He was teasing, but he’d caught her red-handed. “I’m not a phony.”
“You mean if you liked me a little more, I’d know it? Never mind,” he said, dropping the subject. “So how did you come upon fund-raising as a career?”
“It was accidental, actually. My college roommate came down with a rare type of lung disease in our senior year. It was pretty serious and she needed treatments that required hundreds of thousands of dollars, treatments that her insurance didn’t cover. I knew I had to help her. I gathered up a bunch of her friends and fellow students and started a fund-raising page on social media. I wrote articles for the local newspapers and even did a morning show with Sandra’s parents to bring awareness and raise funds. Within a matter of weeks, we had more than enough money for her procedures.”
“Impressive. How is your friend now?”
“She’s doing well. There’s no cure for her condition, but she has a good quality of life and I was just invited to her wedding.”
“Nice. You saved her life.”
“Not me, the doctors.”
“You’re being modest.”
“I wish there was something I could’ve done for my mother, though. I know I was just a kid, but I always think that maybe my father and I missed something. Her heart attack came on so suddenly and we never had a clue she had heart disease. She had no symptoms and, well, after that first attack there was so much damage...”
Drea lowered her head as emotions whipped through her system. Her mother had lasted only three days after the attack. And Drea wished she’d said more to her, wished she’d realized that she was losing her, wished she’d told her how much she loved her. Instead, everyone had tried to protect her, to make it seem that Maria MacDonald was going to be fine, when they’d probably all known differently.
Drea didn’t know why she’d exposed herself to Mason this way. She never talked about her mother’s illness, much less confided in a man she thought of as the enemy. She lifted her eyes and found pain in Mason’s expression.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he replied.
“Mason, I’m sorry.” His pain had to be more raw. More fresh. He’d lost his wife and unborn child to heart failure just two years ago.
Drea reached out to him, put her hand over his. It was instinctive, a move she’d afford anyone in pain. The connection flowed between them, strong, powerful, sorrowful. She resented the hell out of him, hated what his family had done to hers, but in a moment of shared grief, she’d forgotten all that. And then she pulled her hand away. Business with Mason.
“All through here?” The stewardess appeared, ready to remove the plates.
“Yes, all through,” she said.
“Would either of you like more coffee?”
“No,” they answered simultaneously.
“Okay, if I can get you anything else, Mr. Boone, please let me know.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
The flight attendant went back to her station and Drea was left alone with Mason once again. “You know, I think I’ll stretch my legs.”
Why not? The plane was roomy enough to move around in and she needed space.
When she stood, Mason stood, too, his Southern manners on full display. As she started to walk past him, the plane lurched and she was tossed against his chest. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her. Even after the quick bout of turbulence was over, Mason didn’t let go.
“You okay?” he whispered in her ear.
“Uh-huh.”
From where she was nestled in his arms, the slightest hint of his masculine cologne teased her nose. She closed her eyes, enjoying a few seconds of comfort. “Thanks for the catch.”
“My baseball days come in handy.”
“Tee-ball?”
“College. All Star.”
“Of course. You wouldn’t be anything else.”
Her snarky remark brought a chuckle. “You make me laugh, Drea.”
He skimmed his hands over her back, stroking her ever so gently, bringing her closer. His legs pressed against hers. She didn’t want to know what a brush against his groin would bring. She didn’t want this. But her heart was pounding and the strength of him, his maleness, sent thrills careening through her body.
The plane lurched again, this time breaking them apart. Mason reached for her, but she was too far from his grasp. It seemed the stratosphere had more sense than either of them.
“Sorry about that, folks,” the pilot said over the loudspeaker. “There shouldn’t be any further turbulence. You can relax and enjoy the rest of the flight.”
“Good news,” Mason said, but his words belied the dangerous gleam in his eyes.
Drea grabbed her bag from where she’d been sitting and pointed to a sofa a few feet away. “I think I’ll just sit over there for a while. I...have some work to go over.”
While Mason watched, she moved as gracefully as she could down the aisle and then plopped onto the sofa and avoided him for the rest of the trip.
* * *
A few hours later, as she and Mason were driving down the highway in a rented Cadillac SUV, breathing California air and enjoying West Coast sunshine, his cell phone rang. He tossed her the device. “Can you get that for me, please?”
Drea picked it up and glanced at the screen. “It’s the agent,” she said to Mason before answering. “Hello, this is Drea MacDonald.”
“Hello, Drea. Alan Nesbitt here.”
“Yes, Mr. Nesbitt. We’ve just landed and we’re on our way.”
“That’s why I’m calling. I’m afraid I can’t do lunch today. Something’s come up that I have to deal with. I hate to do this to you, but it can’t be helped.”
“But we’ve flown in from Texas. And we need to speak with you.”
“Yes, yes. That’s fine. I don’t have a spare minute until after the show.”
“You mean tonight?”
“Yes, the band goes on right before the headliner. We can talk then. I’m afraid that’s all that I can do. I’m swamped today.”
“Okay, we’ll come to the show.”
“I’ll leave VIP tickets and backstage passes for you. We’ll have a good hour to talk then.”
“I guess that will have to do. We’ll be there. This is important.”
“I understand. I’ll see you tonight.”
Drea pushed the off button and faced Mason. “He’s canceled lunch.”
“I heard.”
“He claims he has time to see us tonight at the show.”
Mason frowned. “We have to give it a try. What else can we do? We’re here already.”
“I agree. But now we have a lot of time to kill. What are we going to do for eight hours?” Drea was not happy about this. She and Mason would be spending the entire day together. And after what almost happened between them on the plane, she had to be on guard.
“I can think of a few things,” he said cryptically. Yet there was no villainous arch of his brows or twitch of his lips. When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
“I’m not starving, but I could eat.”
He nodded. “Me, too. Do you like seafood?”
“Who doesn’t?” She actually loved it. When she was in college, she’d go for Friday night fish frys with her friends. It was always something she’d looked forward to.
“Great.” At the next signal, Mason whipped the car around. “I know this little place on the beach I think you’d like.”
And soon they were on Pacific Coast Highway, the ocean to her left and the cliffs to her right. The homes on both sides of the road had amazing views of the sea. “Have you have been to LA before?” Mason asked.
“Yes, once, but I never saw the outside of my hotel.”
His brows arched and he glanced at her.
“I was attending a conferenc
e,” she explained. Not that it was any of his business how she’d spent her time here. “So yes, technically I’ve been here, but not enough to get a West Coast vibe.”
“I think I can remedy that.”
It didn’t sound awful so she nodded. “Okay.”
A few minutes later, Mason pulled into the parking lot of an outdoor café. Big Fish was a small take-out restaurant with picnic tables and café chairs facing the water. “Not fancy,” he said, “but the fish are fresh and everything is delicious.”
After being on the plane for three hours and then in the car this past hour, sitting outside in the autumn sunshine sounded pretty good. “I’m game.”
They got out of the car, Drea stepping down before Mason could open the door for her. She wasn’t a feminist really, and understood he was just displaying his ingrained Southern manners, but she was perfectly capable of getting out of a vehicle without his assistance. Still, he put his hand to her back and guided her through the parking lot to the take-out window. She glanced at the chalkboard menu on the wall. “What do you recommend?”
“If you love shrimp and scallops, their Big Fish Special is pretty good. Everything comes with fries and coleslaw.”
There wasn’t a salad on the menu. Or a fruit plate. She decided to throw caution to the wind today and go for broke. “I’ll have the Big Fish Special then, thank you.”
“Make that two,” Mason said to the lady behind the window.
When the food was ready, they walked over to a picnic table near the water. Drea took a seat and Mason slid in next to her. Both wore their sunglasses and silly bibs around their necks while they enjoyed the food. She had to admit Mason didn’t look intimidating now; his body was relaxed, his hair swept back by the slight breeze, his usual glower gone.
“This was a good idea,” she said, plucking up the last of her French fries.
“You mean I did something right for a change?”
She caught the twinkle in his eye. “All I mean is you have good taste in food, period.”
“I figured.”
“So, what’s the plan now?”
Mason glanced at his watch. “It’s a little after one.” They still had several hours before the meeting. “How do you feel about carnivals?”
“Carnivals?”
“Santa Monica-style. We’ll hit the pier next. It’s not far from here. If you’ve never been, it’s worth seeing. And I promise you, they have the best ice cream on the beach.”
“It’s your nickel,” she said. “I’m going along for the ride.”
* * *
A short time later, Drea had settled on a cup of strawberry ice cream and was spooning small bites into her mouth as they relaxed on the Santa Monica pier.
Mason shook his head at her choice of dessert. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m a lot of fun,” she said, “when I want to be.”
He held a mouthwatering double-fudge-brownie ice cream waffle cone in his hand. They stood against the guardrail overlooking the ocean, listening to the lapping waves hitting the shore. It was something they didn’t get in their part of Texas.
“Oh yeah? When do you want to be?”
His eyes were on her, watching her lick the cream from her spoon. It unsettled her, the gleam in his eyes, the sudden flirty tone in his voice. “When I...”
“When you what?”
He seemed intent on her answer. “Well, not now. Today is all about business.” At least it should be.
“We’re taking a business break...out of necessity.”
She blinked.
“This is a no-business zone,” he continued. “Look at the people here. Think they’re worried about numbers, spreadsheets, their boss’s latest tirade? No, ma’am. I don’t think so.”
He did have a point. “So if this is a no-business zone, do you mind sharing some of your double-fudge-brownie ice cream?”
“It depends,” he said. “What do I get in return?”
“What do you...uh, what do you want?” A memory flashed of being nearly naked in his bedroom, craving his kisses, wanting his touch. She didn’t allow those recollections often, but today they came easily, and for a second she was reminded of the good parts of that memory. How it felt when he’d released her hair from her braid. He’d weaved his fingers through it, as if the strands mesmerized him. And how it felt to be in his arms, his lips on hers, his body hot and demanding. She’d never known a greater desire in her young life than anticipating making love with him. But it had ended there. Mason had put a stop to it, and she was left with only rejection and humiliation.
“A ride.”
She blinked, pulling herself back to the present. “What kind of ride?” Back then, there was only one she’d wanted from Mason.
“Take your pick.” He nodded toward the amusement park attractions behind them. The hum of laughter, mechanical noises and screams merged in her head. It was the sound of good, honest fun.
“But I get my ice cream first?”
“Fine.”
She went in with her spoon and he backed away. “You can’t eat a cone with a spoon. Take a big bite and enjoy it.”
He offered her the side he hadn’t licked yet. But still, wasn’t it too intimate to be sharing ice cream this way?
The I-dare-you look in Mason’s eyes sparked a desire to prove something to him. She grabbed the cone out of his hand and dug in, taking a bite of the waffle and the dreamy chocolate ice cream in one big mouthful. She’d literally bitten off more than she could chew and Mason’s eyes were on her, watching her deal with it, watching her mouth move inelegantly. Then he laughed and his well-hidden dimples appeared. There was a brightness in his expression she hadn’t seen since they were much younger. He lifted a napkin to her lips, catching a drop of ice cream.
Their eyes connected then, and there was a moment of intense awareness.
He was touching her face again, standing close enough for her to see the coal-black rim around his deep dark eyes. Close enough to see his jaw tighten suddenly, to see his expression change. She felt it, too. Every time he touched her, she felt desire. Here, with dozens of people milling about on the pier, it was as if they were the only two people on the beach. If he bent his head and leaned in, would she allow him to kiss her again?
“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind taking our picture?” A woman stepped up, unaware that her interruption had just prevented them from making another mistake. Drea should have been relieved. Instead she didn’t know how she felt. Let down, maybe. The woman waited patiently, holding a cell phone in her hand. Adorable twin boys stood beside her.
“Of course. I’d be happy to,” Drea answered, handing Mason back his cone.
With the beach at her back, the woman ushered her two boys in front of her and Drea snapped the picture.
“Thank you,” she told Drea, then took off with the children.
Mason stepped up. “Let’s take that ride now.”
Getting chummy with Mason put her nerves on edge. She didn’t want to enjoy the day so much, and in the back of her mind she was second-guessing all her decisions. While she wanted to stick to her Business with Mason resolution, he was trying his hardest to change it into a no-business zone.
“Well?” he asked, watching her closely. “Have you decided?”
She turned around to peer at the rides and made a decision. “I’d like to try the Pacific Wheel. I overheard someone saying it’s the only solar-powered Ferris wheel in the world.”
He shook his head. “Boring.”
“Boring? But you said it was my choice?”
“That’s before you slurped up half my ice cream cone. I figure you owe me.”
Of course Mason wouldn’t play fair. She knew that about him. “I do, do I? Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
He led the way. “C’mon. Let’s see what the Pacific
Plunge is all about.”
* * *
Mason drove down Pacific Coast Highway with Drea beside him in the passenger seat. Her hand was braced on her midsection, which she rubbed every so often. She hadn’t wanted to go on that ride; he’d seen it on her face, the fear, the doubt. Yet she’d been a trouper, bravely getting on the contraption that lifted them up ninety feet over the water. He’d wanted her to see the view from the highest point of the pier, and it had been amazing. But then, as promised, once they’d reached the top, they’d plunged. Other people had screamed and laughed as they went down. But not Drea. She’d turned the same shade of green as her pretty eyes. Once they’d touched ground he’d helped her off the ride as she’d clutched her queasy stomach.
“Feeling any better?” he asked, taking his eyes off the road to look her way.
“A little.” She adjusted herself in her seat. “I’ll be fine. The fresh air is helping. Even if it didn’t end well, I’m okay with taking the plunge.”
“I’m glad. It was fun.”
“For you, maybe.”
He sighed. Drea wasn’t giving an inch, but he knew darn well she had enjoyed getting a little taste of the beach town. “I meant, I’d hoped it was fun for you, too. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thanks,” she said simply.
Hell, Mason couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so carefree, but he focused on the drive now, since Drea seemed to be lost in thought.
Ten minutes later, she asked, “So, are you meeting a Realtor at the beach house?”
He shook his head. “No. I have the keys.”
“Is that a privilege of the rich and famous? You get keys to homes you’re thinking of buying?”
“I’m not famous.”
“Gee, I don’t know too many people who have whole towns named after them.”
“My family settled Boone Springs decades ago,” he told her. “They built the town, not me. I’m not going to apologize for them.” He couldn’t hide the pride in his voice or miss the pout forming on Drea’s mouth.
Right now that pouty mouth looked very kissable. Ever since he’d kissed her that night, he’d had mental flashes of how wonderful it had been to touch his lips to hers, to taste her sweetness.
Texan for the Taking Page 5
