An erotic romance novel by
Cincinnati, Ohio
Published by Phaze Books
Also by Leigh Ellwood
In the Dareville series…
Dare Me
Daring Young Man
Double Dare
Dare to Dream
A Winter’s Dare
Daringly Delicious
Also available…
Jilted
Surveillance
Why, Why, Zed?
and many more…
This is an explicit and erotic book
intended for the enjoyment
of adult readers. Please keep
out of the hands of children.
www.Phaze.com
Truth or Dare © 2004, 2008 Leigh Ellwood
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Phaze Production
Phaze Books
6470A Glenway Avenue, #109
Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222
Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.
To order additional copies of this book, contact:
books@phaze.com
www.Phaze.com
Cover art © 2008 Debi Lewis
Edited by Stacey L. King
ISBN-13: 978-1-59426-511-2
Second eBook Edition - December, 2008
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Author’s Note
Dearest friends of Dareville,
I thank you for taking the time to read this second edition of Truth or Dare, the book that introduced a daring little town to the world of erotic romance. Since publishing Truth or Dare in 2004 with Phaze Books, I hadn’t expected to expand the series as far as I have, and I’m far from finished! I hope you’ll stay a while and enjoy the scenery.
Truth, naturally, is the book that started it all, and if you enjoy it I hope you will consider trying the other print and electronic titles available and forthcoming. With regards to chronology, here is how the books should be read:
Truth or Dare
Dare Me
Double Dare
Daring Young Man
Dare to Dream
Daringly Delicious (available in print in the Phaze Books anthology, More, More, More!)
Dare Devils (not yet published)
Daring Red (not yet published)
Dare’s Destiny (not yet published)
A Winter’s Dare
And there’s always room in town for more.
Stay daring,
Leigh
Prologue
“Hello?”
“What are you wearing?”
“Who is this?”
“You got on those black bikini panties I like so much? The ones you were wearing at the Tavern when I dropped my fork and had to go under the table to get it?”
“What the fuck—Brady?”
“Nice to know you’re not screening all your calls.”
“This connection is terrible. Are you still in Europe?”
“I’m in a cab, heading home. I got in an hour ago, not counting what I spent in line getting through customs.”
“Yeah? Well, welcome home. Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, I did. Would’ve enjoyed it more if I had some company.”
“Brady, don’t—”
“Claire. Come on. You know, I was kind of hoping for a warmer welcome than this.”
“Brady. Jeez, you know everything I had to say I said before you took off.”
“And nothing’s changed? Absence hasn’t made the heart grow fonder?”
“Nothing’s changed. I’m sorry.”
“I spent a lot of nights alone.”
“Don’t.”
“Thinking about you, wishing you were lying next to me, underneath me.”
“Stop it. You’re only making it worse for yourself.”
“Thinking about your bare skin pressed next to mine—”
“I’m going to hang up if you don’t stop.”
“I just want to bury my face in those beautiful tits of yours.”
“I mean it.”
“I mean it, too. I’m not looking forward to going home to an empty bed.”
“Brady, how many times do I have to tell you? It’s not going to work out between us. We just don’t mesh.”
“Funny, I thought we meshed fine.”
“It’s more than just sex, Brady. I just don’t think we’re compatible. Our backgrounds and interests are different. I told you that.”
“And I told you that you didn’t give us long to really find that out.”
“Yeah, and what do you do? You leave the country.”
“You could have come with me, you know that.”
“You know I can’t just take off on a whim, Brady. I work.”
“And I don’t?”
“It’s different. We’re different. That’s why it can’t work. You need to grow up.”
“Claire…”
“What?”
“Can I come by? We can just go out for a drink. I promise I’ll behave and I won’t drop any forks…”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? It’s early yet.”
“Brady, I can’t. I, uh…”
“You, uh. You have plans?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. Can I call you later, then? Are you going to be answering your phone instead of screening numbers, one hopes?”
“Don’t, Brady. Don’t torture yourself. Look, I have to go. You take care of yourself, okay?”
“Claire, wait a sec. Claire?”
One
“Claire, damn it, pick up. I know you’re there,” Brady Garriston muttered into the receiver as the muffled ring tone hummed in his ear. Two rings, three rings, four rings, click. Now there was static on the other line, followed by a benign recording of Claire Walker’s voice telling Brady to leave a message and that she would get back to him as soon as possible.
Frustrated, he placed the receiver back against the wall. She was either screening her calls or she really had gone out like she said. Either way, he had to accept it—it was over. He sighed.
He let his gaze wander to the kitchen counter, where he noticed a small mountain of unopened mail about to slide into the sink. He laughed softly at the pending avalanche. His daughter Melissa, a student at NYU who lived with friends in the Village, had been instructed only to take with her the bills and any other important documents arriving at his apartment during his absence. This left him apparently with dozens of notices declaring that he may have just won a million dollars.
Sorry Mr. Clark, Mr. McMahon, he thought to himself, that I wasn’t here to collect, assuming you stopped by with a gigantic novelty check in my name. Better luck next time.
His ex-wife had called him foolish, allowing his daughter free rein over his checking account and access to his apartment while he dawdled around Europe and basked in the magnificence of cultures long dead, feeling sorry for himself. “Just don’t be surprised when you come back and discover you only have seventeen cents in the bank,” she warned. “It won’t take much for her to plow through the Garment District.”
“How can I be sure you wouldn’t try the same thing if I asked you to handle my expenses?” he had asked her slyly over the phone the night before boarding the plane. “I think I can trust my own flesh and blood with this.”
“Don’t be too sure,” a singsong reply caressed Brady’s ear. “She just might take revenge, considering you aren’t taking her to Europe with you.”
Brady sighed as the memories faded into white noise, and he plunged his hands into the junk mail pile, sifting half-heartedly through it. He looked at his watch. Nine-fifteen at night on a Friday—New York City was just waking up for the night, eager to revel in varying degrees of merriment and debauchery after eight hours of clock-watching. Messages retrieved on his cell phone revealed that he had no offers for projects and bookings waiting for him, either, and no prospects of any in the near future. His ex-wife was happily married to an orthodontist in Connecticut, his little girl was grown and preoccupied with her own life, Claire was moving on without him, and he was alone.
“Great,” he whispered involuntarily, dropping the mail back on the counter and retreating with the last of his travel bags to his bedroom. He tried not to feel bitter about it. Claire did deserve a real boyfriend, somebody strong and self-sufficient, and she had said she wanted as much. She wanted somebody dependable, and apparently a dependable man was not the type to jet across country on a whim.