Sarah Curtis - Pursuing (Alluring Book 3)

by Unknown

  "So if you can't understand where I'm coming from and back off with the whole Casanova gig, then we can't be friends, and I can't help you with your nephew. We'll see each other as minimally as possible for the next six weeks until camp is over then that's it. We'll go our separate ways."

  He was silent for so long, she worried he wasn't going to say anything. That would be embarrassing, laying out her feelings and not getting a response. But then he took a step back, placing one hand on his hip and the other behind his neck while looking down at his booted feet. She saw him take a deep breath, his chest expanding and deflating before he spoke. "Okay, Angel, we'll do this your way," he looked up and pierced her with his eyes, "for now, but we are not done, not by a long shot. If all you can give me right now is friendship, consider me 'Friendzoned'." He gave her a light kiss on the forehead then moved to the door, opening it before turning back to her. "But, I'm giving you fair warning."

  "Fair warning of what?"

  "Of me. I'm setting out to prove everything you've just said was bullshit. I will never lie to you, either, so believe this. I'm coming for you, Angel, and make no mistake, I plan on winning you."

  Absorbing his words, she stood transfixed as he left, quietly closing the front door behind him. And it wasn't until she got a text from him a minute later, reminding her to lock the front door, that she shook herself from her mini-Mase-daze. Well, crap.

  Jo typed a period onto her report and officially called herself done for the day. She looked at the clock on the bottom of her computer screen and saw it was five after five. Perfect. She wasn't expected at Mase's house until eight, so that gave her plenty of time to go home, pack, and do a last minute check of her house before leaving it unoccupied for a few days.

  Today had been relatively stress-free for a Friday. Usually, there was at least one crisis in one of her houses she would have to attend to before kicking-off the weekend. But nope, nothing. And to be honest, that made her a wee bit uneasy. Things were going too well, getting off work early, no trouble in any of her houses, and the added bonus of no camp on Fridays, so she didn't have the stress of avoiding Mase all morning. She quickly knocked on the wooden arm of her chair not wanting to jinx herself and bring forth Armageddon. She wasn't overly superstitious, but better safe than sorry was a good motto to live by.

  With the third rap of her knuckles, her cell phone rang. That wasn't a bad omen, right? She glanced at the screen. Mase calling. She felt a tingle race down her spine and wasn't sure if it was from seeing Mase's name or the coincidence of his timing.

  She picked up before it went to voice mail. "Hey."

  "What time will you be done?"

  "Actually, I just finished and was heading for the door."

  "I'll be at your house in thirty with Chinese."

  Of course, he hung up before she could reply. She didn't bother calling him back. She knew it would be futile. No matter what she did or said, he would still be at her house in thirty minutes. She may not know him well, yet, but she knew him well enough to know, Mase on a mission was an unstoppable force.

  She waved goodbye to the few people in the office then headed to her car. Traffic would be a bitch at this time of day, and she'd be lucky if she made it home before Mase showed up.

  As she pulled up to her house, she noticed a black SUV parked at the curb. She assumed it was Mase even though it wasn't the same cute, sports car he drove yesterday. She swung into her driveway and Mase was at her car door, opening it before she even finished gathering all her stuff. She looked up at him, noting faded jeans, another form-fitting T-shirt (this one navy blue), showing off his muscles, and his sexy smile. He held a paper bag in his arm that she assumed was their dinner as the aroma wafting from it smelled delicious and a large grease blotch stained the bottom.

  Climbing out of the car, Jo, without thinking, gave Mase a big smile saying, "Dinner smells great, thank you," momentarily forgetting he'd presumptuously invited himself over.

  The smile she got in return had her knees wobbling, so she reached for the top of the car door to steady herself, going with the pretense that her intention was to close it.

  "I've got it. You go unlock the front door," Mase said, gently nudging her in the right direction.

  She got her key in the door and was just opening it when she felt Mase's heat hit her back. She stumbled upon entry, again, trying to cover her actions by using quick camouflage moves, leaping for the alarm and punching in her code acting as if she had mere seconds and not a full minute to deactivate it.

  She heard Mase chuckle from behind her but chose to ignore it, going straight to the living room, kicking her shoes off under the coffee table, and throwing her purse on the armchair.

  "Should I take this to the kitchen or will you be removing more articles of clothing that I'll want to stick around for?"

  Jo twisted at the waist, glancing back at Mase. She'd been in the process of removing her blazer when he'd started speaking, and the jacket was halfway down her arms. She had a routine when she got home and hadn't given it a second thought when she started her ritual. She gave him a small smile. "Sorry, this is the end of the show." She nodded to the bag. "You might as well take that to the kitchen." She finished removing her jacket and tossed it on the chair before reaching in her purse, pulling out a scrunchy, and using it to secure her hair in a messy bun at the top of her head.

  "Do you want to eat in the kitchen or the living room?" She heard Mase call out from the kitchen.

  Her kitchen was cute but very small with a tiny nook in the corner that held a small, square table with an attached bench seat. It was unquestionably cozy and definitely not where she wanted to eat dinner with Mase.

  She made her way to the kitchen to help dish up the food. "Let's eat in the living room."

  Mase eyed the minuscule table in the corner then gave her a shrewd smile. "Whatever you say, Angel."

  Jo looked over his shoulder to see him plating up Kung Pao Chicken, chow mein noodles, and white rice. "How did you know Kung Pao was my favorite?"

  Mase turned his head and because Jo was so close, his face was just inches from hers. "I know how you like things spicy," he said, in a low, gravelly voice that left her heart racing.

  She stood mesmerized by the close proximity of his lips before shaking herself from her trance and taking a hasty step back. She cleared her throat. "I'll um... grab us something to drink," she said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the refrigerator. Mase just gave her that smile, again before turning back to their plates.

  "I have soda, iced tea, or water. I don't have any beer, but I do have wine if you want something with alcohol."

  He looked at her over his shoulder. "Soda's fine." He turned from the counter holding their plates. "Can you grab some forks?"

  Jo came out of the fridge with two cans of soda. "No chopsticks?"

  Mase raised his brows. "You can eat with chopsticks?"

  It was now Jo's turn to raise her brows. "Sure, can't you?"

  Mase shook his head. "I never learned how."

  Jo was sure, he was pulling her leg. She knew not everyone could use chopsticks successfully, but they at least knew how to use them. Jo tipped the edge of the bag and glanced inside. Chopsticks laid at the bottom among several packages of soy sauce and two fortune cookies. She plucked out the chopsticks and headed to the living room. "Come on, I'll teach you."

  Mase followed and handed her a plate after she'd set their drinks on the coffee table and settled herself into the corner of the couch. Mase took a seat in the opposite corner.

  Balancing the plate on her lap, Jo pulled a set of chopsticks from the paper casing and snapped them apart. "First you need to rub the sticks together, making sure there are no splinters." After finishing a pair, she handed them to Mase then went to work on a pair of her own. "Next, you hold them like this." She positioned the chopsticks in her fingers then held up her hand for Mase to see.

  He tried to mimic her but failed spectacularly. "No, like th
is." After two more failed attempts, she set her plate on the coffee table and scooted herself closer to him so only about a foot separated them on the couch before taking his hand and helping him position the chopsticks.

  *

  The floral scent of her hair filled his nostrils as she leaned forward to position the chopsticks in his fingers. Mase closed his eyes memorizing the fragrance. He wasn't sure what it was, an expert on flowers he was not, but he would learn. He wanted to know everything about her.

  He smiled inwardly at his slight deception. He hadn't lied. He'd never used chopsticks, but he picked things up quickly and was sure he could have mastered their usage by now. But having Jo as his teacher had him wanting to prolong playing the student.

  "Okay, now try," she said, letting go of his hand.

  He decided it was time to succeed in this new ability. After all, he didn't want her to think he was a complete imbecile. He picked up a chunk of chicken and carefully brought it to his mouth, giving her a closed mouth grin as he chewed.

  She clapped her hands under her chin and gave a little bounce on the couch, rewarding his victory with a beautiful smile. "You did it."

  She reached for her plate and scooted back to her side of the couch. Which was for the best, really. One more second and he'd have grabbed the back of her neck and kissed the shit out of her. He knew it was too soon to make a move, but he really wanted to taste those lips. He dreamed about those lips. The bottom one was a little fuller than the top, and he desperately wanted to suck it into his mouth, sweep it with his tongue, and nip it with his teeth. He stared, mesmerized, as her lips puckered, sucking up a noodle then her tongue, darting out to lick away the excess sauce.

  She looked up from her plate and caught him staring. "Do I have something on my face?" She asked, wiping her palm across her chin.

  He gave her a small smile and shook his head. "No." His voice came out gruff, and he cleared his throat. Trying to take his mind off her mouth, he looked back at his plate and pinched at another piece of chicken. "So, you willing to share how you became a social worker, now that we're friends, and you know I'm not just trying to get in your pants."

  Jo chuckled. "Well, the ruling's still out on you just wanting to get into my pants, but I'll share anyway." She picked up her soda from the coffee table and took a sip before revealing, "I originally wanted to be a teacher." She smiled wistfully. "I loved school growing up and when I got my first job, babysitting, I also discovered how much I loved children and being around them. They're brutally honest, which I respect, and they usually have no hidden agendas. So naturally, I thought teaching would be perfect."

  At her lengthy pause, he asked, "What happened to change your mind?"

  She leaned forward setting her plate on the coffee table then turned, so she sat with her back against the couch arm, facing him. She planted her feet flat on the cushion before her, tucked her knees to her chest, and hugged her legs. "When I was fifteen, I started babysitting for a lady named Nancy. She had five kids, worked full time, and had an asshole for a husband. I watched the kids every day after school because she couldn't afford daycare."

  Mase's brow furrowed in thought. "Don't they have government programs to help families in need of that service?"

  Jo nodded. "Yes, but Sean, the asshole husband, made too much money. Unfortunately, Nancy never saw a dime of his paycheck. I don't know for sure, but I suspected he spent it all on drugs." She shrugged. "I worked for them for about a year, until Sean's temper seemed to spiral out of control, and he did things that made me uncomfortable. When I told my mom about it, she made me quit."

  Mase's back stiffened, and the chopsticks he still held made a cracking noise as they snapped beneath his thumb. "What kind of things?"

  "Looking back from the perspective of my twenty-six-year-old self, nothing that bad, but the innocent fifteen-year-old me, felt..." she paused as if wanting to choose the right word, "uneasy."

  "I'll repeat, what things?" He said, between gritted teeth.

  "It was a long time ago, Mase. There's no need to get upset. It wasn't that bad, just some light touches and a few inappropriate remarks."

  Mase set his plate on the coffee table and scooted until his hip butted against her toes. "Angel, I don't think you're understanding me. Vague was not an option. Now, I'll repeat one last time, what things?"

  Jo's head tipped back a notch, and her beautiful, brown eyes grew wide. "Um..." Her tongue darted out, licking her lips, distracting him but only for a moment. He reached out, sliding his hand along her neck under her hair, grasping her nape, and pulling her forward.

  "Can you um... back up a little?" Her voice was a throaty whisper. He'd pulled her close, and her warm breath drifted across his cheek, causing his dick to swell. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath before backing his head away a few inches.

  He watched her, growing more impatient as the seconds ticked by. She must have noticed the impatience on his face because she sighed then spoke. "He would caress my arm or cheek and call me beautiful. It never went further than that, but knowing what I know now as an adult, I'm sure it would have escalated had I stayed."

  Mase felt an uncontrollable rage start to build at the thought of some unknown asshole putting his hands on his angel. To curb his anger, he focused on her features. Her eyes. This close, he could see tiny flecks of gold dotting the deep, rich brown that reflected in the light and grabbed his attention. Her nose. So small and perfectly shaped with a light dusting of freckles across the bridge, so faint, that from a distance were nearly undetectable. Her lips. Full, red, and plump, they fascinated him, was almost obsessed with them, and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to cover her mouth with his, suck those plump lips into his mouth, and explore them with his tongue.

  "About a year later, we learned Sean killed Nancy in a drug-induced rage then killed himself," she said, startling him from his fantasy. "I was so worried for the kids. They had no close relatives nearby and being only sixteen, I had no way of knowing what had happened to them. I remember begging my dad to find out. Turns out, they'd gone into foster care for six months until an aunt was found. I'd been so grateful there was a system in place to look after kids when tragedy strikes, and I knew I wanted to be a part of that."

  Mase removed his hand from behind her neck and gently traced a path from her temple to her chin with his finger. The soft, compassionate look in her eyes, coupled with her story, knowing she cared so deeply about her job, and the kids she helped save, touched a deep part of his soul. "You're a beautiful person inside and out, Joanna Welch, and I'm very happy, I've met you."

  Chapter Six

  Jo nearly fell face first onto the coffee table in her haste to get off the couch. "Are you okay?" Mase asked, reaching for her arm.

  She rapidly took a few steps back. "I'm fine, I just noticed the time and need to get packed so we can leave." She power-walked to her bedroom not slowing until she crossed the threshold.

  She looked around sightlessly, taking a few deep breaths, trying to decide what to do. She knew she had to spend the next few days with Mase. She was committed. She'd practically made a promise and it was too last minute to back out now, but that's not what had her panicking. The fact that she didn't want to back out is what sent her into a panic. She wanted to spend more time with him even though she knew they were only pretending to be friends, that under the surface he was plotting, calculating, and scheming a plan of action to wear her down. It was a game they were playing. A fun, sexy, arousing game and she had a feeling, he was the superior player that would win in the end. But she would keep playing because she wasn't ready to give in. Not ready to take a chance. Not ready to make the fall and trust Mase would be there to catch her. She would fight this attraction she felt for him, and maybe if she were lucky, it would just fade away.

  "Do you need help with anything?"

  The question, whispered so close to her ear, startled her. With a yelp, she spun on her heel. Mase stood right in front
of her, so close, she could smell the subtle hint of his scent. Something musky and manly. It suited him perfectly.

  "Still having sinus issues?"

  "Wh... What?" His height had her tipping her head back to see his face clearly.

  "You were sniffing again."

  It was the chuckle and his shit-eating grin that snapped her out of her mini-daze/panic mode. Straightening her spine, she took a step back, creating much-needed distance between them. Mortified at being caught sniffing him (again), she made a beeline for her closet, sliding the mirrored doors open wide and disappearing inside.

  She spotted her suitcase behind a pile of shoes, awkwardly tugging it out before lugging it over and tossing it on her bed. The bed Mase now sat on. Her body stilled, but her hand tightened on the handle of her suitcase. "I don't need any help." Especially not from a sexy, know-it-all football player. "I'll um... only be a few minutes. Why don't you go wait in the living room. Watch TV or something."

  He picked up one of her pillows and hugged it to his chest as he turned, scooted, and leaned back against her headboard, making himself comfortable. She watched all this with two thoughts floating through her head. One, her pillow would smell like him now (yum), and two, how gross would it be to never wash it again?

  "It's cool, I'll stay here and keep you company. I don't mind." He gave her that grin, again, and she wondered if he practiced it in front of a mirror to have perfected it so perfectly.

  She sighed when she realized she wouldn't get rid of him so instead focused on her task, surmising, the faster she finished, the sooner they'd be out of there. She searched for and found the end of the zipper, pulling it around before grasping the top flap and flinging it back. And again was completely mortified. Because right there, in the otherwise empty suitcase, was a bright-pink bag. Of course, that wasn't the mortifying part. No, the mortifying part was the huge cartoon penis that decorated the bag.