Part of Jessica wanted to pull back from his touch, but she didn’t. She squeezed his hand, her eyes fixed on his.
“Two burritos.” The waiter put their orders down in front of each of them. To Jessica he said, “Be careful, spicy.”
When the man was out of earshot, Jessica asked, “What is it with you men thinking us women can’t handle spicy? I love spicy.”
He pulled out his shirt pretending to cool himself down.
“These look good actually.”
“You sound surprised. Don’t trust my taste yet? If anyone should, you should.” He watched her lift the burrito to her mouth. He picked up a knife and fork. “I don’t know if I’d try to eat it like—” He began laughing.
The burrito fell apart in her hands. Beans and sour cream were flowing between her fingers. She put the burrito down on the plate and held up both her hands, fingers spread wide. Mortified, her embarrassment expressed itself in hysterical laughter. Mason got the waiter to bring over a rush order of napkins.
They sat there talking and laughing for hours. They watched the sun set and the beautiful palate of colors the Creator showcased for all to see.
The server came to the table. “We are closing.” He placed the bill on the table.
Mason went to take out some cash to settle up, but Jessica stopped him.
“No, it’s my treat. Please, for helping me today.”
“Jessica, there’s no other place I would have rather been.” He stubbornly counted the cash and handed it to the man.
Back at the apartment, Mason insisted on walking her up. Any protest she provided was a poor performance at best. When they reached her door she fell against it, her one leg bent.
He moved in close to her and put his fingers in some hair that had escaped her ponytail during the car ride.
“Thank you for everything,” she said.
He gazed into her eyes and she could not resist him—the magnetism, the chemistry, the attraction. His kiss earlier had been delectable. She pulled on his shirt and brought him to her. She took his mouth with an appetite she could no longer control. A small moan escaped from the base of her throat. She was disappointed when he pulled back.
“I don’t want you to regret anything.” His voice was choppy, carried on heavy breaths.
She drew him to her again, wrapping one arm around the back of his head, putting her fingers through his hair. He put his arms around her and kissed her neck. He made her feel weak, uninhibited by any self-control. She whispered in his left ear.
“I will regret it if you don’t come in.”
They nearly fell into the apartment.
They took each other’s mouths again in a passion that could no longer be tamed. They kissed on their way to the couch. He came down on top of her, cradling her face with his hands, kissing her with all the passion of his soul.
She wrapped her legs around him. He put his hands on her body, loving her, feeding on her. She unbuttoned his shirt, and he sat back to throw it to the floor. She sat up to lift her T-shirt over her head and he helped. He fondled her bare breasts before taking each one into his mouth. He tenderly bit her nipples.
Her heart was going to explode in her chest. She gasped for air and pulled him to her mouth. She probed his tongue teasingly, tauntingly, and hungrily. And then deeper. She reached between them and took off his pants, pushing them down his legs with her feet. The entire time they kissed like lustful teenagers.
He reached down and undid her button and zipper, lifting his body up to allow space to take them off her. He was hard, and they were both naked. He kissed down her neck and she kissed his chest before he brought himself down and went inside her. She pulled on the hair at the back of his head and dug her fingers into his back. He came with a hard thrust into her. Their bodies were soaked with perspiration.
They kissed passionately.
Trying to catch his breath, he whispered, “I will never hurt you.”
Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She caressed his one cheek with her hand. “I know you won’t.”
He bent down and gave her another quick peck on her lips. Something had changed within her. He had broken down the barrier that had been between them. The wall of resistance she had fortified against him was gone.
-
Chapter 31
DAYS HAD PASSED, but Dimitre was seething, and where was that despicable coward that Sergey and Anatolli had put in place to be a liaison. He would get what was coming to him, a bullet to the brain preceded by torture. The weak and pathetic excuse for a man had the nerve and audacity to lie to his face.
Dimitre mustered up a wad of saliva and spit into the corner of his cell. The expression don’t shoot the messenger carried no weight. The messenger was just as liable as the one who sent him—maybe even more so because that was part of the job. His men knew that and they willingly fed the man to him. Bowler Hat Guy, who the hell wears that kind of a hat anymore?
Dimitre dropped to the floor of his cell and did fifty strong push-ups. He had to stay in shape in this hellhole. His mind wasn’t focused on his workout, though, but on the date in the newspaper that constantly ricocheted around in his mind.
It had been three weeks since they said Bryan was taken care of, two weeks after that it was announced in the paper. Had it taken authorities that long to find him? Dimitre doubted it. And if they lied about having killed Bryan, was he even dead? What would have caused his men to lie, to buy more time to take care of it? It wasn’t even possible a rich lawyer could beat him at his own game—was it?
His chest heaved with the betrayal and rage that filled his soul. And their pawn had sat there mere feet away from him, feeding him lies, telling him business was taken care of. Bullshit!
He paced the perimeter of his cell with solid steps. His jaw clenched, he formed a fist and punched it into the palm of his other hand. Walking toward the bars of his cell, he gripped them with his hands, rocked his body back and forth, suspended by his hold, and let out a loud roar.
For the first time in his life, he met with the sting of defeat.
But this would only be the beginning. They could be replaced. Many eager wannabes would kill to be his right-hand men. Sergey and Anatolli better have substantial justification for the distortion of truth, or they would pay the ultimate price. Soul sacrifice.
JESSICA WOKE UP TO AN EMPTY BED. Mason had left a note on the nightstand for her explaining that he had something important to take care of but would be back later in the day. She sat on her balcony overlooking the street below. Even on Saturday people were in a hurry to go somewhere, but she wasn’t. She considered ignoring her doctor’s advice and going in to the office this coming week. She missed the fast pace of the working world, but Monday and that decision would be here soon enough. Today she would kick back and take it easy.
Memories made the night before filled her head. He was so passionate and lustful, yet tender and loving. She had got caught up in the heat of the moment and it had been wonderful. Before these last few months, she never made decisions based on emotions experienced at the moment. The next step was normally laid out and planned ahead.
She had to admit she wanted a relationship with Mason, she never thought the day would end as it had. A small smile of contentment spread across her lips. She recalled how he looked at her afterward. His eyes were full of admiration and love. Dare she say love?
Love wasn’t blind, and something you fell into, like losing your footing and tripping. Real love was founded on friendship and forged. It grew by overcoming hurdles together. Her friendship with Mason had been too short to warrant such a depth of emotion.
Yet, at the same time her heart was drawn to him. It sounded like a romance movie—they meet, they hit it off, they fall in love, get married, have babies, and live happily ever after. But that wouldn’t happen for her. She was tainted.
Br
yan had marked her for life. He had sapped her of any belief in a happy ending. She remembered her words to Mason. How she conveyed that she trusted him not to hurt her. That was also in a moment of weakness, when her barriers, her logic, her reasoning were at their lowest point.
Maybe for that split second she believed what she had said. But now in the light of day, the doubts crept in—was it possible for a man to love a woman with all of his being? It might take her a lifetime to figure out. She might never know.
Jessica sighed heavily recalling that her home for the last month and a half was being declared to Bryan’s son, or lawfully, his guardian until his twenty-first birthday. The thought of them assuming her life, the one that she should have, made her sick.
As much as she told herself it wasn’t the belongings, possibly a part of it was. But the fact that Bryan kept that part of his life a secret cut her more. She thought she had known him, but now his memory was tarnished by the omission of facts. But enough about him and the recollection of all his lies to be there for her and to build a future with her…Unfortunately the fact she really loved Bryan was harder to dismiss. Her soul was pulled to meet his son and his mother. One day she would.
Right now she had to deal with what was in front of her. That was a tougher thing to dwell on.
She had feelings for Mason, but she wasn’t ready for a committed relationship. Her attachment to the memory of Bryan, the man she thought him to be, clung to her. The depth of his betrayal made it nearly impossible to muster up faith in another human being. She had to take things more slowly with Mason. She owed that to him and to herself. The saying came to her mind: you have to let go of the past to embrace the future.
LAST NIGHT HAD BEEN A breakthrough. Jessica was finally beginning to trust him. The satisfaction that came with that, made him want to do something crazy…like buy another car.
She was so beautiful lying there in the afterglow of their lovemaking, cheeks flushed and skin dewy. He could smell her now if he focused. He was so close to something good in his life, something meaningful. He’d had enough of the bachelor life. His father would be happy to hear it, even though he wouldn’t remember it once he left his room.
Despite the effects of the Alzheimer’s the one thing his father always brought up was women. It was ingrained in him that every man needs a good woman.
‘A good woman balances you out, son. Compliments you.’ Mason smiled. He could hear those words coming from his father’s lips like he just listened to them again firsthand.
“Hello, Mason. It is so great that you come and see him regularly. Hopefully, my boy takes care of me when I’m older,” the nurse said.
They were standing in the hallway only a few doors from his father’s room. She put her hand on the top of Mason’s arm. “He’s having a good day.” She smiled and winked at him.
“Of course, it’s Saturday.” He returned the smile and entered his father’s room, his steps lighthearted and happy.
Nelson Freeman sat in a rocking chair located in the corner of the room near a window. The curtains were open and sunshine poured in. He held a newspaper in his hand. He pretended to read, but Mason knew better.
It was a horrible thing to see a man who had been such a smart and savvy businessman withering in front of his eyes. There was nothing either science or he could do to stop and reverse the effects of this mind-bending disease. He had to stay upbeat and happy for his father.
“Hey, Dad.”
His father lifted his head.
It was a good day. There was recognition there.
“Hi.” He put the paper down on the table beside him and motioned for his son to come hug him.
After hugging his father, Mason sat in a chair beside him and referring to the newspaper said, “I see you were checking out the stock market.”
At this point in his father’s life, those numbers and symbols would mean nothing to him. At one time, he had been a brilliant player in investments.
“Oh, yes.” His father smiled, his eyes glazing over and focused on a far point in the room.
Mason followed his gaze, but there was nothing that warranted such scrutiny. It was time to change the subject. “I met a good woman.”
His father’s eyes lit up. His father had come back to him even if for another brief moment.
“I had a good woman once,” he said mumbling. “She was a real beaut too.” He whistled. “Her name was Esther.”
Mason smiled. That was his mother. She had died in a car accident when he was really young. He barely knew her. Most of his knowledge about her was based on old photographs and his father’s stories.
“Tell me about her, Dad.”
“Good woman, but she was taken away from me. She would make these butter tarts that would make any man sing.” His father’s eyes were lit up recalling better days. He let out another low whistle. “They were so delicious warm when the filling would ooze out.” His father put a finger to his lips. “I can still taste them.”
The light in his eyes diminished, his mind receding back into the diseased shell that fought to claim it.
“I remember the butter tarts.” Even though Mason had been young at the time, it was impossible to forget that treat.
He sat with his father, reminiscing and talking with him for a couple hours until his father needed to lie down for a rest. He had intended to tell him all about Jessica, but he never ended up getting into the details.
There was one thing he couldn’t be more certain of—he and Jessica would have a future.
-
Chapter 32
“HEY, BABY,” Mason said walking up behind her. He nuzzled into the nape of her neck.
Jessica fussed around in the kitchen trying to make them something to eat for lunch.
“Hi.” Jessica kept banging pots around on the counter.
“You don’t have to create a masterpiece for lunch. Actually I have a much better idea. Why don’t we go out?”
She stopped moving and braced herself on the counter. His blue eyes were looking right into hers. It temporarily prevented her from speaking.
“We have to talk.” She licked her lips and tucked a strand of hair behind an ear.
The smile that had been on his face quickly died. “That sounds serious.” He put his hands on her hips.
She couldn’t look at him. It hurt so badly. She had been rehearsing what she would say when he got back and now all the words were gone. He stood there watching her in silence.
“I’ve been thinking—”
“Oh, no.” He put a hand in his pocket and took a few steps back.
She held up her hand. “Please, just listen to me.” The affection that had filled his eyes hazed over. “I loved last night. But I’m not ready for a serious relationship yet. I buried my fiancé not long ago. Heck, I found out he had a son this week, lost where I lived, lost my trust in other people.”
His jaw clenched. “Jess, he was a bastard, plain and simple—”
“How dare you say that.”
“No, I listened to you, please listen to me.” He held up his hand to silence her. “You can’t let a man like that ruin your trust in other people—in me. We have something special, Jess, whether you want to admit that to yourself now, or not. Hell, you know I’ve been screwed over in life too, but I’m not sulking over it. I picked up the pieces and moved on.”
“How dare you?” Her eyes filled with tears, and she covered her mouth to suppress an outright bawl.
“I’m sorry.” He moved toward her, but she shrugged him off. “I shouldn’t have said that about him. But I need you to know that I’m not him, and you can’t hold what he’s done to you, against me.”
“So I see. It’s all about you, about what Mason wants. Well, I’ll make it easier for you. It’s over.” She couldn’t look at him. She stared at the floor, heaviness seizing her chest.<
br />
“Please, Jessica, I’m sorry.” He reached for her, and this time she let him hold her. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Please don’t end this. We can take it slower. One day at a time.” He pulled back, his hands on the tops of her arms. “But please don’t compare me to him.”
She wiped her nose, sniffling. “There’s something else I have to do, and I know you won’t be happy about it.”
“And what’s that?”
“For me to move on, to really put all this behind me, I need to go over there and meet these people. I need—”
“That’s fine, I can understand that.”
The sincerity in his eyes added credibility to his words. He pulled her into him again and held her tighter than before.
“Thanks.” She rested her head in the alcove of his neck and chest. She inhaled, appreciating his cologne. It calmed her. “Mason, you know I don’t really want to end this?” It came out like a question as if she required reassurance.
“I know, baby.” He pushed her hair back and kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll work through this.”
-
Chapter 33
JESSICA’S HEART WAS BEATING FAST. She sat in the driveway of the Lexan estate, her mind willing her to push the doorbell, her heart holding her back. She had to breathe.
Breathe in, breathe out, she mentally coached herself.
She had resolved to go to the Lexan estate later that evening. Earlier in the day just the thought of going there sucked the breath from her lungs. Here in person it was that much worse. Mason had offered to go with her, but she needed to do this on her own.
He commented on how it would be healing for her to have this closure, to be able to move on in her life and she desired that release as much as he did.
They did have something unique. She could feel it within herself. An honest reflection revealed this relationship was different than the one she had with Bryan. She had built Bryan up in her mind from a tender age. With Mason she made the choice as an adult.
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