If You Dare by Jessica Lemmon Page B

disappointed. “You didn’t have a contract with Marjorie.”
    “No, but I sketched a design she loved.”
    Lily picked at an eyelet in her sneaker. The phone went dark, and she dropped it next to her leg. “She didn’t use your design.” Somehow that truth came easier in the dark.
    “Of course she did,” he argued. “She added on the pond and greenhouse, but she said the room idea was perfect.”
    She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. She didn’t want to tell him the truth all of a sudden. Which was odd, because it made for excellent ammo and she’d assured herself she was saving it for a moment she needed a good dig. But each time he poked at her at work, she’d hesitated to rub his nose in it. Why had she done that?
    She knew why she hesitated now. Because she’d since begun to see Marcus wasn’t as much of an asshat as he’d like everyone to think. Or maybe because of the look on his face in his office the day he’d won the trip. He was in there alone, slapping the tickets against his open palm. Then he’d stared at them for the longest time, shaking his head as a proud—not cocky—smile graced his handsome face. In that moment, with his usual veil dropped, she had seen him care about something in a deep, reverent way.
    And that had intrigued her.
    Of course, an hour later, he’d plopped down on her guest chair in her office and run down a list of things to do in Hawaii. Ever been snorkeling, McIntire? I think I’ll cliff dive while I’m there. Thanks to my handy-dandy new shed, I have plenty of room for climbing gear and scuba-diving equipment.
    A scrape along the boarded windows sounded in front of them, and Lily instinctively grabbed for Marcus in the dark.
    “See?” he muttered softly. “Trees.”
    “Trees,” she agreed. Maybe they’d both overreacted because of the environment they were in. Maybe here, inside a spooky mansion steeped in local lore, everyday sounds were scarier than they actually were.
    “Talk to me about something,” he said.
    Good idea. She’d talk about anything to get her mind off the ghost of Essie Mae. “Like what?”
    “Like why you wanted to go to Hawaii.”
    Not what she’d expected. She thought for a moment. “Well. Like you, I’ve never been there. Plus, it’s a free trip…” But that wasn’t really why she wanted it. That wasn’t the reason she’d worked overtime and gone out of her way to sign more accounts than Marcus. “The truth is,” she said quietly, “I really like to win.”
    His deep laughter tumbled around her in the dark. “Yeah, I get that.”
    “And I wanted to see if I was good enough to beat the best.”
    She sensed more than heard his head turn.
    “You’re the best.” She squeezed his knee. “You’re unbeatable.”
    One rough hand covered hers. On a soft rumble, he said, “You may beat me yet.”
    She sniffed. That may have been a laugh if he hadn’t been touching her. If her heart hadn’t been beating triple time.
    The hand over hers turned and slipped beneath hers. Heat from their pressed palms lit a fuse that burned up her arm. “Lily?”
    She couldn’t see his face, but she knew his eyes were on her. She could feel them.
    A beat passed. Then another. She flipped her phone open with shaking fingers. His eyes zoomed in on her mouth. “Don’t suppose you’re scared enough of the dark to leave.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t suppose you’re planning on leaving me on my own.”
    A smile, then, “You might cheat.” He tugged their linked hands and leaned the slightest bit closer to her.
    “True,” she whispered, mirroring his movement. “I wouldn’t trust you if our roles were reversed.” Inches from his face, she admired the curve of his top lip in the pale blue light from her phone. “What are you doing, Black?”

“I think,” he whispered back, his breath fanning her lips, “I’m going to have to kiss you, McIntire.”

Chapter 8
    Marcus closed both palms over her upper arms and