Maximum Dare - Vanessa Fewings Page 0,38
after last Tuesday you’d never want to see me again,” she said softly.
“You left the house without saying goodbye.”
“I was going to send your bathrobe back.”
I shook my head in frustration. “Are you alone?”
She placed her fisted hands on her hips. “Yes.”
“Stupid idea,” I muttered. “Anyone could wander in here.”
“I’m locked in.”
“Daisy, I walked in through the front door.”
Her pouty mouth turned up at the corners. I could plant a kiss right there on the side…
She was infuriating.
I pointed to her blanket in the corner. “Let me carry your things out.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Staying here all night is not a good idea.”
“I brought a picnic basket. Might as well make the most of it.”
I sighed.
Fading sunlight filtered in through the fogged windows and shimmered over her delicate features. I’d never been able to look at her without being drawn to her presence. I wanted to know her intimately.
“It’ll be dark soon. Let me give you a lift home.”
“I’m having fun.” She pointed to a flask by the basket. “Want a cuppa?”
She stubbornly returned to her tartan blanket and sat down on it, crossing her legs into a yoga pose and getting comfortable. She reached for a packet of biscuits and offered me one.
“I don’t have time.”
She gave me a cute smile and shook the packet insistently.
With a huff of annoyance, I stepped forward and accepted the biscuit, taking a quick bite. The taste of sugary cream melted over my tongue, mixing with the chocolate. If the English were good at something, it was baking biscuits.
“You’re not scared to be here all night?” I asked between bites.
“No, not really. I brought something to read.”
I sat beside her, thinking this was damn uncomfortable.
On the rug next to her lay a copy of Where The Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens.
“How’s the book?”
She followed my gaze. “Wonderful so far.”
The books in my To Be Read pile were also victims of my demanding job.
I looked around at the peeling paint and the dusty floor. The dimness was unsettling. The torch next to her picnic basket better have good batteries.
I resigned to sit awhile. “You don’t strike me as someone who believes in ghosts.”
“My aunt’s a clairvoyant.”
“That’s right.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
A rustling down the hallway drew my attention.
“I’ve heard other strange noises.” She watched my reaction. “The trick is to ignore them.”
The small hairs on my forearms prickled. I scooted closer to her on the rug, shuddering at the thought of seeing anything that resembled a ghost.
I shook my head. “These dares really do push you to do questionable things.”
“They make you vulnerable,” she admitted. “They call it total exposure.”
“Funny.”
“After what happened Tuesday night I almost quit. Then I thought, what do I have to lose? Might as well keep going.”
Her adventurous spirit was inspiring.
In another universe we might have evolved into more than friends. Developed the kind of trust that’s coveted by those willing to give love a go.
I admired her flawless complexion. The weight of my stare must have made her self-conscious, because she looked away, revealing a profile that could have made a master like Vermeer weep.
She broke the quiet. “Do you like being a defense attorney?”
“Like is a strong word.”
“Because you defend criminals?”
“Innocent until proven guilty.”
“I heard you can get away with anything if you have a good lawyer.”
“I defend the law.”
“Have you ever defended someone you knew was guilty?”
“You can’t ask me that, Daisy.”
“But I just did.”
“Everyone deserves a trial.”
“I imagine you could win over any jury with your charisma.”
“You find me charismatic?” I teased.
She blushed a little. “Let’s just say…”
“Yes…?”
“You’re ridiculously hot. Like, embarrassingly good looking.”
“Why is it embarrassing?”
“Because women wonder what it would be like to…”
“To…?”
“You know.”
“Enlighten me.” It was fun to see her squirm.
“You’re easy on the eyes.”
I laughed. “So are you. You’re very pretty.”
Her coyness was adorable.
She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Are you looking forward to going back to work?”
“Are you fishing to find out when I leave?”
“Might be.”
“I’ve managed to get another week in London.” I let out a weary sigh. “My work is pretty draining so it’s a welcome change.”
“That’s not good.”
“I didn’t always want to be a criminal defender,” I admitted.
“What did you want to be?”
I shook my head, unsure whether to share this detail about my life.
“Max?”
“I wanted to be a civil rights attorney.”
My thoughts wandered back to that call from a woman named Maria. She’d searched me out to take on her brother’s case and I’d not even spoken with her. I’d had my secretary