Men Of Honour. Lori Foster

off, distressed, angry.

      Anticipating her answer, Dare leaned forward. “What?”

      Her brows drew together, and she closed her eyes. “That I had surely learned a lesson.”

      He dropped back in his chair. Unbelievable. Had someone hired her abductors to torture her with uncertainty, cruel treatment, fear and humiliation? If so, it would have to be someone with a lot of hatred and resentment.

      Someone she knew.

      But how could one small, average woman incur that much wrath?

      “Anyone obvious?” When she didn’t reply, he said, “Come on, Molly, you know I’ll need some specifics before I can be of any real help to you.”

      Sighing, she again gave up on the food. “Let’s just say it could be anyone from my father and his associates, to my ex-boyfriend, to a disgruntled reader.”

      Her boyfriend? Then the rest of what she’d said registered. “Reader?”

      Again she faced him, her shoulders back and her chin up. “I’m a writer.”

      “Published?”

      She blinked before saying, “Well … yeah.”

      An unspoken duh sounded in her words. Dare shook his head. “I’ve never heard of you.”

      Something flashed over her features, maybe defensiveness. Had she caught grief for writing?

      “You must not read dark, sexy romantic suspense.” She tipped her head, not really proud, but maybe … smug. “My fourth book is being made into a movie. There’s even talk of Ryan Reynolds playing the lead.”

      Incredulous, Dare whistled low under his breath. “Son of a bitch. You really can afford me, then?”

      She picked up her fork with obvious renewed hunger. “For the breakfast—and with your agreement, a whole lot more.”

      MOLLY KNEW SHE’D thrown him with the bombshell about her career. But she couldn’t hide her identity forever. What he said was true: if she wanted his help, and she did, then he’d have to know everything.

      In good time.

      The food was so delicious that she devoured it all—or at least what she hadn’t destroyed while fretting through her theories. Afterward, she felt fabulous. Well, maybe that was stretching things, but she felt more human than she had in too many days. That hollowness in her gut was now satisfied. She felt stronger, steadier.

      Dare had remained silent until she popped the last bite of bacon into her mouth and settled back in her seat with a sigh. “Thank you.”

      Flinty blue eyes, bright in the sunshine pouring through the window, scrutinized her. “You won’t be sick?”

      She shook her head. “Nope. I feel fine.” And this time, it was true.

      “Should I get more? Maybe some cake or pie?”

      The courteous offer, in such a mild tone, was at odds with his expression. He looked harder than ever, more capable of deadly force.

      She didn’t understand him, but she trusted him. “I’m full, but thank you.”

      Surprising her with his lack of questions, he stood and headed for the door. “I already showered and shaved.”

      “I slept through that?” Disturbing, but then, she’d been so exhausted…. “I’m usually a very light sleeper.”

      “Extenuating circumstances,” he said. “You can have some privacy for … whatever. I’ll be back within the hour.”

      He shut the door before she could ask him where he was going. She had the distinct feeling that she’d run him off. He was such an independent, skilled person that being around someone like her, someone so damned needy, would probably suffocate him.

      Determined to withhold further complaints, Molly got up and went to the window to look out.

      Usually, whenever she admitted to being a writer, the questions started. Where do you get your ideas? How long does it take to write a book? How much do you get paid? How did you get started? She heard them often, sometimes with disdain when people discovered that she wrote for entertainment, not to impress the literary world.

      Used to be, people asked her why she hadn’t been on Oprah, or had her books been made into a movie, as if either was something in her control and easily accomplished. But with the recent movie deal, at least one of those questions had been replaced with another: Can I borrow some money?

      Nearly everyone she knew wanted into her pocket. Friends she hadn’t known she had showed up with great regularity. And when they didn’t want money, they wanted an inside edge to meeting a celebrity, to hanging with the “in” crowd.

      Molly snorted to herself. She hadn’t changed, but everyone now treated her differently.

      Pushing open the window, she let in the fresh air. Their room faced the parking lot, and she saw Dare get into his rented van and drive toward Walmart again.

      If she looked to the left, she could just see the turbulent ocean as it teased a sandy beach, sending surfers atop waves, and then crashing them down again. People in Windbreakers strolled with their leashed pets. Lovers walked hand in hand.

      Molly sighed and decided she could use another shower while Dare was gone. Maybe with enough shampoo and conditioner, she could ease some of the gnarled snags in her hair.

      Sometime later, while she still stood under the warm spray, she heard a knock on the bathroom door.

      “Molly?”

      He’d returned sooner than she’d expected—or she’d lingered longer than she meant to. “Be right out,” she called through the door.

      “I got you some more clothes, so you don’t have to put the same ones on if you want to change.”

      She chewed her lip. Yesterday he’d seen her in no more than a towel, but she hadn’t been capable of presenting herself any differently. Today, feeling stronger, she wanted to be less of an imposition on him.

      “Just a second.” She stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and cracked open the door. “You didn’t need to do that.”

      His gaze dipped from her face to her barely visible right shoulder, and back up again. Handing in the bag, he said, “There’s more out here, but this ought to get you started. I stuck the toothbrush and toothpaste in there that I bought yesterday, too.”

      Biting her lips in a long-standing habit, Molly nodded. “Thanks.”

      He put a hand on the door, keeping her from closing it. “You sure you’re okay?”

      Why her heart thundered that way, she couldn’t say. She did trust him. But now that she wasn’t so debilitated, everything seemed … different. More intimate somehow. “Almost like my old self.”

      His eyes narrowed the smallest bit. “You still look shaky to me.”

      A little, but that had more to do with talking to a big, powerful man while wearing only a towel than with her past ordeal. “Not at all.”

      “You’re pale.”

      Odd, since she felt flushed. “My natural coloring?”

      He considered her a moment more and must have decided to let it go. “I’ll be here if you need anything.” He released the door and stepped away.

      Breathless with some unidentifiable emotion, Molly closed the door, locked it with an audible click that made her wince, and dropped back against it.

      From the moment she’d laid eyes on Dare, she’d been aware of his size, his strong shoulders, bulging biceps and broad chest. For her, his strength equaled safety. He’d proved a capable lifeline when she needed one most.