“Follow me to my place?” Dare said.
Ten minutes later, Belle found herself parked in front of his cottage, only blocks from her house. She had no sooner parked her car when her phone rang. It was Lacey. “Belle, forgive me, but Steven and I aren’t going to make it tonight. He isn’t feeling very well. I think he has a fever.”
“What? He was just fine a few minutes ago.”
“No, he wasn’t. He had a headache, and I half suspect he’s coming down with something…”
“Oh, Lacey,” she practically moaned. “I’m at Dare’s place. What am I supposed to do now?”
“Oh, um, have fun I guess. Just a minute…” She heard a garbled conversation between her two friends, and then Lacey was back on the phone. “I’m really sorry, Belle. I have to go. Steven needs me. He’s such a baby when he’s sick.” And then the phone went dead.
Belle stared at the cell phone in her hand for several long seconds, and then climbed out of her car. Dare waited for her on the curb.
“Lacey and Steven aren’t coming,” she told him with an apologetic smile. “I guess Steven isn’t feeling well.”
“He seemed okay earlier…”
She offered a rueful smile. “I thought so, too, but…” She frowned and shook her head. “I’m thinking… I mean, it’s entirely possible…”
“What?” he prompted.
“It’s possible you and I are being set up.”
“You think?” he said cheerfully.
“I think,” she said wearily. “Hey, I’ll just go home. I’m sure you have things to do.” She turned to leave.
Dare gently took a hold of her arm. “Hey, hold up there. I was promised dinner out and an evening of fun with friends.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She hadn’t promised anything. Lacey and Steven had been the orchestrators of this evening, and they were conspicuously absent.
“Lock up your car,” he said. “I have an idea.”
She obligingly locked the car and turned to him, simultaneously raising her wrist to check the time.
“Hey, none of that,” he admonished. “This is supposed to be a night off for you.”
She pressed her eyelids shut and counted to five before opening them. “Really, I’ll just go. I … don’t need a night ‘off’.”
Dare watched her speculatively, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Belle found herself shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “Why don’t we take a walk downtown?” he suggested. “We can grab a bite to eat and then stroll along the waterfront.”
Belle considered the offer, and then remembered her dress and strappy sandals. “I’ll need to change. These shoes aren’t conducive to walking.”
“Sure.”
Moments later, they arrived at her house in her car, which she pulled into her single stall garage. They climbed out and Dare followed her into the kitchen. “Give me a minute,” she said as she crossed the room.
He nodded and dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. Belle hurried upstairs to change, grimacing as she surveyed her closet for something to wear. A glance at the nearby hamper confirmed she needed to do some laundry. She finally settled on walking shorts, a yellow top, and tennis shoes.
Back downstairs, she found Dare on the back porch, talking to the dogs. She found herself smiling as the dogs jostled to get closer to him, vying for his affection. Even the kitten scampered from Tri’s dog house and pressed against his ankles.
“They really like you,” she mused aloud, somewhat surprised her animals were so smitten with a veritable stranger. It had taken the dogs weeks to get accustomed to Lacey and Steven.
“Ah, they’re good dogs,” he praised the hyper canines. “And clearly great judges of character,” he added with a grin.
Chapter Eight
After Dare and Belle had eaten a light dinner at a small café on the waterfront, they strolled along the path that bordered the downtown river. They stopped to survey the water below them. When Belle shivered slightly, Dare draped his light jacket over her shoulders.
“I can’t believe I walked off without a jacket,” she said. “Now you’ll be cold,” she added with a wince.
“I’m fine,” he said, smiling into her eyes.
She turned back to study the water. Although dusk had settled over the city center, bright lights twinkled around them, illuminating the water below. She pulled her eyes away from the river and glanced around her, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling downtown.
She realized she hadn’t enjoyed an evening out with anyone for months. Somehow, her social calendar had taken a backseat to all things professional, and she found herself wondering how her life had become all work and no play. And most of all, she wondered why it was she preferred it that way?
She frowned and Dare studied her features, taking in the emotions criss-crossing her lovely face.
“It’s pretty down here,” he commented, drawing her out of her thoughts.
She shook her head to clear it and nodded. “It’s been awhile since I’ve walked along the waterfront.” She turned in a slow circle, studying the cityscape. “Wow, the downtown area has really grown. Is that a new sky scraper?” she asked, wondering how she’d managed to miss it during her drive to and from work each day.
“You haven’t noticed that building before?” he asked, failing to mask his surprise.
“No,” she admitted.
“It’s the Whaley building,” he told her. “It’s been touted on the local news as the tallest building downtown. Heck, it’s the tallest building in the state—a veritable engineering marvel. I understand it was completed last month.”
She shrugged. “Guess I missed that.”
“Wow.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, eying him intently.
“Oh, nothing,” he said quickly, but tipped his head to the side as he studied her face. “Belle, is it possible Millicent is right that you work too hard?”
She furrowed her brow and shot him a dirty look. “No, I don’t think she’s right.”
“But Belle,” he pointed out, “you didn’t see the skyscraper through the…” His words trailed and he laughed uncertainly. “Strike that. I meant to say, there’s a good chance you do work too hard, and you’re not seeing it because, well, you’re not seeing the forest through the trees.”
“You’re talking in riddles,” she said in a frustrated tone. “What is it I’m not seeing through the trees? Or skyscraper? Or whatever?”
He simply shook his head and watched her sadly. “I think Millicent’s right. You really do need a vacation.”
“I don’t need a vacation.”
He smiled softly, his eyes seeming to darken. “Maybe you need this more.”
When he leaned in to kiss her, it was the last thing she expected. And more surprising was her response to it. She found herself returning his kiss with an intensity alien to her. Finally, she pulled back and reached a hand to her tingling lips. Dare smiled like the cat that had swallowed the canary.
“What are you grinning about?” she asked.
“You enjoyed that,” he said, failing to mask a hint of triumph in his voice. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
“Well, I’m not a robot, you know. Much as Lacey, Steven, Millicent, and … you seem to think I am. Wait a minute,” she said testily, “what do you mean, ‘maybe there’s hope for me yet?’”
“Hey, I never said you’re a robot,” he assured her, grinning broadly. “A workaholic maybe, but never a robot.”
“Go back to that ‘hope’ thing,” she insisted. “What was it you said? Oh, yes. Maybe there’s hope for me yet. Exactly what does that mean?”
“I mean, you’re so caught up in work, at Legal Aid, and at home, it’s good to know I can break through the façade…”
“Façade?”
She watched him through narrowed eyes now, her head cocked to the side. She straightened and her eyes widened. “You mean the ice princes
s façade!” she accused angrily, gearing up for a verbal battle. Men had called her that before, and it galled her still. She was a young woman who had worked for a prestigious law firm, and who hadn’t succumbed to the charms of every legal eagle who came her way, but that didn’t make her an ice princess.
Dare gave her a quizzical glance, and then raised a conciliatory hand. “Hey, I never called you an ice princess,” he said crisply, adamantly. “I just kissed you, remember? Those were definitely not the lips of an ice princess.”
Unsure how to respond, she turned and began walking. Once again she was lost to her thoughts. Dare walked silently beside her. When he took her hand, her first inclination was to pull away, but she realized she didn’t want to. Interesting. Her feelings were conflicting—odd.
He finally broke the silence. “What changed you?”
Belle stopped walking and pinned him with a confused gaze. “What?”
“What changed you? What happened to alter your personality so dramatically from the sixteen-year-old in that tape to the woman that stands here tonight? Was it a gradual transformation, or instantaneous? It had to be something significant.”
She emitted a haggard sigh. This topic of conversation wasn’t any more desirable than the previous one. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Please,” he persisted. “I’m curious, Belle.”
She glanced around her. She considered bolting, but realized he had a hold of her hand.
“Please, Belle,” he said softly. “I’m not judging you. The truth is, I admire your convictions. Very few people would turn their backs on a life of luxury.”
“I…” She paused, searching for an answer to his question. The answer wasn’t so easy to give, since it wasn’t a particular event that had changed her, but a series of events over the course of a year. Finally, she spoke, “My grandfather took me on a very long trip…”
Her words trailed off and he nodded. “Going abroad will definitely change a person’s perspectives. Where did you go?”
She paused, shoring herself to discuss painful memories. “My grandfather promised me a trip to Italy for my sixteenth birthday.” She forced a smile. “Little did I know, he’d made other arrangements for me. Had I known he’d changed our plans, of course I would have kicked and screamed all the way to Africa…”
“You traveled to Africa?”
“To several countries in Africa, and from there, we flew to Bangladesh, India, and from there…” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “It wasn’t a ‘sightseeing’ trip, in the traditional sense of the word, but I saw … a lot.”
She paused momentarily and smiled sadly. “My grandfather didn’t pull any punches. He forced me to see things I didn’t want to look at—things that I sometimes see in my dreams—nightmares,” she amended. “Things I will never forget.”
Belle didn’t miss the flash of anger in Dare’s eyes, and she could easily read his thoughts.
“No,” she said with certainty in her voice, “it was the best thing he could have done for the person I was. Had he not forced me to look—to really see—I wouldn’t have changed. I never would have … changed.”
Dare sighed loudly and shook his head. “Okay, but you were just a child, and obviously, the things you saw not only changed you, but altered you—and I can’t help but wonder if your grandfather went too far.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No. He showed me enough—he showed me everything. Dare, I saw little kids…” She shook her head, unable to continue as the tears glistened in her eyes.
When he pulled her into his arms, she didn’t resist his warmth, but instead surrendered to his comfort. She found herself crying, and realized later she had never really allowed herself to cry over the horrors she had seen during her travels to third world countries. She had never admitted to herself just how painful the memories were.
When she finally stepped out of Dare’s arms and attempted a smile, it was tremulous at best. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“No, I’m sorry, Belle. I really didn’t mean to upset you. Please forgive me.”
She continued walking. He fell into step beside her and reached for her hand again. She felt his warmth radiate through her fingers and travel up her arm. It felt … good, and oddly, she realized, she felt better for having spoken to him about her trip.
Although she hadn’t given him specifics about the things she had seen, she had conveyed that she’d seen horrific things, and she discovered it hadn’t killed her to acknowledge that reality. She had never spoken to anyone about the trip before, but instead had kept the memories locked tight within her—encased within a special compartment in her mind that she forced herself to access whenever she felt she might be growing lazy or complacent, or begin to take her good fortune for granted.
“You’re a good person, Belle.”
Dare’s words startled her, and she stopped walking. She met his earnest gaze with weary eyes. “I’m doing the best I can,” she admitted with a laugh.
“Your best is good enough,” he assured her.
“Oh, I know,” she said with an unconvincing smile.
“Do you?”
She smiled. “Sometimes.”
***
Later, as Dare walked her home, Belle found herself studying his handsome profile. Periodically she caught a flash of light from the intermittent street lamps above them, each illuminating the chiseled planes of his face. The effect was dazzling, and caused her to go weak in the knees every time her eyes lighted on him.
Was she so shallow that a handsome man caused her to swoon? she wondered. She was being ridiculous. Besides, he was an attorney. She’d sworn off attorneys. And even if she hadn’t, she didn’t have time for one in her life. Heck, one attorney was enough in any situation, she realized with a smile.
Only one attorney in any room. Wasn’t that the punch line in some joke she had heard recently? Lord knew, she had heard many jokes about those in her occupation.
Sometimes the jokes annoyed her. She knew many, many honest and conscientious lawyers like herself. But then, she knew others who lent credence to the jokes. Which type was Dare?
She knew the answer to the question before it had fully formed in her mind. He was conscientious and hardworking, and her frustration with him had much to do with his stepping into her shoes at Legal Aid, and less to do with the person he was.
She realized, she liked him. At least, she thought she did. Or maybe it was his lips she liked. She smiled at the cheeky thought and reached a hand to her own lips, remembering the kiss. When she noticed Dare watching her speculatively, she realized she needed to switch the channel in her brain—to think about work—which was familiar and comforting like an old shoe.
“I’m worried about Rosaria,” she said crisply. Yes, that’s the ticket, she thought. Work talk.
He paused in front of her porch steps and met her eyes. “Me, too,” he admitted.
“I still think we should call the police.”
“I don’t think so. As I told you at the office, it just doesn’t make sense to me that Biggs would threaten Rosaria. But hey, didn’t we agree this was a night out and away from work, and talk of work…”
“I didn’t make any such agreement,” she pointed out. “Maybe it was Lacey who made that promise.”
“Maybe it was,” he mused, “but I’m holding you to it.”
She groaned.
“Being away from work really is torture for you, isn’t it?” he observed sadly. “Well, yes,” she admitted. “Is that so bad?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Yes. This is a night off.”
“I don’t need a night off,” she protested.
“Well, I do,” he said. “I can’t even begin to keep up your pace. Imagine how difficult it is for me at Legal Aid, stepping into the shoes of the mighty Belle. You’re an office legend.”
“Really?” she said, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. So her coworkers missed her?
�
��Yes!” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Every move I make, somebody is compelled to point out how you would do it differently—better, more efficiently, yada, yada, yada. Turns out even my coffee making doesn’t compare to yours.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She smiled. Dare’s revelations warmed her heart. “They miss me,” she said, smiling wistfully.
“Oh, yeah, they miss you. Heck, I miss you and I haven’t even worked with you!”
Chapter Nine
Belle stood in her kitchen, studying the calendar on her refrigerator. Only twenty-four days until she could return to work. She wondered how Rosaria Rodriguez was doing. She wondered if Dare was handling the case in a thoroughly professional manner, but grudgingly conceded he was likely the picture of professionalism. However, she still could not fathom his willingness to consider that Biggs might not be the evil ogre she purported him to be, but instead seemed determined to give the man the benefit of the doubt.
With a sigh, she stepped away from the calendar and surveyed her kitchen. It was early, barely past six o’ clock, and as much as she had hoped she might be able to sleep in this morning, she simply could not. Her internal clock was set.
She popped a couple pieces of bread into the toaster, and then crossed the room to the refrigerator to pull out butter and jam. When the antiquated toaster finally ejected the bread, it came out crusty black. It was probably time to buy a new toaster. With a sigh, she tossed the burnt slices to the dogs, instead deciding on her usual breakfast of yogurt and granola.
Once done eating, she left the kitchen and headed upstairs to get ready for her day. Ready for what, she wasn’t exactly sure. After her conversation … confrontation … with Millicent before, she resolved today to at least attempt to take her boss’s advice to both relax and find a hobby. She wondered, was she truly a workaholic incapable of any activity outside a nine to five existence—or in her case, seven to eight?
The day before, she had finally finished up in the garden. She had briefly wondered if gardening qualified as a hobby, but decided it probably didn’t in her case. For her, it essentially involved more toiling than enjoying. Since there was nothing leisurely about her gardening pace, she decided to be done with it and to move on to something new.
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