The CEO's Little Surprise

“Chicken?” she asked sweetly. “You wanted the dare.”

“I’d be happy to take my shirt off,” he growled. “In the car. In your living room. In your office. No card game required. Pick another locale, sweetheart, and dare me to get naked to your heart’s content. Unfortunately, there are both a dress code and health regulations in a restaurant. Which means your dare is invalid.”

First the insistence he always paid his fair share of taxes and then he’d refused her dare because of health regulations? She bit back the noise of disgust. Barely. “When did you become such a boy scout?”

“I’ve never willingly broken the law.” He shrugged. “So there’s your answer since I can’t take the dare. My turn.”

“Your turn for what?” she asked, temporarily distracted by his claim to be a law-abiding citizen.

Honesty? Just because truth was the name of the game didn’t mean he wasn’t lying. But in reality, he’d never been anything but forthright in their relationship. Sure, he’d dumped her and broken her heart. But he’d been honest about it.

“To ask you a question.” He finished off his dinner and chewed thoughtfully. “What’s the name of the last guy you were in love with?”

Love. The word echoed through her chest cavity, which was still empty thanks to the last guy she’d fallen in love with. Her stomach rolled and the wine soured in her mouth.

Stupid game. She could lie. But he’d see through that as though he was reading her mind. And she couldn’t take the dare—she’d bet his hundred million it would be something impossible like sit in his lap for five minutes or put her underwear in his pocket with her toes.

Why had she started this game? To prove he’d become someone untrustworthy, when she had no evidence of his involvement in the leak? To prove she wasn’t affected by him any longer, when she’d only managed to prove the exact opposite?

Or some deeper reason that she couldn’t admit, even internally?

Trapped and furious with herself, she stared at him as her frustration grew. And then she pictured the shock on his face if she blurted out Gage Branson in response to his question. That was perhaps what stung the most—he didn’t even realize he’d detonated a landmine in her heart.

The emotional agitation inside boiled over. And that was unacceptable.

“Excuse me.” She threw her napkin into the middle of her plate of uneaten chicken marsala and fled to the bathroom before the sob beating in her throat escaped.

* * *

What in the... Gage watched Cass do the hundred-yard sprint through the obstacle course of tables and waiters, presumably headed for the restrooms at the rear of the building.

She’d started this silly game. Was she really that upset he hadn’t taken her dare? Why—because she wanted him naked and was too afraid to come right out and say it?

He shook his head and thought seriously about draining his untouched glass of wine to see if Cass made any more sense when he had a buzz. The subsequent headache would at least be more easily explained than the one Cass was giving him.

She didn’t return for a long while. A little concerned, Gage followed her, hoping to find a female employee to check on her if need be. Except she was sitting on the velvet bench at the end of the long hallway, her vibe so edgy, he could almost feel the tension.

“Hey,” he said softly as he approached. “What’s up? Trying to skip out on me? I said I’d pay.”

The joke didn’t get the smile he’d hoped for. In fact, her expression remained completely blank. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” Taking a chance that she’d welcome the company, he sat on the bench next to her.

She didn’t move. He’d noticed she did that a lot, holding herself frozen. But this time, he was close enough to see the muscle spasms in her thighs as if she was fighting her body’s natural instincts to flee in some kind of mind-over-matter contest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t play the game fairly,” he said sincerely. And gingerly, in case that wasn’t the reason she was upset. Women and emotions were not his forte and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn this was one of those situations where if he didn’t know why she was upset—she sure wasn’t going to tell him.

“You did.” She stared straight ahead. “I’m the one who was playing unfairly. You were right, the dare wasn’t valid.”

Somehow, her admission of guilt managed to sound as if she felt it was anything but her fault. Which was a rare talent.