Read Online Truth or Dare by Janis Reams Hudson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Janis Reams Hudson
Ads: Link
mirror again, and his mouth quirked up at one corner. What now, Morgan? You gonna chase her around the desk?
He sneered at his reflection. No, he wasn't going to chase her around the desk. He knew that. But right now, that was about all he knew, except that he didn't want to think about not ever being able to kiss her again. He would just have to take things as they came.
With a troubled sigh, he reached for his shaving kit. Something white flashed in the mirror. He poked his head out the bathroom door and saw a piece of paper on the floor, just inside the door to the hall.
Puzzled, he walked over and picked it up. It was Rachel's handwriting. "Jared: I got ready early, so I'll meet you in the conference room. Rachel."
Dammit, he'd hoped to talk to her before the meeting.
Just then he heard a door close out in the hall, and without thinking, he went to his door and stepped out.
* * * *
Rachel punched the elevator button, then pushed the hated green glasses up on her nose. A door opened down the hall, and she turned toward the sound. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jared standing outside his room wearing nothing but a frustrated frown and a damp towel.
All she could do was stare. After last night, she half expected to feel panic clawing at her throat. Instead, she felt heat, and it wasn't in her throat. The sight of all that dark, curly hair across his chest, glistening with moisture and narrowing to a thin line that disappeared beneath the towel, did strange things to her pulse.
He took a step toward her, and she swallowed.
"Dammit, Rachel."
Just then another door opened down the hall, and two elderly ladies stepped from their room. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they were only ten feet from Jared before they noticed him.
"Mildred," said the woman in the flaming orange polyester pantsuit.
"Yes," answered her friend in radioactive yellow. "Did you ever see so much glorious black hair? And so straight and silky looking."
As they walked past Jared, their eyes cut to him while they faced straight ahead.
"Mildred," the first said, keeping her voice low, but not low enough. "I do believe you need new glasses. His hair is as curly as can be."
"Oh, dear." Mildred blushed. "I must confess, dear, I was looking at his legs."
The two passed Rachel at the elevator and kept walking.
"Well, if we're confessing," the first said, "I'm afraid I was looking at his chest."
Jared was too stunned to do more than stand and stare. Then, with a jerk, he stepped back into his room, choking on startled laughter and fighting a chest – to – scalp blush. He gave a final peek down the hall just in time to see Rachel step into the elevator, trailing strangled laughter in her wake.
* * * *
By the time Rachel reached the conference room, she was still smiling. At least those two little old ladies had allowed her to make a clean getaway. And bless them, they'd taken her mind off last night.
A few minutes later, all thoughts of the incident in the hall and of last night fled as she readied the room for the upcoming meeting. She made certain each place at the long table had a legal pad, pen, and glass of ice water. Coffee and donuts in the far corner.
She noticed there was no orange juice. Jared would want his orange juice. After ordering some, she proceeded to set up her tape recorder.
Her main function, as Jared had described it, was to take notes of the meeting and pass out the appropriate reports at the appropriate time.
The recorder would eliminate the need to write down every word that was spoken, but she'd still have to take notes, since she didn't know these people, and wouldn't be able to tell who was who by listening to their voices.
Remembering all the work she and Jared had done over the last few weeks, she mentally crossed her fingers that all would go well for him during the next couple of days.
The door to the hall opened
He sneered at his reflection. No, he wasn't going to chase her around the desk. He knew that. But right now, that was about all he knew, except that he didn't want to think about not ever being able to kiss her again. He would just have to take things as they came.
With a troubled sigh, he reached for his shaving kit. Something white flashed in the mirror. He poked his head out the bathroom door and saw a piece of paper on the floor, just inside the door to the hall.
Puzzled, he walked over and picked it up. It was Rachel's handwriting. "Jared: I got ready early, so I'll meet you in the conference room. Rachel."
Dammit, he'd hoped to talk to her before the meeting.
Just then he heard a door close out in the hall, and without thinking, he went to his door and stepped out.
* * * *
Rachel punched the elevator button, then pushed the hated green glasses up on her nose. A door opened down the hall, and she turned toward the sound. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jared standing outside his room wearing nothing but a frustrated frown and a damp towel.
All she could do was stare. After last night, she half expected to feel panic clawing at her throat. Instead, she felt heat, and it wasn't in her throat. The sight of all that dark, curly hair across his chest, glistening with moisture and narrowing to a thin line that disappeared beneath the towel, did strange things to her pulse.
He took a step toward her, and she swallowed.
"Dammit, Rachel."
Just then another door opened down the hall, and two elderly ladies stepped from their room. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they were only ten feet from Jared before they noticed him.
"Mildred," said the woman in the flaming orange polyester pantsuit.
"Yes," answered her friend in radioactive yellow. "Did you ever see so much glorious black hair? And so straight and silky looking."
As they walked past Jared, their eyes cut to him while they faced straight ahead.
"Mildred," the first said, keeping her voice low, but not low enough. "I do believe you need new glasses. His hair is as curly as can be."
"Oh, dear." Mildred blushed. "I must confess, dear, I was looking at his legs."
The two passed Rachel at the elevator and kept walking.
"Well, if we're confessing," the first said, "I'm afraid I was looking at his chest."
Jared was too stunned to do more than stand and stare. Then, with a jerk, he stepped back into his room, choking on startled laughter and fighting a chest – to – scalp blush. He gave a final peek down the hall just in time to see Rachel step into the elevator, trailing strangled laughter in her wake.
* * * *
By the time Rachel reached the conference room, she was still smiling. At least those two little old ladies had allowed her to make a clean getaway. And bless them, they'd taken her mind off last night.
A few minutes later, all thoughts of the incident in the hall and of last night fled as she readied the room for the upcoming meeting. She made certain each place at the long table had a legal pad, pen, and glass of ice water. Coffee and donuts in the far corner.
She noticed there was no orange juice. Jared would want his orange juice. After ordering some, she proceeded to set up her tape recorder.
Her main function, as Jared had described it, was to take notes of the meeting and pass out the appropriate reports at the appropriate time.
The recorder would eliminate the need to write down every word that was spoken, but she'd still have to take notes, since she didn't know these people, and wouldn't be able to tell who was who by listening to their voices.
Remembering all the work she and Jared had done over the last few weeks, she mentally crossed her fingers that all would go well for him during the next couple of days.
The door to the hall opened
Similar Books
