Playing With Pleasure (10 page)

“My dad left Melissa a substantial life insurance policy, which helped to make the house payments, but even that dwindled away to nothing. I’m pretty sure that the place is mortgaged to the hilt by now, which is probably why she’s marrying the wealthy real estate magnate she’s been dating for the past year.” Her mouth tipped up wryly. “She’s a woman used to living a life of luxury, as is Ashley, and I don’t think she’s willing to give that lifestyle up anytime soon.”

“Wow.” He shook his head, so blown away that it was the only word he could find to express how stupefied he was. “Aren’t you even a little bit pissed that Melissa spent everything your dad worked so hard for, which then left you with
nothing
?”

“I certainly wasn’t happy about it, and yes, I was angry for a long time, but what’s done is done, and I can’t change anything.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug, her green gaze so clear and sincere. “So, instead of spending years being bitter and resentful, I just decided that I needed to move on with my life and find a way to support myself, instead of relying on someone else to take care of me financially, like Melissa and Ashley. Besides, I’m happy where I’m at and with what I’m doing. Money will come, as long as I work hard for it.”

His respect for Paige rose another ten notches, as did his attraction to her, because he found her positive outlook to be so incredibly sexy. “You’re amazing.”

“No, not really.” Her face flushed ever-so-slightly at the compliment. “But I
am
very hungry, and you promised to feed me.”

He chuckled and headed toward the refrigerator. “That I did.”

“And we still have a lot more to discuss,” she said pointedly.

He glanced over his shoulder at her and nodded solemnly. “Yes, we do.”

He grabbed a paper bag from the refrigerator with the sides imprinted with the name Jack and Giulio’s, which was Paige’s favorite Italian restaurant and a place they’d eaten at often when they’d been dating. He set the sack on the counter, and she watched with interest as he pulled out two aluminum takeout containers and a side of garlic bread.

She bit her bottom lip, her gaze enthusiastic. “Dare I hope that there is veal scaloppine piccata in one of those containers?”

He grinned as he turned on the oven and slid the two aluminum trays inside to warm up their meal, then set a timer. “Both of them, actually. One for you and one for me.”

“You know how much I love that dish,” she accused humorously. “Are you trying to get on my good side?”

“Yes, I am.” He retrieved two bottles from the refrigerator and walked back toward her. “I’ll take any kind of advantage I can get, even if it means bribing you with your favorite meal and a Fuzzy Navel wine cooler,” he said, holding out said enticement.

He’d been teasing her and meant to make her smile at the memory of how she’d once sipped the sweetened alcohol drink from his belly button, right before he flipped her onto her back, spread her legs, and drizzled the rest of the wine cooler over her pussy, then lapped up every last bit with his tongue. But he knew immediately, based on the furrowing of her brow, that her mind went somewhere else instead—to that damn night that was like a brick wall between them.

Tonight, he intended to blast it to smithereens.

“Come on, let’s go sit out back and talk while our dinner heats up,” he suggested and headed in that direction, with Paige following behind.

His patio furniture consisted of two wrought iron chairs with padded seats and a small glass-top table. She settled into one chair, and he took the one across from her.

Holding her gaze, he took a deep breath, released it, and started the conversation. “I need to tell you exactly what happened the night of your twenty-sixth birthday, at least up to the point that I remember.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, her tone confused.

“I’ll explain everything.” But first, he had to start at the beginning.

Paige’s party had taken place at her stepmother’s house, to take advantage of the warm summer evening with the pool out back and an outdoor barbeque. There had been about fifteen of her friends there to celebrate her day, including her stepsister, Ashley, who’d been coming on to him since the first time Paige had introduced him to her a few weeks prior. He hadn’t said anything to Paige at the time, because to him, Ashley was inconsequential—which only seemed to make her more determined to get his attention.

“From the day I met Ashley, she’d flirted with me whenever you weren’t around and would say inappropriate things, especially considering she was your stepsister and I was dating
you
.” He refrained from telling Paige the cruel and mean comments Ashley had made in an attempt to belittle her, because none of that was necessary and would only hurt Paige more. “At first I was polite to her, because I thought it was harmless teasing, but it didn’t take me long to realize that she was serious in her attempts to proposition me. I made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that I wasn’t the least bit interested in her and to stop with all the crap. That was a few days before your birthday party.”

He watched Paige lift the bottle to her lips and take a drink of the Fuzzy Navel, and wasn’t sure what to make of her silence. Then again, what was there for her to say at this point? Her expression was wary, her demeanor equally guarded, even though he knew none of this was easy for her to hear, and it was only going to get worse.

He took a fortifying drink of his own wine cooler, wishing he’d poured himself something far stronger, then went on. “The night of your birthday party, she was actually friendly, rather than obnoxious, and I thought I’d finally gotten through to her and she was trying to be nice. A few hours into the party, you were talking to some friends by the pool, and I went inside to get a beer, and Ashley was walking out to the backyard with two of them in her hands. She gave me one of the bottles and said she was extending a peace offering, so I took it.”

He absently swiped at the condensation on his bottle, still unable to get a read on Paige. He ached to reach out and touch her hand for some kind of connection but knew she’d most likely pull away. “Before I could walk away and get back to you, Ashley asked me about the military, and since I thought she was making up for her previous behavior, I decided it was no big deal and answered her questions while drinking my beer. I figured if I was going to date you, she and I needed to at least be civil to one another. And then things started getting a little fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy how?” she asked, a frown furrowing her brow.

“I felt nauseated and light-headed and very confused. I had this weird sense of tunnel vision, like I was going to pass out, and I recall Ashley asking me if I was okay, but I don’t remember what happened after that. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in Ashley’s bed, completely disoriented with no recollection of how I got there.” He didn’t go into the sordid details—that they’d both been completely naked and there’d been irrefutable proof they’d had sex. Not to mention Ashley’s attempt at seducing him the morning after that had sent him scrambling off the bed in horror and panic.

The pain that flickered across her face made Sawyer’s gut cramp. “Did you have
that
much to drink?”

“No,” he said adamantly. “That was only my third beer in the span of three hours. I wasn’t the least bit drunk.” As he’d spent the following days obsessively replaying the situation over in his mind, the one thing he knew for certain was that he hadn’t been intoxicated, especially to the point that he’d pass out and not remember anything.

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, looking far too skeptical for his liking. “If you weren’t drunk, then how could you have blacked out?”

Bracing his forearms on the table, he held her gaze with his,
needing
her to believe what he suspected had happened. “The only thing that makes sense to me is that Ashley had to have put a roofie in my beer.”

Paige’s eyes widened, and she sucked in a shocked breath, but he didn’t give her time to respond.

“I spent
days
thinking about everything…Ashley’s seemingly nice behavior, her handing me a drink, and how I started to feel after nearly drinking all the beer. All the reactions I had are symptoms directly related to Rohypnol. When I realized that, I tried to call you, but you’d blocked my number, and even when I showed up at your house, Melissa wouldn’t let me inside.”

Sawyer was fairly certain that even if he’d found a way to talk to Paige, she would have been too devastated to believe a word he said. “Five days later, I was deployed to Iraq, but I spent every one of those fifteen months consumed by guilt and regrets. My biggest fear was that something would happen to me during a mission, and I’d never get this chance to talk to you, or especially to tell you that whatever happened between me and Ashley, it was
not
consensual on my part.”

“I don’t even know what to think or say,” she said softly.

Say you believe me
, he thought but remained silent. He had to trust that she’d get there on her own, without any pressure from him.

She rubbed her fingers across her forehead, looking so torn and confused, and Sawyer hated that he was the source of her emotional upheaval.

The timer in the kitchen rang, signaling that dinner was ready. The interruption couldn’t have come at a better time. He’d given Paige so much to think about and process, and he figured she could use some time to mull things over while he put their meal together. He knew this conversation wasn’t over, but there was no sense in letting their piccata dry out in the oven.

“Come on, let’s go eat dinner,” he said and stood up, offering Paige his hand.

She hesitated only a moment before sliding her fingers against his palm and allowing him to hold her hand as they walked back inside the house. It was a polite gesture, but it gave him a sliver of hope that she no longer hated him as much as she once had. That maybe they could work through all this together and come out stronger as a couple as a result, even though he knew it was going to take time and patience to earn her trust back again.

P
aige’s mind spun
in a dozen different directions as she followed Sawyer back into the house and tried to process everything he’d just told her.

“Have a seat at the table, and I’ll put our dinner on some plates,” he said, then strode over to the oven.

Grateful for the reprieve and the few extra minutes alone to wrap her mind around the fact that Ashley had most likely drugged Sawyer, Paige sat down in a chair facing the kitchen. The night of her twenty-sixth birthday and the morning after were such incredibly painful memories for her, and for the past year and a half, she’d tried to make sense of why Sawyer had cheated on her—and so blatantly.

If Ashley were to be believed, Sawyer had told her that he was bored with Paige, that he’d only slept with her because he felt sorry for her, but deep down inside, those mean, cruel comments from her stepsister had never completely rung true for Paige. From the very beginning of their relationship, Sawyer had always been open and honest with her, had never so much as glanced at another woman when they were together or made her feel insecure in any way. But watching him descend those stairs looking so disheveled, with Ashley running after him in a barely there robe, had messed with Paige’s head in a major way and made her question how she could have misjudged Sawyer’s character so badly.

Then again, that wasn’t the first time a guy had taken advantage of her and used her. That was another humiliating memory that had devastated Paige, and it had taken her years to trust a man again. And that man had been Sawyer, which had made his betrayal twice as unbearable, not to mention how his infidelity had eaten at her self-esteem.

Except, according to him, he couldn’t even remember sleeping with Ashley.

Did Paige believe that her stepsister was capable of drugging Sawyer when he’d rejected her advances? Sadly, yes, she did.

But that knowledge didn’t wipe the slate clean between them. Believing Sawyer was easy, but opening herself back up emotionally and letting go of her own doubts, fears, and insecurities was far more difficult.

Sawyer set a plate of food in front of her, pulling her out of her deep thoughts. The delicious scent of dinner made her stomach growl, and as soon as he was seated across from her at the small dinette table, she picked up a fork and took a bite, savoring the taste of veal, herbs, and capers.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sawyer said, his voice low and concerned. “I want to know what’s on your mind and what you’re thinking.”

She glanced up at him, seeing the genuine care in his eyes. She didn’t want to discuss all her self-doubts and stupid insecurities—alleviating those feelings would just take time.

She put her fork into her pasta and twirled the thin noodles around the tines. “There’s something I want to ask you about that night with Ashley,” she said instead. “About half an hour after you went inside the house, I got a text from you that something came up and you had to leave.” Her voice was hoarser than she’d intended. “Did you send that text?”