A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2) (9 page)

I comb my fingers through his soft hair. I’m overwhelmed by it all. Tears threaten, but I shove them back.

Eventually, he picks up his head and shoots me the laziest, most satisfied grin. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips. My heart jolts once again as worry floods me.
What have I done?

As if reading my mind, Dan cradles me into his side and draws the sheet over our bodies. I rest my head against his chest, nestling inside the circle of his strong arms, breathing in that soap and shaving cream scent that soothes me. He presses kiss upon kiss to my head as he plays with my hair, and it lulls me to sleep. Drifting off, I may have heard, “You’re so beautiful, Claire,” but I can’t be sure.

* * *

I awaken the next morning to the memory of hard bodies and wet lips—along with some loud clanging.
What is that?
I pry open my unwilling eyelids and turn over to wrap myself around Dan, but . . .
he’s gone?
He just left?

“Dan?” I call out as calmly as possible, my voice groggy. I clear my throat and call again.

“One second,” I hear from the next room. “Ahh!” He laughs right along with the clanging.

“What are you doing?” I giggle, flooded with relief. I sit up, tuck the sheet underneath my arms, and rub my eyes.

A moment later, Dan appears in my doorway, holding a bowl and wearing only his boxer-briefs—and insane sex hair. My jaw is located somewhere on the floor.

I really did sleep with Mr. Beautiful last night!
I blush and smile as my insides twitch with excitement all over again.

“I got us something to eat. I was starving.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “I thought you might be hungry, too. You didn’t eat much yesterday, remember?” He winks.

I smile and peer into the bowl. “You found the Lucky Charms, I see.”

“Sorry if I woke you up. I was trying to be quiet.” He plants a quick kiss on my lips.

“That’s okay. Is my kitchen still standing?”

“What there is of it.”

I laugh. “How long have you been awake?” I run my hand through my hair.
I must be a mess.

“Ten, fifteen minutes? Here have some.” He holds out a spoonful of the cereal.

I open up and he slips it in.

“Have you had breakfast in bed before?” he asks smugly before taking a bite.

I chew a moment, swallow, and say, “This is breakfast in bed?” I snicker at the idea that cereal with milk could count.

“Ha-ha. All right, so I’m not a good cook.”

“Is this considered cooking?” I tease again, my smile widening.

“Yes, it is, thank you very much. It’s quite difficult to get just the right amount of milk so as not to make the marshmallows soggy. I do have to ask, though—what’s with Lucky Charms? I didn’t think girls ate this rubbish.”

“Clearly, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong girls.” I open my mouth for more.

“Clearly.”

“What are you doing today?” I ask before he feeds me another bite.

“I don’t have any plans. I just have to be at the airport by five.” He scoops up more cereal and eats some himself.

“Oh. Right. You have to leave.” My heart sinks.

“Yeah, I do.” He sounds disappointed, too.

We finish the remaining cereal, and he places the empty bowl on the nightstand.

“But we have the day . . . what would you like to do?” Dan asks, eyeing the sheet that barely covers my assets.

I listen to the rain tapping against the windows. “Well, it looks like a walk in the park is out.”

“I’m happy to stay in. We could just watch movies or something.”

“I suppose, but . . . I don’t have any of the Rambo movies,” I say, pretending to be disappointed.

He chuckles. “I’m sure you have plenty of girlie movies, though. We could play cards?” Dan nods to the deck of cards on my nightstand.

“Okay. How about Go Fish?”

“Yeah, all right. I’ll probably win that too,” he says with a crooked smile.

Why? Why does he have to be so good looking?
“You are so asking for it. Okay, you’re on.”

We situate ourselves on the bed. I re-tuck the sheet snuggly under my arms while he sits in front of me with one leg folded under the other. His abs crease in all the right places. I shuffle and deal.

“By the way, what’s Go Fish?”

I giggle, and after I explain the simple rules of the card game I say, “You go first.”

“Do you have a five?”

“Yes. Here.”

Making a pair, he goes again. “Do you have a seven?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Still his turn. “Do you have an ace?”

I fake disappointment and sigh heavily. “No, not last night either.”

He looks up from his cards and narrows his eyes. “Are you suggesting I wasn’t ace last night?”

I shrug.

“Really nice.” He tosses his cards to the side, and lunges at me, forcing me to fall back onto the pillows. He tickles and wrestles with me a little. Then he stops and leans up on an elbow.

“Was it that bad?” he asks, smiling, but I think he’s secretly worried. Lord knows he has nothing to worry about.

I run my fingers through his hair, smiling at him. “Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing I’m a teacher.”

He gives me a sideways glance and laughs. Finally, he leans in, his lips a fraction away from mine. “I guess practice makes perfect.”

My eyes lock on his mouth. “That’s what I tell all my students.” I pull him in the rest of the way as the passion kicks in as intensely as the previous night.

He spoons me in bed afterward. The rain outside continues to pelt the windows, in hard sheets now, but it only serves to add to this cozy, warm cocoon.

“When can I see you again?” Dan asks softly before pressing a tiny kiss to my ear.

“When are you free?” I scoot up against him. I don’t want him to move from this very spot, let alone fly across the country.

“I’m not sure of my shooting schedule. I have to stay in L.A. for a while, though. I don’t think I have more than a day off here and there for the next several weeks.”

“Oh.”
Is this his way of saying good-bye?

“Of course, you can always come out to see me,” he says, taking me by surprise.

I turn toward him. “You want me to come out to L.A.?”

“Only if you want to . . . do you want to?” There’s hope in his voice, but his face is stiff, almost as if he’s bracing himself for my answer.

“Yeah, definitely.”

His body relaxes and he smiles wide. “Well, then come out. Don’t teachers get time off?” he jokes.

“Yes, we do. I actually have spring break in a couple of weeks,” I say, thinking out loud and liking the idea more by the second.

“Perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He squeezes me, nuzzling a tickly kiss on my neck.

We lounge about the rest of the day, playing rounds of cards as we talk, snack, and laugh. Eventually we get dressed, only to get undressed again.

I’m percolating; I’ve never felt so alive. It’s unlike any time I ever spent with Mark. With Mark, I was always reserved—shy, even—holding back from really enjoying myself. I never realized that was the case until being here with Dan, who makes me feel sexy and free. Discovering I can be like this with someone is . . . exhilarating.

We’re sitting on my bed, chatting and playing a tiebreaker game of War, when I hear the locks at the apartment door. Click, click, click.

“Shit!” I whisper.

“What’s the matter?” Dan asks, looking around.

I’ve all but forgotten about Bridget and Camille. I’ve been busy touring The Land of Lust with Mr. Beautiful—why would my mind be anywhere else? I hear them talking and moving about in the next room. Thank God my bedroom door is shut.

Dan quietly snickers. “It’s all right, Claire. The cat has to come out of the bag at some point.”

I rub my face. “I guess, but I’m just not ready to let it out.” I’m slightly nauseated.

“What are they going to do—tar and feather you?” He chuckles, clearly finding this far more amusing than I do.

“I wish.” I roll my eyes.

“It’ll be that bad? C’mon, Claire, it’s not like you set fire to the flat. Although it wouldn’t be all that surprising, considering your kitchen.” He nudges me with his elbow, smirking.

I look at him and gulp. My heart is racing but not for any hot and sexy reasons.

Dan glances at the clock. “It’s four o’clock, so I really should be going, anyway. I have a plane to catch.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, nervous of the impending interrogation and bummed at saying goodbye. I just don’t want my time with Dan to end.

Dan stands and offers his hand. I grab on, and he lifts me into a tight embrace before leaning back to look at me. “I’ll ring you to set something up?”

I nod, mustering a grin.

“You can ring me, too, by the way. My phone works.” He smiles, but then it fades as he strokes the side of my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I had an amazing time, Claire. I won’t forget this trip in a hurry.”

Looking into his eyes, I’m lost in him again. My heart races at the memories of last night and today. “It was a pretty nice weekend, wasn’t it?”

Without the hint of a smile, he studies my face, and I get the sense he wants to say something, but is unsure. Then he nods and smiles. “Oh yeah. Definitely. I’ll phone you tomorrow, all right?”

“Okay.” I smile at him.
Please don’t let me down.

Just before he turns the knob on the bedroom door, he gives me a gentle kiss. With a mischievous smile, he says, “Good luck.”

I roll my eyes and brace myself.

Chapter Ten

“Hello, ladies,” Dan announces like the ringmaster to the circus this is about to become. Holding my hand, he walks to the apartment door while I scurry along behind him, cringing.

Camille shoots her head out from the tiny kitchen, and Bridget bolts out from her bedroom. Shock possesses their wide-eyed, open-mouthed faces.

“Hi?” Bridget squeaks as she stands frozen in her bedroom doorway, holding a shirt.

“Hi,” Camille mumbles with a mouthful of food, trying to swallow and pull it together.

“Goodbye, Claire. It was a fantastic weekend,” Dan says loudly with a giant smile, emphasizing the
fantastic
. Obviously, Mr. Beautiful thinks he’s Mr. Funny. I’d smack him if I didn’t feel like puking.

He snatches me up in a rough embrace, dips me slightly, and smushes a too-long kiss to my lips—old-Hollywood style. He lets me go so quickly I have to catch my balance. “Thanks for a great time. I’ll phone you tomorrow.” He laughs a little and leaves me with one last, brief kiss and a wink.

With a deep breath, I close the apartment door one millimeter at a time. I hold on to the doorknob, gathering my strength for a moment, while laser-beam stares bore into my skull. I turn around to face the onslaught.

“So, how was Boston?” I try for innocent.

“Oh, no you don’t. You give up every last detail right now, Parelli,” Camille orders, grabbing me by the elbow. She marches me over to the recliner and sets me in it. She and Bridget plant themselves across from me on the sofa, arms crossed and waiting.

Beads of sweat gather on my forehead. I swallow. “What do you want to know?”

Bridget screws up her face in a scowl. “Oh my God, Claire! Jesus! I know you’ve been living under a rock, but please tell me you know who just left here. Please!”

I take a deep, calming breath. “Yes, Bridget. It was Dan Chase.”

“That’s right—Daniel fucking Chase!” Bridget stands and starts pacing in front of the sofa, her arms waving about. “And why was he here? What did he mean ‘it was a fantastic weekend’? And he’s calling you tomorrow? He came out of your bedroom, for God’s sake!” She sticks her face into mine.

“Yeah, um, I . . . I went on a date with him this weekend,” I say softly, hoping the volume of my voice will make this go away.

“What?” Bridget calls out, straightening up. “Wait, back up. How did that happen? How did you meet him? Start from the very beginning and tell us the whole thing! Understand?” Bridget demands, plopping back down and resuming the crossed-armed ‘tude.

I’ll give them the abridged version
.

“And no beating around the bush, either!” Camille warns, wagging her finger at me.

Damn it
.

“All right, all right!” I hold up my hands in surrender. “Keep your panties on.” I take a deep breath and begin, “Okay, so . . . a couple of weeks ago I was stuck in an elevator with him and—”

“What? An elevator? A couple of weeks ago? This has been going on for a couple of weeks?!” Bridget blurts out.

“Yes. I thought you wanted the whole story.”

“Yes, yes, go on. Sorry.” Bridget shakes her head.

They both lean forward even further, their eyes wide.

“Okay . . . so, yes, we were stuck in an elevator. Then we had drinks that night. About a week later he was in town again, and we went out to dinner. Then he flew back this weekend, and we went to dinner again.”

I can almost hear the wheels turning and clicking in their heads.

“Claire, where . . . what . . .” Camille splutters. She shakes her head. “You mean those times we helped you figure out what to wear, those were dates with him?”

“Yes?” I mumble, hunching my shoulders and feeling like the worst friend in the world.

Silence.

“All right, so . . . are you saying that you’re dating Daniel Chase?” Bridget taps her fingers on her knee.

I glance to my wringing hands in my lap. “I don’t know if you’d call it ‘dating,’ but we’ve been on a few dates.”

“Come on!” Bridget exclaims, annoyed. “God, you suck at telling us the good stuff. Spit it out! I want to know everything! He flew out to see you? And why was he coming out of there?” she asks, pointing at the bedroom.

I raise an eyebrow in answer to that silly question.

“You slept with him?” Bridget asks with saucer-sized eyes, leaning forward more.

“You are going to fall off that seat. And yes.” I exhale a huge whoosh of air.

“Holy crap!” Bridget yells and immediately smacks her hand over her open mouth.

I flush and shrink in my seat.

Camille shakes her head at me, her face serious. “I can’t believe you slept with the guy.”

“Why?” I ask, my stomach falling. “Did I make a mistake? I did, didn’t I?”

Camille rolls her eyes at me. “You’ve barely been on a real date in . . . God knows how long, but when you do, you go out with Daniel Chase? And you sleep with him? It’s insane and . . . fantastic!” Camille lets out an uncharacteristic burst of giggles.

“What’s he like?” Bridget leans in even further and grins from ear to ear.

“Well, he’s funny and charming and sexy and . . .” The heat rises into my face as my thoughts drift to the slip and slide from last night and this morning and this afternoon.

Bridget snaps her fingers in my face. “Over here! Hello! Wake up! So, he’s going to call you?” Bridget asks, impatiently wanting every bit.

“He said he would. And you’re going to fall.” Her ass teeters on the very edge of the sofa.

“Are you going to see him again?” Bridget asks with a giddy laugh.

“I think so.”

Camille turns to Bridget and says, “She really does suck at telling us this stuff.”

Bridget nods.

“Well, how’d you leave things?” Camille raises her hands in annoyance.

“He mentioned me visiting him when I have spring break in a couple of weeks.”

Camille’s and Bridget’s mouths fall open again. “Daniel Chase wants you to fly out to visit him? In L.A.?” Bridget shouts. Loudly. It hurts my ears.

“Yes. Shh.”

“Are you going to go?” Camille asks.

I shrug. “If it works out, then I suppose I will.”

“So, wait, wait, wait . . . Let me get this straight,” Bridget says, slipping off the edge of the sofa and onto the floor. Without missing a beat, she sits back on the sofa and continues. “You meet Daniel Chase on an elevator, he flies out for a few dates, then you sleep with him, and now he wants you to fly across the country to visit him?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy crap!” Bridget squeals again, launching herself at me. She throws her arms around my neck and nearly chokes me. “I’m so excited for you!”

Camille jumps up and adds to the hug, causing the three of us to fall into a heap of arms and legs in the chair I occupy. After much laughter, we untangle ourselves and sit squished together on the chair.

“So the past few weeks—you were dating him?” Camille narrows her eyes at me but doesn’t stop grinning.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bridget flicks my arm.

“Ouch! I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d grill me . . . which you did.”

Camille says, “So? Do you know how awful it was to watch you drag yourself from day to day, knowing you were missing out on life? It wasn’t fun, Claire. We want to be in on the good stuff, too, you know and . . . my God, this is good.” She smiles wide.

“We all know you had fun—didn’t you?” Bridget asks, elbowing my side and smiling.

“Yes, I definitely had fun. But I’m really sorry. I should have told you.”

Camille smacks my arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” I rub my arm.

“That’s for keeping this from us!” Camille laughs. She continues to dole out smacky-taps to my arms and knees and shoulders as she says, “You’d better—”

Smack.

“Never—”

Smack.

“Keep shit like this from us again.”

Smack.

I try to block the smacks, but Camille is a tough chick to hold off. “Okay! I won’t.”

Smack.

“You promise?”

“Yes!” I catch her wrist. “Now no more! Sheesh!”

“So when will you know about going out there or not?” Camille asks.

“I guess I’ll talk to him about it this week. I’ll have to buy a plane ticket.”

“And clothes, Claire. You need some seriously slamming clothes to bring. And we are accompanying you shopping, just so you are aware. God knows you’ll try to pack the damn sweatpants,” Bridget adds, laughing.

“I will not.”

“Liar,” Bridget says.

“Is this a serious thing?” Camille asks.

“I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it.” If there is one thing to avoid, it’s thinking about where—if anywhere—this might lead. “I mean, it’s all very new, and you know how it is when things are new.”

“Yeah, all hot and bothered!” Bridget exclaims.

I laugh, blushing.

“Claire, I’m so happy for you,” Camille says.

“Me, too,” Bridget says as we group hug.

* * *

With the workweek beginning, I need to refocus. I can’t get lost in the I-slept-with-Mr.-Beautiful-and-I-might-be-visiting-him-in-L.A. world. I have work to do!

On Monday night, when the girls and I sit around the living room watching TV and doing work as usual, my cell phone rings.

“I wonder who could be calling Claire?” Bridget remarks, feigning wonder as I speed out of the room.

“Hello?”

“Hi, honey.”

“Oh, hi, Mom. How are you?” I ask, plopping down on my bed in massive disappointment.
Will he blow me off?

“I’m fine, honey. Were you expecting someone else? You sound disappointed.”

Oops.
“No, I was just doing work and the phone startled me,” I lie, hoping to avoid the rundown of questions.

“How’s work going, sweetheart?”

“Good. You know, the usual.”

“Don’t you have spring break coming up?”

“Yeah, in a couple of weeks.”
Spring break in L.A. . . . If he calls, that is.

“Think we might see you?”

“I’m not sure. I have to see what the girls are doing. So, how’s everything with you and Dad?” Changing the subject usually works.

“Oh, just fine. We had lunch with the Palumbos today.”

“That’s nice. How are they doing?”

“Very well. Actually, do you remember their son Michael?”

“Yeah, he got married a few years back, right?”

“Yes, but he just got divorced.”

Oh no.
“That’s too bad.”

“Yes, it is, but then we were talking about you, and we were saying how nice it would be if you two went out. You know, just to get reacquainted.”

Ugh.
My mind is bathing itself in dirty thoughts of Dan, and my mother is trying to set me up. Again. “I don’t think now is a good time for that.”

“Why not? When is a good time, Claire?” she snips. And I can tell that she probably had married me off to the guy by the time her sandwich arrived at lunch.

“It’s just that I’m really busy right now, and I don’t have time to date.”

“You know, I hate to break it to you, Claire, but you
are
getting older, and it’s only going to be that much harder to have children.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It’s getting late. I’m sure you have to get some sleep since you’re so busy.” Each word is punctuated with her usual dose of guilt and sarcasm.

“Yes, I am tired . . .”
of this conversation.
I want to throw it in there, but I don’t.

“Well, good night, then, honey,” my mother huffs.

“Good night, Mom.”

Frustrated, I press END and start to leave my bedroom when my phone rings again.
Shit! She’s not done grilling me.

“Hello?” I say cautiously.

“Hello, Claire.”

“Hi, Dan, how are you?” I flop back down, relieved, and allow his smooth, silky voice to envelop me.

“I’m very well. How are you?” He sounds so sweet and cheery.

“I’m good, thanks. How was your flight?”

“It was fine. How’d the inquisition go?” He snickers.

“Thanks for that display, by the way.”

“What display?” He snorts. “So really, how did it go? I’ve been wondering. They looked a little . . . surprised?”

“To say the least! But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Well, that’s good. What did you tell them?”

“That you’re very lame, and I don’t know what all the fuss is about.”

He breaks into laughter. “Of course you did. Thank you. You are so very sweet and great for my ego.”

I giggle. “No, I told them I had a great time . . . what did you tell your friend?” I ask—tit for tat.

“That I drove Miss Daisy all the way home!” Dan cracks up.

I gasp and can’t help but laugh, too. “Oh my God! That’s terrible!”

“I’m just joking. I told him I had a lovely time.”

I’m not sure if I should believe him. “You did?”

“Yes, I did.” His voice deepens, bringing me right back to being alone and naked with him.

“Is that all you said?” I ask a little breathless.

“No.”

When he doesn’t respond I say, “Well, what else did you tell him?”

“Hmm . . . what’s it worth to you?” he asks with a soft laugh.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you if I can give it,” I say playfully.

“I want whatever you’re willing to give.”

“Did you like what I gave you last time?”

I hear him exhale. “More than you know.”

“Is that what you told your friend?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I told you I’m an honest person,” he says.

“If that’s the case, then what else did you tell your friend? Tell me—please?” I ask seductively.

He groans. “Well, when you ask like that . . . um, he asked if I wanted to see you again.”

“And what did you say?” I ask on pins and needles.

“I said yes . . . but between you and me, I left something out.”

“And what’s that?” My heart is pounding.

He pauses. “That I want to know how many days it is until your spring holiday.”

I freeze for a moment, stunned silent.

“Are you still there?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly because even my lungs are shocked. “Are you saying that you want to count the days?”

“Yeah,” he says shyly.

“Um, let me look. I have to grab my calendar. Hang on.” I sit up and reach for my school bag. I’m so nervous that my shaking hands have a hard time pulling out the calendar but finally do. “Looks like the week of March nineteenth.”

“Okay. I’ll still have to work while you’re here, so would you like to bring your flatmates along?”

“Seriously?” I try to remain calm.

“Yes, Claire, seriously,” he mocks, chuckling. “That way you can have fun while I’m stuck at work.”

“If you have to work that much, maybe I’d just be in the way.”