If She Dares (Contemporary Romance) (8 page)

“Customer. I designed the site for his chiropractic clinic.” Was it her imagination or did Jack’s shoulders lower a fraction of an inch, as if her answer had caused him to relax?

“How’d you get started with websites?”

“Oh, I’m a computer nerd from way back. From the time I was little, my dad had all these movies where computers went rogue and were out to get people—
2001
,
Electric Dreams
,
WarGames
.” She gave him a cheeky smile. “I figured that when the inevitable computer uprising happens, people with IT skills will be superheroes. Mastering a programming language seemed more likely than developing mutant powers.”

“Good to know that if my laptop ever turns on me, you’re right across the hall.”

“So far it’s been more content management interfaces than saving humanity, but that’s probably because they’re lulling us into a false sense of security.”

“Undoubtedly.”

By the time the waitress took their orders, Riley was starving. “I’d like the buffalo shrimp salad please, tossed in the hottest buffalo sauce you have.”

The waitress looked dubious. “The Don’t-Even-Think-About-It sauce? You sure about that, hon?”

“I’m sure.” After the waitress was gone, Riley told Jack about her sisters daring her to eat spicy things while they were growing up. “Habanero, wasabi. Thank God my mom didn’t keep any ghost peppers around the house, or I’d probably be dead.”

“Well, I don’t have siblings, but there were a couple of crazy dares from my track teammates.” He kept her entertained with stories until their food arrived.

When Jack had first called out to her on the sidewalk, she’d been nervous that Wren might spot him through the window. Seeing Riley with a sexy stranger would have been more than enough to prompt her tactless sister to come outside. That could have become very humiliating, very quickly. But ever since Riley had led him safely away from the lingerie store, she’d been having a great time. Jack was funny and charming and attentive, and even though she wasn’t sure bumping into each other and deciding to have lunch technically qualified as a date, it was still the best one she’d had in months.

“I told you what inspired my line of work,” she said, reaching for her drink. “What about you? Did you always know you wanted to go into law enforcement?”

“Sort of. I knew I wanted to play a part in stopping bad people. But I didn’t envision myself as an officer. I was more of a behind the scenes person, like in drama club, where I worked on sound and sets.”

What a shame. She imagined plenty of high school girls would have been happy to play Juliet to his Romeo or Sandy to his Danny Zuko.

“I was pretty scrawny until I was fourteen,” he admitted. “I had a growth spurt that helped with confidence—you get less intimidated when people don’t tower over you—but by then I was used to fading into the background. And forensics was a good fit because I loved science, mostly because the sponsor of the science club—”

“Wait, you ran track and you were in the drama club and the science club? And art,” she said, recalling his anecdote from the other day.

“I was in every extracurricular activity I could cram into my schedule. They kept me out of the— Out of trouble.” He picked up his burger, his expression shuttered. He looked away, ostensibly following the football game that was playing on the big screen over the bar, but Riley had learned her lesson the other night. She needed to steer conversation away from his childhood.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before she asked, “So how did you get started with the police department?”

“Dispatch. I did that while finishing my degree. I was happy to take the less popular shifts, like late nights or holidays that other people wanted to take off.”

To spend with their families, she surmised, thinking of the many seasonal traditions she shared with her parents and sisters. He didn’t have any relatives he wanted to spend special occasions with?

“Eventually, I had certification to work as a civilian crime-scene tech—no badge or gun for me—and built my credentials as a forensic artist. I actually work with a couple of different departments and agencies now.”

“I’m impressed by your talent. I can’t even draw a stick figure,” she said. “But I’m a genius with clip art.”

By the end of their lunch, they’d worked their way around to the topic of the building’s rooftop Halloween party next Friday. “Truthfully,” Riley said, “a few weeks ago, I wasn’t sure I would bother going, but since I’m running for the board, I feel obligated to go and get to know my neighbors better.” There was a tenant meeting on Tuesday; she’d be sure to attend that, too.

Jack shook his head. “It’s a Halloween party. Your only obligation is to have fun.”

“And find a costume.” She checked her watch. “I want to take Mags to the park while the weather’s so pretty, but I should make one more stop while I’m here.” One of the stores at the end of the complex was, temporarily, a Halloween emporium. It had opened at the end of August, and she figured that by next month the space would be leased to a different company and selling Christmas knickknacks.

“Now that you mention it, I should find a costume, too. Otherwise, I’m just going to show up in a suit and flash my crime-scene ID. Think they give a prize for lamest costume?”

She laughed, but couldn’t help thinking that she wouldn’t mind seeing Jack in a suit again. Or out of one.

“Do you mind if I tag along with you?” he asked.

“Not at all.” She was enjoying every moment of his company. “Maybe you can help me come up with a costume idea.”

Wicked humor danced in his eyes. “Oh, I have
many
ideas.”

* * *

A
FTER
A
FAILED
last-ditch effort to convince Jack to let her pay for lunch, they walked to the Halloween store. He opened the door for her, and as Riley stepped forward, a life-size ghoul just inside the entrance let out an unearthly scream. She recoiled, straight into Jack.

His hands came to her hips, his voice close to her ear as he murmured, “Hell of a way for them to greet customers. You okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Her heart was racing, and she could barely speak. But she was pretty sure that was from her proximity to Jack.

During lunch he’d mentioned working on a haunted house fund-raiser for his high school, putting his skills with sound, lighting and sets to good use. He’d sounded like a fan of haunted houses; the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was too spooked to brave a costume store with motion-sensor special effects.

She marched forward, cheerfully resolute. They passed several rows of creepy decorations and a shelf of hats and wigs of every size and color, then into the adjoining room with costumes—or, more accurately, the scraps of material and fishnet the proprietors had mislabeled as costumes.
Lord have mercy
. Looking around, she decided she was more likely to run across an actual leather thong here than she had been in Meg’s lingerie store.

“Wow.” Jack’s tone was reverent. “I feel like a kid who was just given the keys to the candy store. Any idea where you want to start?”

“Nope.” Last week she’d had the self-deprecating thought that she should dress as the Cowardly Lion. While that costume would definitely be warm enough for the outdoor party on the roof, her female ego cringed at the thought of spending an evening with Jack while covered in shapeless, head-to-toe fake fur.

But there were more repugnant possibilities at the other end of the spectrum. No way was she going as... She squinted, sure she must be misreading the package. Sexy Nachos?
What the hell?
She stared, dumbfounded, at the foam tortilla chip hat and bikini-style top with its strategically placed scoops of “guacamole” and “cheese.”

Jack came over to join her.

“Who comes up with this insanity?” she asked.

“No accounting for taste.”

She went to a column of masks. These weren’t rubber witch faces or the iconic, elongated Ghostface from
Scream
; they were more like Mardi Gras masks, elegant and mysterious. She couldn’t resist trailing her finger over a sapphire-blue one, edged in black sequins. The thought of feeling like someone else for the night was thrilling.

She stole a glance at Jack’s profile as he browsed a shelf of accessories. Could she convince him that an affair would be like a prolonged masquerade? Not real life, not a real relationship, but something temporary and fun and cathartic.

“Pfft.”
He shook his head at a pair of cheap plastic handcuffs, his voice full of disdain. “Like I’d spend money on these when I have friends who’d let me borrow the real thing.”

She couldn’t recall having any fantasies about handcuffing a lover—in the past, she’d liked men who knew just how to use their hands—but suddenly she was intrigued. She watched Jack, assessing, wondering. What would it be like to have such a big, strong guy at her mercy, to take all the time she wanted to drive him completely crazy with desire for her? His words before lunch came back to taunt her.
“I’m always open to trying new things.”
Her fingers curled at her side, as if to keep herself from reaching for him.

He raised an eyebrow at whatever he saw in her expression. “You look like you’ve switched back into Evil Riley Mode. I don’t know what’s going through your mind, but I think I like it.”

So do I
.

“Hey!” His gaze went just beyond her, and he grinned. “Superhero stuff. It’s our lucky day. You mentioned superhero aspirations. Well, here you go.” He lifted a star-spangled gold-and-red bustier from the rack. “Oooh. This is...patriotic.”

She eyed the top, considering. It was revealing, but no more so than bathing suits she’d worn in the apartment pool. Daring, but not tacky, which was more than she could say about the Naughty Nurse or Passionate Bo Peep costumes. On the contrary, the top was kind of badass. The bottom half of the outfit consisted of gold shorts with a skirt flap over them and red boots, sold separately, of course.

Jack wiggled the hanger. “Dare you to try it on.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised by her agreement.

“Really?”

“If they have it in my size, yeah. And in return,
I
dare
you
to try on this.” She held up a men’s superhero outfit that was essentially a body stocking with a belt and a Speedo over it.

He studied it with a mixture of skepticism and horror. “That... I...”

She clucked soft chicken noises under her breath, and he yanked the costume away from her.

“Fine,” he relented. “You’re on.” He turned toward the changing room in the corner while she browsed the rack for a bustier that would fit tightly enough to be supportive without leading to any unflattering spillover. Then she grabbed a pair of bottoms and, on a whim, checked out the shoe shelf for boots.
Might as well complete the outfit—nobody likes a half-ass superhero
. Once she found what she needed, she impulsively grabbed one final accessory for Jack and returned to wait by the fitting room.

The doors were saloon style, two halves that didn’t fully reach the ground or go to the ceiling. He flung them open like the ticked-off lead in a cowboy movie who’d been given the wrong wardrobe assignment for the day.

“Look your fill,” he grumbled, “because this thing is coming off in the next two minutes, and I’m never putting it on again.”

She didn’t need to be told to look—she was already actively ogling.
Hello
. It was probably for the best that he wasn’t planning to wear this to the building party. Female tenants, too busy staring to watch where they were going, would end up plummeting off the roof. The bright color and his annoyed expression should have lent a comical element, but all she could think about was the toned, taut male perfection in front of her. Her gaze started at his broad shoulders and slowly traveled downward. By the time she reached the belt and beyond, she was feeling lightheaded.

“Riley.” His tone was considerably silkier than it had been a moment ago. “I have to admit, the way you’re looking at me makes this almost worth it. But I should definitely change now.”

“Wait! One more thing. Humor me?” she asked as she stepped toward him with the mask that matched his costume. It was a partial mask, meant to cover only the eyes. She stretched up to smooth it over his face, reveling in the excuse to be this close. “I just wanted to get the full effect.”

His dark eyes gleamed from behind the fabric, and her fingers stilled at his temples. Their faces were close enough that they could share breaths, except she didn’t think either of them was breathing. Unable to stop herself, she went up on tiptoe, swaying toward—

“Over here, Mom! I found vampire fangs!” A boy tore through the store, oblivious to Riley and Jack in the corner. But the interruption was enough to break the spell. Jack abruptly disappeared back behind the saloon doors.

She hadn’t been looking in the direction of the fitting room earlier, so she hadn’t realized how much of his head and shoulders were visible. He changed back into his jeans and T-shirt with appropriately superhuman speed, so fast he was practically a blur.

Riley felt transformed by the moment that had passed between them. She’d gone, in the space of a week, from a woman who wasn’t sure she’d ever want to be kissed again to nearly making a move on a man in a public place. For a second, she’d been audacious and unstoppable.

So when Jack prompted her with a sexily growled, “Your turn,” she raised her chin and strode forward. Once she’d latched the hook that secured the doors, she kicked off her sandals. She eagerly pulled the platform-heeled boots from their box and zipped them up her calves, the vinyl cool against her skin. The boots made her nearly four inches taller, and she looked over the tops of the doors to meet Jack’s eyes. She let her skirt hit the floor then grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. He swallowed, his throat bobbing as his gaze held hers. Finally, she removed her camisole.

She knew he couldn’t see anything, not really, but they were both keenly aware that she was naked on this side of the door except for a pair of panties and red knee-high boots. Was it weird that she suddenly found a flimsy fitting room in a temporary store such an erotic place?
It’s not the place, it’s the man
. The intensity in Jack’s eyes was nearly as tangible as a touch.