Playing With Fire

by Ruth Staunton

  “What’s for dinner?” Stacey asked suddenly from startlingly near his ear. Cade blinked, realizing belatedly that she had crossed the yard and was propped on his door peering at the white Styrofoam plates in the seat beside him.

  “Oh, meatloaf,” Cade said, picking up a plate and handing it to her. “Kaye said it was your favorite.”

  It was too, Stacey thought. How the hell could he be so impossibly backward one minute and so sweet and thoughtful the next? She couldn’t find a balance with this man to save her life. She sighed. Damn small towns where everybody knew everything anyway. Trust Kaye to give him the one thing she couldn’t turn down.

  “Well…” Cade prompted.

  Stacey sighed. “Come in the house,” she told him and headed inside.

  Cade hesitated. “Stace.” She stopped and turned back to him. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She propped one hand on her hip, still holding her plate with the other. “I said come in, didn’t I?”

  Cade grinned, relieved to see that saucy glint come back into her eyes. “Yes, ma’am, that you did.”

  “Then get your ass in the house.” She stepped through the screen door and let it slam behind her without waiting for him to follow.

  Cade found her sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with her plate perched on the low wooden coffee table.

  “There’s tea and stuff in the fridge,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen with her fork. Cade dropped his plate on the coffee table beside hers and headed off in the direction she’d pointed.

  Entering the kitchen, Cade quickly realized why she’d opted to eat in the living room. The tiny Formica and metal table shoved against one wall was completely covered in a heaping pile of old mail, newspapers, and other assorted junk. Shaking his head, he snagged a fluorescent green plastic cup out of the dish drainer by the sink, poured himself a glass of tea from the pitcher he found in the refrigerator and went back to join Stacey.

  Stacey looked decidedly embarrassed as he settled himself on the floor and folded up his long legs. “Sorry, guess I should have cleaned off the table. Didn’t even think about it, usually eat like this anyway.”

  Cade waved it off. “It’s fine. I’m a cop. You learn to eat and sleep anywhere.” It was true enough. He’d eaten standing up in a conference room or in a car as often as he’d eaten anyplace, and he honestly didn’t mind this. If they made it through tonight, they could tackle anything else later. If…

  They ate mostly in companionable silence, here and there swapping small talk about the happenings in town–Brandy Macklin’s new baby, the high school football team’s chances for a championship come fall, the mentally unstable vagrant who had wandered into main street and caused quite an uproar a few days earlier .

  Cade groaned at the mention of the man. “If you think he was bad on the street, imagine what it was like being closed up in the car with him for three hours.”

  “Oh no,” Stacey said, fizzing with laughter despite herself, “you didn’t…”

  “Oh, yes,” Cade confirmed. “Yours truly got elected to transport him to the mental health facility in Houston.”

  “Houston? Why didn’t you–”

  “No place local would take him,” Cade answered before she could finish. “They were all full or claimed to be at least. Believe me, I tried.”

  “So that’s where you were?” Stacey asked quietly, studiously pushing the food around in her plate.”

  “And working the wreck out on Old Clinton Road and pulling Ricky Adams’s truck out of the pond again and helping to put out the fire at the gin and getting that blasted cat out of the tree again and…well, you get it.”

  “Yeah,” Stacey said softly, thoroughly embarrassed now. “I get it.”

  “I told you, Stace,” Cade went on, “I’m a cop. I don’t work a nine to five job like you do. These past two days weren’t all that unusual, crazy, yes, but not unusual.”

  “I know, I know,” Stacey said irritably. “I can handle it, ok?”

  Cade raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”

  “Yes!” Stacey snapped.

  “Like you handled it today?” Cade questioned. He said it neutrally, without sarcasm, but Stacey bristled nonetheless.

  “I overreacted, okay. Can’t we just forget it?”

  “No,” Cade said quietly. “We can’t. We need to work this out.”

  Stacey stared at him, aghast. “Oh for crying out loud, I’m sorry ok.” She grabbed up their empty plates and scrambled to her feet, heading for the kitchen.

  “Sit down, Anastasia,” The command was quiet, but laced with steel.

  Stacey found herself obeying even as she opened her mouth to argue. “What the hell do you want from me?” Stacey asked, frustrated beyond words. “I was a bad little girl. I get it.”

  “Don’t.”

  Stacey stopped cold, obeying without conscious thought. She risked a glance at Cade but the look he gave her obliterated whatever it was she had been about to say. She dropped her head, studying her hands in minute detail. “Don’t what?” she asked softly, after a long moment.

  “Blow this off like it’s not important,” Cade replied. It is important, very important. I need to know that you accept who I am and what I do. If you can’t, we might as well stop now.”

  “Oh, no,” Stacey said, “I’m not letting you out of a bet that easily.”

  “Screw the damn bet, Stacey,” Cade flared. “I’m serious.”

  Immediately, Stacey sobered. “I know. I’m sorry. I get it, really. I don’t know what got into me today. I thought--” She stopped then, seeming to catch herself. “Well, I don’t know what I thought.”

  “Yes, you do,” Cade said softly. “You know exactly what you thought. Talk to me.”

  Stacey rose to her feet, shoving a hand through her hair in one restless absent move. “It was nothing,” Stacey said as she started to pace. “Not important.”

  “It is to me.” When she shook her head, he pinned her with a look and let a little of the command creep back into his voice. “Tell me.”

  “It felt like…I mean, it seemed like… I thought…” she trailed off.

  “What?” Cade prodded, gentle now. “What did you think?”

  “That you were stringing me along,” she whispered, red hot color blooming in her cheeks. Her throat and chest constricted painfully against the shaky, tearful feeling she held back by sheer force of will.

  For the first time, Cade saw it all clearly, the hurt, the struggle, and the desperate, fragile vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. “Not on your life,” he spoke quietly but with the bone-deep sincerity of a vow. “I don’t work like that. It may be what you’re used to, sweetheart, but it’s not what you’ll get from me. Ever.”

  “Okay,” she said softly in the tiny hesitant voice of a scared little girl. She had no idea where it had come from and hated it passionately but seemed powerless to stop it. She’d opened her mouth and out it came.

  Unable to stop himself, Cade reached over and ran his hand gently over her hair. “You’ll believe me eventually.”

  Stacey didn’t answer. There really wasn’t anything to say, but God, she hoped he was right.

  She scooped up the plates again, and this time he let her go. They weren’t done talking by a long shot, but he knew she needed some space to get her head together, and he was more than willing to let her have it.

  He knew the minute he saw her that she’d got her balance back. The haunted look was gone. She stepped over to the wall by the television and began browsing idly through her DVDs. “You want to watch a movie or something? I’ve mostly got comedies and dramas. Not sure what you like, but I’m sure we can find something.”

  Cade stood and crossed over to her, reaching around to place his hands over hers. “We don’t need to watch a movie, Stacey. We need to talk.”

  Stacey sighed, rolling her eyes. “What now?”

  In answer, Cade trailed a hand down her back and let it
come to rest–a bit more heavily than necessary–on her bottom. “You know what.”

  The sigh Stacey heaved seemed to come from her toes. “Please, Cade, I really don’t want to talk this to death.”

  “Do you still think I hit you?” he pressed.

  That was the million dollar question, the one she’d been asking herself all day. Yes, he’d hit her… but he hadn’t really hit her…but… She twisted away from Cade. She couldn’t breathe this close to him, let alone think. “Let’s walk.”

  Cade stepped over, blocking her path to the door. “You’re not going to run away from this.”

  “I know that,” Stacey flared. “I just need to move. It’s too damn hot to breathe in here much let alone think.”

  Cade stepped aside, trailing her as she shoved through the door and into the yard, practically fizzing with suppressed energy. He followed her wordlessly into the muggy night, his longer legs catching her smaller ones in a matter of seconds. She paced the yard without speaking. He was dying to know what was going on inside that head of her, but he was willing to wait, to give her space, so he just stayed by her side and let her walk.

  Until he could stand it no more.

  “Well?” he blurted. The word seemed shockingly loud in the silence. Cade almost regretted it, but there was only so much a man could take.

  “Well, what?” Stacy snapped.

  “Don’t push it, Anastasia, you know what,” Cade said, barely restrained impatience lacing every word.

  “Oh, that,” Stacey said quietly.

  “Yes, that,” Cade replied. “Answer me.”

  Stacey drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, seeming to wilt as the air left her. “I don’t know.”

  Cade leveled her with a long look. “You need to find out.”

  “Damn it, don’t you think that’s what I’ve been trying to do?” Stacey asked, whirling on him. “I haven’t thought of anything else all day. Don’t even really know how the hell I made it home because all I could think about was you and your…” she faltered, blushing, “that.”

  “Spanking,” Cade supplied, barely containing a smile.

  “Yes, that.” Stacey shot him a heated glare. “Yes, you hit me, but it wasn’t like a slap or a punch. You didn’t hurt me–I mean, yes, it hurt, but I know you weren’t trying to hurt me of anything, but you did hit me, and… and Christ, I just don’t know.”

  “I’m not sorry,” Cade said quietly. “It wasn’t a mistake, it wasn’t a game, and if we decide to go on, I will do it again in a heartbeat. It’s not politically correct. Hell, it’s barely even acceptable to mention, but I believe it’s a man’s duty to protect women, even from themselves if necessary, by any means necessary, and that includes spanking. Does that mean I think you’re weak or helpless? Hell, no. I’ve got four sisters who are all strong and smart as hell. I respect them unquestionably but would I bust their asses if they needed it? I would and I have, and I’ll do the same for you. If we mean to go on from here, Stacey, you need to understand that–and accept it.”

  “If I needed it,” Stacey’s voice was so soft it was practically a whisper, “like today?”

  “Yes,” Cade agreed, “like today. You were out of control so I stopped you.”

  Stacey dropped her head, grateful he couldn’t see her blush in the dark night. “Who decides if I need it?” she asked, considering.

  Cade’ answer was short and decisive. “Me.”

  That brought the pacing to a sudden and abrupt halt. “You?” she repeated. “Just like that? I don’t get a say?”

  “Of course you do,” Cade assured her. “We’ll always talk about it, and you can always have your say.”

  “Didn’t today.” There it was again. That tiny little girl voice. Where the hell did that come from and why the hell couldn’t she stop it?

  “That wasn’t a spanking,” he told her. “That was getting your attention. Throw a tantrum like that again and there’ll be a lot more than a few swats. If that happens, we’ll talk first.”

  “Oh.” Surprisingly, the thought didn’t make her angry. It made her stomach clench with apprehension.

  Cade could have kicked himself. She sounded terrified. “Come on, Stace. It’s not like I’m going to come in and spank you out of the blue. I won’t ever do that, but–and you need to be very clear on this–once we’ve talked about it the decision is mine. I’ll have the final word, and you’ll have to accept that.”

  Accept it, Stacey thought numbly, I can barely wrap my head around it. She stood stock still now, stomach in a mass of knots. In a dark corner of the back of her mind a voice was screaming. Just who the hell did he think he was anyway? But another part, a far deeper more hidden part, not only understood it but wanted it.

  “And if I don’t accept it?” Stacey asked, “If I can’t?”

  “Then it’s best we know that now. I like you a lot and we can still be friends, but we can’t date. This is part of who I am. It’s too important to deny, and I respect you too much to pretend.”

  “So this is a deal breaker?” The question was hesitant and shaky. Damn it, why did this matter so much? She’d barely known the man a week, and he was tearing her up inside.

  Cade raked a hand through his hair. God, he hoped not, but… “I didn’t mean this to be an ultimatum, Stace, but it’s important. We really need to figure this out. Can you accept it?”

  She turned without answering and walked back toward the house. After a moment, she stopped, threw up her hands, and turned back to him, confusion, frustration, and pain warring on her face. “I don’t know, Cade. I just don’t know. I wish to God I did, but I just don’t. I’m not so good with being told what to do, you know?” She flashed a small grin at the last but then turned serious again, fiddling nervously with her hair. “It’s a lot.”

  Cade felt like the world’s biggest idiot. Did he really expect her to make a decision like this on the spot? What was he thinking? “Of course it is. Take your time, sweetie.” He crossed to her, laying his hands gently on her shoulders. “You don’t have to decide tonight. I’ll be here when you do.”

  Chapter 4

  Stacey was miserable. No two ways about it, she was utterly, absolutely miserable. She was restless and out of sorts. Nothing seemed right. If she sat, she wanted to stand. If she stood, she wanted to sit. She barely ate, and sleep was rapidly becoming a faint memory. She damned Cade Dawson to fourteen levels of hell, but it did no good. She was still restless to the point of insanity, grappling for answers and finding none.

  She’d thought it through a million different ways. Hell, one night she’d even been desperate enough to type “spanking” into an internet search engine, just to see if there were other people out there who actually did this. What she’d found had confused her even more. There were indeed a mind-boggling number of sites related to spanking. There were arguments about spanking children, both for and against, sites linking spanking with any number of sexual practices, even sites promoting spanking as part of a conservative Christian lifestyle. The trouble was none of that seemed right. Sure, the whole kinky sex thing might be fun, but that didn’t seem to be what Cade meant. What he’d done certainly wasn’t sexy at all. She didn’t like being told no, especially not like that, and if the whole biblical thing was what he was looking for, he was certainly barking up the wrong tree. He had to know that, didn’t he? Of course he did. He met her in a bar, for crying out loud. So what the hell did he want from her?

  She stopped abruptly. What in the hell was she thinking? Who cares what he wanted, what did she want? She wanted a challenge. After all, that’s why she’d started the whole thing. She’d wanted the challenge. Who was he to dictate and make demands anyway? This was her life, dammit. She called the shots. That was how it had always been, and that was exactly how she liked it.

  Wasn’t it? She resolutely ignored the tiny voice of doubt that crept into the back of her mind, the one that reminded her how much she’d liked it that he said no and meant it, the one th
at obeyed almost instantly when he called her Anastasia, the one that quietly, secretly, almost kinda liked it.

  Sex, that’s all that was, playing the role he wanted, she’d done it a million times. This was no different, right?

  Suddenly, she couldn’t handle another moment, another thought. Grabbing up her keys and ID, she burst out the door and jumped in her car. Screw Cade Dawson. She needed a drink.

  ***

  Cade called himself every kind of fool. Hell, he felt like a fool, or at the very least a love sick teenager. Even so, he turned his truck toward town instead of going home like he should. She wouldn’t be there. He hadn’t seen her in days yet he couldn’t stop himself from making one quick circuit through town, looking and--who was he kidding--hoping. He tried to look nonchalant, tried to brace himself against the disappointment, and then, suddenly, she was there.

  He swung the truck in beside her car in the lot at Joe’s and vaulted out. His hand was on the door before he realized he was still in uniform and his presence might not be the best for Joe’s business. Then, he stepped in anyway.

  He saw her in an instant, his eyes locking on her like metal to a magnet, perched at the end of the bar, sipping something from a clear plastic cup, laughing, flirting, and very, very drunk.

  He moved without thinking, plowing through the crowd like a steam engine and coming to a halt by her elbow. “Anastasia,” he said quietly.

  Stacey spun around, wobbling wildly, gripping the bar to keep from falling off the stool and peered up at him. “Lawman!” she shrieked, giving him a dopey, sloppy drunk grin. “What're you doing’ here?”

  “Taking you home,” he said, blunt and firm, with no room for questions or arguments.