hours, maybe all damn night. And trust me, Molly, before we’re done, you’ll know there’s not a damn thing about you that I find unappealing.”
Her lips trembled; she covered his hand with her own. “All right.” She drew in a slow, shivering breath and started to reach for him again.
And Chris yelled down the stairs, “Is Molly down there? I can’t find her.”
Molly jumped back as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. Her reaction was amusing, but Dare was a long way from humor. “Chris was gone?”
She nodded. “He went into town to get my stuff.”
Dare studied her flushed face, and then he noted how her nipples had tightened beneath her sweatshirt. Without taking his gaze off her breasts, he yelled up to Chris, “She’ll be right there.”
“Ooookay,” Chris said, and they both heard the basement door close.
Chris was giving them privacy, but Dare didn’t want it. Not here, not like this. But now that he’d told Molly how he felt, the barriers seemed very insubstantial. If he didn’t get some space, he’d end up taking her on the cold concrete floor.
“I need to shower,” he told her, “and then I’ll be right up.” As dismissals went, that was pretty clear.
“Oh. Right.” Keeping her back to the wall, Molly sidled toward the stairs. “I’ll just be up there. With Chris.”
Dare couldn’t take his gaze off her. “Give me twenty minutes.”
She continued to retreat. “Twenty minutes.”
Obviously he’d thrown her for a loop. Seemed fair to Dare, given how she’d turned him inside out.
His jaw flexed. “Get going, Molly, before I change my mind.”
She turned and hustled up the stairs, fascinating Dare with that taut behind and the bouncing of her full breasts. He stood there transfixed, watching her until she reached the top of the stairs and disappeared from his sight.
Damn, but she was something. Pure. Honest.
A great contradiction to the life he’d built for himself, a life of precision, deception and detection.
Being around Molly felt good.
Today he’d make her confront her life back home, and, God willing, tonight she’d still want him.
KATHI BERRY-ALEXANDER finished giving directions to one of the well-mannered household staff before she started down the hallway of the mansion she shared with her husband, Bishop Alexander. All her life, she’d been groomed for the skillful organization and planning required for a residence this large—not that Bishop understood or appreciated her significant contribution to making their home comfortable. He was a very busy man, an important, influential man, and he couldn’t be expected to care about such things. She knew that, in many ways, he considered her dispensable.
But she loved him anyway.
She loved the prestige he provided, the social circle, the authority.
He might not be the most charming man around, but he was an excellent provider and a respectable husband that society admired and that some even revered.
Her parents had raised her with advantages, but they weren’t powerful like Bishop. Marriage to him ensured that she kept a prestigious edge over others.
She happily basked in the cold shadow of his success.
What Bishop couldn’t or wouldn’t give her, she was resourceful enough to get on her own.
As Kathi looked around at the beautiful artwork on the walls and the fresh flowers in multiple vases, she nodded in satisfaction. Meticulous detailing ensured that nothing would ever mar her perfect existence.
Mentally listing her duties for the coming evening, Kathi considered the yoga class in an hour, then lunch with friends before she’d visit the salon in preparation for a dinner party with her husband’s business contacts.
Everything revolved around those contacts. Over the years, Bishop’s business investments grew more diversified, and even extended into political backing. She didn’t understand all of his dealings, but she knew that he owned a chain of gun stores and several recreational properties. Business didn’t interest her; she received a generous household allowance and personal account, and should anything ever happen to Bishop, she was a major beneficiary of his will. The house, the properties, would remain hers.
She was satisfied.
As she strode along the marble floors, Kathi’s heels clicked rhythmically in a soothing cadence until she stepped into the master bedroom in search of her purse. That’s when she spotted Bishop out on the veranda.
Despite the cool day and brisk wind, he wore no jacket. With his cell phone to his ear and tension in his shoulders, he leaned on the ornate iron railing and stared out at the grounds.
He spoke in a tone harsh with anger, and Kathi couldn’t help but overhear him.
“Apparently she was missing, and I didn’t know it.” He paused, then added, “Well, of course it’s a problem, because that crude Neanderthal felt free to accost me at a goddamned club!”
Kathi couldn’t believe her ears. Someone had dared to confront Bishop? Out in the open? He didn’t appear hurt, but all she could see was his back.
Concerned, she started to go to him, but hesitated when he blasted the caller with rage.
“How could I tell him anything that I didn’t know?” Bishop ran a hand through his hair. “No, you can’t ask around. I already told you, he threatened me if I said a word to anyone. If you go blabbing, then he’ll damn well know I was talking, right?”
Stiffening, Kathy wondered who would dare to do such a thing. She didn’t understand the complexity of Bishop’s reach, but she knew her husband was a powerful man with many important friends.
And yet someone had the gall to encroach on their perfect existence? Unacceptable.
Bishop lost his control and shouted loud enough for the staff to hear. “How the fuck should I know?”
Appalled, Kathi stepped out to the veranda, too, admonishing him. “Bishop, remember yourself.”
The look he sent her would have made most people quail. But Kathi cared more about appearances than his temper. She hadn’t worked this hard to have his bad humor fracture their sterling reputation.
“Come inside to talk,” she urged him. “I’ll give you the privacy you need.” She took his arm, but he jerked free of her hold and turned his back on her.
To her relief, he did lower his tone when he spoke again to his caller. “I’m telling you, this goon knew a lot of my personal business, so I’m not taking any chances. He claims to have all kinds of reach, and given what he already knows, I believe him. All I want you to do is find out—discreetly—who he is and how he knows me. No, I don’t have any suggestions on how you do it. That’s what I pay you for!”
Kathi
