The Dare Read online

  Behind him, my cousin waved frantically.

  "Look, I gotta run. My date needs me." Geez, it wasn't like I was getting secret plays from Beth or anything. I turned and gave her hand a quick squeeze. "It was fun."

  She gave me a sad nod, and I walked away.

  When I looked back, she was gone.

  The sound of the alarm jolted me out of the dream. Why the hell was I dreaming about that now? I smacked the alarm clock with my hand and peeked over at Beth. She was sleeping like the dead, too beautiful for her own good, and I was horny as hell from that damn dream. I shouldn't have walked away. I should have gotten her number. Not that it would have changed a damn thing. People didn't date in high school and then get married right away anymore. At the time, I'd still believed in love at first sight. Hell, I'd thought it had been love; the rest of the memory was painful as hell. My therapist said my mind had somehow pushed the rest of the night out of my consciousness; he'd said accidents had a way of doing that. I was protecting myself. But from what? I wasn't sure.

  When I'd woken up in the hospital, I was changed — everything had changed. My parents had said I wasn't the same, but I had no idea why. It had made me even more paranoid about pleasing them, about getting things right. Getting my career right.

  Speaking of careers, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and was rewarded with a low-battery signal. I got up to grab my bag then remembered that I didn't have a bag. The same checked bag that had yet to appear.

  My guess was that Grandma was holding it hostage. Or maybe Jake and Travis. Those bastards must have known. And how the hell did the woman have this planned a month ahead of time? A month ago I was saying yes to her scheme with Char and Jake.

  A light bulb flickered on in the darkness of my brain.

  I'd said yes.

  That's where I'd gone wrong. I should have stayed far, far away.

  Russia. I should have moved to Russia.

  "Beth." I nudged her a bit.

  She was lying on her stomach, wearing the outfit from the night before. She stretched, her shirt inching up on her body, exposing her flat stomach and a slight scar where her appendix had obviously been.

  She moaned again and lifted her arms high above her head.

  The shirt followed.

  So did my eyes.

  I blinked a few times, fascinated with how smooth her skin looked. I wanted to touch it — to hell with that, I wanted to lick it. Had I licked it the other night?

  "Jace.

  Her voice was low, sexy as hell, raspy. Shit, I was in trouble.

  "What?"

  "Do we have to go to couples' therapy?"

  "Aw, sweetheart, backing out already? Where's your balls?"

  "I don't want balls." She yawned. "I just want a damn charge. I have girl parts. I talk a big game. I use big words. Right now, I want a big-ass coffee and a big sleep."

  "Stop saying big."

  My body was responding to that word in a very big way, and I was already struggling after watching her yawn and stretch and mew all over the place.

  "Fine. Large. I want a large coffee, a large—"

  I covered her mouth with my hand. "Let's establish mornings as quiet time. A time of reflection, and thinking, and—"

  She bit my damn hand.

  "Coffee."

  "Bite marks." I showed her my hand.

  "Woo me."

  She fell back onto the bed in a heap, and I had to admit I liked the bossy attitude. I got up and started fumbling with the Keurig.

  The shower turned on.

  "I'm so proud!" I yelled without turning around. "You turned it on all by yourself."

  And I turned myself on by saying turn on. Damn curse! I gave myself a little shake and placed the cup under the spout.

  "Aghhh… mother of—"

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Absolute silence then an ear splintering, "Jace!"

  I ran toward the bathroom.

  "So big!" Beth yelled.

  The shower was one of those walk-in ones, where there was no curtain or door or anything to hide any scratch of your body.

  Beth was standing in the corner with a shampoo bottle in her hands, pointing at the opposite corner.

  The first thing I noticed was her nakedness, but it was quickly trumped by another shout and a shampoo bottle flying by my head, causing another thump.

  "Get him!"

  A spider that looked a hell of a lot like a shrunken MMA fighter barreled toward me. Now, I wasn't a fan of spiders. I didn't hate them, but that didn't mean I particularly enjoyed the idea of something hairy sinking its fangs into me. So I did what any logical man would do.

  I looked for a gun.

  And when I realized I wasn't James Bond nor did I live in a spy novel, I grabbed the next best thing.

  The hair dryer.

  It wasn't plugged in, but it was big enough for combat. I smashed the hell out of the spider until all that was left were tufts of legs and pieces of hair.

  "Did you get him?" Beth came up behind me, shivering.

  "Yeah" I wiped my brow with my arm, "it was a battle. Lots of lives lost. Blood shed. But… I got him."

  "My hero," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me from behind.

  I froze.

  Not because she was calling me her hero. Please, I wasn't that narcissistic. It was because she was naked. And she had forgotten about her nakedness at a very fortunate time.

  Men everywhere: Applaud. I didn't even react. Not one gasp or shudder. I simply basked.

  Basking: Another word for utter stillness when a lady is pressing against you in such an erotic way all you can do is close your eyes and smile. See also: Euphoria.

  "I'm naked." Beth released her hold. My body immediately tightened in all the wrong places, and I'm ashamed to admit, I let out a pathetic whine. Or maybe it was a growl, because the next thing I knew, I was turning around and pushing her into the shower, up against the wall, and taking her like a—

  Great, so not only had I frozen in a euphoric state, but I had resorted to daydreaming.

  "Thanks." I saw movement out of the corner of my eye as Beth leaned back under the shower and closed her eyes.

  It was like watching my own personal Pantene Pro-V commercial, only the girl was hotter and available.

  But not to me.

  Not in reality.

  "Are you going to watch me, or are you going to get ready?" Beth said, water dripping from her face.

  "Do I get a choice?" I half-pleaded.

  "No, but you'll get a knee to your balls if you don't leave in five seconds. The spider's gone, you've saved the world, now take your hammer and go."

  "Uh, hammer?"

  "Hammer, hair dryer — same thing. Go, Thor. Go get your cape on. We have therapy."

  Men. We're easy. No really, we are. She'd basically called me an Avenger, which, in my book, meant I was like two steps ahead of Iron Man, and a hell-of-a-lot better-looking.

  I sported a smug grin the entire time I got ready.

  ****

  Thanks to the water-stealing princess, I wasn't able to shower in time. And Doctor Z had specifically said that we needed to be on time. Not wanting to start off therapy on a bad foot, I took one for the team.

  "It's only an hour, and then we have what the schedule states as Couple Fun Time by the pool." Beth checked her watch and handed me the map of the place.

  I locked the door to our hut and turned the map sideways.

  "North," I said, examining the red circle that said Serenity Circle.

  "I don't like that name." Beth snorted. "It sounds like a place to get high."

  "If they have drugs, just say no." I stuffed the paper into front pocket of my lame-ass linen shirt and grabbed her hand.

  "What are you doing?" She tried to pull away.

  I held tighter. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

  "Holding my hand." She squeezed back, and then a girlish smile appeared, all sense of hostility evaporating inst
antly.

  "That I am." I pulled her closer and inhaled. Damn, her shampoo smelled good. "You said you wanted six days of a fairytale. I thought holding hands was a good place to start."

  "Oh."

  Her face turned crimson, and I instantly felt it in my gut as if someone had taken a baseball bat and beat me crapless.

  She'd never had her hand held.

  I'd bet money on it.

  Girls didn't blush over things like that. Most girls didn't give a rat's ass. What type of man wouldn't hold her hand? What type of man wouldn't first at least try to woo the shit out of her?

  Wrong wording. One should not woo shit out of anyone, but I digress.

  Sighing, we walked hand-in-hand toward the building, and I made myself a promise. One I knew I would most likely regret this time next week.

  I was going to actually try. I was going to leave my baggage at the door, check into the happy romance hotel, and make her feel wanted.

  And when it was time to leave, I'd do so without looking back. But I'd also do so without any regrets, and that was reason enough to take the leap.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "How did the senator take to being cursed?"

  "He wasn't tickled pink, that much I know. He threw my very expensive fertility necklace into the ocean!"

  "Tragic loss," the man said dryly.

  "Oh it was!" Grandma pounded her tiny fist onto the metal table. "One can't simply purchase fertility necklaces anywhere!"

  "I wouldn't know."

  "Well, I would." Grandma sniffed. "After all, I've spent years collecting them, storing them in my grandsons' cars, houses, offices, boats—"

  "Ma'am, are you saying you've been this way for… years?"

  "What way?"

  "Insane."

  Grandma smiled. "Some people's definition of insanity is genius. What's your take, Gus?"

  "My name's not Gus."

  "You look like a Gus. I'm going to go with Gus."

  The agent looked longingly back at the glass window. "I think it's time for a break."

  Beth

  Holding hands with Jace was like riding a school bus for the first time. You were all sixes and sevens with your own body. Not sure who to sit by, not exactly positive you were at the right stop, so you keep looking out the window to make sure you didn't miss your own house. And then when you did per chance miss your stop, you couldn't care less because you'd already made friends with everyone and were really enjoying the ride.

  "This is it." He let go of my hand.

  The stupid bus stopped.

  And now I had the infamous children's song, "The Wheels on the Bus," playing in my head like a broken record.

  "I think we just go in." I clenched my hands together and moved to knock when the door was pulled wide open.

  "No. Way." Jace swore and then kicked the doorframe.

  Grandma pointed at the ground. "I think you killed an ant."

  His nostrils flared. But he said nothing.

  Grandma clapped. "Oh good. It's still alive, look." She pointed down.

  Jace looked and stomped at least five times before regaining control of his body again.

  "Oh dear. Well," Grandma touched her hand to her cheek, "I guess he's dead as a doornail now."

  Jace stomped again.

  Pretty sure Grandma was driving him over the edge. I grabbed his hand and squeezed. At least he stopped stomping.

  "Come in, come in!"

  Grandma opened the door wide and led us into a small office with a trickling waterfall and two black leather couches. The wall facing the door was a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto the ocean. All in all, if this had been my office, my life would be complete.

  "Sit," Grandma said sweetly.

  Jace released my hand and sat on the leather couch. I waited for him to start rocking back and forth.

  He didn't.

  I exhaled.

  "So," Grandma took a seat opposite us, "tell me about yourselves. Why have you chosen Ocean Breezes Couples' Retreat?"

  My mouth dropped open. She was kidding, right?

  "You. Put. Us. Here," Jace said in slow curt language.

  "Poppycock." Grandma lifted a cup of tea to her lips and chuckled. "I do love that word." With a sigh she took another sip. "Tea?"

  I took the tea just so I'd have something to do.

  Jace took a long sip and closed his eyes. He was probably trying to find his center, or whatever people called it.

  "Is it bedroom trouble?"

  Jace spit out his tea all over the table.

  "Oh," Grandma's face fell, "how difficult that must be for you, Beth, to have a man who can't…" She cleared her throat then mouthed, perform.

  "That's it."

  Jace lunged for Grandma, but I mom-armed him and handed him his tea again, much like a mom would hand a kid a ball to keep him distracted.

  "Listen, Grandma…" I used my calm voice, which sounded a lot like my pissed-off voice, only not as loud. "You drugged us, brought us here under false pretenses, forced us into a couples' retreat where we have to go to therapy as if we're a real couple, and now this? You, as our therapist? Excuse us if we aren't exactly in a great mood."

  Grandma set her tea down and sighed. "Grandma Nadine isn't here at the moment. Hold one second." She reached for her purse and pulled out a leopard scarf then proceeded to wrap it around her neck, put on another application of lipstick, and then popped a cinnamon Tic Tac in her mouth. "Alright, now you may refer to me as Grandma Nadine. I have to separate the two titles for HIPPA privacy issues, you understand."

  "Fine. Grandma," I clenched my teeth together, "you said you put your meddling behind you, and you're worse than ever!"

  "I see that you're confused." Grandma shook her head. "I apologized for drugging you, brought you here to protect you from the media and give you a vacation, Beth, and used my own money to give you a free stay at one of the US's top ten honeymooning locations. Now, did I leave anything out?"

  My mouth snapped shut.

  Jace's eyes narrowed.

  "Nobody said you had to participate in therapy." Grandma shrugged. "I just thought it would be beneficial. Take it or leave it."

  "We'll leave it," Jace answered, standing up.

  "Alright, I'll let Dr. Z know that you've refused treatment." Grandma smiled into her tea.

  "Wait." I held up my hand. "What happens if we refuse treatment?"

  "Oh nothing, dear, don't be such a worrywart." She licked her lips and hid her smile behind her tea cup.

  "Jace," I tugged his shirt, "sit."

  "No, I'm not—"

  "Sit, or so help me God, I'm going to revive that goliath spider and put it on your pillow."

  Swearing, Jace sat back down.

  "What does therapy entail?"

  "Communication," Grandma said smoothly. "Knowing your partner."

  "But we aren't partners."

  "Six days," Grandma whispered.

  "What?" Jace asked. "What did you say?"

  "Nothing." Grandma clapped twice, the lights dimmed and classical music began playing in the background. "Now close your eyes."

  Jace swore again.

  "Stop swearing, son, it makes you sound simple-minded."

  "Did she just call me stupid?" Jace whispered next to me, his lips grazing my cheek.

  "Pfft." Grandma chuckled. "If I wanted to call you stupid, I would just say it to your face."

  "Right."

  "Jace?"

  "Yes, Grandma?"

  "You're being stupid."

  Jace cursed again.

  "See?" Grandma grinned triumphantly. "Now, both of you, close your eyes. I'm going to give you a sample of what therapy will do for you. Take it or leave it, but don't make your decision until tonight. Agreed?"

  "Fine," I said, teeth still clenched.

  Jace nodded.

  "Good." Grandma clapped once more, causing the shades to pull down the large window, blanketing us in utter darkness.

&nb
sp; Great, just what we needed, to be vulnerable in the dark with Grandma.

  "I want you to feel," Grandma instructed. "Beth, put your hands on Jace's legs."

  Slowly, I stretched out my hands and placed them on Jace's thighs.

  "Jace, turn toward Beth so it feels more comfortable."

  His body shifted so we were facing one another on the couch. My hands were placed awkwardly against his thighs, and I could feel the heat of his body through the linen pants. I could almost feel his heartbeat as blood hummed through his system.

  "Now, Jace," Grandma said softly. "I want you to touch Beth's face with your hands. I want you to be gentle, and I want you to memorize the way she feels."

  I felt the heat of Jace's hands just before his fingertips grazed my chin then my cheekbones. His hands roamed across my face; his touch was so gentle it almost hurt. I leaned toward him as he moved his hands down my neck and to my shoulders.

  "Feel how her body responds to you," Grandma coached. "Feel her skin, every sensation, every touch. I want you to memorize her face so well that if asked to draw a picture of her likeness you could do so blindfolded."

  My fingers dug into his thighs as he continued rubbing my face, dipping his hands into my hair. With a gasp, I bit down on my lip as he brought his head closer and closer to me.

  "Now," Grandma whispered. "Beth, I want you to do what Jace was doing but start on his legs, move up his torso until your hands are placed firmly on his chest."

  And so my torture in hell began. I say torture, because every movement my hands made across his thighs caused my hormones to spike to deadly levels. Muscles I didn't even know existed were now a permanent fixture in my memory. My body cheered with delight when my hands made their way to his abs. They were tight. And I was ready to maul him for no other reason than touching him felt so good.

  By the time my hands reached his chest, it felt like I'd just gone into a sauna with a wool coat on and was confused on how to get it off. My breathing was erratic. I was leaning so close to Jace that I could smell his cologne.

  Grandma clapped, and the lights came on. I was practically in Jace's lap. His face was one inch from mine, and my body was tight so tight it was ready to explode. I wanted him — everywhere — and I didn't even feel guilty that I was sweating like a whore in church.