Dare Me (Take Me 2)

Damen’s nearly shredded gut melded back together. With a glimmer of hope.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Nikki stood in the archway, her arm outstretched, offering him an elegantly wrapped gift.

His heart twisted at the same time it swelled with love.

He was in for a roller coaster ride of emotions today, without doubt.

He turned to face her.

She didn’t move.

He knew why.

Nikki stood under the mistletoe Mads had insisted they string up.

Emotion swept through him. He fought for a steady voice.

He fought to keep the mist from his eyes.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, he said, “You’re supposed to be on a plane right now.”

“Your agents got on. Fiora and I didn’t. That she can swiftly and deftly ditch professionals ought to tell you with absolute certainty that the woman should not lose her job in special operations. Not even to babysit me.”

“I’m infinitely more at ease knowing she’s babysitting you.”

“Yeah, you look cool as a cucumber,” she caustically retorted. “Your jaw sets any harder and it’s going to shatter. Your shoulders are about to bunch their way right out of that designer shirt of yours. And I’m guessing your legs are vibrating with the rigidity that’s holding you in place.”

“You’re incredibly observant.”

“I know you incredibly well,” she countered. “And my arm is getting tired of holding this present, so please come take it from me.”

He snickered at her. It was a small box that she held. Not exactly weighty, he suspected. Still.

He crossed to the archway and accepted the gift. He pulled the end of the white satin ribbon on the signature-blue Tiffany & Co. box.

“By its shape, I’m certain it’s not a boring fountain pen,” he mused. “So I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s either cuff links or a keyring.”

“Maybe it’s a diamond-studded tie tack.” She gave a noncommittal shrug.

“I have plenty of those, you realize.”

“Of course. I’ve seen your dressing room. A family of four could live quite comfortably in there.”

“I like my suits.”

“I like your suits, too,” she told him. “Now, open the damn box.”

He removed the lid and retrieved another one contained within, covered in black velvet.

Definitely cuff links.

He grinned. “I’ll like them even if they’re not monogrammed.”

“Didn’t have time for that,” she confessed.

“I didn’t think so.”