When You Dare by Lori Foster

about her career. But she couldn’t hide her identity forever. What he said was true: if she wanted his help, and she did, then he’d have to know everything.
    In good time.
    The food was so delicious that she devoured it all—or at least what she hadn’t destroyed while fretting through her theories. Afterward, she felt fabulous. Well, maybe that was stretching things, but she felt more human than she had in too many days. That hollowness in her gut was now satisfied. She felt stronger, steadier.
    Dare had remained silent until she popped the last bite of bacon into her mouth and settled back in her seat with a sigh. “Thank you.”
    Flinty blue eyes, bright in the sunshine pouring through the window, scrutinized her. “You won’t be sick?”
    She shook her head. “Nope. I feel fine.” And this time, it was true.
    “Should I get more? Maybe some cake or pie?”
    The courteous offer, in such a mild tone, was at odds with his expression. He looked harder than ever, more capable of deadly force.
    She didn’t understand him, but she trusted him. “I’m full, but thank you.”
    Surprising her with his lack of questions, he stood and headed for the door. “I already showered and shaved.”
    “I slept through that?” Disturbing, but then, she’d been so exhausted…. “I’m usually a very light sleeper.”
    “Extenuating circumstances,” he said. “You can have some privacy for…whatever. I’ll be back within the hour.”
    He shut the door before she could ask him where he was going. She had the distinct feeling that she’d run him off. He was such an independent, skilled person that being around someone like her, someone so damned needy, would probably suffocate him.
    Determined to withhold further complaints, Molly got up and went to the window to look out.
    Usually, whenever she admitted to being a writer, the questions started. Where do you get your ideas? How long does it take to write a book? How much do you get paid? How did you get started? She heard them often, sometimes with disdain when people discovered that she wrote for entertainment, not to impress the literary world.
    Used to be, people asked her why she hadn’t been on Oprah, or had her books been made into a movie, as if either was something in her control and easily accomplished. But with the recent movie deal, at least one of those questions had been replaced with another: Can I borrow some money?
    Nearly everyone she knew wanted into her pocket. Friends she hadn’t known she had showed up with great regularity. And when they didn’t want money, they wanted an inside edge to meeting a celebrity, to hanging with the “in” crowd.
    Molly snorted to herself. She hadn’t changed, but everyone now treated her differently.
    Pushing open the window, she let in the fresh air. Their room faced the parking lot, and she saw Dare get into his rented van and drive toward Walmart again.
    If she looked to the left, she could just see the turbulent ocean as it teased a sandy beach, sending surfers atop waves, and then crashing them down again. People in Windbreakers strolled 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