Playing Dirty

Sixteen

Sam couldn't help staring at the man's naked back, shock and disbelief quickly replacing hurt as the words sank in. Her cheeks flamed at the regret that seemed to drip from him in waves. Combined with the jumble of his words, she felt as though a tight band had suddenly wrapped itself around her chest and was squeezing tight.

Seconds ticked by, yet Ryan made no move to answer. He merely stood there turned away from her as though the sight of her naked body had become something abhorrent, looking like a bereaved Greek god, the muscles on back taut with tension, arms hanging straight down his sides, fingers clenched into fists.

The silence stretched, meanwhile, two words ricocheted in Sam's brain.

You're engaged.

What the actual hell? She stiffened, fingers digging into the soft leather of the couch, as she struggled to make sense of the topsy turvy situation.

"What do mean, by engaged?" She asked, keeping her eyes on him.

Ryan turned to look at her, his expression a mix of guilt and confusion.

"Sam, I know you have a fiancé." He replied. "And, I don't know what kind of agreement you have with the guy, but we shouldn't have done this. It

"I do?" Instinctively, she glanced down at her hand, but she'd stopped wearing Zahir's engagement ring ages ago, and the skin where the band had circled her finger had darkened and blended in with the rest.

His eyes followed the movement and narrowed. "Not everyone chooses to wear one."

What the hell was he talking about?

"Wait," She rubbed at her temples, feeling the first stirrings of what promised to be a massive migraine. "You think I'm engaged? What on earth gave you the idea?"

This was getting weirder by the second. She racked her brain, trying to come up with an instance where the issue of engagement stemmed from, but for the life of her, she couldn't. Unless...she remembered him saying he'd done some research on her, but even then, wouldn't he know that Zahir was no longer alive?

Now Ryan looked even more confused. He searched her face, as though hoping to find evidence...of what exactly?

"The other day, in the office," he said, deep in thought. "You mentioned a fiancé."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"The first day we met," he clarified, sinking onto a chair, his gaze never wavering from hers. "You helped me with my tie and when I asked how you..."

"I said my fiance taught me." Sam finished, realization dawning at that moment. She clearly remembered that moment now, the sweet torture of being so close to the man who'd featured in her dreams for the past year, the alluring assault on her senses, while she'd struggled to maintain her poise and even as her knees turned to jelly.

She also remembered Ryan's astonishment when she mentioned Zahir had taught her how to knot a tie. But then, Lola had come in and...

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him open-mouthed. "So, all this while, you thought I was in a relationship?"

"You're not?" He looked just as stunned as she felt.

"No." She confirmed. Feeling self-conscious, she stood and picked up her dress where he'd tossed it on the carpet. She spied her panties nearby and scooped it up, filled with a need to leave.

Her face burned as a horrible thought dropped. He had assumed her to be promiscuous.

"But, you said..." he trailed off, seeming to recall that she'd never given him a response. "Ah hell, Sam..."