by Inara Scott
Mason came out from his bedroom a few minutes later, wearing a snug white T-shirt tucked into his gray work pants. “You didn’t forget we’re going out tonight, did you?”
“No.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and wished for the hundredth time that Mason could do something wrong. Like make bad coffee. Or leave the kitchen a mess in the morning. Or not comfort her when her heart was breaking and she needed a hug more than anything in the world.
But so far, he hadn’t done any of those things. Damn it.
“Good. We’re headed to the Aspen, meeting Zoe and the guys there at eight.”
Her stomach fell into her shoes. The Aspen was one of the hottest new restaurant-bars in San Francisco, a ridiculously upscale place she’d only heard of because it had been featured in one of the news clips she’d read about Mason. One of his friends owned the place, or was a chef there or something, and Mason had been there to celebrate the grand opening. With a gorgeous woman on his arm, naturally.
The Aspen. Good grief. A drink there probably cost thirty bucks, and she was pretty sure no one else would be wearing surplus army boots or carrying a five-dollar used messenger bag. She had known whatever bar he picked would be out of her league, but she hadn’t thought it would be quite this much out of her league.
She had to say something, so she forced out the words. “Great. Can’t wait to have a fun night out with all my new friends.”
“You’re not planning to back out on me, are you?”
“No way.”
“Good.” He pushed off the counter and disappeared back into his bedroom, only to emerge a few minutes later wearing a white button-down over his T-shirt and tying a striped silk tie, looking like the perfectly gorgeous, rich bastard he was.
“Why are you all dressed up?” she asked.
He waved a dismissive hand. “Nate set up a thing. Some of his real estate people wanted to meet.”
“On a Saturday?”
“My life is very hard,” he said sadly.
She snorted and waved toward the door. “Right. It’s awful. I can barely speak over my tears of sympathy. Now go before I lose control completely and start sobbing all over you.”
Unrepentant, he grabbed his leather briefcase and gym bag from beside the door and waved. “See you soon—and be ready to have fun tonight!”
Once he was gone she collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. Wick rubbed against her, and she petted him dutifully. “He’s going to be the death of me.”
The dog rested his head on her knee, gazing at her with adoring eyes.
“No, I’m not thinking about him that way,” she said, reading the question he was too much of a gentleman to articulate. “Not anymore. We’re just friends, remember? Okay, fine. Maybe I think of him that way every now and then. I mean, I’m human, right? But you and I both know sleeping with him would be a terrible idea. The most I’d get from him would be a one-night stand and an awkward morning after.”
And what exactly would be so bad about that?
“Because I like him,” she said quietly, not even wanting to admit it to Wick. “I like him more every day. And I’ve never been good at one-night stands.”
I get it. I like him, too. Wick leaned his heavy head into her hand in sympathy.
“Anyway, it will be good for him not to get what he wants.” She wondered if Mason had ever not gotten what he’d wanted. Probably not. “And judging from the way he kisses, he’s probably not even good in bed.”
Ha. That statement was so patently absurd she could barely even say it with a straight face. Judging from his kisses, he could give her an orgasm before they’d even hit third base.
But whatever, honesty was definitely not called for right now.
Grimly, she pulled out her phone and Googled the Aspen, just to see if maybe she was remembering wrong, and it was actually a quiet, casual spot that served Miller Lite and nachos.
Nope.
For all her tough talk about not dressing up, or being feminine, she was not going to be embarrassed in front of his friends.
She needed reinforcements.
When she glanced at her calendar she almost fell off the chair with relief. Cece had returned the night before from France. Thank God.
She knew Cece would buy her a new outfit a hundred times over. Hell, she’d probably rebuild her house and buy her a new car, too. But Tess had made a habit of refusing every offer of money Cece had ever made. She knew she was the only person Cece could count on to love her for reasons that had nothing to do with money, and she wasn’t going to introduce even a hint of doubt about that into their relationship.
But she wasn’t above borrowing something. Tonight, she didn’t want to look like she didn’t belong. She wanted to knock Mason’s socks off.
And for that, she needed Cece’s help. And her closet.
…
They met at Cece’s place on Nob Hill. Tess filled her in on her time with Mason while Cece surveyed her expansive closet for something for Tess to wear.
“So let me get this straight,” she mused, pushing aside hangers and occasionally glancing at Tess, who was lying on Cece’s bed and staring at the ceiling. “Mason Coleman is basically sex on legs, he made out with you on a counter and practically begged for more, and as a result you put him in the friend zone, where he has been patiently waiting ever since.”
“Yep.”
Cece cocked her head curiously. “So help me out here. Why exactly are you pushing him away?”
“Because I don’t want to be a notch in the belt of the Michael Phelps of one-night stands.”
“Are you sure about that? I’ve met him, you know. He probably wouldn’t remember—it was at some charity thing. But the guy is smoking. I wouldn’t mind being a notch in his belt.”
“Of course you would. Forty bucks says he asked you out when you met him and you turned him down.”
Cece, who had her hair in a loose knot on top of her head, pinkened. She’d just come home from the gym and wore a pair of black capris and a sports bra that showed every inch of her model-thin body. “No comment.”
Tess hooted. “I knew it! You’re buying one of my drinks tonight.”
“Nothing against him. He just isn’t my type.” Cece pulled a tiny black halter dress from the closet and threw it at Tess. “Try this on.”
Tess obligingly sat up and pulled off her shirt. “Nobody is your type. You haven’t dated anyone since…” She dropped off, not wanting to violate the code of silence that existed around Cece’s worst mistake—the one and only time she’d fallen hard for a guy and had it go spectacularly wrong.
Cece ignored the comment. She surveyed a leaf-green, strappy dress that probably cost a thousand dollars and dropped it on the bed beside the black one. “Honestly, I met him for about thirty seconds.”
“And he managed to ask you out in that time.” Tess sighed. “What a letch.”
Cece tapped a thoughtful finger on her chin. “Actually, I thought he seemed like a nice guy who also happened to be painfully attractive.”
“You’ve got the painful part right,” Tess muttered.
“And perhaps slightly too aware of his effect on the ladies,” Cece continued.
“Exactly!” Tess wriggled into the black dress. “That’s exactly my point. I think he’s only going through with this friends thing because he’s absolutely sure I’m going to fall into bed with him in the end. So I can’t give him the satisfaction, you know?” She frowned as she stared at herself in the mirrored closet door. “It is just me or does this look like crap?”
Cece assessed her critically. “Of course it looks bad. You have to take off your pants. And your bra.”
“Oh. Right.”
“You really need to get out more.”
“Look who’s talking!” Tess sat down on the bed and extracted herself from her jeans and bra. “I bet you didn’t even smile at any sexy Frenchmen while you were in Paris.”
“You’re right. That’s why Mason isn’t my t
ype. I’m a crotchety old woman in a twenty-six-year-old body. I also don’t particularly like sex, and I get the feeling Mason does.”
“That’s because you had shitty partners,” Tess said, adjusting the dress around her hips. “And I’m a crotchety old woman, too.”
“No, you aren’t,” Cece contradicted, pulling a silky mini dress from the closet and setting it on the bed. “You should be, after what your mom and that awful biker guy put you through, but under all those horrible clothes you’re basically still a really sweet, caring, trusting person who deserves to fall in love.”
Tess shuddered at the memory of the motorcycle-riding asshole with a fondness for cheap beer and corn dogs. “And that means I should fall in love with Mason Coleman?”
Cece looked aghast. “Goodness no. That would be a disaster. But I have to say, I’ve been trying to get you to go out on a Saturday night for ages, and I’ve failed miserably every time. Now he comes along and we’re dressing you for the Aspen? Maybe there’s more to him than I imagined.”
“He’s my boss. I’m not going out with my boss.”
“This is a short-term gig, right? Just until his sister takes the dog back?”
Tess nodded. “I give it maybe two more weeks, tops.”
“Can you go out with him then?”
“I think that could be a very bad idea,” Tess said, picking at the hem of the dress.
Cece studied her. “Ah. I see.” Her cornflower-blue eyes softened. “But remember, you don’t get the big rewards unless you take a the big risks.”
“Spoken like a true hedge fund manager.”
Cece shrugged. “If the shoe fits…” She surveyed Tess’s form in the black dress. “By the way, you have no idea how hot you are. Mason is in huge trouble. But we need something that shows off your figure. That black one suits me better than you.”
“Because you’re skinny.”
“Because I’m flat.”
Cece had managed to internalize her mother’s endless criticism of her appearance, despite her thick golden hair, slim figure, and the sort of eyes that made one think of wildflowers and Texas meadows. She had a constant level of self-awareness that came from years of dance and excessive time spent in front of mirrors—her mother’s choice, not hers—and when she was stressed or busy, she tended to lose weight. After weeks on the road, she was far too thin for Tess’s tastes.
“Try the green one.”
Tess wiggled out of the black dress and grabbed the green. Instead of a traditional neckline, the top was held up by a slender gold ring that fit loosely around her neck and clasped in back. The bodice—what there was of it—gathered around the ring in the hollow at the base of her neck and then barely covered her breasts before being caught at the waist. It was completely backless, and the snug skirt clung to her thighs like it had been made for her.
“This can’t fit you,” she said suspiciously. Cece had been known to buy clothing a size or two bigger than she needed, just so Tess could borrow it.
Cece waved a hand dismissively. “Ordered it from some boutique online. You know how their sizes all vary.”
Tess glanced in the mirror and felt a warm glow start somewhere around her belly. The green dress emphasized her curves in all the right places, leaving her looking curvy and sultry, with an hourglass figure and long legs.
“Heels?” she asked, knowing what the answer would be.
“Are you kidding?” Cece extracted a pair of impossibly high silver stilettos from her closet. Tess put them on, tried to stand, and promptly fell down.
“Maybe not these heels,” Tess said grimly, pushing herself back to standing. “Your foot is a size smaller than mine, just like everything else about you. You got any army boots in there?”
Cece snorted. “Right.” She tapped her lips thoughtfully, then went back to her shoe closet and pulled out a pair of suede wedge heels that wound around the ankle in a gladiator style and hugged the foot in web of leather and laces. “They’re deceptively sturdy,” she said.
Tess slipped them on. They pinched, but nothing like the stilettos, and Cece was right about them being more walkable than they looked.
“Okay fairy godmother, am I ready for the ball?” She spun around in a circle, almost lost her balance, and caught herself on the edge of a dresser.
Cece sighed. “As ready as you’ll ever be.” She grabbed a cropped leather jacket from the closet and a gold clutch. “Be home by midnight or I’ll turn you into a pumpkin.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“I’m rich as hell,” Cece proclaimed. “I can make it happen if I want.”
Tess walked the length of the bed a few times. “You should come with me,” she said, falling gracelessly back onto the bed once she was certain she could carry off the shoes. She was getting more nervous by the moment. What would she do with Mason and a bunch of his closest friends at a trendy bar? She’d be hopelessly out of her league before she even walked through the door.
“No way. I’m still jetlagged.”
“You’re not jetlagged, you’re anti-social.”
“Look who’s talking,” Cece countered. A smile ghosted her perfect lips. “You just want me to run interference for you.”
“Is that wrong?” She pulled a pillow over her face and spoke through it. “Maybe I shouldn’t go. I could just bail.”
Cece leaned over and pulled the pillow away. “Why in the world would you do that?”
Tess sat up and pushed her hair back out of her eyes. “Look at me. I’m a mess. These people are like you. They’re perfect and smart. I’m a high school dropout. I can’t hang out with them!” She fell back into the pillows dramatically. “It’s no use. I’m staying right here. You’ll have to go for me.”
“Am I going to have to slap you?” Cece bent over her again. “Because the next time you insult my best friend, I totally will. You got a bad deal in high school, and it took an incredible amount of courage to fight your way back out. But that’s in the past. It’s part of who you are, but that doesn’t mean it defines you.”
“What if they make fun of me?” Tess knew she sounded ridiculous, but her inner adolescent had taken over and all she could think of was how she’d spent most of her teenage years trying to prove she was just as much of a loser as her mother, and how hard it had been to reinvent herself as someone who mattered. “I don’t think I can handle that. Not in front of Mason.”
“They won’t make fun of you.”
“They might.”
“They won’t. What kind of awful person would your Mason have to be to take you somewhere that people would make fun of you?”
“He’s not my Mason.”
“But you want him to be.”
“Stop it!” Tess put her hands over her ears. “You should date him, not me!” She pasted a hopeful smile on her face. “In fact, that’s exactly what we should do. You come with me and distract Mason with your gorgeousness, and I’ll hide behind you. It will be just like those parties you took me to in high school. You remember, the ones where I hid in your car so no one would ask where the poor, trashy white girl came from?”
“This isn’t high school, and I’m not going to date him.” Cece put her hands on her hips, eyes narrow. “And stop talking about yourself that way.”
Tess bit her lip. Having Mason turn his attention to Cece would have solved a lot of problems. Though, now that she thought of it, the image of Mason kissing her best friend didn’t sit quite right.
Not that she was jealous.
“He’s bringing like five people,” she grumbled. “Why shouldn’t I bring someone? And aren’t you my best friend? I think this is a required-duty friend thing.”
“Hmm.” Cece narrowed her gaze, and Tess squirmed under the force of that brilliant, scheming mind. “Tell you what. I’ll go with you tonight if you answer these questions.”
Tess groaned. “I don’t like the direction this is heading.”
“Just trust me. Now, you said you
rself you feel like you’re actually becoming friends, right?”
Tess nodded reluctantly. “I suppose so.”
“And he’s kept his end of your bargain, right?”
“Yes.”
“And…?”
“And…I guess he’s been pretty great about the whole thing,” she admitted. “The way he was there for me after Snickers died…and sometimes I think I’m one of the only people who gets to see the real him. The one he only lets out when he’s tired. I think when he’s with me he doesn’t feel like he has to put on a show.”
“So you’ve spent a ton of time with him, he’s turned into a legitimate friend, and he’s kept his hands off you at your request.” Cece tapped her bottom lip as if thinking deeply. “Now, remind me what your end of the bargain was?”
Tess rolled her eyes. “You’re awful.”
“Remind me.”
“He said I’ve got to go out. Be social. Have fun.”
“What a monster.” A tiny smile creased Cece’s face. “I can definitely see why you wouldn’t want to date him.”
“You’re the worst,” Tess muttered. “And we’re not going on a date.”
Her friend sighed and pulled Tess to stand in front of the mirror. “Look at that girl. Don’t you think she deserves a night out on the town? Maybe even a night with a hot guy? Or, God help us all, some sexy times, if the moment is right?”
Tess stared at herself in the mirror, seeing an almost elegant stranger staring back at her.
Why not have a little fun? a voice in her head said finally. It’s not like you aren’t going into this knowing exactly what to expect. Just don’t be stupid and get attached to him.
How hard could that be?
Chapter Ten
Mason flicked his gaze from Zoe and Connor, who stood opposite him, to the Aspen’s front doors, hoping no one noticed his distraction. He’d carefully picked a spot at their high-top bar table that allowed him to stand with a full view of the huge glass double doors, and luckily, the noisy chatter of Zoe and the guys didn’t require much effort on his part other than a casual grunt here and there to pretend he was paying attention.
