LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

      Now that she could think clearly and those awful shakes had mostly subsided … she saw him as a man.

      And what a man.

      Why 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.”

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