Truth or Dare (22 page)

She raised her gaze and saw the truth of his love in his eyes.  Her vision blurred.  "I love you, too, more than anything.  I'm so ashamed for not tell you about my past before now.  It's inexcusable, but I was afraid."

"Of what I'd think?"

"I guess."

Suddenly touching him, holding his hand, was too much.  She couldn't say what needed to be said while touching him.  She sprang from the sofa and stood before the sliding glass doors, staring out at the pool.  "Remember when I told you about retiring from modeling?"

"When you wanted a calmer life.  When you decided to become a secretary."

"Yes.  But there were people who didn't believe such a simple explanation.  There was this newspaper reporter in St. Louis.  Carl Sutton."  Just saying his name turned her hands to ice.

"The one Shotz mentioned?"

"Shotz and Sutton were friends.  I'd known them both for years, but not well.  While I was still modeling, Sutton made a couple of passes at me, but I brushed him off.  When I retired, he thought I was lying about my reasons.  He was used to dirt and scandal.  He thought sure I was hiding something."

Rachel rubbed her arms to warm them.  "He started following me around, confronting me, generally making a nuisance of himself.  Friends started teasing me about how often I was seen with him right behind me.  He
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
became obsessed, I guess.  With the story he wanted, and with me."

On the sofa, Jared struggled with the urge to go to her and hold her.  But she needed to do this her way, so he clenched his fists and sat still.

"One night when I was home alone, he broke into the house."

Jared picked up his half
–
empty drink from the coffee table and downed it.  He knew what was coming.  God, he knew.  Sutton was the man who attacked her.  He wanted to stop her, to tell her she didn't have to do this.

"I was asleep.  A noise woke me.  I got scared.  We'd had several burglaries in the neighborhood.  Hank had bought a gun months earlier and insisted on keeping it in the nightstand.  I
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
I got it out and
—
"

Her voice broke.

Jared couldn't stand it anymore.  He crossed the room and took her in his arms.  "It's all right," he told her.

She pushed him away, a wild look in her eyes.  "It's
not
all right.  I killed him!  I shot a man dead in my own bedroom!"

Although shocked, Jared didn't for a minute believe that was all there was to her story.  "He was the one, wasn't he?  The one who attacked you."

She squeezed her eyes shut.  When she reopened them, they were dull and blank.  Her voice was lifeless.  "I could hear someone coming down the hall toward the bedroom.  The door opened, the light came on.  I couldn't believe it when I recognized him."

She shook her head at the memory.  "There I'd been, terrified of being murdered in my bed, and it was only Carl, making a pest out of himself again.  I got so angry, I jumped out of bed and started screaming at him to get out."

When it seemed she wouldn't go on, Jared prodded.  "But he didn't."

"No," she whispered.  "He didn't.  He g
rabbed me and forced me down on t
he bed, yelling at me that he was tired of being teased, tired of me not giving him the story he wanted.  He said
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
said he'd get a story one way or the other."

She swiped at her lips with her tongue and stared somewhere in the middle of Jared's chest.

"I didn't even remember I had the gun in my hand.  I tried to get away from him, but he held me down.  When I realized he was going to
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
to rape me, I
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
I panicked.  We fought.  The first I realized I still had the gun was when it went off."

Jared pulled her back into his arms and held her tight.  She shook violently against him.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry you had to go through that.  No man has the right to do what he tried.  I'm glad he's dead," he said fiercely.  "Do you hear me?  I'm glad he's dead.  If he wasn't, I'd want to kill him myself."

She pulled back and looked at him.  Her eyes weren't blank any longer, they were haunted again.  "It was an accident."

"Of course it was, I know that."

She gave a harsh laugh and turned away.  "You're one of the few, then."

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully.  "Who could possibly say it wasn't an accident?"

"Oh, the district attorney, for one."

Jared felt a chill race down his spine.  "What?"

"And exactly half of the jury."

"You went to trial?" he asked, outraged.  "For what?  For defending yourself?"

"First degree murder."

"
What?
"

"The prosecution said I was having an affair with him.  That when he threatened to print it in the paper, I killed him."

"And people
believed
that?"

"Did they ever.  The press ate it up.  There's nothing like one of their own ending up dead to get the press to pull together.  Shotz was the worst of them.  He wouldn't quit."

Jared strove to keep his voice calm.  "You were obviously acquitted."

She turned a blank smile on him.  "Guess again."

"What are you saying?  If you'd been convicted, you wouldn't be here now."

"Ever hear of a hung jury?"

Jared could only stare at her in shock.

"The jury couldn't reach a verdict.  I guess I was just lucky the D. A. didn't ask for a new trial."

Jared felt sick.  Good God, to have something like that hanging over her head.  It wasn't fair, dammit.  It wasn't right.  "Surely you testified.  Surely you told them the truth.  How could they not have believed you?"

She gave him another harsh laugh.  "How can I blame the jury, when my own husband didn't believe me?"

Jared let out a word he didn't normally use in mixed company.

Rachel ignored him.  "Not that Hank believed I was having an affair with Sutton.  On the contrary, he said he knew better.  He also said he knew Sutton would never have tried to rape me, because Hank had already told him I was lousy in bed."

So that's where her insecurity had come from that night they'd made love.  "I told you before, the man was a fool.  Or a liar."

This time her smile was sad.  When she turned away, Jared stopped her with a hand to her chin.

"What happened to you was terrible.  I ache for how much it must have hurt.  But dammit, Rachel, how could you possibly think any of that would affect how I feel about you?"

"I guess because I'm the biggest fool of all."

"Come here."  He held out his arms.

"There's more, Jared."

"I don't care."

She moved away from him.  "Well, I do.  Because this part will affect you."

"Try me."

Rachel was tired.  So damned tired.  But she was almost through.  She'd told him almost everything.  Just a little more, then she could rest.

"After the trial, the press, Shotz in particular, wouldn't let it die.  I was notorious.  The talk of the town.  'Did she or didn't she?'  My situation at work became impossible, so I quit and found another job.  And another.  Every time it got around just who I was, the talk would start all over again."

"So you came here and disguised yourself, hoping no one would recognize you."

"Yes."

"You've been without your disguise for weeks, and no one's said anything, have they?"

"No, but they will.  It's only a matter of time.  If I don't give Shotz an interview, it'll be all over town."

"I fired him."

She turned and stared out at the swimming pool.  "It'll be all over town that much faster, then."

When she remained silent, Jared said, "Is that it?"

"Is that it?" she cried, whirling toward him.  "Isn't that enough?  Isn't it enough that I'll be ostracized again?  That my kids will be exposed to all the talk, all the speculation?"

"If we stand together
—
"

"Together?" she cried.  "We can't be together, don't you see?  You're an important man in this city.  You have to think of your reputation.  You have to think of Debbie, and what the talk will do to her.  We can't be together.  We
can't
."

Jared reeled as if she'd struck him.  "You don't mean that."

"Of course I mean it.  How do you think people are going to react when they find out your secretary was tried for murder?  That she was never even acquitted?  If you don't think I'm guilty, that makes seven of you.  You, and six jurors."

"And the D. A.," Jared retorted.  "He could have had you tried again because of that hung jury.  If he hadn't believed you, he would have done it in a minute."

"Everyone else
—
"

"To hell with everyone else!  I love you!"

A sharp sob escaped before Rachel could hold it back.  "And how long will that last?" she cried.  "How long can you take the gossip and rumors before you start hating me?"  She turned and fled for the door.

"What are you going to do, run away again?"

His words stopped her.  She swiped at her damp cheeks before turning to face him.  "If that's what it takes to keep my sanity, to keep my children from having to deal with taunts about their murdering mother, if that's what it takes to keep you from being tarred with the same brush, then yes.  I'll run."

"It won't work, Rachel," he said, his gaze holding her in place.  "No matter where you run, you'll never forget.  Not your past, not me."  He stalked her across the room.  "You love me, and I love you.  You know we belong together."

Rachel wanted nothing more at that moment than to hurl herself into his arms.  But she couldn't.  She had to get away, had to think, plan, decide what to do next.  Yes, she loved him.  She loved him so much it was killing her.  But there could be nothing between them now.  A man in Jared's position couldn't afford the type of publicity she would bring him.  She should have known that from the beginning.

She
had
known it.  She had simply ignored it.  The time for ignoring was past.  "Accept it, Jared.  I have to leave, for both our sakes."

"I don't accept it.  And I damn sure don't appreciate you making my decisions for me.  I love you.  I want you in my life.  And I'm willing to bet our kids are a hell of a lot stronger than you're giving them credit for.  If you leave, you leave because you don't love me, not because you think you're doing what's best for me.  What's best for me, is you."

She stood frozen in the doorway, shaking, trying to swallow.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me," he demanded.

Rachel didn't even think of trying.  She knew the lie would not come out.  "You know I can't."

"Then stay," he said firmly.  "Stay with me, love me, let me love you.  If there's talk, we'll fight it together.  Just
 
.
 
.
 
.
stay
."

Oh, God, oh, God, how could she?  Yet how could she not?

He stepped closer, so close she could see the pain in his eyes.  "Stay," he said again.

She gripped the door frame until her fingers went numb.  She bit her lip and tried to clear her vision.

He held out his hand toward her.  "Stay.  If you want me to beg, I'll beg.  Just stay.  Please."

Please?  This big, strong man loved her enough to beg?  "Jared," she whispered.  She was in his arms in less than a second.  "Oh, Jared, I love you, I love you."

His arms trembled as he held her and covered her face with frantic kisses.  "I love you, too, so damn much.  Swear you'll never scare me like that again.  I couldn't stand it if you left me."

"Are you sure?"  She held his face in her hands and searched his eyes.  "Are you sure you want to
—
"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life.  You're not leaving me.  Say it.  Say it."

On a broken sob, she said it.  "I won't leave you."

"Swear it," he demanded.

"I swear it."

Then, with a harsh groan, he kissed her.  He had to, or die.  At the thought of how close he'd come to losing her, he shuddered.  He filled himself with her taste, her soft scent.  He filled his head with her response, his arms with her body, his hand with her breast.  Want and need clawed at him.