The Dare (6 page)

"And what's that?" Jace spoke for the first
time since getting his ticket. "A shitload of money?"

"Nah," Jake answered for Travis. "Something a
lot more valuable."

"The question," Grandma piped up as she
strolled toward security, "is never what you lose. But if you care
that you're losing it in the first place."

"I think you've all lost your damn minds,"
Jace said, his voice hoarse. His panic-stricken eyes found mine as
he rubbed the back of his head and cursed.

"I'd rather not make a bet with a convicted
felon."

"Convicted?" Grandma gasped. "Bite your
tongue! I'm just visiting until this little misunderstanding is
over."

"I wouldn't call a white van with no license
plates, a ransom note, and enough rufies to put out a gorilla a…"
he put up his fingers in air quotes, "misunderstanding."

"Call it whatever you want. But I'm
innocent."

"And I'm Charlie Sheen."

"I knew you looked familiar!" Grandma
giggled. "Tell me, how's that sexy father of yours?"

Jace

The first thing I thought of when I got on
the plane was alcohol. The second? All the sex I
wasn't
having that the media was convinced I
was
. Funny, because at
this point,if I was engaging in said extra-curriculars with
prostitutes, I sure as hell wouldn't be so dumb about it.

The only evidence they had was a scorned
ex-girlfriend and Beth showing up at the airport with me. My
publicist had sent me a text and said not to worry
—
as far as everyone's concerned, I've been meaning to
take a vacation. All they'd needed to do was explain I was at a
wedding and catching up with an old friend. An old friend that I
hadn't seen in over ten years and had seduced right out of her
bridesmaid dress. Funny, because I doubted anyone but Beth and I
really knew that we'd met before. And even then, why was I vain
enough to believe that, out of all the guys Beth most likely had
had pawning over her in high school, that I'd be the one kiss she'd
remembered.

I groaned. The truth was… I had been holding
on by a thread already. I'd worked my ass off to get where I was,
and it terrified me to think that it could all be taken away. I'd
graduated from college early. Completed my masters in less than a
year. Studied through endless nights. Spent millions of my trust
fund on campaigning, and for what? For people to wait for me to
fail? And then throw me out of office onto my face? All because
they believed a woman who had… my heart clenched. I could still
smell the house.

I'd come home from a meeting in DC.

A fire had been lit in the downstairs, and I
could smell a roast and potatoes cooking in the oven.

I'd taken the stairs two at a time. Eager to
see Kerry, to hold her in my arms and forget about life for just a
few minutes. Really, that's all I ever asked of her. I'd used her
to relax and, in return, she'd looked good on my arm.

My time was precious. After dating awhile,
we'd joked around that two minutes was like me handing her hundreds
of dollars.

To me, time was the most valuable thing we
had as humans. I wanted to make the most of every moment.

Maybe I shouldn't have.

Because if I hadn't taken two steps at a
time.

If I hadn't come home early.

My life would be different. Granted, I'd be
living in ignorance, but still. I wouldn't be carrying around
scars, and I wouldn't want to run the other way every time a woman
smiled at me.

I cleared my throat and snuck a look at Beth.
She was reading
People Magazine.

What did I really know about her? Good
kisser. Nice ass. And a hell of a laugh. Unless she'd somehow
turned into a chain smoker, causing her laugh to sound more like a
hack. But that was it. For all I knew, she really had been a
prostitute at some point in her life. Maybe she had dirty little
secrets just waiting to pop out. Who didn't? Furthermore, how else
did she put herself through med school? I didn't say my logic was
sound, but I was also under an extreme amount of stress, which is
probably why, as the plane took off, I blurted out, "Are you a
prostitute?"

Unfortunately, when they seat you at the back
of the plane, what they really mean is they're seating you next to
all the crying and screaming kids that nobody else wants near first
class, where Grandma and everyone else was drinking and
laughing.

If I breathed hard enough, I could imagine
that the shit I was smelling wasn't from the little kid in front of
me, but some sort of
—
.oh, who was I
kidding? I was in hell. And I had five whole hours to wallow.

A few parents turned angry eyes in my
direction. I was too tired to care. So what? I'd said
prostitute.

"Prostitute?" Beth repeated, louder than I'd
initially said it. "And just how did you come to that conclusion
Mr. Senator?"

"Okay, if you keep calling me that, I'm going
to start calling you cookie monster, and we both know how you feel
about that."

"Bastard."

"I'll take it. Anything's better than Mr.
Senator."

Beth rolled her eyes and looked back at her
magazine.

"Are you going to answer my question, or do
you want me to see if the flight attendant has any cookies?"

"Do I look like a prostitute?" Beth
snapped.

"Well..." If I said she did, that basically
meant I was calling her slutty, and if I said she didn't, I had an
inkling she'd take that as me saying she wasn't attractive enough
to be one. Maybe I was overthinking things a bit. I tugged at the
collar of my shirt,. "No."

"Exactly." Beth's face fell, just enough for
me to notice. She turned away and looked down at her magazine but
didn't turn the page. Because she wasn't reading or looking, she
was hurt. Somehow me insulting her had turned into me hurting her,
and I hated hurting people, especially ones who didn't deserve
it.

"Look," I closed her magazine and whispered
in her hear, "I'm not saying you couldn't be one if you wanted to
be. You're sexy, alright? I'm not asking because I'm trying to
insult you, and I'm not trying to be a complete asshole. I just
need to know about your past. If you have any dirty secrets, if you
as much as sneezed on your high school teacher and accidently fell
over and exposed your pink underwear to a punk in your class and
got a detention for sexual harassment. I need to know these things.
Because they won't just attack me, they'll attack you too."

Beth's lower lip trembled.

I was fascinated. I hadn't ever been a lip
guy. I was more of a full package type of man. But her lips looked
like soft pillows, and I hated myself that I couldn't remember the
sensation of my tongue parting them last night.

"Well, no worries on that end, Jace." Beth's
voice shook a bit. "In high school my nickname was Boring Beth. I
had exactly three friends, including the lab rat that I had to
train for my AP psychology class and was a pity date for my senior
prom. So, sexual harassment? Prostitution? Selling my body or my
wares or whatever you call it? Nothing. Not even a freaking parking
ticket. Or a speeding ticket for that matter."

What? How was that even possible? She was
freaking gorgeous, and even in high school I'd been
intimidated.

I shifted uncomfortably and tried to open my
mouth to speak, but she kept talking. Was she talking about the
same girl I danced with all those years ago?

"In college I made out with two guys. One was
a McDonalds' employee. He smelled like fries. I hate fries."

Mental note:
She hates
fries. Who the hell hates fries?

"The other had a preference for garlic. He
said it kept the vampires away. As you can see, I only dated nerds
because, news flash, I am a nerd. I'm a chemist. I like safe. I
like white walls. I drink wine and watch Netflix on the weekends,
and I already have my eye on two cats to at the shelter. I may as
well settle into spinsterhood early. Now can we please stop having
this discussion? It was embarrassing enough waking up without no
memory of my first time with a guy let alone…"

I tried not to react. My loud inhale mixed
with a gasp probably didn't do well to shield my shock.

"Just forget it." Beth opened the
magazine.

"Beth, look," I licked my lips, "I didn't
know. I mean, I didn't..." Well shit. How in the hell was I going
to get out of this one? Or make it better. I did the only thing I
could think of doing or maybe it was for lack of thinking that I
pulled the magazine out of her hands and pressed my mouth against
hers.

Again, let's revisit the situation. Being
under severe amounts of stress can cause a person to make bad
choices. Clearly. Because kissing her was probably the worst idea
I'd had in the last hour. But she'd looked sad, and she'd basically
just told me that she'd given me her virginity, and then her green
eyes had gotten all glossy with tears, and I'd panicked. Yes, I,
Jace Brevik, US senator, panicked in the face of a woman almost
crying.

Her lips were just as soft as I remembered. I
coaxed them open and moaned as her tongue shyly touched mine.

"Are you married?" a squeaky voice asked.

I pulled back and glanced up. A girl who
looked to be about eight was hanging over the seat in front of us,
staring. Her pigtails bobbed on the side of her head as the plane
hit a bump of turbulence.

"No," I said, eyes narrowing, body still
pounding with lust. I was kissing a complete stranger. Kind of.
Well, not really. Damn it.

"My mommy says that boys and girls should
only kiss when they're married."

"You're mommy's living under a rock," I
grumbled.

"No, she's right here." The girl pulled back
and then shrugged. "She's sleeping. Sometimes she puts special
juice in my cup so she can sleep on the planes."

"I want special juice," Beth said under her
breath.

The girl giggled but still didn't turn back
around. And I was left to wonder how a soccer mom had been able to
sneak alcohol by security. Why hadn't I thought of that?

The girl kept staring.

To be honest, it was freaking me out. Don't
get me wrong. I liked kids. I patted their heads and kissed their
cheeks during photo-ops, but in my mind there was nothing freakier
than a horror movie with a little girl in it. It gave me the
creeps.

And this little girl looked exactly like one
who could star in her own horror movie.

Clearing my throat, I tried to look away,
because the longer she stared the more I was convince she was going
to take the plane down with her. In a moment of clarity, I reached
into my pocket and pulled out a piece of wrapped candy and held it
out to her. "Want some candy?"

"Stranger danger, nine-one-one, stranger
danger, nine-one-one!" the girl started wailing.

"Just a guess," Beth said, an amused smile
plastered across her pretty face. "But I'm gonna bet her mommy also
told her anyone who offered candy was living in an unmarked van
down by the river."

Within seconds, mama bear turned around and
glared at both me and Beth. I held up the candy like a white flag,
hoping the woman wouldn't slap me, or worse assume I was really
going to take her daughter. Masking tape her mouth? Possibly.
Kidnap? Hell no.

"You give my daughter candy?" she asked in a
gruff voice.

"I was trying to be nice." I gave her my best
politician smile.

"Be nice to someone else. We're all full
here, and if you offer her candy again, I'm voting Republican next
term."

"Nice." Beth chuckled once the woman turned
around.

"What?"

"She knew you! Yay! Another vote in your
favor." She held up her hand for a high five. I glared.

And that was it.

Note to self:
Life
isn't like the movies, and Beth isn't like any other girl I've ever
met.

I'd just had my tongue in her mouth, and we
weren't sitting there having a conversation about what it meant for
our new relationship. She wasn't doodling my name on her magazine.
There were no birds chirping above her head, and no, Celine Dion
did not start playing randomly throughout the plane. Instead, she
was acting like she had amnesia.

She was acting like she didn't care that I'd
just kissed her.

What did it mean? Why the hell had I kissed
her? Did that mean we were sharing a room? Was I dating? I didn't
date! I tugged at the collar of my shirt again and gasped for more
air.

Holy shit.

Not only was I following in Jake's
footsteps.

But I'd turned into a woman.

I half-expected birds to start chirping
around my head as cheerleaders danced down the aisle with
tampons.

Because for the next hour all I could think
about was not putting my arm on the armrest for fear that it would
brush against hers and she'd think I was doing it on purpose.

And then I was too nervous to drink soda,
because then I'd have to piss, and I'd walk by her, and she'd see
that I was sweating.

I was losing my cool.

And my entire career was based on the very
principle that I could be cool in any situation.

Except this one.

The one that got away was officially sitting
next to me on a five hour flight
—
and was
immune to me. Like a damn antibiotic. Shit. I was a disease.

I groaned and put my head in my hands,
leaning on the small tray.

My second hour in hell ended with the little
girl in front of us turning around again and asking if I had gas.
And that when she has gas, she moans too.

Side note:
I was never
reproducing.

"I'm not saying I didn't get a little help."
Grandma shrugged. "What woman doesn't want to look twenty years
younger? These old things still have some perk left." She pointed
to herself and winked.