Lori Foster - Men of Honour - Ready, Set, Jett / When You Dare / Trace of Fever / Savor the Danger / A Perfect Storm / What Chris Wants / Bare It All

Just like she belonged there. And maybe … maybe she did.

The dogs jumped up onto the bed after her, circled, found a spot and dropped. They, too, acted as though she’d always been a part of their lives.

As Dare went into the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth, he thought of what he’d learned about her father. He saw again those incriminating photos and felt the animosity Bishop Alexander had revealed toward his oldest daughter.

After he’d finished up and returned to the bedroom, he found Molly resting on her side, her hands beneath her cheek, her eyes watchful as she took in his every step.

Tomorrow, on the way back to her apartment, Dare would tell her what he’d uncovered so far. He hoped like hell she was as strong as she seemed, because she’d need that strength to come to grips with reality.

“I’m cold,” Molly said. “Are you ready to come to bed?”

“Yeah.” Dare undressed down to his boxers and got in beside her. After he turned out the light, he automatically reached for her, and she automatically curled into his side.

If someone hadn’t tried to harm her, and if that someone wasn’t still a vital threat, life would be pretty damned sweet.

AFTER A REFRESHING sleep, Molly woke before dawn. Dare had one big arm around her waist, one leg trapping both of hers. His chest hair tickled her nose, and she loved it. He was always so warm, so secure.

But she’d awakened with a fabulous idea in her mind, and she needed to write. It amazed her that, with very little time for recovery, her muse was back in full force. But then, it had always been that way for her. Writing was her escape, her entertainment, her catharsis for whatever bothered her. Through storytelling, she could set aside worries and instead immerse herself in someone else’s problems—problems that she could and did fix.

Trying not to awaken Dare, Molly scooted out from under his hold. Right before she left the bed, his hand snagged her wrist.

“What’s wrong?”

Oh, crud. She hadn’t meant to disturb him. “Nothing,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead he sat up and looked at the clock, then ran a hand through his hair. “It’s only five-thirty.”

“I know.” Now feeling foolish and very conspicuous, Molly tried to explain. “I wrote a few pages yesterday. I sort of stopped at a good spot, and I wanted to get back to it.”

“Where?”

“Where … am I in my book?” No way was she going to start trying to synopsize for him.

“No.” He scratched his chest. “Where did you write?”

Why did that matter? Molly shrugged. “In the room you let me use. Upstairs.” Since she’d yet to sleep there, she couldn’t very well call it her room.

In the dim, gray light, Molly watched him stretching. The bed shifted as he rolled to his feet. Then he walked off, and a second later the bathroom light came on. He pulled the door shut, but he wasn’t gone long.

Molly heard the toilet flush, then heard water splash in the sink. When he returned, he left the door open so that the light spilled into the bedroom.

God help her, but Dare looked delicious in the morning with his whiskers and his rumpled hair.

And his body mostly bare.

So much strength showed in his physique, without him being muscle-bound. Tall, strong, gorgeous … How was she supposed to resist that?

He went to a drawer and pulled out sweats.

Molly stopped staring and jumped out of the bed. That made the dogs attentive, too. “Dare, what are you doing?”

“I’m usually up by six anyway.” He sat to pull on white socks and running shoes. “It’s a good time to jog with the dogs.”

When they heard that, both dogs stood, ears perked, in preparation to following him.

Glancing out the window, Molly saw the darkness. The whistling of wind sounded cold. And he’d still be sleeping if she hadn’t awakened him. “You’re going jogging now? ”

“Yeah.” He stood and pulled on a hooded sweatshirt. “I’ll wait for my coffee until I get back, but help yourself if you want it now. Otherwise, Chris will be over soon, and he’ll get it ready.”

The dogs looked from Molly to Dare—and excitedly went to Dare.

She trotted after all three of them as they started out of the room. “How long will you be gone?”

“An hour or so. Maybe longer.” He turned, and she almost ran into him. Dare caught her shoulders. “After that, I’ll be downstairs working out for a little while.”

Who crawled out of bed before dawn, ran and then worked out—without coffee? “You’re kidding.”

He bent and kissed her hard and fast. Sargie barked, reminding them both that she had need of a grassy spot outside.

“Take your time writing today. I don’t have any plans until the afternoon.” And with that, he turned and started down the hall.

Molly stared after him. Plans? What plans did he have? And what did that have to do with her?

Unless … he planned to take her home.

The idea was both tantalizing and frightening. She probably had a dozen important calls to return; she could only imagine what her editor and her agent thought about her disappearing in the middle of negotiations. But going home meant she was that much closer to ending her association with Dare.

Was he anxious to get rid of her? And if so, did it have anything to do with her botched seduction effort last night?

She dredged up every word she’d said, and even though she tried to reassure herself, one fact come slamming back into her brain: Dare had been generous, but not interested enough to take what she had so freely offered.

LONG AFTER THE FRONT door had closed behind Dare, Molly stood there in the dim hall trying to understand him. Finally she decided that caffeine would help, so after snagging jeans and the all-purpose hoodie, she went into the kitchen and got the coffee started.

As it brewed, she went back to the room to clean her teeth and wash her face. Her hair was a mess, and she tried smoothing it with Dare’s comb, but she had no way of styling it. Blah. She looked terrible, and there was no way around it.

She found a rubber band in the library desk drawer where she’d seen the office supplies, and she pulled her hair back into a high ponytail. That at least kept it out of her face and gave the semblance of order.

It wasn’t until after her third cup of coffee that it really hit her: she looked like hell .

Yes, of course she’d known it; she wasn’t obtuse about her own appearance. But in light of more important issues, she hadn’t really thought about it. She had so much on her mind, and so many adjustments, including the bombardment of feelings toward Dare….

Oh, God, she’d come on to him all hot and heavy while looking her absolute worst. If he had been a more average guy, it might not have been so bad. But Dare was gorgeous, the most physically fit man she’d ever seen, and she looked like … well, a haggard victim.

Groaning, Molly sat back in the desk chair where she’d been trying to work. The scene that she’d been polishing blurred in front of her. Not only was her hair frazzled and unkempt, but she had zip for makeup, and the physical mistreatment she’d suffered still showed in the hollowness of her eyes and the marks on her skin.

She looked as wretched as a woman could look, so why had she thought that Dare would want her? Her come-on had probably been embarrassing and uncomfortable for him. Sure, he’d had an erection, but after all, he was a guy, so that didn’t really mean anything. Physical arousal did not equal personal interest—which Dare had proven last night.

He’d been kind, telling her that he wanted her and that he only wanted to wait until she was truly ready.