Playing With Fire

by Ruth Staunton

  “Just throw them on the counter,” Stacy said nonchalantly. “I’ll get to them later.”

  Cade stacked them neatly on the bar on the other side of the room that divided the kitchen from the living room area, well away from the kitchen workspace. “Are you and Glory close?” he asked.

  Stacy nodded. “She’s probably my closest friend.”

  Cade didn’t comment, but there was something about her tone that made him feel like Stacy probably didn’t have that many friends. He wasn’t sure why. She clearly wasn’t a shrinking violet nor was she angry and hostile, at least not most of the time. She was, in fact, very friendly, maybe even overly so. Still, there was something about her that seemed to him to be very lonely. It tugged at him, making him want to draw her up in his arms and reassure her that everything would be okay, and it suddenly made her insistence on him meeting her friends make a great deal of sense.

  “She’ll probably be there tonight,” Stacy went on.

  “Good,” Cade said. “I know of her, but I don’t really know her. I’m looking forward to meeting her.” That wasn’t entirely true. It was true that he knew very little of Glory Baker, and to tell the truth, what he knew hadn’t impressed him much. She was loud and occasionally obnoxious, and he tended to avoid her as much as possible. Still, if she was important to Stacy - and she clearly was, he’d deal with it and keep his mouth shut. Somehow.

  The crowd at Joe’s was light for a weekend. Of course, it was barely nine when they arrived. It was sure to pick up later. Stacy strode in with the confidence of a regular, chatting with the bouncer and waving to the bartender as she wove her way through the dark, smoky haze to the battered wooden booth where Glory sat.

  “Girl, get your skinny ass over here,” Glory called out as Stacy slid into the seat across from her, automatically moving all the way to the wall to give Cade room. “This your lawman?” Glory demanded when Cade took a seat.

  Stacy nodded. “Glory, Cade; Cade, Glory.”

  Glory responded with a long, accessing look, examining him from the top of his battered Stetson, over his neat polo and dark jeans, to the tip of his dusty, work-worn boots. Cade met her gaze squarely with equal frankness. That had Glory breaking into a grin. “You’ll do,” she said quietly. She turned to Stacy. “Girl, where is your drink?”

  Her tone was shrill and just a little over the top, though open and very friendly. It struck Cade suddenly that it, like Stacy’s, was a shield, a mask she slid into easily and effortlessly, and it was obvious that beneath it she cared about Stacy deeply. The once-over she’d given him hadn’t been in the least sexual for all that it had masqueraded as such. She was sizing him up, pure and simple, and making no qualms about judging whether he was good enough for her friend. For some reason, that was a comfort, and it made Glory that much easier to take.

  “Lawman,” Glory said suddenly, jerking Cade abruptly from his thoughts. “Make yourself useful and get the lady a drink.” It was clearly an order, and Cade bristled at the tone. He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, but mindful of Stacy and how important this was to her, he bit down and the retort and kept his mouth shut.

  Instead, he turned to Stacy and asked what she’d like to drink. The look she gave him was decidedly amused, but she didn’t comment.

  “A margarita?” The tone was subtle enough it passed without notice, but coupled with the look she gave him, it was clearly a question. Stacy might not have even consciously realized she was doing it herself, but she was waiting for his approval, making sure he would allow her to drink tonight.

  He smiled and nodded. “Got it, a margarita for the lady. Glory, can I get you anything?” She seemed surprised that he asked but held up her own half full beer bottle and declined. He moved away, pushing through the crowd to the bar.

  Watching him walk away, Glory shot Stacy an appreciative look. “He does do wonders for a pair of jeans,” she said dryly, grinning.

  “That he does,” Stacy agreed.

  “You seem to have solved your problem,” Glory commented. “He’s following orders quite well.”

  Stacy stared at her, flabbergasted. “Are you kidding me? He’s polite. That’s all there is to that. Ordering him around wouldn’t last 30 seconds if it wasn’t something he planned to do anyway.”

  “Maybe,” Glory said, clearly unconvinced. “You still seem to have him under control. He certainly doesn’t seem to be as much of a caveman as you made him out to be.”

  Stacy rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.”

  “So tell me,” Glory pressed.

  Stacy shook her head. “I can’t really explain it. He just has very definite ideas about what’s appropriate and what’s not. I wouldn’t be drinking tonight if he didn’t think I should. He’s only okay with that because he’s driving. “

  “He is a cop, kiddo. What do you expect? Of course he doesn’t want to do anything like that. What’s wrong with that? Seems to me he’s just trying to take care of you, and what girl doesn’t secretly want to be taken care of? You like it don’t you?” Stacy smiled sheepishly, looking away, a faint blush creeping up from the base of her neck. Glory exploded in laughter. “I knew it!” she crowed.

  “Shut up,” Stacy muttered without heat. That just made Glory laugh harder. She was still laughing when Cade came back, carrying Stacy’s margarita and a Coke.

  “Do I want to know what’s so funny?” Cade asked.

  “No,” Stacy replied vehemently, taking her glass from his hands. She took a tentative sip, testing strength and flavor, and then a longer swallow. Then, she tugged at Cade’s arm. “Come on, let’s dance.”

  Cade hesitated. “I don’t dance,” he admitted quietly.

  “Oh, come on,” Stacy wheedled. “It’ll be fun.”

  Cade shook his head. “Seriously, I don’t dance. You two have fun.”

  “Please,” Stacy pleaded. Cade shook his head again, taking on the cornered look of an animal in a trap.

  Glory stood up and tugged on Stacy’s arm. “Come on, girl, we’ll have fun. If he wants to be a stick in the mud, let him. Let’s go.” Reluctantly, Stacy turned away and followed Glory, who grinned back at him and gave him a surreptitious wink, into the crowd.

  Cade sipped his drink, watching them go. He was content to keep his two left feet flat on the floor and observe Stacy. He had to admit it was a hell of a view. She slipped into the rhythm easily, raising her hands in the air and moving her body with the music like a modern incarnation of a belly dancer from some old Arabian Nights movie. He’d seen a few dancers like that during his time in the Middle East, but he’d never seen anything that grabbed him in the gut the way Stacy did. The sheer wave of longing was almost overpowering. The music changed and she began to gyrate, bumping and bouncing against Glory, jumping around and laughing hysterically. Minutes later, the song changed again and a man worked his way between them. Immediately, Cade went on high alert. Stacy seemed unconcerned. She moved smoothly into dancing with him, grinding against him in a move that practically screamed sex. Anger and sheer possessiveness shot through Cade like a fire. It was only the ever-present knowledge that he was a law enforcement officer and years of training to restrain his emotions that kept him from shoving through the crowd and putting a fist in the guy’s face, and even that was a near thing. Stacy was his, dammit.

  He took a deep breath and counted to ten then twenty, resolving to give Stacy a few minutes to handle it herself before he resorted to bloodshed. She had five minutes. After that, he was going to break the guy’s face, badge be damned. Much to his relief, Stacy appeared out of the crowd moments later, red-faced and breathless, eyes shining. She grabbed her drink and downed it without sitting.

  “That was fun,” she said when she caught her breath. “We haven’t done that in a long time.”

  “Too long,” a male voice replied. Cade jerked around and realized with an uncomfortable jolt that the guy she’d been dancing with had followed her out of the crowd and too the table. Cade shot him a hard loo
k, barely suppressing a growl.

  Noticing where he was looking, Stacy said. “Cade, this is Jason. We’ve been friends forever. Jason, this is Cade--”

  “Her boyfriend,” Cade supplied, sliding out of the booth and unfolding to his full height. He reached out and took Jason’s hand in a death grip that might have passed as a handshake.

  Jason turned to Stacy, wide-eyed. “You? You’re actually dating someone? Really dating, as in not a one-night stand?”

  Stacy nodded. “Who’d have thought it, huh?”

  “Not me, that’s for sure,” Jason replied. He shook his head in sheer bewilderment. “Damn, Stace.”

  “Aw, now, don’t be like that,” Stacy said. She stepped over and laid her head on Jason’s shoulder, oblivious to the tension radiating off Cade. “You know you’ll always be my Boo.” She planted a hand on his chest, fingers splayed.

  Cade shifted his weight subtly. Jason was instantly aware of the movement. He stepped aside and gently but firmly removed Stacy’s hand. Stacy shot him a confused look. In reply, Jason flicked a glance to Cade.

  Stacy looked up, and Cade met her eyes with a hard look, clearing his throat and raising an eyebrow. Stacy rolled her eyes. “Anastasia,” Cade said warningly, but Stacy ignored him, spinning around and kissing Jason. It was light and clearly not meant to be anything more that friendly, but for Cade, it was the last straw.

  “Excuse us,” he said firmly with a look that encompassed both Jason and Glory. “It was nice to meet you, but we need to get going.”

  “What?” Stacy squawked. “We’re not going. We just got here, and don’t start any crap about…” Cade’s hand clamped around her arm and the words died in her throat.

  “We’re leaving,” he said again. “Now.”

  Chapter 8

  “What the hell was that about?” Cade demanded, slamming through the door into Stacy’s living room.

  “Oh, so now you want to talk,” Stacy snapped. He had been stonily silent after he dragged her out of the bar and practically threw her into his truck. Her own requests for an explanation had fallen on deaf ears. She’d finally given up talking too. What was the point? She might as well have been talking to a stone.

  “You damn well better believe we’re gonna talk,” Cade told her. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Me?” Stacy asked, incredulous. “You’re the one who is overreacting.”

  “Overreacting?” Cade echoed. “This is not overreacting. This is a hell of a lot of patience and restraint. This is doing everything I can not to snatch you up and blister your ass till you can’t sit for a week.”

  “Like hell you will,” Stacy said hotly. “You’re not laying a hand on me, Cade Dawson. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Didn’t do–” Cade sputtered, gaping at her. He spun abruptly, pacing and muttering.

  Stacy rolled her eyes. “Spare me the dramatics. What are you so wound up about?”

  Cade whirled on her and, despite herself, Stacy found herself taking a step back. She had known from the moment she first saw him the Cade was a man who kept his emotions tightly controlled. She would have had to have been blind not to see it. The man radiated power. But this, this was different. This was the rage uncoiled. Without conscious thought, she took another step back. And then another. And another. Until she backed into a wall. Cade advanced on her, matching her step for step, a hunter stalking his prey. Stacy hit the wall and swallowed hard, heart pounding. Though she knew to the marrow of her bones that Cade would never hurt her, for one brief moment, she was afraid.

  Cade’s palms slammed into the wall on either side of her head. He loomed over her, pinning her with his body, capturing her, surrounding her. He bent his head, his eyes drilling into her own, intense and demanding. “I don’t share,” he growled softly, his face inches from hers, and then he kissed her. There was nothing gentle about that kiss. It tore through her, hot, possessive, and just shot of brutal. He broke off and spun away, stomping into the kitchen and leaving her breathless, weak-kneed, and struggling for coherent thought. She slumped limply against the wall for a long moment. What was that about?

  When she finally gathered her wits enough to follow, she found him in the kitchen, hands braced on the sink, staring out the small window into the yard. “It was Jason?” she asked quietly. “You’re upset about Jason?”

  “Of course I am,” Cade said, exasperated. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t be?”

  “Yes, truthfully I did,” Stacy replied. “We were just having fun. It meant nothing.”

  “You were practically having sex with the man on the dance floor right in front of me, and you expect me to believe it meant nothing?” Cade asked, incredulous. “Don’t play me, little girl. I’m not stupid, and neither are you.”

  “I know that,” Stacy insisted. “I’m serious. Jason and I have been dancing and teasing like that for years. It’s just the way we play; it means nothing.”

  Cade turned, settling against the counter and watching her intently for long moment. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said finally.

  Stacy nodded. “I really am. We were just playing.”

  Cade sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I nearly took his head off. I wanted to break his face. You were flirting with him, and you were taunting me.”

  “Maybe I was teasing you a little,” Stacy agreed, “but I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Of course you did,” Cade told her. “You were getting under my skin. You knew it, and you damn well liked it. Otherwise you would’ve stopped when I said something.”

  “I was just playing,” Stacy said weakly. “It’s just what we do. It’s what we’ve always done. It never mattered before.”

  “You weren’t in a relationship before,” Cade said bluntly. “You are now. I’m not just some guy you picked up in a bar for quick sex. We are a couple.”

  “I know we are,” Stacy said. “I told you; it was nothing.”

  “It was to me,” Cade said. “It was hurtful and downright disrespectful, and what’s more, you did it deliberately.”

  “I did not,” Stacy shot back hotly. “I keep trying to tell you I was playing. What part of playing don’t you understand?

  Cade frowned at her tone, giving her a sharp look, but didn’t comment. “Did you or did you not know I wanted you to stop?”

  Stacy dropped her head. “Maybe,” she said quietly, suddenly uncomfortable.

  “I told you not to play me, little girl,” Cade said, closing the gap between them. “Did you know or not?”

  “All right, yes, fine, I knew,” Stacy snapped, darting around him. She went to the cabinet and took down a glass then went to the sink and filled it, more for the need of movement and something to do than thirst. Very deliberately, she tilted the glass and drank deeply, watching him watch her. He was crowding her, dammit. She couldn’t think straight when he crowded her. “I was pushing,” she admitted a moment later. “I liked getting under your skin, raising your blood pressure, but it wasn’t serious.”

  “It was to me,” Cade said. “Dammit, Stacy, that’s just not how you treat somebody you care about. It would have been bad enough if you’d just done it thoughtlessly, but you were flaunting it, deliberately throwing it in my face. How do you think that felt? How would you have felt if I’d done that to you?

  The rage that shot through Stacy at that thought rocked her to the core. If some bitch had come on to Cade like that she’d have scratched her face off, but this was different, Jason was an old friend, not some random stranger, and they were just playing, couldn’t he see that? This was just Cade’s crazy protective instinct gone haywire, that’s all. Still, she could kind of see his point. If it would make him feel better to take his frustrations out on her butt then so be it. She wouldn’t like it, but she’d live, and if it would fix things between them, it was a small price to pay.

  The silence stretched between them, heavy as lead. Stacy, who was uncomfortable with quiet even on a good d
ay, began to feel distinctly claustrophobic. She moved to the counter and began fidgeting with the mail Cade had stacked there earlier. Most of it was junk. She sorted out the few bills and anything else that looked remotely important and dumped the rest in the trash. Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Are you going to, you know…?” She stopped, swallowing hard, feeling the blush burn from the base of her neck to the top of her head. “Punish me,” she finished finally, barely above a whisper.

  “Do you think I should?” Cade asked, quiet and direct.

  “Of course not,” Stacy said automatically. “I didn’t mean it, but you clearly think I deserve it.”

  Cade never moved, but he met Stacy’s gaze and held it. “Then no, I’m not.”

  “You’re not?” Stacy echoed, clearly shocked.

  “No, I’m not,” Cade said. “I’ll never force this on you. That would be assault. If you truly don’t think it’s needed then I can’t make you.” There was nothing angry or resentful in his tone; it was simply tired, matter-of-fact, and utterly implacable.

  Stacy stared at him. He expected her to choose this, to willfully, deliberately choose to be spanked. Had he completely lost his mind? Did he not know how much it freaking hurt?

  She was still trying to wrap her head around it when Cade crossed to her and kissed her gently, wrapping her in a quick hug. “I’m going to head home,” he told her. He sounded impossibly tired, as if he’d aged years in just the trip across the room. “It’s late, and we both have work tomorrow. Call me when you go to lunch. I’ll meet you if I can.”

  Stacy nodded into his chest, wrapping her arms around him one more time. He returned the hug then stepped away and slipped out the door. Stacy moved to the window and watched him go until his taillights disappeared into the dark. She’d hurt him, really hurt him. This wasn’t some exaggerated since of protectiveness or puffed up wounded pride, despite what she wished she could make herself believe. He was honestly hurt. He hadn’t accused her, but she could see it in his eyes and feel it in every line of his body.