If She Dares (Contemporary Romance)

by Tanya Michaels

  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.

  Given the chance, she might be willing to handcuff him in bed, but a blindfold was out of the question.

  Eventually, however, she was forced to concentrate on the dozen tiny hooks that had to be fasten
ed to secure the bustier. When she looked back up, Jack had gone. She wasn’t sure how to feel about his absence. Rejected? Relieved that one of them had come to their senses before she embarrassed herself in a costume store? Regardless, she opened the door with her head held high. Superheroines didn’t shrink back into the shadows because they were afraid they’d come on too strong.

  It turned out he hadn’t gone far, merely moved a few feet to the left, out of her line of sight.

  The corner of his mouth lifted in an appreciative half grin that hinted at his dimples. “On behalf of every man who will be at the Halloween party, I am begging you—buy that.”

  “I do like the costume,” she admitted, catching her reflection in the full-length mirror. “But it might be a little too chilly for up on the roof.”

  As if he’d anticipated that exact argument, he presented a cape with a flourish. “What if you have this to wrap around you?”

  She slid the fabric between her fingers, judging its thickness and ability to provide a buffer between her and the night air. The forecast was calling for relatively mild temperatures, and she really did look like a badass in this. She grinned. “Sold.”

  Riley changed back into her clothes and carried her purchases to the front, happy she’d stepped so far outside her comfort zone. But she would have been even happier if, instead of handing her a wrap for Friday night, Jack had offered to keep her warm himself.

  * * *

  TONY LANG CAUGHT the basketball with an oomph, staggering back a step. “Man, what is with you this morning?” he asked Jack, who’d fired the ball at him. “You know if you’re on some illegal, performance-enhancing drug, one of us is gonna have to arrest you. Which would suck since it’s our day off.”

  Dave Burke tipped his water bottle toward Jack. “Seriously, aren’t you just a few years from thirty? I think it’s too late to decide to go pro.”

  “I don’t know what you two are whining about. I’m on your team,” Jack reminded them. He’d scored the last six points in the game they’d just won, making almost as many baskets as Dave, who was over six-four. Both three-man teams had a victory, and they were getting ready to play their tie-breaker.

  “Those slackers are just ticked because you’re making them look bad,” Brad Lang heckled as he returned to the blacktop from the nearby restrooms. “We ready to go again?”

  Tony snorted. “You sure you don’t want to just call this and save what dignity you have left, little brother? You only won the first game by a basket, and we wiped the court with you last round.”

  “No, he wiped the court with us.” Brad jerked a thumb in Jack’s direction. “You were more like...the world’s ugliest cheerleader.”

  Tony shook his head sadly. “Ma’s gonna be so upset when you can’t make family dinner tonight on account of how I hospitalized you.”

  “Enough with the sibling rivalry,” one of Brad’s teammates chided. “I didn’t haul myself out of bed first thing in the morning just to listen to you two bozos trash-talk. Let’s do this.”

  Brad’s team was a trio of paramedics. Because all six players worked long hours and erratic shifts, it had been a while since they’d played. Thank goodness weather and scheduling had permitted it today, because after yesterday afternoon with Riley, Jack needed one hell of a physical outlet to work through his sexual frustration.

  He’d been rock hard all night. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he saw her. Lifting her sweater over her head. Wearing that strapless top and those killer boots. Leaning forward, about to kiss him. If they hadn’t been disturbed and she’d actually gone through with it, would she be regretting it now?

  Maybe they’d just both been caught up in the moment, he thought as he stole the ball from Brad and dribbled down the court. The charged flirting had led to a little temporary insanity.

  Why else would he have been considering the destruction of property? He’d had to move away from the fitting room doors because the longer he stood there, the more he’d thought about how insubstantial the silver hook holding them together was...and just how quickly he could be with Riley. He was pretty sure kissing a topless Riley would be worth any vandalism charges.

  But would it be worth losing her friendship afterward? Or potentially hurting her when he inevitably walked away?

  He launched the ball at the basket with more ire than finesse, and it bounced off the rim. The truth was, he had an indisputable track record of satisfying women in the short run but disappointing them in the long run. Tony, one of his best friends, wouldn’t even let Jack in the same general vicinity as his fragile divorced sister without issuing preemptive warnings.

  Riley didn’t have anyone to warn him away on her behalf. She was sexy as hell, but she was sweet, too, with moments of vulnerability that ripped at him. She’d mentioned her family in nearly every conversation they’d ever had. She owned a dog. She seemed made for eventual marriage and home life, like Dave and Tony and their wives.

  Awfully presumptuous of you. Why don’t you ask the lady what she wants?

  After all, if he’d learned anything yesterday, it was that she was full of surprises.

  * * *

  RILEY FROZE IN the act of brushing on a second coat of mascara, meeting her gaze in the bathroom mirror. “Don’t give me that look. This is not vanity primping in case you run into Jack. This is because you’re going to a tenant meeting where you’ll be saying a few words about your candidacy.” She wanted people to think of her as reliable and authoritative; it was difficult to project that image in comfy sweatpants and slippers. Hence, the black jeans, cobalt turtleneck and makeup application.

  If Jack happened to be at the meeting and saw her looking good, well, bonus.

  Their paths hadn’t crossed a single time since they’d walked to their separate cars on Saturday. Now it was Tuesday evening. After last week, when she’d bumped into him in the parking lot, in the mail room and in the hallway outside their apartments, this felt almost like avoidance. You’re being paranoid.

  But women’s intuition told her it was more than paranoia. The dynamic between her and Jack had shifted on Saturday. For her, it was progress. It had clarified that, as much as she enjoyed the banter between them and occasionally suggestive glances, she wanted more. Maybe Jack didn’t. His absence might be a diplomatic way of telling her that without having to say it outright.

  She’d only known him a couple of weeks. How could that thought bother her so much?

  Thankfully, a knock sounded at her door, distracting her from her brooding. Since delivery people had to be buzzed in through the lobby, it probably wasn’t the upgraded computer component she’d ordered. More likely, Anna Tyler, come to shiv the usurper. It was good Riley was trained in self-defense.

  But a glance through the security peephole erased any fears that the sitting president was lying in wait to eliminate the competition. Her stomach somersaulted at the sight of Jack standing on the other side of the door. So either she had been completely paranoid, or he’d decided to take a more direct approach in rejecting her.

  She swung the door wide. “Hey.”

  He smiled at the sight of her. “I was hoping I wasn’t too late to catch you. I thought maybe we could walk down together? I spurred you into running for the board, least I can do is offer my moral support.”

  “I’m relieved to see you.” Mostly, she was relieved by his familiar grin, the dimples that made her feel silly for worrying that things between the two of them might be strained. “I was half-afraid it might be Mrs. Tyler in a bid to take me out before next month’s election.” Not that Riley automatically assumed she would win, but Anna Tyler liked to control all variables. And all tenants. She probably had hopes for eventual global domination.

  “You raise a good point. Forget moral support, you need a bodyguard. Do presidential candidates get a secret-service detail? Maybe I co
uld borrow a bulletproof vest from the department.”

  She laughed. “I feel safer already.” That’s what Jack had done for her ever since they’d been trapped in that elevator together—made her feel safe. Maybe not from real-world risks, but from her own troubling ghosts. They had less hold over her now, and part of her adored him for that.

  Then there were other parts of her that mostly adored the way he looked from behind in a pair of jeans.

  She cleared her throat. “Um, I just need to grab my keys.”

  With her hormones back under control, she locked up and headed toward the steps with him. “I have a confession to make.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Is it wrong that I’m hoping for something really sinful?”

  Maybe instead of admitting something that painted her as insecure, she should just make a joke about the handcuff-related thoughts she’d had over the weekend. No, tell him the truth. Not that the handcuff fantasies would be a lie. “Before you stopped by, I was starting to wonder if you were dodging me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because of how I behaved on Saturday.”

  “Yeah,” he scoffed, “I hate it when a woman’s fun to be around and mind-blowingly sexy.”

  Mind-blowingly, huh? Grinning inwardly, she set that compliment aside for later savoring. “So I was just being neurotic?”

  He was quiet as they descended the last set of stairs.

  “Jack?”

  “I wasn’t going out of my way to avoid you, but I did want some time to think.”

  So her women’s intuition wasn’t totally off base. In this case, she almost wished it had been. “About me?”

  “Yeah.”

  She swallowed. “Good or bad?”

  He opened the door for her, and they stepped into the hallway where other tenants were filing into the meeting room. Then he gave her the most heart-stopping masculine smile she’d ever seen in her life. “All bad,” he promised. “Very, very bad.”