Eleven

Parisa forced that silly question out of her head. Of course she hadn't changed her mind about fooling around with Jared. "Let's play cards," she said decisively.

"All right. How about poker?"

"As long as it's not strip poker."

"That would make things more interesting."

"Not going to happen," she told him, even though the idea of seeing Jared without clothes was more than a little appealing.

"I thought you'd be more adventurous." Jared got up from the table and opened a nearby drawer, pulling out an unopened pack of cards.

"I'm adventurous. Want to skydive, bungee jump, climb up the face of a skyscraper, I'm your girl, but sex with a mystery man who could be married, be a criminal, or be gone before the sun comes up—not so much."

He sat down across from her and opened the cards, shuffling them like a well-trained dealer. "I'm not married, and I'm not a criminal."

"What about the last part?"

"I could be gone before the sun comes up—if I had a good reason to leave."

"There you go."

"But I think you could do the same—if you had a good reason."

"Maybe," she admitted. "Which is why playing cards and not having sex is the best decision."

"I'd call it a decision, but definitely not the best one," he drawled.

She smiled, enjoying their charged-up conversation and the fact that she felt more like herself than she had in a long time. As he shuffled the cards again, she said, "Did you by chance work at a casino?"

"For a few months actually—in Las Vegas. I worked high stakes poker."

"Sounds like there's a story there."

"It was interesting to watch what people are willing to gamble, how good they are at hiding their emotions, what makes them sweat, and how they interact with people they think are equals versus those who are clearly beneath them."

"I'm guessing they don't act well."

"That probably wasn't a difficult guess since you have moved in a world of privilege."

"That's true. I have met a lot of people with money, but the ones who impressed me the most were the ones who used their financial status to make the world better. I don't have a lot of patience for materialistic people. Not when I've seen so much suffering. I wish there was more sharing of wealth, more working together, because when people do that, lives can be forever changed."

"Did you see that suffering as the stepdaughter of a diplomat or as a translator?"

"A little of both," she said quickly, realizing how much she was giving away. "So, what are we playing?"

"Your call—poker, Crazy Eights, Go Fish, gin rummy, blackjack?"

"Let's play blackjack."

"Fine, I'll be the house."

"Great. We both know the house always wins."

"You want to be the house?"

"No. I like bigger odds," she said. "The challenge of beating the house makes it more interesting."

He smiled at her. "Ah, your competitive spirit is kicking in. Shall we play for money?"

"Since I don't have any money at the moment, let's play for something else."

"You already ruled out stripping."

"Yes, I did. Let's play for information. Loser has to answer one personal question about themselves, and it cannot be a lie."

"All right," he said, with another shuffle. "Let's do it." He dealt the cards, one to her, one to him, then another to her face down, while he placed his second card face up; it was a jack.

"Damn," she muttered. She had the terrible feeling he had an ace under there or another face card, and she had a six and a nine for a total of fifteen.

"You want a card?" Jared asked.

She should hit on fifteen. It was a logical move, but Jared seemed to be a man upon whom luck smiled. Still, if she didn't hit, he could beat her with a lot of combinations. "Hit me."

He put down an eight—twenty-three. Bust.

Then he turned over his second card—a queen, for twenty. "You lose."

"Fine, what's your question?" she asked with a disgruntled sigh.

"Who was your last boyfriend and why did you break up?"

She was happy the questions were more personal than professional. "That's two questions," she complained.

"Fine, answer the first one."

"His name was Paul. He was a good guy."

"But not good for you?"

She shook her head. "He didn't understand or appreciate the demands of my job. Mostly, because he never wanted to talk about what I did, only what he did."

"Sounds like a loser."

"He was like a lot of men I dated—more interested in themselves than in me."

"I doubt that."

"I'm talking about beyond the bedroom. I haven't met many men who wanted to know the real me."

"Do you show people the real you—even if they ask?"

She stared back at him, knowing that this shadowy, mystery man probably knew as much about keeping secrets as she did. "You'd be surprised how few ask."

"I'm asking."

"Only because you have an agenda."

"Not completely true."

"But partially true."

A slow smile spread across his face. "You've actually made me open up more than I normally do."

"Right back at you, Jared. Is that your real name?"

"Yes. Is Parisa your real name?"

"You know it is. You've done research on me."

"And you've done research on me. Or you've had your friend do it for you."

"There's very little about you on the internet. You clearly are not someone who is posting cat pictures on social media."

"Not a cat fan. Dogs all the way."

"What? How can you say that? Kittens are so cute."

"And completely indifferent. They can love any warm body whereas a dog is loyal, devoted, family."

She thought about that. "You're more like a cat than a dog, so it's interesting that you wouldn't pick that animal for a pet."

"Maybe because I want more in a pet."

"Well, I like cats, and I like dogs, for different reasons. But really, any animal is precious. I never got to have a pet when I was growing up, because we moved all the time. What about you?"

"We always had dogs, mostly Labs, a couple of golden retrievers. They were way too big for our city apartment, but my dad grew up in the country, and he loved having dogs in the house. My mom wasn't nearly as excited about it, but she loved my dad, so…"

As his expression softened, she said, "It sounds like they had a great relationship."

"To me, it looked awesome. They fought, but never with meanness. It was always just small irritations, and usually my dad would end up making my mom laugh, and suddenly they were kissing. She used to say he was a charmer."

"I think you take after him."

He smiled. "Maybe a little."

"Okay, we got off track. Deal the cards."

The next hand gave her blackjack, which made her very happy. "Okay, I'm going to go with your questions—last girlfriend and why you broke up."

"Her name was Carrie. And we broke up because she used me."

"How did she do that?" she asked curiously.

"You already got your two answers."

"But we're still on the topic of Carrie. So, it counts. Go on."

"A friend of mine is a movie producer. Carrie was a model, who wanted to be an actress, and she thought I could get her there."

"I did not expect that to be what she wanted. Who's your friend? Has he produced anything I might have seen?"

"His name is Larry Corker. His latest movie was Tears in a Bottle, named after a Jim Croce song."

"I didn’t see it, but I saw the trailer. That movie was super popular."

"Larry is a good producer, and he had a fascination with the singer who wrote the song and then died in a tragic plane crash."

"Where did you meet him?"

"College. First day of freshman year. There was a blowout party in the dorm, and Larry came to school as a rather protected kid. He'd never gone wild, and he made up for it in one night. He actually passed out in the hallway, naked. I found him in the morning, got him some clothes, gave him some coffee. He was mortified. He thought he'd already ruined his college experience, but I got him over the hump. We became good friends. And he continues to pay me back with private screening invites."

"Did you try to get Carrie in to see him?"

"No. I don't use my friends. That pissed her off. She said everyone uses everyone, so what's the big deal? And that if I wanted something, I wouldn't hesitate to do whatever I needed to do to get it."

"Well, she has a point. You're using me right now."

"We're using each other," he corrected. "Although, I still think we could be doing it in a more enjoyable way."

She made a face at his sexy remark. "I think it's time to deal the cards."

They played another hand, and she won again. "Ooh, I'm liking this game."

"Me, not so much," he grumbled. "I thought the house was supposed to win. Okay, what's your next question? And make it an easy one this time."

"What was your most embarrassing moment? You told me Larry's naked-in-the-dorm-hallway story. What about you? What's the experience you wish you could take back?"

"That's not an easy one. I don't believe I have an embarrassing moment."

"Everyone does. You just don't want to say, because you don't want to be embarrassed."

"I don't embarrass that easily."

"Come on, Jared."

"You're a pushy woman, aren't you?"

"Yes, but it's not your turn for a question."

He laughed. "Okay. I was at a community pool in the summer with a girl I'd just started dating."

"Carrie?"

"No. This was during college."

"What happened at the pool?" she asked with interest.

"I jumped out of the water and onto an inner tube and my bathing suit didn't make the trip."

"No way." She started laughing. "You mooned the pool?"

"Oh, yeah, and there were a lot of people around me."

"What did you do?"

"Got back into the water as fast as I could and tried to get my bathing suit up before I had to hoist myself onto the deck. I didn't want a repeat performance, although I'm told I have a very nice ass."

She flushed at the thought of his ass and didn't doubt it was as nice as he'd suggested. The man did triathlons. She could only imagine what kind of muscles his clothes were hiding.

Jared leaned forward, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "You can see it if you ask nicely."

"I'm not interested."

"Yes, you are."

"You need to deal the next hand."

"Fine, but I better win this time."

As if he'd willed the cards to come up his way, Jared got blackjack, and it was her turn on the hot seat.

"Are you going to ask me my most embarrassing moment?" she enquired.

"I don't think so." He thought for a moment. "What scares you the most? And it can't be about Jasmine. This is about you. What worries you, Parisa?"

"Can I just say spiders?"

"No, because you'd be lying."

She sighed. "True. Spiders don't scare me at all. I don't know. I'm not that fearful."

"Try harder."

"Well, I guess it would be…time."

He arched a questioning eyebrow. "Time scares you?"

"Yes. Too much time to think. Too little time to do what needs to be done. Time that moves too fast, takes me places I'm not ready to go. Time that moves too slow, and I can't get where I need to be. Time that ends before I'm ready."

"So, it's time," he said dryly.

She smiled and gave a helpless shrug. "I can't control time, and I don't like that."

"I get it."

"Do you? Because I sound like a lunatic."

"Does the fear of time come from the night you almost lost your life, almost didn't make it into the helicopter?"

"Probably. I had a lot of nightmares after that." She paused. "But the real problem is that I think too much. My brain is always working. And when I have too much time to think, I worry that I'm not doing enough. I hate to fail, and I hate to waste a second. It's bugging me even now that we're not doing something to save Jasmine or find Ben."

"I can get obsessed like that, too," he admitted. "It sometimes makes me do crazy things…like following a woman from the hospital to a safe house and waiting for her to wake up."

They exchanged a smile of complete understanding, and it deepened the connection between them. "That was crazy," she agreed.

"You're not the only lunatic in this room."

"I guess it's good to have company."

"We'll get back to it all tomorrow, Parisa."

"I know."

"Do you want to keep playing cards?"

"No, I think that's enough truth for tonight. I'm going to lay down on the couch. You take the bed."

"Not a chance. It's all yours, Parisa."

"It's your bed."

He shrugged. "I'm fine with the couch. I'm not that tired yet. I'm going to catch the news."

Considering how comfortable his bed was, she decided not to argue. "All right. Your call."

He caught her arm as she was about to get up, his gaze boring into hers.

"What?" she asked, her voice suddenly a little too breathless. She trusted him not to force her into anything she didn't want to do, but it wouldn't take much to make her want to do all kinds of things she probably shouldn't.

"This is going to sound strange, but I had fun tonight. I liked getting to know you better."

"I liked it, too."

Probably too much, she thought as she left the table and walked into the bedroom.

Striding over to the window, she crossed her arms as she looked out at the view, thinking about how much she had told Jared and wondering why she'd opened herself up that way. She'd never ever told anyone her feelings about time, but somehow Jared had made her feel like she could trust him with her darkest fears.

She really hoped he wasn't going to abuse that trust, because she didn't usually let down her guard so easily.

Suddenly her biggest fear wasn’t time anymore; it was betrayal.