Carly looked up at him in surprise. ‘No, I don’t think that.’ She paused. ‘I think... I think...’
She stopped, glanced at the floor.
Dare felt his gut clench. He wanted to hold her. Kiss her. ‘Red, I—’
‘He’s alive,’ Rachel said with enthusiasm as she flopped down in the visitor’s chair again. She gave them a relieved smile. ‘But he looks so frail. When will he wake up?’ she directed at Carly. ‘The surgeon wouldn’t give me a straight answer.’
‘Without seeing his report I can’t answer that, but he’s in the best of care here.’
‘I know. Thank you for everything you did on the way here. I’m sure he wouldn’t have survived without you.’
Carly’s sense of relief was immense and she felt immeasurably lighter for it.
‘You look tired, Ma,’ Dare said. ‘Why don’t I take you home to rest?’
‘I’m not going home tonight. I’m staying here.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous—you need sleep, and Carly said they’re unlikely to wake him up anytime soon.’
‘That doesn’t matter. I can still talk to him. He’ll know I’m here, won’t he, Carly?’
Carly gave Dare a rueful glance before responding. ‘There is evidence to suggest that coma patients can still hear,’ she said carefully. ‘But they may not remember anything when they wake up. That being said, some appear to.’
‘Then I’m staying.’
Dare scowled at his mother. ‘I’ll stay with him. You and Carly need to rest.’
‘Huff and puff all you like, Dare. My mind is made up.’
Carly watched mother and son face off with amusement.
‘Fine.’ He turned to Carly. ‘What about you?’
Startled to have those sky-blue eyes directed at her once more, Carly swallowed hard. ‘What about me?’
‘Do you have a place to stay tonight?’
Carly hadn’t even turned her mind to where she was going to stay. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said briskly.
‘Yes or no?’ Dare growled.
‘I said—’
‘That’s a no,’ he decided. ‘So you can stay at my apartment. And I know you have to be hungry as well as tired because you didn’t eat anything earlier, so don’t argue.’
Carly blinked at him. Was he serious? There was no way she could stay in his home. She’d go to a hotel for the night. Because while she did know a couple of people who lived in London she wasn’t close enough to any of them to turn up on their doorstep at nine o’clock at night. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she reiterated firmly.
‘Dare has an amazing apartment, Carly, and plenty of room. You’ll be more than comfortable staying with him.’
As soon as Rachel weighed in on Dare’s side Carly knew this was a battle she wouldn’t win. Rachel, she had learned, was as formidable as her son.
‘My mother’s hard to resist,’ Dare murmured as he held the waiting room door open for her to precede him.
‘Let’s just say I now know where you get your hard-headedness from,’ Carly murmured ruefully.
Dare laughed. ‘Now I’m really insulted. There’s no way I’m as bad as my mother.’
Carly hid a grin and slipped into Dare’s waiting limousine. Fortunately traffic was light, either that or they had avoided the main thoroughfares, because they arrived at Dare’s Regency apartment block in no time at all.
Dare greeted the smartly dressed doorman and punched the elevator button.
‘Top floor?’ she asked, her nerves strung tight at the prospect of spending time alone with him.
‘Top two.’
‘For one person?’ Carly stared at him. ‘Or is this where you tell me you have sixteen children?’
‘I have about sixteen chickens on a small farm back home, does that count?’
‘Not quite.’
Carly’s lips quirked as she swept past him into the opulent foyer and living room beyond. ‘Oh, my,’ she murmured. The room seemed to stretch on for a mile of polished wood floors, coffee-coloured walls with white trim, floor-to-ceiling windows framed by silk curtains, and cream inlaid shelving and bookcases along each wall. ‘This is magnificent.’
Dare tossed his keys and wallet into a ceramic bowl that sat beside a vase of flowers on a circular table in the centre of the foyer.
‘It serves a purpose.’
‘Yes,’ Carly mused half to herself. ‘In some interior magazine.’ She walked through to the other room and was almost too scared to step on the cream rugs with her shoes on. The apartment almost put Rothmeyer House to shame.
‘There’s nothing out of place here. Not even a remote control on the sofa,’ she said, following him through to a beautifully appointed kitchen.
‘I have a housekeeper when I’m here,’ he said, opening the fridge.
‘Where’s home?’
‘Mostly New York. Sometimes San Francisco. Bridget has left chicken pie and salad. I know it’s late but I’m starving.’
‘And Bridget is?’
His eyes lifted to hers over the door of the fridge. ‘Not the mother of my sixteen children,’ he said deadpan. ‘She’s my housekeeper. My elderly housekeeper.’
‘Did I ask?’
‘You didn’t have to. Your face is very expressive.’
God, she hoped not because if it was he’d know...he’d know...
‘You look about as exhausted as I feel,’ he said softly.
Carly stared at him and blinked. So okay, he didn’t have a clue how much she wanted to go into his arms right now. This was a good thing.
‘That bad,’ she said, grimacing.
Dare chuckled. ‘You’re still beautiful, Red. You just look like you flew in an emergency chopper from Cornwall to London about eight hundred hours ago—oh, wait. You did.’
Carly gave him a reluctant smile. ‘So did you.’ And yet he seemed no worse for wear at all. Still gorgeous and powerful and so potently male.
Not even fossicking around in a refrigerator could deter his appeal—if anything it made it worse. Daniel had always put himself above such duties, claiming that his hands were too precious to risk injuring them. And why did she feel the need to constantly compare the two men? It wasn’t as if anything was going to happen between Dare and she.
‘Do you want a shower?’
Carly nearly let out a low moan at the thought. She would love a shower but just the thought of getting naked with Dare in the apartment was enough to send her mind into a flap. Then there was the small issue that she had nothing clean to change into. Which more or less defeated the purpose of having one. ‘I’m good,’ she said stoically.
‘You sure?’ He set a dish on the counter top. ‘I can lend you something of mine to wear if you don’t want to put those clothes back on.’
‘Yours?’
‘I’d offer you something of my mother’s but she’s shorter than you and I had her suitcases delivered to Rothmeyer House last week.’
‘I’m happy to sleep in my clothes.’
‘Whatever you want.’ His expression said she was mad and that was pretty much how she felt. But then he shrugged and went back to the fridge. ‘It’s just that I could have them laundered and ready for you in the morning.’
The fact that he was being so reasonable about the whole thing made her feel silly.
‘And I suppose you have a laundry service that runs twenty-four-seven at your fingertips?’ she quipped.
‘Yeah, as a matter of fact I do.’ He smiled. ‘It’s called Dare-o-mat and it’s through that door back there.’
A laugh escaped Carly’s lips at his unexpected humour and he gave her that grin that set off his dimple.
She couldn’t take a breath as she read the way he looked at her. It was the way he’d looked a
t her so many times before. Right before he kissed her.
Anticipation coursed through her and then her stomach saved her from doing something she’d later regret by grumbling loudly.
‘Or perhaps you’d like to eat first.’
Carly blinked as if that might clear her head. ‘No, a shower...a shower would be great. Exceptional even.’ At the very least it would give her some space to sort her head out.
‘Follow me.’
He led her back through the main room to a spiral staircase she hadn’t noticed.
She followed him up and when he stopped outside a door she was looking around so much that she nearly ran into him.
Her breath caught. ‘Sorry.’
‘No.’ He cleared his throat. ‘That was my fault.’ He stepped away from her. Opened the door. ‘You can have this room. Bathroom is through the other door. Leave your clothes on the bed and I’ll exchange them for a set of mine.’
Carly gripped her bag tighter. ‘Your clothes will be too big for me.’
His gaze was hooded when it meshed with hers. ‘I’ll find something.’
He gave her a brief nod and then closed the door after him. Carly leant against it and let out a pent-up breath. Coming here had been a bad idea, she thought, closing her eyes; a really bad idea.
* * *
Dare stopped at the end of the hallway and tipped his head back against the wall. Bringing her here was a bad idea, a really bad idea.
He liked to think that he’d made the offer for her to stay as a good Samaritan, not to jump her bones, but, hell...how much could one man take?
He pushed open his bedroom door and stood inside his walk-in robe. If he just concentrated on the basics maybe he’d be able to find his self-control and put it to good use.
Because he was not going to be such a jerk as to try and sleep with a woman after his grandfather had nearly died. What kind of callous idiot would do that?
So, sweats or shorts? Which would she prefer? And long or short-sleeved shirt? He didn’t—
‘For God’s sake, man, she’s not going to a fashion show,’ he growled, yanking sweats and a T-shirt off the shelf. He glanced up and caught sight of himself in the mirror. ‘You’ll eat and go to bed. Alone. God knows, looking at you right now you’d be lucky to ever get laid again.’
Deciding to take a quick shower himself, he changed, and dropped the folded clothes on her bed. Then he snatched hers up, ignoring her floral scent as it rose to his nose, and the sound of the shower through the door, and went to check on dinner.
When it was almost ready he turned and found her standing in the doorway.
Dare looked at her. As she had warned, his clothes were much too big. His T-shirt drooped off one delicate shoulder and reached past her thighs even though he’d pulled out the smallest one, and the sweats... She must have rolled them at her waist but even so he could tell they hung low on her hips and brushed her heels when she walked.
She’d finished by pulling her hair into a rough topknot as if she was showing him that she hadn’t made any special attempt to impress him. So different from the other women he had dated who usually took great pains with their appearance.
His fingers tightened around the wooden spoon he held. ‘Hungry?’
Because he was famished. And not for Bridget’s famed pie.
‘Very.’
And there went that fantasy of having her walk up to him and whisper how much she’d like him to lift her onto the benchtop and rip his sweats down her long legs.
‘Sit.’ He gestured towards the small breakfast nook, wishing he’d worn denim instead of soft cotton.
‘So why medicine?’ he asked as he shovelled food into his mouth.
‘My grandfather was a doctor and I used to be fascinated by his little black bag and everything in it when I was young.’
Dare smiled. He could just imagine her with her red hair in pigtails and freckles on her nose. ‘Did you have freckles?’
Her eyes met his. ‘Because of my red hair?’
‘Sure. What else?’
She gave him a pained look. ‘Yes, I did. My mother always said they would fade because I had Nordic blood and fortunately she was right.’
‘So who was the Viking?’
‘My father. And he’d love that description. He thinks he’s invincible and not at all like your typical academic.’ She grinned. ‘But he is.’
Dare stared, transfixed by her avid face as she spoke of her parent. ‘So you come from a smart family?’
‘I suppose so. My mother is a teacher as well, and...’
She stopped and Dare studied the way she stared at her plate as if she’d just discovered a fly on it. ‘And...’ he prompted lightly.
‘And nothing.’
‘You know, Red, talking to you sometimes is like trying to get blood from a stone.’
A hesitant smile tugged her lips upwards and Dare felt an inexplicable urge to reach across and—oh, hell—before he could control it he caught her chin between his thumb and index finger, leaned across the table, and kissed her lips softly. Good God, that felt good, and all he wanted to do was sink into her softness again.
Slowly, reluctantly, he drew back. She blinked her eyes open and looked at him, her gaze smoky green.
‘Why did you do that?’
‘You looked sad.’
She bit into her lower lip and worried at it. Dare was quite sure she wasn’t aware of the action, or what it did to him.
‘I was going to say my sister was a social worker.’
‘Was?’
‘She died a year ago.’
Dare grabbed hold of Carly’s restless fingers on the tabletop. ‘I’m sorry, Red. How did she die?’
‘A rare form of leukaemia.’
Her gaze flitted away again and he paused. Dare felt his heart go out to her. ‘That’s gotta be hard,’ he said softly. ‘You want to talk about it?’
‘No. Thanks, I...’ Carly rubbed at the space between her brows. The fingers of her other hand flexed around his and she stared at where their hands were joined on the table. ‘Everything happened so suddenly. One day Liv was well and healthy and helping kids in need and the next she was gone.’ Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. ‘The doctors tried but...’ She grimaced. ‘They couldn’t do anything and as much as I searched...’ She took a deep breath, her gaze miles away.
‘You couldn’t save her either,’ he said quietly.
Carly looked up as if startled that he had understood her so well. But it wasn’t hard. Not when she fascinated him so much.
‘No,’ she said, the word coming out gruff. ‘And now I don’t know what to do.’ She gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘I’ve thought about giving up on medicine but something stops me. Years of study probably.’
‘Why would you give up on medicine?’ He frowned. ‘Because you feel like you failed your sister?’
‘I did fail her,’ she said in a pained whisper. ‘When she said that she wanted to try some alternative medicines I encouraged her not to. I told her to trust her doctor. I told her that he would know best.’ She pulled her hand from his, tucked it into her lap. ‘If I hadn’t intervened...’
‘If you hadn’t intervened, what?’ Dare asked softly. ‘She would have lived?’
‘Yes!’ Carly exclaimed. ‘Maybe...’ she added as he continued to look at her.
‘Is that what the doctors believe or what you believe?’
Carly buried her face in her hands. ‘I know it’s not logical.’
‘Emotion rarely is,’ he said wryly. ‘But I doubt your sister would want you to give up medicine, Carly. The fact is, not every person can be saved.’
‘I know that too. I know...’ She unconsciously lowered her hands into the prayer position. ‘I miss her so
much.’
Dare took her hands in his. Judging by her response, he doubted she had ever opened up about the responsibility she had erroneously taken on with regard to her sister’s death.
‘Come here.’
When she didn’t move Dare stood up and came around to her. ‘Dare, I don’t—’
Ignoring her, he slowly drew her to her feet and, like a small stream bubbling over smooth rocks, Carly flowed towards him.
‘Dare—’
He drew her closer. ‘I just want to hold you.’
An odd tightness gripped Carly’s chest. ‘I don’t need anyone to hold me, I’m—’
‘Perfectly fine.’ He pulled her in against his chest anyway. ‘Humour me, hmm? Hell, after listening to that I need a hug.’
Carly felt a wave of tenderness envelop her. He didn’t really need a hug, he was only trying to be nice, but, oh, how wonderful it felt to lean against him. To soak up some of his warmth. His strength. His hardness.
She breathed in deeply and felt his arms tighten around her like soothing bands. Taking away that lost feeling she’d carried around with her for so long and replacing it with comfort and heat.
She wasn’t sure when she felt the change come over her but within a heartbeat comfort and soothing became something else entirely. Carly froze and tried to fight the urge to shift against him to assuage just a little of the ache building inside her.
Dare felt her subtle movements and swallowed heavily. He shouldn’t have touched her. Even though he’d only been offering comfort, he’d known that wasn’t all he wanted to do. He wanted her so badly he’d had to force himself not to grab her all night and now she was in his arms, her soft breasts pressed against his chest. Her hot breath like a flame against his throat.
Dare stifled a groan. To make a move on her now when she was vulnerable from the events of the day and her memories of the past would put him squarely in that bastard category she’d assigned him to a week ago. Now he had the chance to confirm that, or he could—
‘Carly? Carly, baby, don’t...just keep still.’
Dare loosened his grip a little when she squirmed again. He half expected her to pull back and when she didn’t he looked down into her upturned face.
Defying the Billionaire's Command Page 13
