Men Of Honour. Lori Foster

hadn’t she noticed before how … how gorgeous he was? She was alone in a small hotel room with over six feet of sexiness. Windblown brown hair, piercing blue eyes, quiet control … Her heart continued to thunder.

      She’d slept with him last night, curled tight along his side for comfort and security….

      Oh, God.

      Heat flooded her face, and she pressed her hands there. On the phone, he’d mentioned “his girls.” Did that mean daughters? Or maybe romantic involvements? And who had he been talking to? If he was in a relationship, had she inadvertently trespassed?

      “Molly?”

      Startled, she jumped away from the door. “Yes?”

      “Are you going to finish your shower or not?”

      Her eyes widened. Could he see through the damn door? Or was he just so attuned to everything and everyone that he heard her utter stillness in the bathroom?

      She cleared her throat. “Yes, getting to it right now.” Then she frowned and added, “Turn on the television or something.” She didn’t want him listening to her every movement.

      When she heard the TV turn on—loudly—she rummaged through the bag he’d given her.

      Toothbrush and toothpaste! Absurdly excited, she ignored the clothes and went scouting through the rest of the items, finding lotion, nail clippers and an emery board, a razor, and better shampoo and conditioner.

      God love the man. How could someone so gruff, so … deadly, also be so sensitive?

      Thrilled, she climbed back in the shower with much of her stash. Unmindful of wasting water, she cleaned her teeth until her mouth felt fresh again. The shampoo and conditioner had a pleasing scent and went a long way toward making her hair feel less like a rag mop. She even shaved her legs, careful of the scrapes and uglier bruises.

      By the time she finished her shower and dried off, her newfound energy had waned. But she wasn’t about to put on the new clothes he’d bought until she slathered on the lotion and clipped her ragged nails.

      The clothes were similar to what he’d already brought her, just in different colors. Except for the panties; they remained plain white cotton.

      Dressed, refreshed but tuckered out, she opened the door and stepped out to find Dare ignoring the blaring television as he stood to the side of the window, peering out. He looked suspicious of something, or someone.

      Her heart tripped. Another threat? No—no, it couldn’t be.

      Molly was about to query him when he said, without looking at her, “All done?”

      She didn’t want to sit on the bed, so she went to the small table and pulled out a chair. Once again, he’d cleared away their breakfast mess. Dare did have a thing for order and cleanliness.

      “I almost feel human again.” What did he see outside that window?

      “Good.” He dropped the curtain and stepped back, then glanced at her. “We’re leaving here.”

      “We are?”

      With a nod, he said, “Today. I’ll see if I can get us a flight home, and if not, we’ll move to another hotel.”

      A flight home? His home or hers? And then what?

      Nothing had been decided. The threat to her existed as strongly as ever. Shaken and again uncertain, she accepted that something must have happened for him to react like this.

      Or maybe he’d felt that spark of interest from her … and he wanted no part of it. Remembering his concern for his girls, Molly started to tremble. Who were they? Dare didn’t notice her reaction as he put in a call to “Chris” and gave instructions that she barely registered.

      Was Chris his girlfriend? Or … more? She supposed Chris could be a male friend, or maybe just an employee or colleague.

      She should just ask him—but his personal life was no business of hers.

      Dare closed the phone, set it on the desk, crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her.

      Her mouth went dry … until he said, “I bought the scissors you wanted. But before you use them, I want you to at least try to get the tangles out.”

      IT ANNOYED DARE, THE way she insisted that she felt fine. Anyone could see that the remnants of her nightmare still dragged at her. He knew from experience that an emotional drain could be as bad as, sometimes worse than, physical exhaustion.

      Silent, withdrawn from him, she ruthlessly tugged the wide-toothed comb through her hair. As much as Dare tried to ignore it, he … couldn’t.

      Shoving away from the window and the beat-up red Ford truck he’d been watching, he stalked to her chair, pulled it from the table so he could get behind her, and said, “Let me have it.”

      Twisting around to stare up at him, she asked, “What?”

      “The comb.” He took it from her hand. “You’re just yanking through the tangles.”

      Her eyes widened at him. “Because it’ll take all day otherwise.”

      “You need to learn some patience.” Lifting a hank of hair, he started at the bottom and used his fingers to separate the biggest tangles, then eased the comb through, working his way up until that hank of hair was smooth. When he finished, he went on to the next section.

      Frozen, too quiet, Molly never objected when the comb snagged and pulled. He needed to get her talking again. Before they left the room, he wanted to know as much about her as he could.

      “You mentioned a boyfriend.”

      “Ex.”

      That implied a conflict—possibly big enough to account for an abduction and deliberate mistreatment? “Tell me what happened.”

      She shrugged. “He wanted me to buy him rims for his car. I refused. We argued, and … things just fell apart.”

      Unable to imagine that, Dare frowned. “Why would he want you to buy him rims?”

      One shoulder lifted. “I’d gotten a big check from the movie deal, so I guess he figured I could afford it.” She tilted her head around to see him. “He wasn’t the only one who thought I should have been bestowing gifts. Actually, just about everyone thought I should share.”

      “I don’t know about everyone, but your boyfriend sounds like an ass.”

      “Ex.” Her laughter surprised him. “And I guess he is. But I didn’t know that until my career took off. Before that, he was generous and fun. It’s not like he’s a pauper himself. Adrian owns a bar, and it does pretty good.”

      With the back of her hair now smooth, Dare moved to her side. “So, just out of the blue, he asked you to buy him things?”

      “Sort of.”

      He watched her profile as he worked through the tangles and saw her chin tighten in memory.

      “We were heading home after lunch, and he pulled into this specialty shop, saying he wanted to look at some things. Car stuff bores me, but I went in and waited around while he and a salesman talked for what felt like forever. Then he came over to me and showed me the rims he wanted.” She shook her head. “I know nothing about rims, so I just oohed and aahed over them, you know?”

      Dare nodded. “Patronized him.”

      “Well … Yes, I guess.”

      Dare didn’t fault her for that. “And?”

      “He told me he couldn’t afford them. So I asked why we were there, then, and he got frustrated with me.”

      Molly Alexander was an upfront, tell-it-like-it-is kind of woman. Subterfuge would be wasted on her. Imagining it almost made Dare smile. “You weren’t picking