by Ella Frank
Mason couldn’t help grinning at her when she turned back to him.
“Stop flashing your damn dimples around like a weapon,” Lena grumbled as she picked up her beer and took another gulp.
The man looked absolutely mouthwatering tonight in all black. He was wearing a button-up shirt that was tucked perfectly into fitted slacks that showed off his broad shoulders and trim cut waist. Draped around his neck was a burgundy scarf to fight off the chill in the air and he had a trench coat that he’d been wearing, now resting upon the bar. His deep blue eyes sparkled as he grinned at her. In a word, he was gorgeous. It wasn’t fair that he was dressed to impress and she was dressed from 7:00 a.m.
“A weapon, huh? I’ve never heard them described like that.”
“But apparently I suppose there have been poems dedicated to them.” She snapped back, then shut her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so nasty to you.”
He was silent for a moment, then leaned toward her and spoke in a voice so deep and smooth it slid right into her. “Actually there’s not one thing I find ugly about you.”
Lena’s eyes flicked up to meet his brilliant blue ones and she shook her head slowly. “This won’t work.”
“Why?” he asked, and she felt his breath whisper across her lips.
“Because I don’t want it to.” She stopped when she saw his eyes narrow a little. “With anyone. I’m not ready for it to work with anyone.”
He reached out and pushed a piece of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, then sat back, picking up his drink and taking a sip. Lena sat frozen on the seat and tried to remind herself that this was an extremely bad idea. He was a womanizer and almost at celebrity status here in Chicago. She didn’t know the first thing about having a relationship; she only knew how to run away.
“Stop thinking so hard, Lena O’Donnell, and enjoy a beer with me.”
Mason watched her pick up her beer and then take a quick sip. He knew she was tense; he could feel the waves rolling off her but he didn’t understand why. She’d pretty much told him no. She didn’t want to date. Didn’t want to start anything with anyone, but for some reason the more he was with her, the harder he was finding it to stay away.
He knew she’d come straight from work and tonight she was in one of those classy little skirts he was coming to like a whole lot. It was snug and curved over her hip and finished just above her knee, which meant that right now perched up on this stool it had ridden up to mid-thigh. Oh yeah, he liked those skirts a lot. Her baby blue blouse was tucked neatly in at the waist, her hair was pulled half up on her head, and the rest spilled down to her waist. He wanted to wrap his hand around all that hair and pull her in close to him. He also wouldn’t mind wrapping her hair around other parts of his body, but since she was still actually seated beside him, he figured he should keep that enlightening piece of information to himself. “So how was work?”
She tilted her head to him and smirked. “Really? You’re going to ask me about work?”
He shrugged then tried a different question. “Okay, how about the weather?”
The last thing he expected was for her to let loose with a huge burst of laughter. He felt his mouth twitch at her hilarity and took a sip of his beer. “Are you done laughing at me?”
“Oh, come on. That was the worst opening line ever.”
“Well, it isn’t like this is our first date and I need to impress you.”
She ran her tongue across her top teeth and nodded. “No, that’s right. You threw me out of our first date, Langley.”
He nodded with a serious look and replied, “Well, you were being mean to me.”
She was still smiling at him, which he took as a huge accomplishment on his part, so he continued playing with her. “You hurt my feelings.”
“Did I?”
He nodded. “I think you should make it up to me.”
Her left eyebrow arched up in a way that was now becoming familiar. “I’m almost afraid to ask how, but okay, you win. How?”
He looked toward the band and then back at her. Following his gaze, she then turned to him shaking her head. “No.”
“Yes,” he replied, standing and signaling the bartender. When a young blonde girl stopped in front of him, he gestured to his coat. “Would you please stow these coats for us so we can dance?”
As the bartender nodded, he heard Lena protesting through gritted teeth.
“No! Mason.”
He reached past her and grabbed her coat, giving it to the bartender as well. Mason noticed Lena had finished her beer and he picked his up, downing what he had left just as an older man stopped in front of them. “Oh, stop giving the boy a hard time, Maggie, and go dance with him.”
Mason stopped and pivoted slowly toward her. “Maggie?” he asked slowly.
Narrowing her eyes at him, she stood. “Don’t even think about it, Langley,” and with that, she stormed off toward the band, leaving him to follow.
Great! she thought as she marched toward the dance floor as though it were her execution. Just what she needed, him closer to her. Wasn’t it bad enough he knew she thought he was attractive? Now she had to press up against him for—how long was a song anyway—around three minutes? Fantastic. As she reached the crowded floor, she noticed other couples swaying tightly together to the slow beat that was now pulsing through the pub. Women with their arms wrapped around their men, their legs tangling as they moved about the floor. It all looked so intimate and it made Lena want to run.
She was just about to turn and bolt for the nearest exit when she felt two big hands gently rest upon her upper arms. She could feel the warmth of him seep through her blouse and skirt to stroke her skin and all she wanted to do was lean back into him. Instead, she stiffened and felt him tighten his grip as he leaned down to her. “Not this time. This time you don’t get to leave until we’re done.”
The threat shivered down her spine and he moved in front of her, releasing one hand while grasping the other and tugging her deeper into the crowd. She moved in close and let him guide her palm to his shoulder. When it was there, he looked down at her other hand.
“What do you plan to do with that hand?”
Lena grinned. “Smack you with it?” She watched as a smile tugged the left side of his mouth up.
“Kinky. Maybe later. Just not in public the first time.”
Rolling her eyes, she did the logical thing and lifted her other hand up to rest on his shoulder. She felt him reach down around her small waist and tug her forward so she was pressed chest-to-chest and hip-to-hip with him. She gasped softly and took a deep breath, noticing one other appeal Mason Langley had: he smelled amazing. Whatever cologne he had on made him so damn appealing she almost gave in to the urge to run her tongue up his neck. She gripped his shoulders a little tighter trying to keep herself upright in case her knees gave out.
“So why’d the old man call you Maggie?” Mason asked as he pulled back a little to smile down at her. Lena looked away from that warm grin and tried to block it out with the music as she moved with him to the beat that throbbed around them. Then when it appeared he was still waiting on an answer, she turned her face up to look at him. His eyes twinkled down at her and she was finding it very hard to remember that she did not want to do this with him.
“My full name is Magdalena O’Donnell and the owner of this pub, Liam, is one of my dad’s oldest and dearest friends.”
“Ah, I see. So you’re Irish?”
Losing herself in the joy of the moment, she smiled and answered, “I am.”
“So it seems I really didn’t know your name that first night,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. The band stopped and Lena went to take a step back when over the speakers Dave Matthews Band started singing “Crash Into Me.” Lena looked up at Mason when he started to sing the lyrics.
“You like Dave Matthews Band?”
Mason nodded. “I’m a big fan. You?”
She dipped her head
down, hating that he’d zeroed in on something they did have in common. “Yes. I like them very much.”
He moved them around the floor until they were out from under the bright lights overhead and somewhat hidden from other patrons in a small tight corner of the pub. She watched him closely as he gracefully pulled her around in a slow spin.
“Tell me something, Lena. If you’d walked into my restaurant that night and we’d never met earlier that day at the hospital, would you have gone out with me?”
She looked at him and answered honestly. “Not on a date.”
He stopped dancing abruptly and then moved closer, effectively cornering her in the shadows with a wall to her back.
“Why’d you stop?” she asked, suddenly realizing he’d lost his easygoing sway and was now holding himself tense while his blue eyes burned as they looked down at her.
“You say ‘not on a date.’ What do you mean by that?”
She looked around to see everyone still dancing and not paying any attention to the man looming over her in a way that was about to get her in all kinds of trouble.
“I didn’t mean anything.” she denied quickly.
He moved a step closer. “Yes, you did.” He licked his bottom lip and god help her but Lena wanted to do that for him and maybe bite it, too. “What did you mean?”
Sighing, knowing she’d never get out of this without confessing, she spoke quickly and softly. “I would’ve just gone home with you and then never seen you again.”
It felt like time stopped and she was frozen to the spot, because she certainly didn’t make any kind of move. She watched Mason raise his palms and rest them on both sides of her head. He leaned his body in close and there was no mistaking his intention to crowd her this time. She was glued to the wall and he was glued to her. She was mesmerized as he leaned down close and when he was a whisper away from her mouth she blurted out, “It’s not as though I’m really your type.”
She watched his lips as they pulled into a wicked smile and he rubbed his hips up against her, proving how very wrong she was. She was sure she was about to find the fortitude to push him off her sex-starved body when he whispered.
“Shh, Lena. This is my favorite part of the song . . .” and then proceeded to ad-lib to the famously dirty lyrics, “Hike that skirt up a little more, Lena, and show me your world,” right before he leaned down and nipped her bottom lip with his teeth.
Mason couldn’t believe he had the prickly doctor up against a wall staring at him as if she really would show him her world. When he’d gone into this dance he’d just wanted to get his hands on her, but the more they swayed and the more she talked, the more her scent of vanilla had gotten under his skin and the more he wanted a taste. She hadn’t pushed him away and he was as close as he could get with his clothes still on. Her eyes had widened when he’d leaned in and nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, but she hadn’t moved. When he tilted his head back a fraction she licked the spot he’d bitten then floored him with what came out of her mouth.
“Was that a statement or a request, the lyrics you just sang?”
He grinned at her audacity. “Which way will get me what I want?”
She looked down at their bodies pressed intimately together and then brought her gaze back to him. “And what do you want, Langley?”
He thought his answer to that would be quick. He thought he’d be smooth and lean down and kiss her brains out and then proceed to hike her skirt up around her hips and make her scream. What he didn’t expect was to find himself straightening up and taking a step back. He watched her raise that familiar eyebrow at him and then he floored her.
“A second date.”
Lena stormed into her house at eleven p.m. and kicked off her shoes. She flung her purse down on the counter and walked into the kitchen, reaching straight for the wine. She was going to kill him, she decided as she took a gulp from her wine glass. She was going to strangle him with her bare hands. How dare he get her all fired up and then just flip a switch and say nope, I want a second date. Fuming, she stormed down the hall into the bathroom. She turned on the faucets and watched as the water started to steam up around the room. She turned, placed the glass on the counter, and unzipped her skirt. As it fell down her hips, she reached up and unbuttoned her blouse, letting it fall to the ground. She couldn’t push away the imprint of his body as it had pushed into hers, all hard and warm, and backed her into the wall and that pissed her off further. Infuriating man—who says no to a sure thing? Since when does he, Mr. I’ve Dated Thirty-three Women, say no! Flinging her underwear over into the hamper, she tied her hair up into a messy bun, grabbed the wine, and dipped her big toe in the bubbles. She sighed when the water engulfed her as she leaned back against the porcelain. She was well on her way to fantasy mode, since reality was apparently out of her reach, when her phone shrilled loudly through the air. Figuring it was Shelly calling for an update, she put the wine on the edge of the tub and picked it up.
“What? I told you we’re not friends anymore.”
“Now that’s a shame. We’ve come so far.”
Gasping, Lena sat up, sloshing the water around her, watching as a bit of it went over the tub’s edge. The voice on the other end of the line was definitely not Shelly.
“Oh, shit!” she yelped as she reached for a towel and threw it over the puddle. She looked down at her naked body and then realized, hello idiot he’s on the phone he can’t see you, so with that thought she lay back down and pressed the phone to her ear. “What do you want Langley?”
“What was that noise?” he asked, instead of answering her. “It sounds like water.”
Sighing, Lena spoke over him. “I didn’t give you my number so you could harass me.”
“No. You gave me your number so I’d go away, but now I want answers,” he replied smoothly.
Closing her eyes, she asked again, “What do you want?”
Hearing a ruffling noise, she asked automatically, “Where are you?” She heard his laugh, deep and smooth, through the phone and ordered herself to keep her hands visible.
“Now if I answer that you have to answer my question.”
Looking around her bathroom, she picked up her glass of wine and took a gulp for courage—what could it hurt? “Fine. Now answer.”
“I’m lying on my bed.”
She’d known that was going to be the answer so she took another gulp and put the glass back on the bathroom counter.
“Lena?” he asked in a singsong voice. “Lena, it’s your turn.”
The man even managed to irritate her when he wasn’t in the room. “I forgot your question.”
Responding as if he didn’t believe her, he asked again, “What was that noise earlier?”
Knowing it would irritate him, she answered vaguely. “Water.”
“Lena, you don’t play by the rules,” he said softly. His voice seemed to reach through the phone and stroke her.
“Oh? I didn’t know there were rules.”
He must have moved again because she heard the rustling of his sheets. “The rules are honesty. Always.” He paused. “Now where are you, Dr. O’Donnell?”
She reached out and took the glass from the side of the tub, taking another sip before answering, “In the bath.”
Dead silence. One heartbeat, two heartbeats, then . . . “Damn, I’m an idiot,” she heard him mutter.
Smiling, she answered, “I’m sure I was just thinking that earlier.”
“When I had you pressed up against the wall?”
“Oh, no. That was the smartest thing you did.” She paused. “I meant when you let a sure thing walk away.”
“Hmmm. Well, maybe I don’t want a sure thing. Maybe I want to work for it.”
Enjoying flirting for the first time in a long while, she whispered, “Maybe the offer won’t be there next time.”
She waited and almost moaned when his voice dropped down even lower. “It’s nice to know you’re anticipating a next time.” Pausing, he si
ghed and it sounded like he was rubbing his hand across his face because it came out muffled. “I don’t know why, Lena, but you’ve done something to me. I can’t get you out of my mind.”
Lena shook her head slowly, even though he couldn’t see her, and whispered softly, “I’m truly sorry for that. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
So softly she almost missed it he whispered, “Let me in, Magdalena O’Donnell. I want to know all of you.”
Feeling her heart beat rapidly inside her naked chest, she’d never felt more vulnerable.
“Let’s start with that second date.”
Chapter Seven
Three days had come and gone by the time Mason had a chance even to think about what had happened Friday night. His weekend had been jam-packed with two twelve-hour shifts that resulted in a full house at his restaurant on both Saturday and Sunday and he had to admit he was glad that he’d made the executive decision that they were closed on Mondays. He was sitting out in the dining room of Exquisite when Wendy came in carrying a small box and headed straight for him. She sat down opposite him and flipped open the lid, pulling out a powdered donut and munching down on it.
“You know if Rachel sees that she is going to freak out.”
“She can’t tell me what to eat,” Wendy mumbled with her mouth full.
Mason grinned at her and flicked the pen down onto the desk. “No, she can’t, but she will say it’s blasphemy to eat any other pastry or dessert in her presence.”
Wendy swallowed, reached out for the bottle of chocolate milk, and gulped it down. “Pssh! She’s such a pastry snob.”
Mason smiled at her and looked around when he heard the front door open. Rachel bustled through with a box of her own and a hurried look on her face. He turned back to see Wendy snatching the donut box off the table and throwing it on the floor beside her out of view.
“Hi, guys! I brought breakfast,” Rachel announced as she flopped down in the last remaining seat, smiling at them both. She looked from Mason to Wendy and then at the guilty chocolate milk container that had powdered sugar fingerprints on it. “All right, who’s the sell out?”
