When You Dare. Lori Foster

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for her abduction? “You said he’s well-to-do.”

      “Bishop Alexander is an extremely successful businessman. He inherited his father’s corporation, which was thriving to begin with, but he’s grown it ten times over.”

      “Meaning he has enough money to arrange and finance your kidnapping?”

      The idea stalled her. “Money, means and a cold enough heart. But …” She looked at Dare. “I can’t imagine him doing that. We’ve had our ups and downs, but my dad just isn’t the type to dirty himself with something so sordid and illegal.”

      Dare knew that the most unlikely people often did things that those closest to them could never fathom.

      Molly stared down at her hands, struggling with the idea of what had happened. Finally she said, “The thing is, I can’t imagine anyone who is the type. Until this happened, I didn’t know that anyone disliked me that much.”

      They were almost to the airstrip, a little ahead of schedule. Dare didn’t want her to get upset all over again. “One more question.”

      “What?”

      “If you and your sister are so close, she must know you’re gone, and she must be worried.” Molly stiffened a little, but Dare couldn’t back down. “So, Molly, tell me. Why didn’t you want to call her after you knew you were safe?”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      MOLLY STARED IN wonder as Dare led her to the small private plane. The wind on the airstrip blew her hair into her face, making her stumble over a step. Dare caught her elbow in a firmer grip and kept her upright.

      He had a lot of questions, but she didn’t have that many answers.

      Luckily he’d received a call that had lasted right until he was ready to drop off the rented van. She thought it might have been Chris again, and the call had left her mired in confusion.

      Dare spoke to Chris with familiarity, affection and ease—proof that they shared a definite closeness. Maybe even … intimacy.

      If Chris was a girlfriend, then why would Dare have kissed her? He didn’t strike her as a user, as a man who would cheat. He was far too protective to be deliberately hurtful to anyone he cared about.

      It was possible she was making too much of the kiss. He’d wanted to snap her out of her shock, and … the kiss had certainly done the trick, and then some.

      After turning in the van, Dare gave her enough time to go into the ladies’ room to change into her new clothes. While there, she’d cleaned the blood off her knees and elbows and tidied her hair. If she thought of how those men had tried to get her, it made her ill.

      She never, ever wanted to be at someone else’s mercy again. Not like that. She couldn’t bear it.

      But Dare had saved her, and now, Chris or no Chris, it sounded like he planned to protect her. She drew a calming breath and reminded herself to take it one step at a time. It was the only way she could hold it together.

      As soon as she’d emerged in the clothes that mostly fit and were much more comfortable, Dare began hustling her to the plane.

      Remembering her mother’s death left her aching with fresh hurt. Thinking of her father’s disapproval always filled her with burning resentment. And yes, Natalie would be frantic, a fact Molly hated.

      But someone had put her through hell, and she had to concentrate on that, and only that. She didn’t know who to trust—except for Dare.

      He’d kissed her. What did it mean?

      When one pilot came out to greet Dare with a healthy dose of deference, Molly realized that Dare must be affluent. How else could he afford to pay for a spur-of-the-moment charter flight from one side of the country to the other?

      Or … did he expect her to pay for it? Would this be added to her expenses?

      She eyed the spiffy-looking plane anew. Unlike her father, she’d never flown privately before. The plane was small enough to make her extremely nervous.

      Until they got aboard.

      “Wow.”

      Distracted, Dare glanced down at her. “What?”

      “This is … decadent.”

      He gave a cursory look around the plane, but just shrugged. “It’s comfortable enough. Grab a seat.”

      There were only seven, but Molly wanted as much privacy from the two young, GQ-looking pilots as possible, so she headed toward the rear of the plane, near the lavatory. The backseats faced forward, so she could see Dare still up front talking to the men, discussing a short layover to refuel and the estimated time of arrival.

      At her seat was an entertainment console with a monitor, satellite hookup and a DVD/CD/MP3 player. Still looking around, she made note of the burl wood cabinetry, the butter-soft tan leather seats, plush carpeting and a fully stocked bar.

      Dare knew how to travel in style. She only hoped it wouldn’t break her bank account. She had no idea what something like this might cost.

      He joined her a moment later. “Want a drink?” He indicated the fancy lighted bar she’d already noted.

      “No, thank you.”

      “You sure? Might steady you a little.”

      “I’m plenty steady, thank you very much.” How many times did she have to tell him that she would not fall apart? She couldn’t afford to. If she wanted to survive this, she had to keep her nerves steady. Later she could give in to the panicked hysteria that still gnawed on her façade of calm.

      Shrugging, Dare sat beside her and fastened his seat belt. “Buckle up.”

      She scowled at the order but still connected the seat belt around her.

      Lifting his armrest and turning in his seat, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging loosely. He studied her.

      “What?” Just then the pilot started the engines, startling Molly. She grabbed for the armrests. “We’re taking off?”

      “It’ll be easier to get home that way.”

      She scowled again. “Sarcasm is unnecessary.”

      He said nothing. Molly cleared her throat. “Where is home, and when will we get there?”

      “Kentucky, and it’ll be late.”

      As the plane rolled forward, she sucked in a breath and then swallowed hard.

      Dare eyed her. “So, you’re one of those women who panics at flying?”

      “No.” But she was, sort of. That the plane was so small didn’t help matters. Rigid from her head to her toes, she repeated, almost by rote, “I’m fine.”

      “So you keep saying.”

      He

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