Truth or Dare (His Wicked Games #2) by Ember Casey Read Free Book Online

away.
    “Relax,” he tells me. “You’re doing great.” I
can tell from his tone that he’s used to this, that I’m not the
first one to be a little stiff in front of his camera. I’m not
camera shy by any means, but it’s one thing to pose for a photo on
a vacation or at a wedding or something and quite another to go for
the whole “fake candid” thing. But Asher’s patient and
understanding, and after a little more coaxing I begin to feel much
more natural.
    We head to the gallery next, and then to a
couple of spots outside.
    “Are you sure we don’t need my dad for any of
this?” I ask.
    “I already got a few of him,” he replies.
“Besides, as much as I hate to admit it out loud, he’s right.
Commercially speaking, you make a better subject for this
story.”
    “Because I have breasts?”
    He looks stunned for a minute at my
directness, but then he laughs.
    “It’s a sad truth of the media industry,” he
says. “Young, attractive women tend to garner a lot of attention. I
swear it’s not as skeevy as it sounds. Every story has to have an
angle, and trust me, if we play up your angle—the tale of a
sweet young woman trying to save her father’s struggling art
center—this place is going to get a lot more attention. Nonprofit
institutions struggle and close every day, and you are what
sets this place apart. It’s a simple marketing strategy.”
    I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea,
but he does make a lot of sense. And honestly—if I thought posing
for nudie pics or dancing on street corners would ultimately help
the Center in some way, I’d do it in a heartbeat. This, by
comparison, is nothing.
    And so I smile for Asher’s camera. It isn’t
much longer before he decides he’s captured what he needs.
    “Well, it was wonderful talking to you,
Lily.” He pulls a business card from the pocket of his sport coat
and passes it to me. “Please feel free to contact me at any time if
you think of anything else you’d like to add.”
    “Of course,” I reply, popping the card into
my pocket.
    He clasps my hand in farewell, and his
fingers linger on mine a touch longer than necessary.
    “It was a pleasure,” he says, and this time
there’s no denying the flirtatious tilt of his lips.
    “Thank you for coming to speak with us,” I
say, pulling my hand away. “And thank you for considering the
Frazer Center for your piece.”
    “Not at all,” he says, his blue eyes
flashing. “You do this for a few years, and you start to get pretty
good at sniffing out an interesting story.”
    * * *
    My phone rings as I’m leaving work that
afternoon.
    “Hello?” I say, shoving my cell beneath my
ear without even bothering to look at the screen. I nearly drop the
armful of books I’m carrying, and I let out a curse.
    There’s a familiar chuckle on the other end
of the line. “Did I call at a bad time?”
    “Calder! Hey.” I manage to balance the books.
“It’s fine. How are you?”
    “You sound surprised to hear from me.”
    Yeah, well… I was beginning to worry that I
wouldn’t hear from him ever again. But I don’t tell him that.
    “I’m sorry I wasn’t in touch earlier. I’m
afraid I got caught up in a few business matters.” He doesn’t
elaborate on what those “matters” might be.
    “Is everything all right?” I ask.
    “Of course,” he answers too quickly. “But
forgive me for keeping you waiting. I assure you, it wasn’t my
intention.”
    That makes me feel better, even though I’m
still curious about the business that kept him so preoccupied. Does
it have anything to do with the call he received on our date?
    “Everything is forgiven,” I assure him.
    “Good. When I realized it had been three days
I was worried you might have forgotten about me again.”
    “I never forgot about you or our date
in the first place,” I say. “I lost track of time. And you never
returned my underwear, you know.”
    “We’ll have to remedy that, then.”
    “You mean with