Love Me if You Dare (13 page)

“I don’t blame you for being worried about her. Rafe, I really am sorry I let the Bachelor Blogger know where to find her.”

“I know that. You didn’t mean any harm.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him. “Sara’s lucky to have you. I hope you know what a good thing you have and don’t let her get away,” Angel said.

Rafe shook his head, amazed by his sister-in-law. Separated from her husband, Angel had every reason
to be bitter and disillusioned about relationships, yet she still believed in romance and forever.

Unlike Sara.

“Go cut in on Nick,” Angel suggested.

“In a minute. Is everything okay with you?” They both knew he was referring to Nick.

“Things seem to be looking up, but I take one minute at a time.” She smiled as they kept up with the beat.

“Snowball!”

“Bye!” Angel said, twirling away.

Rafe noticed one of her boarders grabbed Angel next, and he intended to get Sara before the other one zeroed in on her. But an old high-school girlfriend swooped in on Rafe first, and because they hadn’t talked in a while, she refused to take the hint and free him up.

“Snowball!”

He looked around for Sara and noticed her with a local. A woman who said her name was Joy grabbed hold of him for a few minutes before they were separated by the deejay.

“Snowball!”

This time when Rafe glanced around for Sara, too many other couples blocked his view. Panic consumed him, and he ducked out on the next waiting woman and began a hunt for Sara, pushing past old couples, young couples, people he knew and too many he
didn’t while he roamed the grassy dance floor. It took what felt like forever for him to locate her, and when he did, she wasn’t with a dance partner, either.

Pale and seemingly frantic, her gaze darted around warily, looking for him. “Sara! I’m right here!”

She turned, catching sight of him, and he knew immediately something was wrong. “What happened?”

“Not you! I’m looking for
him!
”

“Who?”

She strained to look past him. He grabbed her shoulders. “Hang on. Take a breath and talk to me.”

She nodded. “I was dancing with Nick. Then someone I didn’t know, but he could have been my grandfather, and he was sweet, and then Biff, and then another man…” She narrowed her gaze. “Young, dark hair, white T-shirt, scruffy like he hadn’t shaved.”

“That sounds like half the men here.”

“It was quick. The quickest dance of the night. Unmemorable except for what he said.
Anywhere, anytime. I told you so.
” She shook her head. “That’s exactly what was in the note left at my apartment.
We can get to you anywhere, anytime.
”

“We’re getting out of here,” Rafe said.

Sara didn’t argue.

T
HEIR PERSONAL PROBLEMS
took a backseat to the real and present danger. The Snowball dance and the
partner switch had been a nice break from the intensity of being with Rafe, and Sara had even managed to put the danger factor aside for a little while. Until the stranger had whispered in her ear.

She shivered at the memory.

It dawned on her, as it had after the crisis on the roof, that being a cop in charge of keeping someone else safe was a whole lot different than being the one directly threatened. Once the adrenaline of the chase had disappeared and she’d lost the man in the crowd, panic had set in, but now, back at Rafe’s, she wasn’t scared: she was angry.

She changed into her pajamas and climbed under the covers. Outside Rafe’s bedroom, she heard noises from the kitchen. She wondered if he’d sleep in here again or if he was angry enough at her to use the spare room. She wouldn’t blame him if he did, but she’d like it a lot more if he put his feelings aside and came in, if for no other reason than to keep her company. His big bed was cold and lonely without him.

She turned over to shut off the lamp on the nightstand when she heard a knock at the door.

She turned back around, turning the light on. “Come in.”

Rafe stepped into the room. “I wanted to check on you before I turned in.”

“I’m fine,” she said.

Although looking at him all sexy and disheveled
in his unbuttoned jeans and faded T-shirt, she was anything but. She was needy and aching for him to hold her.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Are you really going to sleep in the other room because of what I said earlier?”

“Friends with benefits might suit your lifestyle, but I don’t do meaningless sex, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise just to make you feel better. So, yes, I’m going to sleep in the other room,” he said, meeting her gaze with a cold one of his own.

Too bad she knew him so well. Rafe wasn’t as cool as he pretended. Fire burned in his gaze, anger warring with desire.

He wanted her. And he hated himself for it.

“We agreed on no strings,” she said, the words sounding weak and pathetic, even to her.

Rafe shook his head. “We didn’t agree on anything except that we wanted each other.” He’d never agreed to keep his feelings out of the mix.

He’d known going in that would be an impossible proposition.

Alone in his large bed, wearing nothing but one of those flimsy, barely there outfits she preferred, she appeared soft and vulnerable. He knew better. The woman had a heart of steel to be able to deny there was anything more going on between them.

Not that it mattered. Even now, when he was so
angry he wanted to shake her, he was still drawn to her in every way imaginable.

“The alarm company is coming first thing Monday to upgrade the system. But for now at least it’s set, so you can sleep soundly,” he said, changing the subject.

“We need to talk about what happened tonight and what we’re going to do about it.”

“We have all day tomorrow. Between the fire and the warning you received tonight, there’s no way we’re going back to the festival tomorrow. We need to wait until all the visitors leave and things get back to normal. Then we’ll be able to spot someone who doesn’t belong here.”

She nodded. “True. And I guess that’s a plan in and of itself.”

“I guess it is.” He gripped the doorknob.

It was time for him to leave before he did something stupid, like climb into bed with her and allow her to pretend he meant nothing to her at all.

“Good night, Sara.”

She met his gaze with a silent, imploring look.

It took all his strength to turn around and walk away.

T
HE SOUND OF
S
ARA’S
voice drew Rafe out of his room early Sunday morning. He hadn’t slept the night before, tossing and turning for more reasons than he cared to think about now. Needing coffee, he headed for the kitchen and found her sitting on a kitchen chair, fully dressed for the day in white jeans, a loose purple tank top and bare feet.

She held the telephone to her ear.

He didn’t have to make coffee since a fresh pot sat on the counter. A warm, fuzzy feeling crept into his chest before he ruthlessly squelched it. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t making herself at home and enjoying his place; she merely needed his protection, and he’d offered her a safe place to stay. End of story.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and left it black, needing the hard jolt of caffeine, before settling into a chair at the table.

“I’m fine. What has the blogger said now?” Sara asked whoever was on the other end. “Break it to me gently.”

As she listened to the reply, her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a perfect circle. “That’s so wrong! It’s an invasion of privacy, that’s what it is.” She sighed and waited a beat. “No, you’re right. I can’t get worked up about what I can’t control.”

Rafe drew a long sip of the coffee. At least she’d made it strong, just the way he liked it.

“I’ll keep in touch. Bye, Dad.” She disconnected the call and hung up the phone, turning to face him. “My father,” she said needlessly.

“Everything okay at home?”

She nodded, glancing at him warily, obviously trying to judge his morning mood.

He wasn’t in the
mood
to give his feelings away. “What’d the blogger say that had you so upset?”

“Something about how smart we are using a festival to cover for our secret rendezvous,” she said vaguely.

He narrowed his gaze. “And? There had to be more considering how upset you got.”

She sighed. “Fine.” Rising, she picked up her coffee cup and walked to the sink to rinse it out. “The blogger said from the looks of things at the dance the other night, we’d found love, and she highly recommends the upstate New York air to whoever is looking for the same.” She slammed the water faucet off and dried her hands, not turning to face him as she spoke.

“I guess the blogger doesn’t know everything,” he said and let out a dry laugh.

“I guess someone at the dance reported in.” She ignored his sarcastic comment.

“Probably. I’m sure Angel wouldn’t have done it again.”

Sara nodded. “I agree. My father said he’d keep me updated with any new blog posts.”

“Good.”

Silence descended.

Not the comfortable, relaxing silence they normally shared, but an awkward, tense quiet.

They had at least twenty-four hours before the town emptied out and they could go out knowing he’d recognize someone who didn’t belong, and Rafe couldn’t stand being cooped up in the house with this kind of tension.

“What’s your father like?” he asked, curious about the man she’d been speaking to. The single father who’d raised her to be so afraid of commitment.

She relaxed her shoulders at his neutral question, and a soft smile curved her lips. “He’s big and gruff, and on the outside he looks like your typical old-time, don’t-mess-with-me kind of cop. But on the inside he’s a big softie.”

They obviously had a good relationship. “You said he raised you after your mother left?”

She settled back into a chair at the table. “He did.
The house went from constant yelling and battles to easy silence. Dad isn’t a big talker, but when he has something to say, it’s usually important.” She leaned her elbow on the table, relaxing as she gathered her thoughts. “I think he taught me the value of silence,” she mused.

“It’s an important asset for a cop.”

She nodded. “Of course I was the opposite. I chattered nonstop, talking about anything and everything. I’d come home from school and tell him about my day, from schoolwork to girl issues and then boys. He learned pretty quick that he had to pay attention or I’d call him on it.” She laughed. “Eventually we began to balance each other out.” She stared into space, obviously thinking, remembering.

Wanting to hear more, he took his cues from her and kept quiet.

“I’d have thought my father would have been sad after my mom left, but he wasn’t. He was happier, came out of his shell more. And I think, by seeing that, I came to associate being alone with being happy.” She blinked hard and suddenly focused on him, looking a little wary, as if she’d revealed too much.

He wanted more. “What about relationships? Did your father date?”

She nodded. “He’d get involved with someone, I’d hear her name for a while, then suddenly he’d stop
mentioning them. I’d ask, and he’d say it had been time to move on.” She shrugged, as if things had been that simple. “Eventually he’d find someone else, and things would follow the same pattern. His women never interfered in my life, never even made a dent in our everyday pattern of living. To me, it seemed like an ideal life for a cop.”

To Rafe, it sounded lonely as hell. Never allowing for intimacy or feelings to come into play, always moving on before you got too close.

She’d dug deep and shared her memories, giving him more insight than he’d hoped for. He now understood how Sara’s views on marriage and relationships had been formed. Grounded in her childhood experience, marriage equaled misery; short and sweet relationships sufficed.

He could no longer blame her for wanting to keep things simple between them and, when she started to feel things, panicking and building walls. But instead of discouraging him, the fact that she was feeling things gave him hope. If they were back in New York, she could break things off, return to her apartment and her solitary life. But she was stuck here until the threat was over or it was time to testify at the trial. Which meant she had nowhere to run and hide from her feelings.

Rafe had one shot to get through to her. He needed
to make her feel things over and over until it was time for her to leave.

Then, when she returned home to her life in New York, he had to pray the loneliness sent her running back into his arms.

Good luck,
he thought wryly.

R
AFE HAD SPENT
many hours alone in his house, enjoying the peace and quiet that came with the cabin. But Sunday was the longest day of his life, thanks to Sara’s mere presence. She curled up on the couch with a book, pulled a light blanket over her legs, and read silently. She shouldn’t have been a distraction, but she was.

She’d showered and smelled like a combination of Sara and his shampoo, so every inhale left him more aware. Each time she shifted positions, he looked up from the newspaper he was trying to read. He then ended up staring at the way the light from the windows bounced off her blond hair, which led to thoughts of running his fingers through the strands, and of course taking her to bed.

By the time the phone rang and his mother reminded him they were expected at Sunday night dinner, he almost viewed the obligation as a relief.

“Let me talk to Sara and get back to you,” he said to his mother and hung up before she could cite all
the reasons Sara would want to share a meal with his family.

Mostly because his mother would probably be right. Sara had taken a liking to his family that surpassed being polite. She enjoyed each and every one of them, from his mother and father, who had surprisingly given her space and not pressured her about her relationship with their son, to his sisters, whom he’d seen her talking to during the festival the other day. He supposed it was easy for an outsider to view his large family as a novelty to enjoy. Although he had to admit, he wasn’t as bothered by them as much as he used to be.

With age came understanding, he thought wryly.

“Talk to me about what?” Sara asked, placing her book on her lap.

“Mom called to invite us to dinner.”

Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, I’d love to go. Do you think it’s safe?”

“Whoever’s after you just wants you not to testify. I don’t think there’s a problem going to a family dinner where we know everyone.”

She nodded. “I agree. So, what can I bring?”

“Yourself. My mother doesn’t expect you to show up with anything.”

Sara flung the blanket off her legs and stood up. Rafe hadn’t realized she was wearing shorts.

Short shorts. Cutoff, fringed, fuck-me shorts.

And he wanted to do just that.

“After I showed up uninvited last time, I want to bring something. Mind if I go through your kitchen cabinets?” she asked.

“Knock yourself out. What are you looking for?”

“Basic cake-making supplies,” she said, already poking around the cabinets, pulling out assorted things like flour and sugar before moving on to the refrigerator for milk and eggs. “You have everything I need.” She sounded surprised.

“My mother keeps this place stocked, and if I tell her I’m coming, she brings in the perishable things, too.”

“Lucky you!”

She opened another cabinet and shut it again, then repeated the process a few more times, obviously not finding what she was searching for.

“What are you looking for?”

“I need cake tins.” She called over her shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow. “Umm…I have disposable tins like these.” He opened a high cabinet and pulled out aluminum pans he used when he marinated steak to make on the outdoor barbeque.

“That’ll do. Thanks!”

If he thought he was distracted before, he was nearly crazed by the time she was finished baking a cake in his kitchen, making herself at home with
his things, humming as if she’d done this a hundred times before.

“I know you were helping Angel make pies, but I didn’t know you baked on your own, too.”

She met his gaze with a humorous one of her own. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. My father wasn’t good in the kitchen, so I took over. And since he rarely remembered to buy birthday cakes, I used to bake them myself, and it became our tradition. Of course, this one’s going to be unfrosted.”

She perched her hands on her hips and frowned at the cake in the oven. “Unless we pick some up at the store on the way.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Not a problem.”

“Good. Thanks.” Sara turned and began cleaning up the kitchen, needing the distraction from Rafe’s constant presence.

The cake had been an inspired idea and had kept her busy, unlike the book, which she’d tried unsuccessfully to read for hours. She kept realizing she couldn’t remember a thing and had to turn back to where she’d started. All because Rafe had been sitting in the same room, restlessly moving around, alternately reading the paper and watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Ever since their talk this morning, his mood had changed. No longer angry, he seemed more
contemplative. It was as if he was looking for something that would explain her to him.

She couldn’t figure herself out. How did he expect to?

She rinsed the items she’d used to cook and loaded them into the dishwasher, then cleaned off the countertops. The cake needed another half an hour, and she set the timer to remind her.

Finally finished, she let out a satisfied sigh. She turned, surprised to find Rafe standing right there.

In her breathing space.

His gaze was deep and dark, his expression giving nothing away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Everything. You, me, being in the same house, the same room, pretending we’re not looking at each other. Wanting each other.”

Her mouth grew dry. “Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“I wasn’t the one who pulled away,” she reminded him.

He scowled. “Not physically, but you sure as hell put on the brakes when you made that toast.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She couldn’t argue with the truth. But he wanted more than she was capable of giving.

“I want to propose an idea.” He ran his hand
down her nose. “Flour again,” he said, holding up his finger.

She shivered under his touch, her breasts growing heavy, her nipples taut. “What was your idea?” she managed to ask.

“I suggest we go back to the way things were
without
any discussion that’s bound to throw things off balance.”

Hmm. That stumped her. Sex with no discussion about what it meant. Sex without strings. That’s the way they’d started out, and she’d really been enjoying it, but ever since she said those words out loud,
friends with benefits,
she’d had a knot in her stomach larger than her fist. And now that he’d actually stated he’d go along with her request, something inside her wanted to cry.

Then he kissed her, and she only wanted
him.

The kiss started in the kitchen, and she didn’t care if they finished there. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She opened her mouth, and he slid his tongue deep inside, swirling around and around until her knees went weak. He took her hand and pulled her to the couch. They shed their clothes along the way.

He lay down and pulled her over him, and soon he was entering her, sliding high, far and deep. She gasped, feeling him connect with her completely. Every roll of his hips, each thrust as he penetrated
deeper, took her higher, until climax was just moments away.

And then he slowed down, kissing her endlessly, focusing on her mouth, making love to it with his tongue, mimicking what his body had been doing to hers seconds before. Her body was on heightened alert, ready to go off, and now the tension eased, still beautiful, still there, waiting for him to start again.

He slid his hands between them and cupped her breasts, massaged her nipples with his palms.

She moaned. The friction felt so good she began to move her hips in circles, seeking harder contact again. She wanted him to thrust harder. Needed to feel him pulse inside her and make her come.

He gripped the back of her hair with one hand and wrapped the other around her back, and did just that. He drove into her, faster, harder, and she accepted each deep plunge until he took her up and over into spiraling oblivion.