Irresistible In Love
Page 60
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She jerked the door open, breathless, excited, hopeful.
And found Whitney standing there instead.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Paige’s blood roared in her ears like the engines of Evan’s jet.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Whitney’s voice was nauseatingly sweet.
Paige couldn’t reply. Couldn’t get her lips or her voice to work. Not when all her joy in the weekend, in the perfect beach date today, in every beautiful moment she and Evan had shared together, was dying a nasty, brutal death beneath her sister’s gaze. But though her tongue couldn’t move, her legs did what they always had before—stepped back to let Whitney in.
Her sister wore an elegant black dress with gold trim. Her auburn hair caught the light, her brows were perfectly arched, and her lipstick was an exact match to her red-tipped nails. In her stiletto heels, she towered over Paige in her bare feet.
Whitney was glamorous, Paige wasn’t. Just like usual.
And yet an insistent voice inside her head cried out that it was her body, her skin, and her heart that still sang from Evan’s kisses, his caresses. From his total possession.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls since I returned from the south of France.”
“I’ve been busy.” She’d ignored Whitney’s calls since that first glorious, wonderful kiss with Evan in Chicago before the wedding.
The kiss from her sister’s husband who was an ex in every way but the legal one.
“Where have you been?” Whitney drawled, looking pointedly at the small suitcase on the floor. The one Evan had kicked on its side before he’d ripped Paige’s clothes off.
Her purse lay beside the case, and her jacket was still on the floor where Evan had thrown it. A bowl on the living room side table had fallen, rolling across the carpet. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Paige could only hope Whitney was too busy drilling her about why she hadn’t taken her calls to notice.
She barely avoided putting a hand to her hair to straighten the locks Evan had run his fingers through. “I just returned from a trip to see Susan and Bob.”
“Weren’t you just there for the wedding?” Whitney widened her eyes beneath her perfect makeup.
Paige’s mind strove furiously for an explanation. The same way she always reacted to Whitney, defending, rationalizing. But that voice inside her was louder now.
You don’t have to do this anymore. You never did.
Paige stood taller, her shoulders straighter. “Why I went there isn’t your business.”
Instead of unleashing her wrath, Whitney smiled as if she’d just reeled in a fish who hadn’t put up much of a fight. “But it is my business why you were with my husband, isn’t it?” She batted her thick, false eyelashes.
Whitney paused. Waited for Paige to understand her true meaning.
Like an ice pick to the heart, the realization hit Paige that her sister must have seen their tumble through her door. And then, a good while later, she’d watched Evan leave, his clothes hastily donned, his hair a mess after their lovemaking.
Just as Paige’s was. Whitney had seen everything, from the suitcase tipped sideways, to the jacket, to the bowl in the middle of the living room floor.
No. God, no. It was the very last thing Paige and Evan needed, for Whitney to plunk herself down right in the middle of what was already such a complicated—and tentative—new relationship.
“You’re screwing him.” Whitney’s voice turned malicious, her face lined with rage. “Aren’t you, you dirty little slut?”
Paige’s fierce response was instinctive. “Don’t call me that.” Her legs might have stepped aside to let her sister in…but her heart refused to do the same.
Whitney wasn’t listening. She’d never listened to anyone.
“How could you betray me like this? Your own sister.” Moisture glittered in Whitney’s eyes. On anyone else, Paige might have thought the tears were real, but she knew her sister too well. The tears were designed to make Paige feel guilty, to drive home the guilt as Whitney injected a pathetic wobble into her voice. “I’ve needed you so badly since he left me.” She pointed her finger in Paige’s face, all pretense of tears vanishing. “But you. Weren’t. There.” She punctuated every word with fury. “Instead, you were off screwing my husband.” Venom smeared every syllable. “What would Mom think of that after you promised her you’d take care of Daddy and me?” Then she hit Paige with her worst. “But you let Daddy die. And now you’ve stolen Evan from me.”
Paige knew exactly what Whitney was doing. Her sister was a master at making a person squirm, at pushing just the right button to make her opponent cry or scream or give in. Paige knew.
Yet the accusations still cut her to ribbons. Her heart felt raw and bleeding, flayed open as if Whitney had the skill of Jack the Ripper.
Paige had failed her mother. She’d failed her father. She’d even failed Evan, because she’d never told him what Whitney was like beneath all the glitter and elegance and lies.
But her parents were dead. Evan wasn’t. He deserved another chance at happiness.
And—goddammit!—Paige deserved to be happy too.
Nine years had been way too long to wait for Evan. But thirty years had been an absolute eternity of being Whitney’s emotional slave. That story she’d told Evan about the rope swing had been one tiny glimmer of decency in years of bondage. And Paige wouldn’t let one more second pass playing the role of protector that her mother had given her. Just as Evan had to deal with the bad choices his mother had made, so did Paige with her own mother.
And found Whitney standing there instead.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Paige’s blood roared in her ears like the engines of Evan’s jet.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Whitney’s voice was nauseatingly sweet.
Paige couldn’t reply. Couldn’t get her lips or her voice to work. Not when all her joy in the weekend, in the perfect beach date today, in every beautiful moment she and Evan had shared together, was dying a nasty, brutal death beneath her sister’s gaze. But though her tongue couldn’t move, her legs did what they always had before—stepped back to let Whitney in.
Her sister wore an elegant black dress with gold trim. Her auburn hair caught the light, her brows were perfectly arched, and her lipstick was an exact match to her red-tipped nails. In her stiletto heels, she towered over Paige in her bare feet.
Whitney was glamorous, Paige wasn’t. Just like usual.
And yet an insistent voice inside her head cried out that it was her body, her skin, and her heart that still sang from Evan’s kisses, his caresses. From his total possession.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls since I returned from the south of France.”
“I’ve been busy.” She’d ignored Whitney’s calls since that first glorious, wonderful kiss with Evan in Chicago before the wedding.
The kiss from her sister’s husband who was an ex in every way but the legal one.
“Where have you been?” Whitney drawled, looking pointedly at the small suitcase on the floor. The one Evan had kicked on its side before he’d ripped Paige’s clothes off.
Her purse lay beside the case, and her jacket was still on the floor where Evan had thrown it. A bowl on the living room side table had fallen, rolling across the carpet. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Paige could only hope Whitney was too busy drilling her about why she hadn’t taken her calls to notice.
She barely avoided putting a hand to her hair to straighten the locks Evan had run his fingers through. “I just returned from a trip to see Susan and Bob.”
“Weren’t you just there for the wedding?” Whitney widened her eyes beneath her perfect makeup.
Paige’s mind strove furiously for an explanation. The same way she always reacted to Whitney, defending, rationalizing. But that voice inside her was louder now.
You don’t have to do this anymore. You never did.
Paige stood taller, her shoulders straighter. “Why I went there isn’t your business.”
Instead of unleashing her wrath, Whitney smiled as if she’d just reeled in a fish who hadn’t put up much of a fight. “But it is my business why you were with my husband, isn’t it?” She batted her thick, false eyelashes.
Whitney paused. Waited for Paige to understand her true meaning.
Like an ice pick to the heart, the realization hit Paige that her sister must have seen their tumble through her door. And then, a good while later, she’d watched Evan leave, his clothes hastily donned, his hair a mess after their lovemaking.
Just as Paige’s was. Whitney had seen everything, from the suitcase tipped sideways, to the jacket, to the bowl in the middle of the living room floor.
No. God, no. It was the very last thing Paige and Evan needed, for Whitney to plunk herself down right in the middle of what was already such a complicated—and tentative—new relationship.
“You’re screwing him.” Whitney’s voice turned malicious, her face lined with rage. “Aren’t you, you dirty little slut?”
Paige’s fierce response was instinctive. “Don’t call me that.” Her legs might have stepped aside to let her sister in…but her heart refused to do the same.
Whitney wasn’t listening. She’d never listened to anyone.
“How could you betray me like this? Your own sister.” Moisture glittered in Whitney’s eyes. On anyone else, Paige might have thought the tears were real, but she knew her sister too well. The tears were designed to make Paige feel guilty, to drive home the guilt as Whitney injected a pathetic wobble into her voice. “I’ve needed you so badly since he left me.” She pointed her finger in Paige’s face, all pretense of tears vanishing. “But you. Weren’t. There.” She punctuated every word with fury. “Instead, you were off screwing my husband.” Venom smeared every syllable. “What would Mom think of that after you promised her you’d take care of Daddy and me?” Then she hit Paige with her worst. “But you let Daddy die. And now you’ve stolen Evan from me.”
Paige knew exactly what Whitney was doing. Her sister was a master at making a person squirm, at pushing just the right button to make her opponent cry or scream or give in. Paige knew.
Yet the accusations still cut her to ribbons. Her heart felt raw and bleeding, flayed open as if Whitney had the skill of Jack the Ripper.
Paige had failed her mother. She’d failed her father. She’d even failed Evan, because she’d never told him what Whitney was like beneath all the glitter and elegance and lies.
But her parents were dead. Evan wasn’t. He deserved another chance at happiness.
And—goddammit!—Paige deserved to be happy too.
Nine years had been way too long to wait for Evan. But thirty years had been an absolute eternity of being Whitney’s emotional slave. That story she’d told Evan about the rope swing had been one tiny glimmer of decency in years of bondage. And Paige wouldn’t let one more second pass playing the role of protector that her mother had given her. Just as Evan had to deal with the bad choices his mother had made, so did Paige with her own mother.
