Playing With Pleasure (9 page)

S
awyer stepped on
the gas pedal of his ’69 Pontiac GTO, enjoying the kick of horsepower as he drove onto the freeway onramp toward Paige’s apartment. After he’d discharged from the military a few months ago, the classic muscle car had been his one indulgence. He’d rebuilt part of the engine, and he’d restored the car to its original bright Orbit Orange color with black and yellow pinstriping. He didn’t drive the vintage vehicle every day, but it was perfect for a quick ride across town, which also helped to keep the carburetor cleaned out.

After a week away on assignment for Noble and Associates, Sawyer was anxious to see Paige again. It had been difficult not to call or text her while he’d been out of town, a deliberate choice he’d made to give her space. He hoped like hell their week apart had given her the time to think about their intense encounter at The Players Club and be willing to give him another chance after their conversation about Ashley over dinner.

Just the mere thought of Ashley’s name made his fingers clench around the steering wheel, especially after their run-in at Paige’s shop last week when she’d acted as though everything was just fine between the two of them. She’d even had the gall to pretend like they were friends. The woman was his worst enemy, and even though a year and a half had passed since that fateful night, his anger toward her hadn’t abated one ounce. There wasn’t anything about Ashley that he trusted, especially when it came to Paige and his relationship with her. For reasons he’d yet to figure out, it seemed as though Ashley held some kind of grudge against Paige, and sabotaging her happiness was her main objective.

Now that he was aware of Ashley’s agenda, he wasn’t about to let her come between him and Paige again.

He arrived at Paige’s apartment complex in Mission Valley, a middle-class area of San Diego and a far cry from the huge mansion she’d grown up in. From what Sawyer knew, her father had been a wealthy investor, and he was surprised that Paige had moved from one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the area to a moderate apartment.

He made his way to her place and knocked on the door. A few moments later, the door swung open, and Paige stood there, wearing a pretty turquoise dress with a too-modest row of buttons fastening the front and a soft, flowing skirt swirling around her calves. A pair of strappy sandals completed the look, and he smiled in appreciation as he raised his gaze back to her face and those peach-hued lips he ached to taste—but were currently off limits.

“Hi,” he said as he slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” she replied softly.

She smiled back at him, but she looked tired, defeated even, which wasn’t a word he’d ever associate with the stubborn, vibrant Paige he knew. Concern sifted through him. Her gaze lacked its normal radiance, and she was much too subdued compared to the feisty woman he’d dealt with at the club and then again at her store. Something was definitely off, but before he asked, he wanted her in his car and them on the road so backing out of dinner wasn’t a possibility. The discussion they needed to have was much too important, and he was fairly certain if he gave her any excuse to change her mind about tonight, he wouldn’t get another opportunity to get her alone.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded, and with her purse already slung over her shoulder, she stepped outside and locked her door, bringing with her the fresh scent of peaches that made him hungry in more ways than one. He walked with her out to the guest parking area, and with a hand lightly pressed to the base of her spine, he guided her toward the passenger side of his car.

Her eyes widened as she took in the classic vehicle. “Wow, nice ride.”

“Thanks.” He opened the door and waited for her to get settled in the newly upholstered leather seat. “You know how it is with boys and their toys. We gotta have them.”

Once she was buckled in, he headed around to the driver’s side and slid inside. The engine rumbled to life, and he drove back toward the freeway. She was quiet the entire time, and now that there was nowhere for her to escape, he finally addressed her uncharacteristic silence.

Glancing her way, he took in her beautiful profile and the thick, rich auburn hair she’d worn down. His fingers itched to touch those silky tresses and wrap them around his hands so he could tug on the strands and remind her just how much she’d liked having her hair pulled by him.

He forced himself to focus on what was important right now. “Everything okay?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “Just a very stressful afternoon.”

He didn’t like hearing that and wanted whatever was distracting her off her mind so she could concentrate on them instead. “What happened?”

She looked at him and hesitated a long beat before she finally decided to open up. “
Ashley
happened.”

Shit.
His chest tightened protectively, even before he knew what Paige’s stepsister had done. “Care to elaborate?” He managed to keep his voice even, when he was already pissed off on her behalf.

A deep sigh unraveled out of her, and she rested her head against the back of the seat. “I went to try on the bridesmaid dress for Melissa’s upcoming wedding earlier today, and it didn’t go well at all. Ashley insisted on picking out a tight-fitting gown based on her small, petite frame and figure. Of course it fit her perfectly, while I looked like a stuffed sausage, to quote Ashley. The dress looked embarrassingly awful on me because of all this,” she said and waved a hand from her full breasts down to her curvy hips and thighs.

He hated that Ashley could be so cruel, as well as make Paige so self-conscious about her sexier-than-hell curves. “She’s such a bitch,” he said, meaning it.

Paige’s brows rose at the vehemence in his voice, and he didn’t miss the question glimmering in her eyes…
then why did you sleep with her
?

Yeah, they’d get to that conversation, but right now he was more concerned about the damage Ashley had done to Paige’s self-esteem, when she was far more beautiful, inside and out, than her stepsister ever could be.

He returned his gaze to the road and merged off the freeway. “Did she do it on purpose?”

“Probably.” She shook her head and tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “She had to know that the gown wouldn’t work on my figure. She likes to be the center of everyone’s attention, and that dress looked gorgeous on her and absolutely ridiculous on me. There’s no way I can wear it.”

He could imagine Ashley’s glee and that smirk he’d witnessed the morning when Paige had slapped him for his infidelity before walking away. Sawyer’s gut burned with outrage. “Tell Melissa you refuse to wear the dress and you’re not standing in as a bridesmaid.” To him, the solution was simple.

She rolled her eyes. “That is such a
male
response,” she said and laughed lightly, at least finding humor in his comment. “Despite everything, they really are all the family I have left. Melissa is sincere in wanting me as a bridesmaid, and I’m doing it for
her
. It’s what my dad would want, too,” she said, her voice going soft at the mention of her deceased father.

He turned down a residential street and headed for the end of the cul-de-sac, grateful that Paige wasn’t paying any attention to where he was going. “So what are you going to do?” he asked, curious to know how everything was going to play out. “Order another dress?”

“No time, since it’s a custom order and the wedding is in two weeks. Melissa
knew
I couldn’t wear the dress, so I told her I’d make myself a gown in the same color and fabric to match Ashley’s dress, and she agreed. It’ll be a bit different, but at least I’ll be able to breathe and sit down without passing out. But I really put myself in a tight time crunch with my idea to make a gown, since I also have a debut fashion show to put together for my corsets at an upcoming bridal expo. But I’ll make it work,” she said, her tone determined.

Paige’s benevolent nature was one of the many things Sawyer loved about her. She was kind and considerate and generous—all the qualities her stepsister lacked. This bridesmaid dress wasn’t all about her being the most beautiful but rather pleasing her stepmother by following through on her promise to be a bridesmaid. He hoped Melissa appreciated Paige’s selfless gesture.

He turned into a driveway, hit the remote attached to the visor, and waited for the garage door in front of them to roll up. Paige glanced out the windshield at the small one-story house and blinked, her momentary confusion turning into a frown.

“This isn’t a restaurant,” she said, a soft accusation lacing her voice.

“I never said I was taking you to a restaurant for dinner.
You
made that assumption,” he pointed out with a persuasive smile as he casually draped his wrist over the steering wheel. “I said I wanted to talk to you over dinner, which left the location wide open. This is my place.”

Her eyes filled with skepticism. “Why are we here?” she asked, her unease tangible.

He wondered if she was worried he’d take advantage of her or if she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. He’d like to believe it was the latter, that after their night together at the club, she craved more. He sure as hell wanted a whole lot more—not just sex but a fresh start—but not until a few things between them were finally resolved.

“We’re here for dinner.” When she didn’t reply, he added, “I really don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a restaurant, where other people can overhear us. Do you?”

“No.” She relaxed, because his reasoning made perfect sense. “But I hope you plan on feeding me, because I skipped lunch and I’m starved.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be well fed,” he said, a low, teasing innuendo in his voice.

She shot him a firm look. “Dinner and
conversation
,” she reiterated.

He reached out and wound a wavy strand of her hair around his finger and gave it a slight tug, just enough to make her lips part and her eyes darken with awareness. “If you’re worried I’ll be bringing out my ropes and tying you up again, I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, and I swear I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” He winked playfully at her.

“Nothing is going to happen except dinner and conversation,” she said again, the husky note in her voice belying the desire softening her features.

That unconcealed longing was enough to give him a small measure of encouragement. Anything that happened between them would definitely be all up to her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find subtle ways to remind her of last Friday night at the club and just how much she’d enjoyed those kinkier tendencies of his. He didn’t expect her to make any of this easy on him, including persuading her to give him another opportunity to prove how serious he was about having her back in his life again, but he was up for the challenge.

He returned both hands to the wheel and parked the car, then used the garage door to enter the house. They walked directly into a small but efficient kitchen, which led to a tiny dinette area with a table and four chairs, then opened up to the connecting family room, where there was minimal furniture—a wide, comfortable couch and a huge sixty-inch TV displayed on a cabinet. The place had all he needed for now.

“I know it’s not much, but it works as a bachelor pad,” he said.

“Did you buy this house?” she asked curiously as she looked around.

“No.” He set his keys in a dish on the far counter. “I’m renting the place until I find a house I want to buy.”

“Yeah, I’d like to buy my own place sometime, too,” she said as she glanced out the glass slider leading to the backyard. “But my business is my first priority. Once I’m on solid footing there, I’ll start saving up for a down payment on a house.”

Her comment once again made him curious, and this time he decided to appease the questions in his mind. “Paige…I don’t mean to pry, and if I’m overstepping my boundaries, just say so. But your father was a successful investor and a very wealthy man. Didn’t he leave you a trust to help you out with your business or buying a house?”

She turned away from the slider and walked back into the small kitchen, her eyes a bit sad. “My father
was
a very wealthy man until he married Melissa.”

“She married him for his money?” he asked, frowning as he braced his backside against the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know if that’s how the relationship started out,” she said, clearly giving her stepmother the benefit of the doubt. “I know my father truly loved Melissa, but a few years into their marriage, I started to notice how Melissa frivolously spent his money on herself and Ashley. Clothes and accessories with designer labels, trips to Paris and Belize. Every day, she and Ashley would walk into the house with their arms filled with shopping bags from Bloomingdale’s and other high-end stores. She also decided that the house decor was out of date and hired a well-known interior designer to help her completely renovate every single room with all new and expensive furnishings. And she remodeled the kitchen into this gourmet masterpiece that she never used because she’d hired a chef to cook our meals.”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “That’s insane.”

“It definitely seemed overkill to me,” she agreed, propping her hip against the counter a few feet away from him. “About a year or so before my father passed away, he lost a lot of money on a few bad investments, and it was hard for him to recover financially. I’d overhear heated arguments between him and Melissa about her outrageous spending habits and how they couldn’t afford all the excess, but it never seemed to make a difference. It wasn’t until my father died that I found out that Melissa had put him hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, and he hadn’t gotten around to securing a trust for me, so there wasn’t anything left for me to inherit.

He swore beneath his breath, unable to believe how financially irresponsible Melissa had been, and Paige had suffered for it—yet there was no resentment in her voice as she told him what had happened.

“How was Melissa able to keep that huge mansion of a house?” When he’d met Paige, she was still living there, too, and that had been at least five years after her father had died.