The Game Has Changed (5 page)

Evan stared at her with such curiosity that it
frightened her. She knew she shouldn't have been so audacious with
him, but she knew she couldn't trust him and had no idea as to what
his ultimate intentions concerning her really were. Truth be told,
she just couldn't help herself.

“Don't presume
anything
about me, okay?” he finally replied. He
was stern with her, but it was obvious that he was trying very hard
not to lose his temper with her again. “You don't know anything
about me.”

“And it's gonna stay that way,” she added
tersely.

“Don't patronize me, either. Both could get you
in trouble.”

“How is that patronizing you?” she cried
softly. “It's pure fact that I don't want to know anything about
you, nothing more.”

They grew quiet, moving into their respective
corners when the waitress appeared again with their drinks. She
looked curiously at the two of them, quite aware that they were
having a spat, but said nothing to that effect. “Your food will be
here soon,” was the only thing she dared say.

Evan winked at her in thanks. Jaime pouted and
avoided his intense scrutiny.

After a long icy silence between them, Evan
asked softly, “Someone's no doubt looking for you now,
right?”

“Of course,” she answered rigidly.

“Your parents?”

“They're dead,” she mumbled.

“I'm sorry.”

“No, you're not.”

“All right, believe what you want of me, but
you're not making this any easier for yourself.”

“I have a choice?”

The food was carried over to them by two
waitresses at that point. They had heard Jaime's last entreaty.
Neither said a word as the food was placed before them.

Evan replied with a very soft, “Ta,” and a
small bow of his head as he acknowledged the women. Dreamy and
eager smiles crossed their lips as they stared back at
him.

They ate in total silence for a very long time.
Occasionally, they made eye contact as an untrusting, confused, and
sorrowful silence further spread between them. Evan wanted her to
know why he was doing this, but he wasn't sure if she was capable
of understanding the why of it just yet. Deep down, he felt she
would be capable of it someday. He had that much faith in her,
after all.

C
HAPTER
5

Inside the tiny room they had rented for the
night, Jaime looked at the bed miserably as Evan set her backpack
and their bag of purchases on the small table. “There's only one
bed,” she said despondently.

“That's what I was hoping for,” was his rather
cocky reply.

She turned to him with immediate worry and
anger. “What!?”

He couldn't help his insolent smile. “I need
you to sleep beside me so I'll know if you try to cut
loose.”

“I promise you, I won't. We're in the middle of
nowhere. Where would I go?” she sobbed.

“I don't trust you enough yet.”

“Well, I don't trust you either!”

“I'm not gonna rape you, Jaime,” he angrily
shot back at her. “I don't want to hear any more about
it!”

Jaime took several deep breaths to keep herself
from hyperventilating. “I believe you. I do. I just don't want to
sleep with you and I mean that in the most innocent sense of the
word!”

“I know what you mean, but you know what? You
don't have any choice in the matter, my Darlin’,” he replied,
losing his temper with her once again.

She watched him take off his leather jacket and
angrily toss it across the back of a chair as it sat beside the
table. It also allowed her to see his gun and holster more clearly
for the first time. Her heart was in her throat, but she refused to
back down. “Why do you call me that?” she asked timidly.

“Call you what?” he prodded with annoyance as
he unstrapped his holster and placed it upon the table.

“Darling, Love, and all those endearments,” she
whispered.

“Cuz I flirt with every woman, just like you
pointed out . . . Luv,” he replied sarcastically.

Before she could protest, she saw him pull his
blood-stained white tee shirt over his head, exposing his bare,
hairless, and quite lovely chest to her view. She let out an
inadvertent gasp at the sight, but quickly looked away,
embarrassed. He gazed at her, but she was looking down shyly,
trying very hard not to ogle him. Yet, from the corner of her eye,
she could also see him unbuttoning his blue jeans.

“Don't you dare!” she shrieked.

“Dare what?” he asked as his blue jeans slipped
down his legs, leaving him standing there with only a light colored
pair of boxer shorts on. “I'm going to sleep. What do you
expect?”

Jaime was truly hyperventilating by now. “That
you keep your clothes on in my presence!”

“Count your blessings, my sweet. At least I'm
leaving my skivvies on,” he stated bluntly. “Take your shoes
off!”

“What? Why?”

“You don't sleep with your shoes on now, do
you?”

As she nervously kicked her sneakers off, she
saw him retrieve the duct tape he’d purchased earlier. She became
hysterical at the thought of what he would with it, her entire body
full of fear. “Please, please, don't use the tape!”

“Calm down. What do you think I'm gonna do with
it?” He smiled as he brushed his long brown hair off of his
forehead with his free hand.

“I don't know! I don't know!” She was now
trembling uncontrollably.

“Come here,” he said, a tad more tenderly in
the midst of her panic attack. When she didn't move, he said it
again in a patient and understanding tone.

She couldn't help it. She looked at him. He
seemed different in those passing moments. He seemed almost
desirable, as if he was being sweet to her, and he looked quite
appealing. His long dark hair, although disheveled, fell across his
beautiful brown eyes. His expression was loving and sincere and
that body . . . Never before had she seen a man in that way;
certainly, not her father. It was enough to cause her whole body to
tingle in a way she had never experienced before. What's more . . .
it felt incredible!

Yet she was still terrified of him. Terrified
that he might harm her and terrified of the feelings he was causing
her to feel. She saw him extend his hand toward her. She didn't
reciprocate. Instead, she crossed her arms in front of her as if to
barricade herself from him.

“Lie down,” he said softly.

“No.”

“I promise you,” he whispered as he came closer
to her.

She was quite sure she would pass
out.

“I promise you I won't hurt you,” he continued
and finally pulled one of her hands free from its crossed position
upon her chest.

She felt him clasp her hand tight. It tingled.
She looked up at him, still trembling. “How are you using that
tape?” she asked.

His only answer was to point to their joined
hands. She understood, but it didn’t make her feel any better about
what he was about to do.

“I promise I won't run away,” she
pleaded.

“This is just precaution until I'm very sure
that you won’t,” he whispered, an inquisitive look flitting across
his face. “There is one thing we better do before I tape us
together, though.”

“What's that?”

He dragged her toward the bathroom.

“Oh, please, no!” she squealed with
apprehension.

He gave her no choice. He let go of her hand
long enough to reach inside of his boxers. He saw her quickly cover
her eyes with both of her hands and a squeal escaped her as he
relieved himself. It made him smile.

“You next,” he whispered, grinning.

“Oh God!” she whined and complied.

***

Jaime lay down upon the bed slowly, feeling his
hand as it tightly grasped hers. She felt him climb onto the bed
and shimmied across her body. Her heart leapt as she felt his body
graze hers for a split second until he reached the other side of
the bed. She gazed up at him as he sat on his knees. Methodically,
he pulled a good portion of the thick gray duct tape from the roll
before taking of hold her right hand once more. She watched as he
used his other hand to wrap the tape about their wrists.

“This really isn't necessary,” she whispered, a
small sob escaping her as she kept her eyes pinned upon his
handsome face as he concentrated on wrapping the tape around three
times.

“Eventually,” he returned in the same tone,
taking a moment to rip the tape with his teeth. “It might not be,
but for now, I think it is.” His words sounded so tender. He gave
her a sweet smile as he tossed the roll of tape aside.

She felt a tiny tear trickle down the side of
her face as she gazed up at him, overwhelmed by the mind numbing
sight. “You realize it's gonna hurt like hell coming off, right?”
she questioned, her voice full of melancholy. Her eyes widened as
she realized that she’d used a swear word for the very first time
in her entire life.

Evan smiled. He could see the sadness in her
stunning blue eyes and took a moment to assess her from head to toe
for the first time. She truly was an attractive girl and would
become a beautiful woman soon enough.

“Yeah, well, at least it will hurt me as much
as it hurts you, huh?” He laughed a little then to cheer her up.
“Probably more, actually,” he added, pointing out that he had a bit
more hair on his arm than she did.

She managed a small smile for the first time
since their adventure together had begun. Her tears, however, ran
more prevalent down the sides of her face. Within his gorgeous
brown eyes, she actually saw a bit of empathy.

Hovering above her, he whispered, “Will you be
okay, then, Luv?”

He continued to exude tenderness and affection
and it seemed misplaced to Jaime because of their circumstance.
After a long moment of doe-eyed gazing at him, she finally nodded.
Evan lay down beside her and reached out to turn off the bedside
lamp.

She turned her head to stare at him for a
moment within the darkness. He was staring up at the ceiling; his
free hand came to rest upon his bare chest. There was just enough
light coming in from the street lamp outside to dimly illuminate
the room. She watched him without shame for a long moment, still
afraid of him, yet feeling almost safe with him lying so close and
warm beside her.

After a long pause between them, he turned his
head in her direction as he became aware of the fact that she was
now staring at him. “Don't you want to sleep?”

“How did you hurt your head?” she blurted out
without answering his question.

He smiled. “Thought I told you, a car
accident,” he said softly. “That's why I needed your
car.”

“Why didn't you go to the hospital?”

Jaime could sense, even in the dimness that
surrounded them, that Evan was hesitant with his answer. That
immediately clued her in to the fact that he was running from
something. Despite her naiveté, she had watched enough crime shows
on television to reason out his circumstances.

She answered before he had a chance to do so.
“Are you on the run? Are you a fugitive?”

She was waiting for him to either deny it or
lash out with anger at her again, but he surprised her. Instead, he
just looked at her in a mysterious, contemplative manner. A sudden
rush of fear consumed her, but there was also a strange rush of
adrenalin. She knew, then, that this would be quite an adventure
for her.

“What did you do?” she asked with morbid
interest, disregarding the possibilities that perhaps he was a
serial killer or something equally threatening.

He refused to answer her. It was beginning to
both scare and intrigue her, his mystery. He caused her heart to
beat erratically with terror when he removed his free hand from his
chest and turned onto his side to face her. His body was incredibly
close as he reached out and gently touched her soft blonde
hair.

She gasped aloud when he began to caress her
forehead. “Please don't do that!” she wheezed.

“How old are you, Sweetheart?” he asked
seductively.

“Why?” She panicked.

“Just want to know . . .”

“Nineteen,” she lied, hoping that he believed
her. She would have loved to say that she was much older, thinking
that it would have made her more of a menace to him, but she knew
she still had an adolescent look about her.

“Seriously?” he asked, doubtful.

She remembered, then, how he had claimed that
he could tell when she was lying. Her heart beat like that of a
scared rabbit, but she nodded in the affirmative,
none-the-less.

Evan returned the nod, knowing that she was
lying. Still, he couldn't quite tell as to how old she was. He
wasn't good at venturing guesses about someone’s age. Yet he
couldn't help the feelings rushing through him all the
same.