The Billionaire's Dare (Book 4 - Billionaire Bodyguard Series) Read online

  “Where is all this coming from?” A tingle of concern spread through her. Marshal Sharp had never been the warm, sentimental type.

  “You’re not alone. That’s what I want you to know.”

  A gnawing sense of dread swept through her. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  He gripped his hat more tightly. “Maria…”

  The use of her real name sent swirls of angst through her. No one had called her that since she’d dared to contact Grandpa Tate despite Marshal Sharp’s orders. She’d only done it once, but hearing Grandpa’s voice had been like listening to angels from heaven.

  “Maria, your grandfather died.”

  Instantly, her knees gave out. For a moment, she was vaguely conscious of the carpet pile texture beneath her fingernails as she grasped for something solid.

  “I know this is hard. I know…” Marshal Sharp’s voice trailed off into muted tones she didn’t comprehend. He reached out to help her up from the floor.

  Grandpa Tate, dead? Impossible. He was the epitome of the most enduring human being on the planet.

  He’s not gone. He’s not…he can’t be…

  That hard-working, hard-living, hard-loving, stubborn old man had no right to leave her. Damn it. He said he wouldn’t. He swore to her on his grave he’d never…

  “Oh, God,” she hiccupped. Her lungs shuddered with spasms.

  Air. She waved her hand at her throat. Not enough air.

  “It’s okay.” Sharp’s distant voice offered no comfort.

  Wrong. This was all wrong. He’d been so tough, damn it. Nothing could’ve beaten him.

  How dare he? How dare he leave her?

  The next moment of awareness that pierced her consciousness told her she was on her couch. Soggy tissues fell out of her cupped fingers. Stinging wet trails burned down her cheeks.

  “Are you sure?” she gasped out between sobs.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Maria.”

  Arms came around her but she slapped them away, tried to punch at the air. Then she was kneeling on the floor again, in more pain than she’d ever thought possible. Physical pain that made her double over, her chest throbbing. No, no, no, no, no…

  The one person who’d loved her—gone.

  Drunk on despair, she clutched her coffee table, forcing herself upright. “You need to go.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea—”

  “Just go!” she screamed. She thrust her finger at the door.

  “I’m here for you, Maria. Marissa. You know my number. Call me any time.”

  Hand thrust toward the door, she couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want his kindness or sympathy. She averted her face. “Just go.”

  Marshal Sharp nodded curtly, took his cue and left.

  The tear tracks staining her face dried as she mounted the steps. She unzipped her skirt, leaving it in the middle of her bedroom floor. She hauled out a pair of jeans from her bottom dresser drawer. From the back of her walk-in closet she hauled out her old leather jacket.

  Tonight, she’d take Adam up on his invitation for a motorcycle ride. In honor of her grandfather.

  *

  When Adam rang Marissa’s doorbell, he received no response.

  Frowning, he tried the porch door and found it unlocked. He entered through the porch, let the door slam behind him, and went to her interior house door. He’d barely knocked when Marissa flung open her door to him.

  “Hey, girl, what’s—”

  Up.

  His cute little tutor he’d been crushing on for weeks had suddenly morphed into a hot, leather-wearing vixen.

  Wait, what?

  His gaze raked over her like a John patrolling his favorite hooker’s corner. Shit, not cool. “Um. You’re dressed different.”

  “You’ve asked me every night for the past week to go on a ride with you. Tonight, I’m saying yes.”

  Thrown off, but not ready to let onto it, Adam perched his boot on her threshold. “Why tonight?”

  Her eyes glistened with a deep blue he’d never seen before. “Does it matter?”

  “No…”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Confused, he said, “Hold up.”

  “What’s the hold up?” she said impatiently.

  “I brought you something.”

  “You’re enough,” she said, matter of fact.

  Once again she threw him off, her words hitting too close to something that mattered deep inside him. But he had something real to give her, something he’d thought long and hard about, ordering it online with his brother Liam’s help.

  So he gently pushed his way past her into her home. How else could he give her what he wanted to give her, unless he set it down? “I have a thank you.”

  She glanced at the door. “I’ll call it even, if you take me for a ride on your motorcycle.”

  Now? Now she wants to straddle him and wrap her arms around his waist? After he’d gone to so much trouble to show his appreciation for what she’d done on his behalf.

  “No.”

  She appeared exasperated. “What do you mean no?”

  “I mean, I’ve wanted to give you this.”

  Carefully he withdrew the mug he’d brought with him, tucked away beneath his leather jacket. He set it on the low child-sized table he’d made fun of the first time he’d showed up for tutoring. Who’d have thought he’d actually come to appreciate those ridiculously sized chairs that made him feel like a dumb-ass kid? But she didn’t make him feel like that—far from it. She made him…feel. Again. More than he’d expected. He wanted to thank her.

  She was a great girl. He liked her. He wanted to sleep with her more than anything, but he knew he never would. Because she meant something to him. Meant—like the real kind of meaning. Deep. Real. True.

  Yeah, he wanted her on the back of his bike, holding onto him. But that wasn’t the reason why he’d come here tonight.

  “The mug,” he pointed out, gesturing to his gift. “It says ‘Number One Teacher.’ Liam helped me pick it out.” He swallowed. “Does that go against your rules?”

  She looked at him like she wanted to cry. For a second he thought he saw her chin tremble.

  “It’s totally legit,” he insisted. “I even spelled the word for him. I swear. Like you taught me.” He glanced at the mug wondering if he’d done something wrong. “There’s something special in it, too.” He handed it to her. “Check it out.”

  “Adam,” she whispered, resting her hand on his forearm. “Would you please take me out on your bike?”

  Perplexed, he said, “What about our session?”

  She snaked her arm through his then batted her eyelashes up at him. He froze whenever a woman did that. Like he’d say no? To anything? Especially when it came to her. “Would later work? Please. Right now, I need to ride.”

  Thrilled beyond reason, more than he had a right to be, he grinned. He felt like an old-fashioned knight who’d won the attention of a girl far above his station. “As my lady wishes.”

  A sudden shimmer glinted along her lower lashes. “That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all day.”

  Sensing something was out of place, he asked, “Everything okay?”

  “It will be.” She charged out the door toward his motorcycle.

  “Okay.” He wasn’t about to argue.

  The second he revved the motorcycle and felt her arms clutch his waist, he exhaled a controlled breath.

  She’s here with you. This is what you wanted. Don’t fuck it up, he told himself.

  Funny thing was, he always fucked up what was good for him. She’d probably be no different. But he had her on his ride. She told him to ride anywhere. With one place in mind, he cranked the engine again, and peeled out of her driveway.

  God, it felt awesome to feel her arms around him.

  Holding onto him.

  As if he meant something.

  Almost like he could finally give her back all the hours of kindness and lack of judgment she’d gi
ven to him. He adored Marissa. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

  History had proven if he didn’t give a crap about someone, he got what he wanted. The person stuck around. He didn’t want to mess with karma now. Even if he wanted her to be more. Even if he wanted to tell her she was the most amazing woman he’d ever met.

  And would she ever consider going out with him?

  Not on a motorcycle ride, but a real date.

  Yeah, not happening.

  He didn’t deserve her. He knew it.

  Didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying to convince her to go out on a date. Keep pushing the envelope. Why stop now, when he was already out of his league?

  Adam rode up from Denver into the mountains, near his cousin Trey’s house. Trey owned somewhere around fifteen acres up here, next to a national park. If Adam managed to piss off anyone, like he was prone to do, Trey wouldn’t kick them out.

  After this, even if he needed to go visit his booty call, Brandi, he’d stay with Marissa as long as she’d let him. Marissa did things to him he couldn’t begin to name, didn’t want to understand.

  Problematic? Definitely.

  Worth it? For sure.

  Regardless, he wanted to show her the view.

  “How do you know about this spot?” she asked as he took the lead and guided her off the motorcycle.

  “My cousin Trey owns acreage up here. We’re good.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  The closer they came to the Cliffside, and the distant glow of city lights illuminated Marissa’s profile, he recognized something was definitely wrong.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s totally none of my business, but have you been crying?”

  Instantly two tears dripped from her eyes as if his words had summoned them.

  “Jesus, sugar. What happened?”

  She shook her head a fraction, so he gave her time to decide whether or not to tell him what bothered her. If this was about some guy, he’d punch the bastard. Then maybe thank him and ask Marissa out. He’d contemplated it since the night they met, wondering if she’d bother saying yes.

  Typically he went out with women who were easy and available. Come to think of it, he’d never asked out a girl he actually liked before. He liked Marissa. Which probably meant he should stay the hell away from her. She deserved better.

  Because he didn’t do relationships. Or breakups. Too complicated and messy. He didn’t waste time on all that crap. He was sleeping with a girl, or several, or he wasn’t. That simple. He didn’t “date.”

  So what compelled him to want to make an exception for Marissa?

  Stupidity, he thought, filling in his own blank.

  Unless she liked him, too…

  In that case, also, he needed to stay away. But he couldn’t. She stole into his thoughts in the middle of the day. He pictured making out with her until their lips were raw. Not even taking her clothes off. Just kissing. And talking. He’d invent excuses in his head why he needed to see her, the dumbest things, even though he never acted on them.

  Seriously messed up.

  And here he was, making this moment all about him. He could be a real dick sometimes.

  Pulling his head out of his ass, he stepped closer to Marissa, who stared down at a thousand pinpricks of light below. “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  Hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, he stood there at a loss. “Can’t talk about it, or won’t?”

  Another tear rolled down her cheek. “Both.”

  Girls’ tears bothered him. Created a churning sensation in his gut resembling helplessness, and he couldn’t stand that. Usually in those scenarios, he just walked away. Because the tears tended to be a dramatic ploy to get him to stay, when he’d already dropped the “we’re done” bomb.

  Not so much the case right now. In this situation he had no decent coping skills to fall back on. He almost wished he were Cade, or Trey, or Liam. Guys who understood the normal human psyche, knew the right thing to do or say. He failed epically at relationships, and he’d never had a girl as a friend.

  Suck it up, he berated himself. She needs you. Do the right thing for once.

  Instead of launching into a dumb discussion that would go nowhere, he shrugged out of his coat and dropped it at his feet. Then he came behind her and slid his arms around her, gliding his chin against the hair at her left temple.

  “It’s okay, sugar,” he murmured. “It hurts. I get it. I’m sorry.”

  Then he waited for her cues to show him what to do next.

  CHAPTER 2

  Marissa gazed wistfully out at the gorgeous view from up here. She soaked in the sensation of being held by an equally gorgeous man, his arms locked securely around her.

  At her hour of greatest need and despair, Adam had asked questions but hadn’t badgered her for answers. His presence provided a comfort she’d desperately wanted but never assumed would come to her.

  But here he was.

  Don’t get used to this, she warned herself. Adam isn’t permanent. Nothing in her life was permanent. Except loneliness.

  More tears spilled from her unblinking eyes. They flowed with a force of anguish she couldn’t contain.

  One tear must have fallen onto his exposed forearm, because his hold tightened. She tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder. She wished she could melt into him. Disappear. Without knowing where she stopped and he started.

  The intimacy of such a rare and special moment seeped into her pores. Not since Grandpa Tate had anyone held her, supported her, and just let her be. Sad. Angry. Helpless. Weak.

  And if she’d made a direct request to heaven, she couldn’t have received a better physical support than Adam. His arms were huge bands of steel, roped with thick muscle. If she wrapped both hands around one of his arms, her fingers wouldn’t touch. She let herself bask in his closeness.

  The intense heat from his body warmed her chilled skin. Unlocking her knees, she tested his strength. He responded by flexing his biceps, embracing the heaviness that weighed her down with uncomplicated ease. He offered a gentle yet firm blanket of security she’d almost forgotten existed.

  Actually, it no longer existed. She would never hug her grandfather again.

  “Thank you, Adam,” she said in a tearful whisper.

  He nodded against her hair, a few strands catching in his perpetual five-o’clock shadow.

  One more aspect she found enduringly sexy about him. He was the kind of guy who shaved every third day because he didn’t care, and yet the ruggedness only enhanced his appeal.

  Turning her head, she lifted her damp cheek to feel the texture of his bristle against her face. Rough, real, the coarse follicles chafed her skin, reminding her she still existed to someone, somewhere.

  For this fleeing moment, she existed with him. And for this brief flicker in time, he held her as if he’d never let her go.

  A lie she desperately wanted to believe.

  But like Adam’s miracles, her fairy tales had faded long ago. Still, gratitude welled inside her. He’d accomplished the impossible. He’d made her feel a little less alone under this great big sky packed with stars.

  I love you, Grandpa Tate. I miss you with every breath.

  When Adam lowered his chin, she realized how close their mouths were. Heat and need flooded her veins. If she turned her head, just a little…

  Briefly their lips brushed. Their mouths grazed each other, a small sensual caress. She tasted the whisper of his warm breath mingling with hers.

  But he pulled back, even though he didn’t release her.

  A deep sigh rumbled from his chest, and she felt the vibration against her back. “You don’t want to do this,” he said.

  She found no question beneath his words. Just fact, and truth.

  Her shoulders sagged. “You’re right. I can’t.”

  “No, that’s different.” He kissed her temple and her bones turned liquid. “Don’t want and can’
t are two separate things.”

  As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t have a hot make out session with Adam. Because he was sex incarnate, a walking barrel of testosterone, and what she wanted with him wouldn’t stop at a kiss.

  God, she missed being held, made love to all night, skin against skin. Waking up to sweaty sheets, and doing it all over again.

  Not possible. Can’t happen.

  She wanted him too much.

  And although she felt the compelling bulge of his impressive arousal against her backside, this wasn’t meant to be. Ever. He reminded her too much of everything she missed from her past. Those set-in-stone lines would blur. Then, before she knew it, she’d reveal one secret too many, and poof—she’d be gone. Moved to another location, an anonymous life she’d have to start all over again. Her burdened, broken heart couldn’t bear it.

  “You’re right,” she said, her chest aching. “There is a difference.” Then she forced out the false words. “I don’t want this.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  Inwardly she flinched, wishing she could tell him everything. That her choices were forced on her—and in another place, another time, she would’ve fallen for him in a heartbeat.

  “You’re hurting. It’s normal to want to be close to someone. But that someone isn’t meant to be me, Marissa,” he said with blunt honesty.

  She hooked her fingers around his thick forearms. “Thanks for understanding.”

  He made a gruff sound in his throat. “I know I’m no good for you. I’m not the guy you need. But it’s cool I got to hold you. You made my night.”

  “What?” She laughed. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.”

  “Don’t think so.” He released a self-deprecating huff. “The pleasure is mine.”

  “Thank you for being here for me.”

  He shrugged. “The least I can do.”

  When his arms released, she automatically grabbed his hand. She squeezed his fingers. They engulfed hers before he let go. Her hand fell to her side. “I mean it, Adam. I trust you, and you’re a good friend.”

  As he faced away from her, he appeared to be adjusting the front of his pants. “Yeah, I’ll tell myself what a good friend I am later when I have a raging hard-on and can’t sleep because of you.”