Candace Irvin - Triple Dare

Dare hadn’t meant to sound so clipped, but he did succeed in wrenching Abby’s gaze from his bare chest. Her aura shifted once more. Sharpened. Darkened.

She pulled an envelope from her back pocket and held it out. “Consider this a thank-you for getting rid of my boxes.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“What’s the problem? You’ll don a tux to scale the building but can’t be bothered to suit up for an evening of Mozart?” A tiny dimple appeared as she smiled.

He shook his head again. Firmly. He tried to shut the door on the tickets as well as further argument when she tucked the envelope in his hand. He sucked in a sharp breath as her fingertips grazed his.

That was all it took.

Like the violin she carried to work, he was instantly, completely in tune—with her.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As the daughter of a librarian and a sailor, it’s no wonder Candace says her two greatest loves are reading and the sea. After spending several exciting years as a U.S. naval officer sailing around the world, she decided it was time to put down roots and give her other love a chance. To her delight, she soon learned that writing romance was as much fun as reading it. A finalist for both the coveted RITA ®Award and the Holt Medallion, as well as a two-time Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee, Candace believes her luckiest moment was the day she married her own dashing hero, a former U.S. Army combat engineer with dimples to die for. The two now reside in the South, happily raising three future heroes and one adorable heroine—who won’t be allowed to date until she’s forty, at least.

Candace loves to hear from readers. You can e-mail her at candace@candaceirvin.com or snail-mail her c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

For my dad, Ernest A. Phillips, Sr.

For everything.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

He felt her even before he could see her.

Sometimes it happened like that.

And yet, it had never happened quite like this.

Every other time the emotions had ripped in, slicing straight through his skin until they were boring into his bones, wrenching him deep into the abyss before he could catch his breath. There he’d remain, trapped and tormented, until they’d run their course. But this time was different. She was different. And he was powerless to resist. He simply closed his eyes and stood there, more in than out of the elevator.

Several impatient passengers jostled past as they hurried out into the corridor before heading into the main lobby beyond. For once, the physical contact didn’t faze him. He was too busy feeling. Absorbing. Measuring each and every one of his breaths against the heady, hypnotic awareness that continued to wash over him, through him, merging. Until gradually she became him. Just as he became her.

Completely.

Stunned, he jerked back into the elevator.

It didn’t help.

He forced himself to step out. He forced another step, then another and another, until he, too, had reached the lobby. The others had begun to intrude again. The relentless crush of the city and beyond had returned as well. Years of practice allowed him to ratchet the intrusion down to a dull throb, just as some skill he’d never even known he possessed allowed him to remain completely focused upon her. She was twenty feet away, her lithe back to him, but he knew it was her. Just as surely as he felt her essence filling every inch of his being. He didn’t need her to turn and face him. He already knew she was as beautiful on the outside as she was in her heart.

Still, he was driven to wait.

His reward came in the barest glimpse of a smooth, flushed cheek and a gently curving jaw as she turned to her companion and tucked a flowing tangle of dark curls behind an ear. One glance at the elderly woman who answered her wide smile and eager nod and suddenly he knew why she was there.

Just like that, the panic crashed in.

His heart began hammering within his chest, damned near fracturing his ribs as the doorman opened the building’s main door for her. Perhaps it was for the best, because a moment later, the glass partition closed behind her, instantly severing the connection he’d felt clear down in his soul. But the knowledge punching in alongside the keening loss struck deeper.

She was the one.

She alone possessed the power to save or destroy him. But he had no way of knowing which until it was too late.

Two months later

It had taken her twelve months, a hundred and sixty-five concerts in almost as many cities scattered around the globe, but Abigail Pembroke finally had her life back. Unfortunately, the bulk of her former existence was still crammed inside the remaining two dozen boxes littering her brand-new living room.

Abby sighed as she studied the haphazard forest of cardboard. She should have taken the guys up on their offer to distribute the boxes around the apartment before they left. She might have, if the guilt hadn’t already been biting in. Bad enough that she’d caved in to the temptation to escape her latest hotel room before the final concert of the summer series, she didn’t need half the string section showing up for rehearsal tomorrow with strained backs. Not to mention she’d have had to open each box and root through its contents before she knew which room to place it in.

Her departure had been that hasty.

She’d been that humiliated.

Abby pushed the memory aside and used her scissors to slice through the tape sealing the next box. One look at the contents was all it took to make her regret not labeling that particular tangle of memories. She was still staring down at the rumpled lingerie she should have burned before she left for Milan when her CD player kicked in with one of her favorite Debussy sonatas for piano and violin.

Abby grinned. Leave it to a bunch of fiddle players to hook up the stereo first.

Her determination restored, Abby tossed the scissors aside and grabbed the cardboard flaps. Her arms protested as she jockeyed the waist-high box past the camelback sofa and coordinating armchair. The bottom of the box caught at the edge of the area rug, but once she’d freed it she was able to slide the box past the open kitchen and dining areas and down the hall without marring the hardwood floors. She shoved the box against the foot of her virgin bed and sighed.

Of all the furniture Marlena had helped her select, the towering iron four-poster had been the most extravagant.

She didn’t care. What better way to start fresh?

Buoyed by the thought, she tucked a damp, unruly curl into her braid and reached inside the cardboard box. She dumped the scarlet teddy and matching robe at her feet and reached in the box again, this time snagging her telephone. Skirting the side of the still-naked mattress, she centered the phone atop her nightstand and frowned. The phone’s cord didn’t quite reach the outlet. Worse, the pink Cinderella casing and rotary dial looked as awkward and woefully out of place in her fancy new digs as she still felt.

Dammit, don’t. Marlena was right. She had to move on. In more ways than one. She had Brian to think about. He was her complete responsibility now, whether he wanted to be or not. Abby pushed the latest round of painful memories aside and focused on her brother’s beatific smile. His humbling joy when she’d told him she was going to move sooner and, hence, would have his room ready a whole week early. Brian might not want to move in with her, but he was definitely looking forward to resuming his weekly overnight visits. From the tight desperation in his hug when she’d left, he needed them, too. They both did.