Truth or Dare (His Wicked Games #2) (6 page)

* * *

My phone rings as I’m leaving work that
afternoon.

“Hello?” I say, shoving my cell beneath my
ear without even bothering to look at the screen. I nearly drop the
armful of books I’m carrying, and I let out a curse.

There’s a familiar chuckle on the other end
of the line. “Did I call at a bad time?”

“Calder! Hey.” I manage to balance the books.
“It’s fine. How are you?”

“You sound surprised to hear from me.”

Yeah, well… I was beginning to worry that I
wouldn’t hear from him ever again. But I don’t tell him that.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t in touch earlier. I’m
afraid I got caught up in a few business matters.” He doesn’t
elaborate on what those “matters” might be.

“Is everything all right?” I ask.

“Of course,” he answers too quickly. “But
forgive me for keeping you waiting. I assure you, it wasn’t my
intention.”

That makes me feel better, even though I’m
still curious about the business that kept him so preoccupied. Does
it have anything to do with the call he received on our date?

“Everything is forgiven,” I assure him.

“Good. When I realized it had been three days
I was worried you might have forgotten about me again.”

“I never
forgot
about you or our date
in the first place,” I say. “I lost track of time. And you never
returned my underwear, you know.”

“We’ll have to remedy that, then.”

“You mean with another date?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

Tomorrow’s Saturday, so I have the day off,
but I decide to tease him a little for waiting so long to call.

“I’m afraid I have plans with one of my other
suitors,” I say. “He’s been most attentive while you’ve been
away.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m afraid he’s going to
be unexpectedly detained tomorrow.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Cunningham?”

“It’s a promise.”

I grin. “I guess I better send him away
then.”

“You better. I’ll pick you up at three.”

“Three it is.”

By the time I hang up, most of my worries
about Calder have dissipated. I can’t believe I allowed myself to
get so worked up over the fact that he hadn’t called.

I’m concerned by the “business matters” that
kept him occupied all week. I only hope that his call means that
he’s sorted everything out, that he’s taken care of whatever left
him so distracted during our dinner. Maybe he’ll even give up on
the whole “waiting to have sex” nonsense.

Still, I’m pretty sure I’m grinning like an
idiot right now. I’m so caught up in my happy little bubble that I
don’t notice my dad has paused in my doorway.

“You’re cheerful,” he says. “Get some good
news?”

“Oh—oh, no, I just…” I’m too flustered to
come up with something quickly enough.

He smiles. “Who were you talking to on the
phone?”

Uh oh.
He heard that?

“Just a friend,” I say quickly.

“Ah, a
friend.
Well tell him hello for
me.”

He continues on his way before I can make up
any other lame excuses. Crap, I’m not very good at this
secret-dating thing, am I?

It will all come out in time, I know. I’ll
have to create a believable story about how we met. I don’t want to
outright lie—not to my dad, not about someone important to me—but
I’ll need to bend the truth a little. Assuming I don’t want
Calder’s head to end up on a spike.

In the meantime, things are looking up.
Between Asher’s article and Calder’s call, it’s been a pretty good
day. And tomorrow, I’m certain, will be even better.

<<>>

I sense that something is wrong the minute
Calder picks me up for our date.

He arrives at three o’clock on the dot, and
in his jeans and fitted charcoal sweater he looks so sexy that I’m
tempted to drag him into my apartment and jump him right there. He
gives me a devilish smile and kisses me, but the minute I slip my
hands beneath his shirt, he pulls away and teasingly shakes his
head.

“A little eager, aren’t we?” he says, his
eyes gleaming. That’s when I see it: a flash of something across
his expression. It’s gone before I can give it a name—regret?
Sorrow? Guilt?—but whatever it is, I know that there’s something,
some worry, still lingering in his mind.

He doesn’t want me to know. He smiles and
touches me and pretends that nothing’s wrong, and for the moment, I
let him.

He takes me to a local park.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he says. “But my father
used to bring my sister and me here when we were younger. I always
thought it was beautiful.” He sounds almost apologetic, and I
realize, with sudden clarity, that he
is
—after all, this is
a man who’s used to giving women expensive gifts and taking them
out to five star restaurants. Places like Ventine’s. He’s used to
dating starlets and supermodels, not normal girls like me who are
perfectly content to stroll hand-in-hand through a park.

“It’s perfect,” I say, looping my arm through
his.

He smiles down at me, his uncertainty
replaced immediately by his usual wicked smile. The shadows are
still there, hidden in the depths of his eyes, but if he wishes to
ignore them for the afternoon then I will too.

He leads me along a path through the trees,
down toward the pond—which everyone around here calls the
“lake”—and away from the crowds on the main green. The air is
chilly, but in that lovely mid-autumn kind of way—though I’m glad
to have worn a scarf and thick tights with my dress. I lean against
his warmth, and he slides his arm around my waist.

It’s strange.

Strange to be a normal couple walking through
a normal park. I mean, this is the guy who once had sex with me up
against the wall of a dungeon. Well—
cellar
, if we’re getting
technical about it. My time on his estate was intensely erotic, and
this feels so ordinary by comparison.

I glance up at him. The afternoon sun makes
his skin glow and brings out the bluish undertones in his dark
hair. There’s a muscle working in his jaw, but when he senses me
staring, he looks down and smiles.

“How was your week?” he asks. “Discover any
burgeoning Van Goghs in one of your classes?”

I remember the subtle shift in his mood the
last couple of times I talked about the Center. I know he’s only
trying to be polite.

“I don’t want to talk about work,” I tell
him. I want to pull him away from the dark places in his mind. I
want to remind him of the wild, passionate couple we were, back on
his estate.

I stop on the path and look out across the
lake.

“See that dock?” I say, pointing to the
small, wooden structure protruding into the water from the far
shore. “I’ll race you to it. Loser has to make the other one
dinner.”

His eyes darken at the challenge. “Are you
sure that’s a good idea?”

“Afraid I’ll win?” I tease. “Because you
should be.”

Before he has the chance to respond, I turn
and sprint down the path.

“Cheater!” he calls after me, but it’s not
long before I hear his footsteps in pursuit.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I race
through the trees. There are only a handful of people in this
section of the park, and they glance up at me in confusion as I run
by. Calder is right on my heels. His footsteps grow louder, closer,
and then he’s near enough that I can hear his ragged breathing.

Once, he’s close enough to reach out and grab
the back of my dress. I stumble and almost fall, and by the time I
recover he’s pulled ahead.

“Who’s the cheater now?” I yell after
him.

A passing jogger looks at me sharply, but I
curse under my breath and start running again.

Calder has a good lead on me now, but I’m not
about to let him win, not this time. Up ahead, a small creek enters
the lake, and our path curves away from the lakeshore to a small
bridge slightly upstream. Calder follows the path, but I head
straight for the creek. I run through the brush, leap over the
water, and manage to regain the path some paces ahead of
Calder.

We’re close. I can see the end of the dock
through the trees ahead. Calder is just behind me, and though I
hear him reach for me, I manage to twist out of his reach before
he’s able to pull the same trick on me twice.

But I underestimate him. Just as we break
through the trees and hit the shore, he lunges, catching me around
the waist. We both land on the sand, twisting and tumbling over
each other.

I’m so close. Calder tries to hold me down,
but I manage to free my arm. I reach out, grappling for the dock,
and I’m rewarded when my fingers hit nearest wooden post.

“I win!” I gasp as I cease struggling.

Calder seizes the opportunity to pin me to
the sand beneath him.

“You owe me dinner,” I say, gazing up at
him.

“Is that so?” He’s breathing heavily and his
hair is a mess—like we’ve been taking part in a very different sort
of physical exertion.

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