Truth or Dare (8 page)

A collective groan sounded around the table and Sam laughed into his beer.

Ty waved Maggie closer. “Am I wrong, or was that some kind or receptivity test directed at Ava?”

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed. “I’m ninety percent sure that was a move.”

“Jesus.”

That about summed it up.

“Get on you?”
Ava demanded. “You know you just got yourself blacklisted as a backup date, right?”

Tony’s smile was all naughty little boy. “Like you were ever going to ask anyway?”

It should have been the comfortable end to a ridiculous conversation, but then Ford sat forward, steepling his fingers in that thoughtful way beneath his chin.

“Tony, I know you’ve got this long-term unrequited thing going with Ava, but truthfully, I disagree. I have several attractive female friends. Maggie, for instance. She’s beautiful and for the first few months I knew her, I might have entertained a few unsavory thoughts about getting around her panties.”

Maggie cocked her head, leaning across the table to squeeze his hand. “Aww, Ford, you sweet thing.”

He nodded at her. “But I can say with all honesty, there’s nothing more than friendship now.”

It was true, and she loved him for being gentleman enough not to cite the gagging incident as evidence. Not that it mattered, seeing as how Ava was making a little curly-tongued kind of barf face while Sam was beside her, putting a fist to his mouth, puffing out his cheeks.

She turned to Ty, expecting more of the same, but his attention was focused on some message through his phone that had a furrow dug deep between his eyes and the set of his mouth making Maggie want to ask if he was okay.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, because she made
sister status.
Same with Sam and Ava. But put Maggie in front of Sam in a bikini holding a bottle of oil and the guy’s going to offer to help her with all those hard-to-reach places.”

“Forget the bikini,” Sam suggested, without bothering to look up from his menu. “I’ve got some canola back at my place. Let’s go.”

Phone in hand, Tyler gave the scarred tabletop a quick rap with his knuckles. “Sorry, gotta take care of this. Order without me and don’t wait.”

Ava eyed his retreating back, and then turned to Maggie. “So the date with Tyler. Not to get into Tony’s boat or anything, but that was really just a bail and you aren’t actually thinking about making him a repeat pact offender, right?”

“Right.” Yes, that was exactly what she’d said…She even had a laundry list of reasons why. But—

No buts.

Ty was an in-the-moment kind of guy. When he was there, he was great. Fun to trash talk with during a game. Up on pop culture, politics, and current events. He could converse about anything, adding a fresh spin that either left her laughing or pondering his position hours after they’d finished their discussion. He made her thoughtful and, truthfully, there had been those fluke instances when for a moment, she felt
something.
Something different. Something hot and electric. And she kind of liked it.

But the guy had about a dozen brick walls he didn’t let anyone past.

She knew he worked freelance in marketing, knew he was successful, and enjoyed it. But if ever the conversation circled around to why he’d left the firm he’d been with in New York, or what brought him to Chicago, whether he intended to stay, or anything that smacked of too personal, he had an uncanny ability to deflect. He was smooth, but there was no mistaking the way he protected his past.

And if ever there was a red flag to warn her off a guy, it was
secrets.

But all that aside, Maggie wasn’t interested in turning Tyler into anything but another addition to her rock-solid group of friends.

She didn’t want a boyfriend.

Nothing had changed in that regard.

“We’re friends. And friends is all we’re ever going to be.”

“Okay, then. Since you used up your freebie with Three last month and Hot Doc didn’t have time for more than an apology phone call before he skipped town, any prospects in mind for Mr. December?”

“Wow, would you look at this menu. I’m starved.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ignore me if you like. I could totally use a full-body spa scrub. And I’m thinking deep tissue for the massage. No girly hands, Swedish-style for me this time. I want—”

“How is this always about me, Ava? You’re the one who came up with the stupid pact,” she whisper-hissed. “What about you, huh? Have
you
got a date lined up yet?”

She always did, so Maggie didn’t even know why she was asking. And they were always pretty awesome-sounding candidates, too. Quality date material with conversation skills, genuine interest, and per Ava’s personal pact requirements, a hotness rating of at least eight. The cop, Five-O, had actually been closer to a nine, but apparently he’d answered a text during dinner and that had been the end of that. But still, on the whole, Ava got good dates. Something Maggie hadn’t cared much about…at least until she’d gone out with Tyler and had a good one of her own.

Now the idea of muscling through another two hours of subpar and off-fit seemed downright depressing.

“As a matter of fact I do,” Ava answered.

“Fine.” At least the heat was off her for a few minutes. Reaching for a couple of the table’s duck-fat fries, which were disappearing at an alarming rate, she asked, “Who’s next up on the docket?”

“Litigator from down on three.”

“Elevator Guy?” she choked out. “I thought we talked about this.”

The guy had been riding past his floor for months, striking up odd conversations with Ava every time they landed in the same car. And finally one day they got as far as what firm he was with, and she realized what he’d been doing to talk to her all that time.

There were plenty of women out there who might find it romantic, but in Maggie’s mind…it smacked of deception. Sure, it might have been small. But deceit was a slippery slope.

A flash of Kyle’s angry, desperate face breached her thoughts, his clammy grip bruising her arms, and his words sounding before she could shut them off.

“You think I wanted this? That I’m proud? I did it for you. Everything, Maggs!”

Stomach churning, she tamped down the old memories, shoved them back to the recesses of her mind so she could concentrate on the more immediate problem in front of her.

A guy with the potential to do or say
anything
to get what he wanted. And her best friend going out with him.

“Sam, you know who Ava’s going out with this month?”

He popped his own fry in his mouth, chewing around his words even as he reached for another. “Elevator Guy?”

Maggie swatted at his hand and took the fry he’d been after. “And that doesn’t bother you at all?”

Brows drawn forward in a look of pure confusion, he asked, “Why would it?”

Ava let out a short laugh, shrugging down in her chair. “Maggie thinks he’s a liar. Dangerous.”

“I don’t know. Seems okay to me. I mean, he thought you were hot and was working the opportunities to get to know you better.” As though satisfied for himself, Sam kicked back and started humming “Love in an Elevator.”

Maggie shook her head at Sam’s selective overprotective disorder flaking out at exactly the wrong time. “He’s waving a giant flag in your face telling you he’s not above a little deception when it suits his needs.”

Ava leveled her with a pitying look. “Or he’s telling me he thinks I’m worth going out of his way for. Look, Maggie. He’s a nice enough guy. Tall, clean-cut, obviously employed. And I kind of appreciate his
effort.
The fact that he looked at me and he decided to take
action,
to do something about it, take an extra minute out of his day a couple of times a week to see where it could go. I like that.”

Right.
There it was.

Ava dug guys who went after what they wanted. And that his pursuit managed to be active, understated, and thoughtful all at once—fine, he sounded right up her alley. So maybe Maggie shouldn’t drag all her own issues into the conversation and just let her friend enjoy.

“He meets the criteria?”

“He works downstairs from me, Maggie. I know about thirty people who know him. References…check. Employed…check. General heebie-jeebies and hygiene thing…check, check. And come on, I’m trapped in an elevator with him on a semi-regular basis and he hasn’t broken out the chloroform yet…so I’m going.”

Maggie forced a smile she really wanted to be genuine. “That’s awesome. Hope you have fun.”

Something sizzling and damn near aromatically orgasmic hit the table to their left and Maggie was starting to salivate. Reaching for the menu again, she met with resistance when Ava hooked a finger over the top, drawing it away.

“So enough about me. What about you?”

Cripes.

“No prospects yet, but I’ve still got another couple of weeks.”

Ava rolled her eyes in a silent “whatever,” then went on. “Right, because you’re going to be out trawling for dates on Christmas Eve. Let’s nip this month’s question mark in the bud early, shall we? Neil was asking about you at the gym yesterday.”

Maggie perked up. “Really?”

Neil had been the personal trainer assigned to them for the four freebie sessions that came as part of their package when Maggie and Ava joined the club the previous year. He had an
ehh
sense of humor, a gym-pumped physique that was impressive but sometimes made her wonder what would happen if she stuck the guy with a pin, and a sort of loose, Southern California way about him. Sure, there’d been those few times when it was clear they weren’t on the same page—when his casual reference left her confused, or her tongue-in-cheek remark dug a furrow between his brows. But with the scarcity of qualifying dates what it was, she wasn’t about to let a lack of chemistry or connection hold her back. It never had before. Besides Ava had essentially just handed her December on a silver platter.

Tyler stood at the street corner. Gina had texted him twenty minutes earlier that she wasn’t going to be around for their call the next day and she had time to talk right then. It had literally taken him thirty seconds to get outside and dial, but he rang through to voicemail. He’d left a message, texted, and waited five more minutes before trying again. She might have gotten another call. Or she might be dicking him around. With Gina, it could be anything. He wanted to go back in the restaurant and sit down with the friends who didn’t get off on fucking him over. Not even bother texting Gina back to tell her what she could do with her call…

But that wasn’t how it went. Not anymore. He had the one call a month and if he gave Gina crap about it, he wouldn’t even get that. Which meant he’d wait out here another twenty minutes or another hour if that’s what it took to get her on the line.

A message pinged and his teeth went on edge.

Gina:
You can call now.

Right.

He should consider himself lucky she bothered to get back to him at all.

Rolling out his neck, he took a deep breath and dialed her back.

“Hey, babe…No, no. It’s not a bad time at all. How you doing?” he asked, pushing as much caring into his voice as he could muster. It wasn’t as hard as it had been at the beginning. And he was rewarded for his effort when he heard her long sigh into the line.

“Okay, I guess.”

And like that, he didn’t care that she’d screwed around with making him wait again.

“That doesn’t sound very good, Gina. Want to talk about it?”

“You’re not calling to hear about my problems.”

That’s where she was wrong. Her problems were the solution he’d been waiting for.

“I care about you, Gina. Of course I want to hear if you’ve got a problem. I want to help.”

“Oh Tyler, I don’t know what to do…”

Maggie should have been ashamed of herself, but in her world of forced dates, shame was a luxury she couldn’t afford. So it was with her head held high and an exaggerated swing in her step that she strode into the gym, working her “come hither” for everything it was worth.

Jackpot.

Not only was Neil at the front desk, but she was pretty sure that audible click she’d heard from across the entry was his throat after catching sight of her.

Just what she’d been hoping for.

She was wearing her bad-girl boots, after all, a pair of black stilettos that zipped up in a snug caress of leather ending at her knee and leaving a few inches of bare skin below the hem of her tight skirt. Top that with a fitted V-neck sweater and the outfit did wonders for her figure—which thanks to her more legitimate visits to the gym was still in shape.

Neil leaned over the desk, checking her out head to toe. “Miss Maggie Mae. No workout gear? What brings you in today?”

“What? These aren’t regulation for the treadmill?” she asked, making herself want to puke when she swiveled her boot, drawing the kind of attention to her legs that was shameless indeed. But today working her coy, little kicked-out ankle was a necessary evil. She was doing her part for the pact. Sending signals and making herself available. Laying the foundation of flirt they would build their one, possibly two, dates upon before she razed the relationship completely.

Unless somehow, Neil turned out to be “The One.”

Open to the possibilities.

He wrinkled his nose at her and flexed his pecs.

Showy. But who was she to judge after donning the cruel shoes from hell because of their miraculous throat-clicking potential?

Twelve and a half minutes later, Maggie was around the corner from the club, replacing her stilettos with a pair of knockoff Uggs pulled from her bottomless tote and congratulating herself on landing her date for Saturday night.

Not only had she checked off December, but Neil had invited her to his roommate’s holiday party. Which meant lots of people. And considering they’d managed an awkward silence within less than fifteen minutes just now, that was probably a good thing.

This date was going to be a piece of cake.

Hands gripping the steering wheel at ten and two, nose running, her body swelling in spots she didn’t want to think about, Maggie coughed out a curse with Neil’s name on it and signaled left. The air whistled through her lungs with each tight, furious breath. Almost home.