Rachel Dyken: The Dare

"About?" I tried to make my voice all high-pitched and screechy like the stupid girls on TV. Basically, I was playing dumb.

"Really?" He turned; a dimple peeked out from the right side of his cheek as he eyed me with humor.

I giggled.

Hey, I didn't say I was good at playing dumb; I was a chemist, for crying out loud! My version of playing dumb was allowing the opposite sex the opportunity of pushing the elevator button, in hopes that he'd get laid by being so chivalrous. I believe it included twirling my hair and blinking more than once.

Yeah, that was my game.

"Well…" I shrugged. "I should, uh, be going." Why the heck couldn't I remember anything from the night before? I never did this. I was so NOT that girl. I quickly grabbed my bra from the floor, my bridesmaid dress from the chair — crap, and my heels from the bathroom, though they looked like someone puked on them. Great, was that my puke? Did I get drunk?

"Do you do that a lot?"

Sexy man-candy grabbed my arms, and that's when it happened. No, not what you're thinking. Gosh, I wish it was that easy: he grabs my arms, I swoon, fall into hopeless love, and get married in Vegas the next day to Chris Hemsworth's doppelganger.

Nope. Not my reality.

Again, let's revisit.

I don't do things like this.

I don't sleep with guys.

Correction. I've never slept with a guy. Ever. Never. Ever. Ever. Was that too many evers? Holy Batman and Robin, was I starting to sweat? How unattractive could I make myself to sex-god? And why the ever-loving hell was he entering into my personal space.

I closed my eyes to summon the memories of the previous night.

Bridesmaids' dress, good-looking groomsmen, Grandma giving me a drink. Cake, dancing, Grandma giving me another drink, and then Jace and me dancing, and laughing, and getting into a car and… aw hell. Cookies.

Damn it, politician Jace!

He'd grown up since I'd last seen him. Correction, he'd grown into the type of man-candy that makes people weep. I'd never told anyone about that night — the night he'd basically saved my soul from getting crushed by the quarterback of our football team. Was this how I thanked him? I'd met him once in my life. Once! Of all the dirty politicians to fall into bed with, why did it have to be Jace?

The same Jace that Grandma Nadine had convinced needed soothing after my sister broke his heart all over the place.

Well, I'd soothed him all right. Pretty sure Grandma didn't intend for me to seduce the groomsman then leave him ASAP.

Sleeping with a politician basically made me a whore.

Great, so I'd lost my virginity to a man who'd one day be president. Monica Lewinsky and I should be Facebook friends. Then again, I doubt she was a virgin if she and Bill got all—

"Did you hear me?"

"Yup." I nodded. "Loud and clear." I was so going to hell for lying to his face.

"Great, so let's just pack everything up."

Pack everything up? What? Like we had a sting operation going on in this hotel room? What happened to the Jace from high school? The one who'd rescued fair damsels and had ridden a white horse?

"I think it's what's best." Jace swore and grabbed his cell phone. "Just don't go outside. For the love of God, don't go outside. I'll have to call security. But I need to take a shower first. Eat a cookie. I know you like those."

"What?" I turned to face him. All of him. Another point in my life when I should have closed my eyes rather than ogled.

The only thing covering up his nakedness was a pair of black boxers. Everything else on his body? Fair game. I looked hard. Hey, don't judge me. Besides when would I ever get a chance to see perfection so up-close? I'd never seen a guy with so many muscles packed tightly around his midsection, or someone whose arms actually looked bigger than my head. Seemed Mr. Senator had a slight obsession with physical fitness, not that I minded.

I doubted anyone would mind the rippled six pack currently facing me in all its model-like glory.

"Beth?" Jace smirked. "You awake or are you sleepwalking?"

My head snapped up to his amused eyes. "Awake. Sorry, what was the question?"

"Cookies?" Jace smirked. "You cried into a box of them last night."

I officially want a do-over. I lose my virginity to a dirty politician, and I cried into a box of cookies? Where's the justice, God! The fairness! The—

"I think there's some left over in the corner." He pointed to the minibar.

Suddenly ravenous, I stalked over, still half-naked, mind you, and grabbed the small box. Great, so I officially consumed half my body weight of something that I know will most likely give me cancer in five to seven years. Stellar. I threw the box onto the ground. "I'm not so hungry."

"You should be after all that exercise."

"Excuse me?" I whipped around so fast that I had to steady myself with the mini-fridge.

Jace grabbed a shirt and threw it over his toned and tanned body. "Easy, Beth, not what I meant." His eyes twinkled with amusement.

Ha, this was me, amused. I kept my frown firmly in place and even put my hands on my hips to show my disapproval.

With a wink, Jace grabbed the half-empty box, pulled a cookie out, and dangled it in front of my face. "You were hungry. I told you to eat a cookie. You said no."

"So?" I shrugged.

"So, your reason for saying no was because you didn't get a workout in, so I offered to—"

"Pretty sure I know where that story ends." I held up my hand.

"Right."

Jace ate the dangling cookie and then another, making my mouth water. Dirty rotten Clinton-lover!

"But, you turned me down. Said squats are just as good as… you know." He cleared his throat. "So you proceeded to—" He waved the cookie in the air and smirked.

"Please," I bit my lip and closed my eyes. "Please tell me I didn't do a naked workout in order to eat cookies."

"Okay." He ate another cookie and headed toward the bathroom.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the shower turn on.

I was about five seconds away from going into the fetal position when he called out, "You ate five cookies and, according to your extraordinary math, decided that thirty squats per cookie equaled to the caloric intake, though you did keep sputtering some sort of nonsense about how exercise doesn't kill cancer, and then you said a whole bunch of shit and finally passed out after yelling, Die, mutated cells, die ." Much laughter followed. "Oh, and you thrust your fist into the air. I think you were trying to be dramatic."

And utter silence.

And I wanted to die.

"That's what you get for waking up in Vegas." A voice sang from the shower.

Great and now he was mockingly singing Katy Perry.

Things could not get worse.

"Guilty?" The FBI agent sighed heavily and reached for his coffee. "You do realize you'll be going to prison."

Grandma shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time I've gone to the slammer for the greater good."

"The greater good?" the man asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Why yes. I served a few months in a Russian prison after The Cold War. I was a spy and was guilty of poisoning a government official. Then again, they could never prove it. I'd slipped something into his mouth during a heated kiss." She reached into her leopard purse. "Breath mint?"

Jace

"Great, they're going to put Cradle Robber on my tombstone," Beth yelled, interrupting my rendition of Katy Perry as she made her way into the bathroom.

I was trying to lighten the moment until she started having a panic attack in the middle of the bathroom. I was still trying to figure out how long it would take her to realize I was showering, naked, and she was standing there rocking back and forth like someone about to have a nervous breakdown.