Detained Read Online Free PDF Page A

across the table, both arms flattened on it. He was close enough for her to study the crinkle in the scar on his chin.
    “What’s your adult promiscuity like?”
    Wow . Her natural reaction was to push away, but that’s exactly what he was aiming for. His version of the game was to unsettle; to try to shock. Why else tell her about his dyslexia, and his tough neighbourhood? Did he want her to dislike him? She met his blue-black eyes. “Good thing I wasn’t expecting sympathy.”
    “I’m not a sympathetic guy. Answer the question.”
    A quick jerk of his chin. That obey me tone. That expectation she would. “None of your business.”
    The mood shifted again. From the relief of distraction, of not being alone when the rules were unclear; from surprisingly playful to something darker. Darcy felt the beginning of a thread of fear unwind in her belly. She didn’t know this man, and there was no one else near. She needed to take care not to inflame things between them.
    He stood abruptly, his chair scraping, the table barking against the floor. Her thigh muscles clenched. She was ready to move too if she had to. He was looking at his scuffed RMs, his fists clenched at his sides.
    “Right, sorry. I got carried away there. Fuck. I apologise.” He looked up. “I reckon I owe you a dare.”
    He looked genuinely contrite, frowning. For the first time since he’d entered the room he looked uncertain. He waited, fine blond hair stood up on his muscled forearms; he must’ve been cold.
    “No, don’t worry. We don’t have to play anymore.”
    “How else can I make it up to you?”
    “Think warm thoughts. It’s really cold in here. You must be freezing.”
    He rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, I am cold now. No excuse for being a shithead though.” He opened his arms wide. “Come on, free shot.”
    The smart thing would be to start an entirely new conversation, something impersonal and safe, maybe about books or music, or get him to talk about his business. But volunteering for detention in a Chinese airport and playing truth or dare with a rich, attractive man who made you wonder if he kissed with the same authority he used when he wanted information stripped your sense of smart.
    “Dance.”
    He dropped his arms, his head tilting to the side. “Sorry?”
    “My free shot. I dare you to dance.”
    “Dance? What here, by myself, without music?” His voice filled with the audacity of it. He shook his head, a stunted smile of incredulity on his face. “With you watching?”
    It was harder than she’d thought to keep a straight face. “Yes. It will warm you up and make up for your master and commander act.”
    “I’m not going to dance.”
    “You did push-ups, what’s the difference?”
    “Vast,” he laughed. He shifted about. Restless, but amused not intimidated.
    “You’re not reneging are you?” That thread of fear was now a strand of thrill. Darcy liked that she’d surprised him, rattled him.
    He stopped still, immoveable object still, back in control. “I am.”
    “Wimp.”
    “A man should never be frightened of backing down when he’s in too deep.”
    “I thought you were noble. A noble man would keep his promises. He’d honour a dare.”
    “I’m not noble. That was the punchline to a joke.”
    “Is everything you’ve told me a joke, a lie?”
    His stillness deepened. “No.” Definitively said. Miss Fredrick and her French kiss wasn’t a lie, Spiderman, not being able to read, putting the Rhodes scholar in hospital. None of that had been said for entertainment value. She could see it in his eyes. It was her signal to retreat.
    “Well. I have some interview prep to get on with.”
    That was the smart thing to do, though the loss of the game, the withdrawal from him, gave her a twisted pang of regret. The sudden freedom of telling a stranger intimate things about herself, and not caring what he thought, was an unexpected side effect of Chinese immigration practice. She got up from the