn’t know if he was seeing anyone. But the way he’d looked at Riley, the flirtatious drawl in his voice when he teased her, made her want to believe he was unattached. What if she was wrong?

She ground her teeth together. “You know what? I probably should get going, make sure I have enough time to change and stretch before class starts.” She was in the mood to knock a sparring partner to the ground.

“So I asked a couple of questions about the new guy in your building and suddenly you have to bail?”

Riley forced a chuckle as she slid the straps of her gym bag onto her shoulder. “I’ve been taking classes for months. There’s nothing sudden about this.”

“Uh-huh.”

Deciding to ignore Wren’s irritating smirk, Riley stood and thanked her sister again for the bracelet. It was a genuinely thoughtful gift.

“Dinner last week, lunch today,” Wren mused as Riley pulled out cash for the bill. “Nice change of pace. For a while, you were so—”

“Busy?” It sounded better than cowardly or closed off.

“Anyway, it’s great to see you more often.”

“What can I say? I missed my pain-in-the-ass kid sister.”

“Maybe we should make plans for the weekend, too. I could bring over takeout and we can stream a movie.” Her smile was sly. “Maybe I’ll even get to meet your new neighbor.”

“Did I already mention the part about you being a pain in the ass?”

Wren grinned. “At least say you’ll visit my new job and buy lots of stuff from me so I look good to my bosses.”

“Yes to the visit if it will keep you from stalking my building, but you’ll need to lower your expectations from lots.” With that, she waved and quickly departed before Wren talked her into spending hundreds of dollars on unnecessary lingerie purchases.

Riley could drive to her class, but the nearest public parking for the gym was a couple of blocks past it, not any closer than where she was already parked, so she looked at the walk as her warmup. Her small umbrella shielded her from the worst of the persistent rain. The weather was midway between drizzle and downpour, with lightning and high winds predicted for tonight. What were the chances of two power outages in one week? She’d put fresh batteries in both her flashlights and bought a set of candles, just in case. Would it be the neighborly thing to do to knock on Jack’s door and ask if he needed a couple?

Jack Reed by candlelight. Now there was a thought more sinful than the billion-calorie chocolate cake she and Wren had shared.

Considering that Riley barely knew him—and their longest conversation had taken place in the dark—it was astonishingly easy to picture him. Jack smiling down at her, the muted light flickering over those muscular arms...

The pulse of female appreciation that shot through her was a welcome surprise. While she had no intention of throwing herself at a near stranger, it was reassuring to know she could still experience a little harmless lust. Baby steps. Maybe someday she’d even go on a date again, like a regular person.

Though she was grateful that Jack inspired hope of eventually emerging from her self-imposed isolation cocoon, she’d already dwelled on him enough for one day. She was dangerously close to obsessing like a lovelorn teenager. Plus, if she was distracted, her sparring partner would kick her butt in hand-to-hand exercises. Banishing her hot new neighbor from her thoughts, Riley reached for the door to the studio.

Class went by quickly, and she relished the workout. After the long hours she spent staring at lines of code, it was invigorating to use an entirely different part of her brain, honing her instincts and reflexes. She did notice, however, that when the instructor asked for her help demonstrating a new move, Riley was more conscious of herself physically than she had been during last week’s session. She had a renewed awareness of her body, as if she were relearning how to be comfortable in her skin.

As she walked back to where she’d parked her car, she didn’t even use the umbrella. She just let the rain slide over her, recalling an afternoon in her teens when she’d twirled in circles across her driveway during a downpour while her boyfriend laughingly chided from the covered porch that she was nuts. The fact that it was currently daylight helped her enjoy the moment, but she still jumped when thunder shook the ground.

Another thunderclap followed a few minutes later, this time accompanied by a sharp, pitiful cry. She stopped in her tracks, glancing around, not even sure what exactly she was looking for. A baby? The sound came again, drawing her gaze downward. Huddled beneath a nearby public mailbox was a whimpering puppy. Obviously, Riley wasn’t the only one who’d been startled by the thunder.

Brushing damp bangs out of her eyes, she knelt to get a better look at the little guy. “Hey, there,” she said in a soft voice. She didn’t see a collar. The puppy was ridiculously adorable, if soggy. Its overall color was a creamy light tan, though its ears were darker. A patch of white was visible on its chest with a mask of matching white around the most soulful brown eyes Riley had ever seen. She’d be surprised if the ball of fur even weighed five pounds. Thunder rumbled once more and instead of retreating farther beneath its makeshift shelter, the dog scurried to her, as if seeking protection.

“It’s okay, buddy. I won’t let anything happen to you.” At the sound of her voice, the dog’s tail wagged, and Riley’s heart melted. She picked up the puppy and stood, glancing around. No one seemed to be calling for a lost dog. The nearest business on the street, a hair salon, had already closed for the day. Meanwhile, clouds that looked downright ominous were rolling in.

She tucked the shaking canine between her jacket and workout top, cradling it against her body heat. “Looks like you’re coming with me.”

What are you going to do with a puppy, genius? She didn’t know yet, but no way in hell was she leaving it here at a street intersection. She could always come back later and post flyers around the area.

Keeping up a soft, one-sided conversation meant to keep the puppy calm, she hastened to her car, glad for the remote control on her key ring that made it easy to unlock the door without a free hand. Once she had the passenger door open, she unzipped her gym bag and dumped her clothes on the floor. She needed the empty bag for a makeshift pet carrier. Hopefully, the mesh sides that would allow the puppy to see her would keep him from freaking out.

Him? Curious, she held up the puppy. “Ah, not a boy, then.” She scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Us girls have to stick together, right?” She set the gym bag on the seat and gently deposited her new friend inside. After zipping the bag, she put the seat belt through the bag’s straps to keep the puppy safely anchored in case Riley had to make any sudden stops.

By the time Riley got in on her side of the car, the puppy was whining and pawing at the side of the bag.

“Don’t worry.” Riley put her key in the ignition. “We’ll be home soon.” Home. Where no pets were allowed. Maybe I can change that if I get voted onto the tenant board.

Perhaps. But the election was a month away and the new board didn’t even take office until the first of January. No way she could sneak a puppy in and out of the building for regular walks from now until the new year without anyone noticing.

“Cute little thing like you probably has an owner, right?” The dog, though fretful, didn’t seem malnourished or filthy. “I just have to keep you out of the storm for tonight, then we’ll see about finding out if you belong to anyone.”

The puppy made another noise, but this one was more warble than whimper, as if she was just trying to keep up her end of the conversation.

As Riley backed out of her parking spot, she resisted the urge to think up names for the adorable canine. Stick to the plan. Put a roof over her head for tonight, then find her owner. Of course, even a single night was risky. If she got busted with a dog after the tenant board had specifically refused her pet request, there would be hell to pay.

An unexpected grin tugged at Riley’s lips. This was rebellious and utterly spontaneous, the most she’d felt like herself in months—not counting her teasing exchange with Jack in the elevator. You weren’t going to think about him anymore today.

Right. Good policy...even if it was proving difficult to maintain.

* * *

JACK LEANED BACK in the driver seat, glad to be home but so drained it took him a moment to summon the energy to climb out of his car. He’d worked several crime scenes today, but the last one had been emotionally grueling. The only witness to the shooting had been a neighborhood kid. Jack had tried to patiently coax details from the shaken child while mentally cursing the unfairness of life.

Childhood shouldn’t include murder. It should be all ice cream cones and...amusement parks or something. Granted, his own upbringing had included more criminal activity than family vacations. That kid today must have really got to him, because usually Jack was more of a realist. He knew he couldn’t magically make the world fair—but he could help take down the bastards who were messing it up for everyone else. Bolstered by the hope that his composites would generate hits and ultimately lead to stopping more bad guys, he opened his door.

A few spaces down, another car was pulling in, and he recognized it as the same blue compact Riley had driven away in on Saturday. His mood unexpectedly lightened. He should ask her if she’d taken any steps to challenging Mrs. Tyler’s Reign of Tenant Terror. He headed in Riley’s direction, ignoring the rain that pelted him. It had been raining all damn month—what were a few more drops at this point?

Before he reached her, Riley got out of her car, darted around to the passenger side and shrugged out of her jacket. Beneath it was an athletic top that momentarily stopped him in his tracks. He’d wondered previously if she wore dark clothes to avoid notice. The fitted racerback tank was black, with the exception of some turquoise piping, but with a silhouette like hers and beautifully sculpted shoulders, she might as well have been wearing neon. He drank in the sight of her.

Plenty of his art classes had included study of the human form—not to mention his ongoing, informal study of women in more intimate settings—so why did he feel poleaxed at the sight of Riley in an athletic top?

She was such a sexy combination of strength and delicate femininity. Strength she’s going to use to kick your ass if she catches you leering. He ducked his gaze, but she was too busy fidgeting with something to have noticed him yet. As he got closer, he realized she was positioning her jacket through the straps of a bag, draping it as if to protect the bag’s contents from the rain.

“Hey,” he greeted her. “Need help with something?”

She glanced up, looking momentarily startled by his presence, then breaking into a wide grin. “Nah, I think I got this. But—”

“Miss Kendrick!” Anna Tyler emerged from the building’s exit. Her shrill voice carried across the lot, only partially obscured by the whipping wind. She stopped to wrestle with an ugly paisley umbrella that was blown inside out.

Riley cursed under her breath. “What was she doing, lying in wait for my return?” She squirmed suddenly, gripping the bag she carried over her shoulder. “Turns out, I do need your help. Can you sneak this inside for me? I’ll be upstairs to get her as soon as possible.”

“Her?” Jack’s eyebrows skyrocketed.

She lifted the edge of the carefully arranged coat so he could peek beneath it. A canine muzzle pressed against the side of the bag, and he recoiled.

“You have a dog in there!” His voice was louder than he’d intended.

“Shh.” Riley gave him a stern look. “Lesson one about illicit smuggling, don’t announce it to the entire county.” She slid the straps off her shoulder and tried to get him to take the bag. “I know it’s kind of crappy to ask you to violate apartment policy on my behalf, especially since you just moved in, but—” She cast a frantic look over his shoulder at the approaching Mrs. Tyler. “Please? I double-dog dare you. Pun intended.”

He lowered his gaze to the bag and its unwanted cargo. The double part better not be literal; two dogs would be even worse than one.

Still, he took the bag. Regardless of his past history with dogs, he wasn’t strong enough to refuse a beautiful woman in spandex. “See you upstairs.” Grabbing the jumble of coat and mesh and dog, he went around the front of Riley’s car to the next row so his path wouldn’t directly cross Mrs. Tyler’s.

He kept the bag pressed against his side to keep from jostling the dog with his brisk stride. On the plus side, it had to be a tiny dog to fit inside Riley’s bag. You are a grown man. You are not afraid of something that’s smaller than the average teddy bear. The mutt his mom’s ex-boyfriend used to bring over had been the size of a coffee table. Looking back, Jack realized the dog’s vicious disposition was probably in response to its owner treating it the same way the worthless SOB had treated Jack’s mother. When it came to losers, Cyndi Reed sure knew how to pick ’em.

Jack took the stairs two at a time. The dog was mostly quiet but yelped when Jack shut the apartment door behind them. After carefully setting the bag on the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room, Jack moved the coat aside. A fuzzy face stared back at him, chocolaty eyes wide with apprehension.

“I have to admit, you’re...kind of cute. For a dog.”

Dog, or was puppy more accurate? He’d taken the bag from Riley before getting a good look at the passenger inside. He’d assumed it was a small breed like a Chihuahua or a... Well, he didn’t really know the names of many dog breeds. He had no idea what this one was or if it was even close to being fully grown.

The dog pawed at the material between them.

“Sorry, but you’re staying put until Riley comes for you.” He avoided looking into the big brown eyes. “Don’t bother trying to guilt me. You’re warm and dry in there, and I have no idea if you’re housebroken.” Especially if his suspicion about it being a young puppy was true.

Despite Jack’s sound reasoning, the dog protested with increasingly loud whining. Although he and Riley had the only two units on this floor, Jack turned on his television to help mask the noise. “Calm down, fuzz-bucket.”

Too bad he didn’t have any dog treats to placate the pocket-size beast. What kind of human food was suitable for canine consumption? Luckily, he knew who to ask for recommendations. He was leaning on his kitchen counter, exchanging texts with Dr. Juliet Burke, when there was a knock at his door. The puppy barked in earnest, which made Jack grin in spite of himself.

“Yeah, you’re a very tough watchdog.” He crossed from the kitchen to the living room to answer the door. “No one would dare mess with you.”

“Jack? It’s me, Riley.”

He opened the door to find her dripping in the hallway. “You look soaked to the skin,” he said, ushering her inside. “Mrs. Tyler couldn’t postpone chatting with you until you were out of the rain?”

Riley smirked. Despite being drenched, she seemed to be in a good mood. “She was more outraged than rational. See, someone dared me to run for president, and I think she considers it a hostile coup.”

“So you really did throw your hat in the ring? Good for you.”

“Yep, I’m running...assuming I don’t get evicted before the election.”

His gaze went to her throat and he watched, mesmerized, as a drop of water made its way to the valley between her breasts. You’re staring. He should really say something, but it was tough to think of anything besides, “Wanna get out of those wet clothes?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, you’ve got my vote.”

“Thank you.” She met his gaze and for a moment, she went still. Could she read the lust in his expression?

From behind him, the dog yipped, as if scolding him, and Jack stepped out of the way so Riley could get to the gym bag that was now actively wiggling on the counter.

“Poor girl,” she cooed. “Let’s get you out of there.” The minute she tugged down the zipper, the puppy launched itself into Riley’s hands in a tail-wagging blur.

Smart dog. Jack couldn’t fault the desire to get closer to Riley. “I was just about to feed her,” he said, trying to redirect his thoughts. “A lot of stuff people give dogs can actually be dangerous for them—pork, for instance—but I have some leftover chicken in the fridge that’s okay. No bones, of course.”

Riley cocked her head at him as she pet the puppy in her arms. “You seem full of useful knowledge. Dog person?”

“God, no!” He grimaced. “In fact, I...” Embarrassment cut off the rest of his automatic admission. He didn’t want Riley to think he was scared of the overgrown guinea pig she was cuddling.

“Sorry.” She frowned. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I’d known you hated them.”

“Not hate. But you remember when I said we all had our phobias? I have a tendency to be...uncomfortable around dogs. The only one I spent much time with as a kid was mean. I never felt safe turning my back on it.” Not that he’d ever felt particularly safe when any of Cyndi’s lovers were around, whether it was the ex with the dog or some other nameless guy in the sea of sneering, unshaven faces. His mother was a magnet for temperamental drunks. “Then, later, in the sixth grade—” What the hell was he doing, sharing his life story while Riley stood there soaking wet? He should give her the leftover chicken and send her on her way so she could change into dry clothes.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was rambling.”

“You have to finish the story.” Her eyes shone with both gentle humor and curiosity. “You can’t just leave me hanging, doomed to wonder forever what happened in the sixth grade.”

After she’d confided in him in the elevator, maybe it was only fair he admitted to some of his own anxieties. “I stayed after school one day for art club, and when I left, it was already getting dark out. There was a black dog in the road, difficult to see, and a car clipped it. The driver sped away without stopping, so I ran to help it.”

“You helped it even though you were already scared of dogs?”

“Who admitted to being scared?” He flashed a self-deprecating smile. “I believe the word I used was uncomfortable. And I acted instinctively, not stopping to think it through. If I had taken a moment, I might’ve realized that when you rush an injured dog who doesn’t know you, you’re going to get bitten.”

She winced sympathetically. “Was it bad?”

“Not so bad that the art teacher couldn’t patch me up. He came to my rescue and then took the dog to a vet. I followed his example today and consulted a vet on what to feed fuzz-bucket. Juliet said bland chicken and rice were good choices.”

“Juliet?” Riley lowered her gaze to the puppy. “Is she, um, your girlfriend?”

Was that her way of asking if he was single? He grinned. “Hardly. Juliet’s married to one of my police buddies. I’m not seeing anyone.” Honesty prompted him to add, “Which is the way I prefer it. I broke up with someone not long ago, and I’m enjoying the drama-free life. I’m not...cut out for romance. Some of my happily married friends can’t seem to grasp that.”

Rather than treat him like a commitment-phobe who “just needed to meet the right woman,” Riley nodded. “I keep telling my mom I’m not in a place where I want to be dating, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to fix me up. I think because I’m the oldest, she—” The puppy in her arms wriggled, drawing her attention. “This one needs a chance to run around. I should get her to my place, in case there are any chewing incidents or other mishaps. We’ve imposed on you enough.”

“It wasn’t a hardship.” To prove his point, he ran his hand over the puppy’s head. “Does she have a name?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know what it is. I found her at a crosswalk this afternoon. I figure I’ll go back with pictures and see if I can track down her owner.”

“And if not?”

“No idea. My sister and her husband occasionally debate whether they’re ready to be parents. Maybe they could start with a dog. Or...” She sighed wistfully.

“You’d keep her in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t. Therefore, naming her would be a mistake.”

“Do you have anything to feed her? I can send that leftover chicken with you.” He smirked. “Pack a doggie bag, as it were. See—you’re not the only one who can make lame puns.”

“I’d appreciate having something to feed her. I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. I don’t know what to do about a leash, either. Guess I’ll lay some newspaper down in my bathroom and let her run around while I take a shower.”

First the cuddling, and now accompanying Riley to the shower? That was one lucky damn pooch.

He swallowed. “Well, if you do decide to keep the fuzz-bucket—”

“I can’t,” she repeated.

And yet, he had a strong suspicion she wasn’t going to let that stop her. “Understood. But just in case...” He grabbed a piece of junk mail off the stack on the counter and wrote Juliet’s name and number on the back of the envelope. “Here’s Dr. Burke’s information. I think the veterinary clinic where she works is pretty close.”

“Thanks. In the meantime, I trust that if you hear odd noises coming from my apartment, you won’t report me?”

“Report you? I’m the one who smuggled in the contraband canine, remember?”

“Thanks for being my partner in crime.” Her lips curved in a smile so joyously naughty that a bolt of heat went through him.

If she hadn’t been holding the fuzz-bucket, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to stop himself from reaching for her. It was the only time in his life Jack had ever felt grateful to a dog.

* * *

RAIN WAS POUNDING on the windows, and Riley woke with her heart in her throat. She sat straight up in bed, knowing she’d heard a noise inside the apartment. Knowing that danger was close. Oh, God. He’s back.

A remote corner of her mind recognized this was only a dream, yet that didn’t quell the fear. Dread crowded out logic. Panic told her to hide, even though the faceless man could find her anywhere in her apartment. He always did.

So escape the apartment! If she ran as fast as she could, sprinted out of here, maybe she could break the cycle. Maybe she could find help. She was paralyzed, could barely move despite the instincts screaming at her, but she fought with every drop of willpower in her system. She swung her feet to the floor. As soon as her bare toes met the hardwood, she lurched forward, rushing blindly through her room, through an inexplicable maze of rooms, out her front door.

Elation pumped through her. She wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t cornered and defenseless.

Once she reached the safety of the hallway, she slammed her door shut, lightheaded with relief. If dreams were bound by logic, she should worry that any intruder in the apartment could easily catch up to her here in the hallway. But the fact that she’d been able to safely cross the threshold gave her confidence; the closed door wasn’t just a slab of wood, it was freedom, and she laughed out loud.

I did it!

A moment later the door across the hall opened, and her subconscious rewarded her burgeoning courage with Jack Reed in only a pair of black shorts. Her throat went dry at the sight of his chest and toned arms. It wasn’t until she saw him that she noticed what she was wearing—a lacy blue chemise that looked nothing like the oversize T-shirts she normally wore to bed.

Jack’s gaze traveled over her in slow, appreciative perusal that made her skin tingle. “Thought I heard someone out here.”

“I was on my way to your place. I...” Inspiration seized her. There were no repercussions in fantasies, only wanton pleasure. “I wondered if I could take you up on that offer to practice strip poker.”

Reaching forward, he took her hand and led her into his apartment. “With as little as either of us are wearing? This could be a very short game.” He slid his fingers beneath the straps holding up her nightgown, his touch a tantalizing rasp against her skin. His smile was wicked. “You already admitted you aren’t good at poker, so let’s assume I won.” With one fierce tug, he stripped her bare.

She crooked a thumb in the elastic of his shorts. “Let’s assume it was a tie.” The shorts didn’t slide down as easily, impeded by a sizable erection, but a moment later they were both naked.

Need thrummed through her. It had been so agonizingly long since she’d felt like this, since a man had touched her. She rose up on tiptoe, and he met her halfway, tracing her lips, licking his tongue into her mouth, stoking the fire that raged through her. She gloried in letting that need burn out of control, desperate to go up in flames with Jack.

His hands dropped from her waist to brush over the curves of her ass, kneading, pulling her tighter against his body. She moaned at the steely heat of him, pressed so close to where she wanted him to be. Between kisses, he walked them backward, grabbing a blanket from his couch and tossing it to the ground. Then he was lowering her to the floor. He palmed one breast, his eyes locked on hers. “Tell me what you like.”

You. She was too aroused to think in specifics or form words. Instead, she tried to show him how much she liked his touch by arching into his hand, pleasure rocking through her when he rubbed his thumb over a hardened nipple. The nerves there tightened even further, and she felt every pluck of his fingers straight to her core. He turned his head to her other breast, kissing a line across the slope to the aching peak. Then her entire existence was hot suction and the sensual scrape of teeth and her own mindless gyrations as her body moved of its own accord. His mouth was still at her nipple when he thrust into her, and she clenched around him.

He propped himself up on his arms, the muscles standing out in corded relief, and watched her face as he withdrew and entered again. She bent her knees to accommodate more of him, to feel him more deeply, and he raised her leg over his shoulder, slamming into her with the intensity she craved. He laced his fingers through hers on either side of her head, holding her in place, a willing captive to this raw, inescapable bliss. Her hips rose to meet his each time he drove into her, bringing her closer and closer, until she was quaking.

And then she was tumbling over the brink, her body trembling with satisfaction as she—

Riley’s eyes shot open, her ragged breathing the only sound in the dark room as her orgasm rippled through her. A dream. It had been a dream. She’d known that, at some point, but the physical sensations had been so powerful she’d forgotten. She swallowed hard, riding out the last pulsing throbs of climax.

Sex with Jack might not have been real, but the pleasure had been.

She switched on her bedside lamp, ignoring the questioning look the dog shot her from the foot of the bed, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. As she passed through her living room, she couldn’t help glancing at her front door. What would happen if she showed up at Jack’s and suggested strip poker in real life?

Don’t be ridiculous. It’s three in the morning, and your real-life pajamas have zero sex appeal. Plus, just today, Jack had commented that he was enjoying his drama-free bachelorhood, uninterested in seeing anyone. During waking hours, it was smarter to keep their friendship platonic.

But if he made an encore appearance in her dreams? Her body heated at the memory and, for the first time in months, she found herself actually looking forward to falling asleep.


5 (#ulink_6e039d4f-c8a4-5408-8696-d27bbeb57083)

RILEY PARKED IN her parents’ driveway Thursday evening, glad to see her father’s truck. She hadn’t been sure if he would be home from work yet, but she was hoping to enlist his help.

Larry Kendrick’s habit was to hide behind newspapers or sports magazines and let his wife make household decisions. When Riley was younger, she’d briefly wondered if it was because the burly man wasn’t as interested in the girly details of his daughters’ lives. But the truth was, he was a giant teddy bear who adored his daughters and would have spoiled them rotten without Sheryl Kendrick to counterbalance his indulgent tendencies. Organized and efficient, Sheryl tolerated zero nonsense—she could silence rowdy kids at the library where she worked with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. She would be the tough nut to crack.

As she unbuckled her seat belt, Riley turned to her passenger. “Your job is to be as adorable as possible. Don’t chew anything, and whatever happens, do not pee in my mother’s house.” Riley wasn’t too worried, though. Mags was way past puppy teething and had only had one accident in the past forty-eight hours.

At the veterinary clinic this morning, Dr. Juliet Burke had declared Mags a fully grown dog. “She’s probably younger than two years, but technically an adult. The kind of dog she is, she’ll always have this puppyish appearance.” Juliet had flashed Riley a conspiratorial, woman-to-woman grin. “Looking young forever—she’s living the dream!”

Riley hadn’t even realized she’d subconsciously settled on a name for the dog until she’d called to schedule the vet appointment. She’d spent hours on Wednesday posting found-dog flyers and talking to shopkeepers up and down Magnolia Street; when the clinic receptionist had asked for the pet’s name, Riley had responded “Mags” without hesitation.

She unzipped the gym bag she was still using as a de facto pet carrier. After a couple of days of being in and out of the car, Mags had become a pretty complacent travel partner. She now wore a bright pink collar, and Riley snapped on the leash she’d purchased.

“Okay. Showtime.” They made their way up the sidewalk, and Riley grinned at the sight of familiar Halloween decorations she recognized from adolescence. A huge purple bat dangled from the ceiling of the vestibule, and a life-size, glow-in-the-dark skeleton was affixed to the front door.

Every year, Sheryl Kendrick bought flavored dental floss for the neighborhood trick-or-treaters. And, every year, sometime between the wee hours of Halloween morning and that first ring of the doorbell after dusk, Larry would surreptitiously add chocolate candy bars to the trick-or-treat bowl. They all knew he did it, but so far as Riley knew, no one had actually caught him in the act. He was definitely the parent more likely to agree to her request.

She rang the bell, and her mother answered the door seconds later, her expression one of beaming surprise. “Riley! How wonderful to see you.” She was already stepping forward to envelop her daughter in a freesia-scented hug when her gaze followed the leash in Riley’s hand downward. “What’s this? And don’t you dare say ‘it’s a dog.’”

“This is Mags.” Riley scooped up the dog, so her mom could get a better look. The cuteness was even more potent at close range. “I actually wanted to talk to you and Dad about her. Is he home?” she asked innocently.

“Oh, dear. I’m getting that same feeling in the pit of my stomach as when your sister showed up last weekend and said she had career news.” As Riley came inside, Sheryl called upstairs for her husband. “Are you finished changing, Larry? You’ll never guess who dropped by to see us.”

Footsteps thudded overhead, then Riley’s father was headed down the stairs in one of his post-workday sweat suits. “My favorite daughter!”

“Daddy, you say that to whichever one of us you’re talking to at the time.”

“It’s a three-way tie.” He moved to give her his customary bear hug but stopped short at the dog in her arms. “Since when do you have a puppy?”

“She’s actually not a puppy, and since Tuesday. I found her during a thunderstorm, near a busy intersection with lots of dangerous traffic. She was shivering, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“Of course not,” Larry agreed promptly. “I raised you better than that.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake.” Sheryl folded her arms across her chest. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, Riley Katherine?”

Larry tucked an arm around Riley’s shoulders and drew her farther into the house. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“If it’s no trouble. Mom, do you need some help in the kitchen?”

Her mother was not distracted by this offer. “You said you need to talk to your father and me about the dog? Why? It can’t be for our wisdom as pet owners. We’ve never had a dog.” And never will, her tone suggested.

Setting Mags down so she could sniff the new surroundings, Riley strolled around with her, letting her explore and get comfortable before taking off the leash. She was encouraged when her father knelt down to pet the dog.

“The thing is, current pet policy at my building doesn’t allow me to keep her. But that could change,” she said in a rush. Even if she didn’t get elected president, she thought she could work on the board members. When she’d approached Anna Tyler about it before, it had been a whim, and Riley hadn’t been invested enough to plead her case. The secretary was a widow who could probably relate to the benefit of companionship; the treasurer was a recently divorced man. Riley wasn’t above suggesting the dog park as a potential place to meet women. And if she couldn’t get permission to keep Mags in her current apartment...well, there were only two months left in her lease.

If necessary, could she convince her parents to “babysit” Mags while Riley paid for all of the dog’s needs and visited frequently? They’d been complaining that they hadn’t seen enough of her over the past year.

“I spent yesterday posting flyers and leaving my number with shop owners near where I found her,” Riley said, “so it’s still possible someone who loves and misses her will call me. But if not, I’d like to keep her. Having her around makes me smile. I’ve...felt more like myself the past few days.” Her parents didn’t need to know that some of her emotional improvement might be due to the hot guy across the hall.

Sheryl’s gaze softened. “There is research that indicates owning a pet can be therapeutic.”

“Do you think there’s any chance she might be able to stay here for a week or so while I try to sort out the situation?” She was hoping they’d focus on aweek and not the prospect of it stretching on for longer. While she thought it would be best for Mags to get her settled into a permanent home as soon as possible, she also needed time to finesse the situation.

Her mother sighed. “I suppose we can discuss it further over dinner.”

Riley leaned over to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“We haven’t agreed to anything,” Sheryl warned.

“I know. Hey, Dad, would you mind taking Mags to run around in the backyard while I get some stuff for her out of the car? Just make sure to stay close. She’d probably look like an easy meal to any hawks in the area.”

“Sure thing,” Larry agreed. He took the leash from Riley’s hand and spoke to the dog in a tone of voice normally reserved for cute babies. “I won’t let anything get you. No, I won’t.”

Sheryl threw her hands in the air. “Wonderful. My oldest daughter is shaping up to be a con artist, and my youngest now sells underwear for a living.”

“Try to look at it as job security.” Larry winked at Riley. “After all, everyone needs underwear.” With that, he took Mags to the back door and removed her leash so she could fully enjoy the fenced yard.

“I’ll be right back,” Riley told her mother. She really did have stuff for Mags in the car, like her dinner and a ball for Larry to throw. And a dog bed that Riley was hoping to leave here. “Then I can help you with—”

“Not so fast,” her mother said. “I’m afraid if I don’t ask you about this now, it might slip my mind.”

That might be the closest her mother had ever come to telling a bald-faced lie. Sheryl Kendrick never forgot anything.

Riley gave a smile that she hoped looked expectant rather than suspicious. “Yes?”

“Lynne Granger across the street has a nephew visiting from Savannah this weekend, in town for the wedding of an old friend Saturday night. But Lynne unexpectedly caught a flight to Greenville today when her daughter went into early labor. She feels bad that Mitch will be at her house all alone, so I extended an invitation for him to have dinner with us tomorrow night. You should join us! Lynne says he’s thirty, so only a few years older than you. I’m sure he’d feel more comfortable with someone his own age here.” She narrowed her eyes. “And it will be an excellent opportunity for you to visit Mags.”





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