“Do you want to…” He motioned to the couch in the living room behind her.
She shook her head. “Think we can shower and chat at the same time?”
“Probably not. If we’re naked, I don’t think there will be much talking involved.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he said it. As he pictured her naked in his shower down the hall. It was small. Really only big enough for one person. That just meant they’d have to be nice and cozy if they shared. Nothing was right in his world now, but just seeing her again, having her in his arms with her scent surrounding him made a weird kind of peace settle around his shoulders.
“Good point. Okay. Shower first, talking later.” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him into the living room, as bold as ever.
“Do you even know where you’re going?”
“No clue.”
But she dragged him along anyway. He took a moment to admire her bottom through the thin black pencil skirt. Knowing there was nothing beneath it made blood pool in his groin. Add to that the thigh-high stockings and baby heels she wore, and he was lost. He didn’t care where she led him. He’d follow.
She pulled him out of the living room and into the hallway.
“Which door?” she said.
“Second left.”
Her fingers were sweaty in his, but familiar and confident. She led him into the bathroom and let go of his hand. He closed the door behind him, and she pulled her silk shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her white bra was simple but soft; he knew from touching it a few moments before. A little red bow was sewn just between the swell of her breasts.
“Well?” she said as she moved her fingers behind her and unclasped her bra. It slipped down her arms as she lowered them, and she let it fall to the floor.
“I think I’ll enjoy the floor show first.”
She turned around and bent to take off her heels. He ran a hand over her offered posterior. She pulled off both heels and then slid her arms up under her skirt. She didn’t stand up, and he continued caressing her. She lifted first one foot and then the other to remove the thigh-high tights. Then she stood up, and he fought the urge to pout. Instead he busied himself undoing the zipper in the back of the skirt.
“I thought I was putting on a show?” she said over her shoulder.
“It’s an audience-participation kind of deal, ma’am.”
“Ah, of course.”
He slipped his hands between the tight fabric of the skirt and the smoothness of her skin, sliding his fingers down her legs. When he reached the floor, she stepped out of the circle of the skirt, and he kissed her left calf, then her right. He was curious about what she wanted to discuss, but he didn’t want to hurry this time. The moment he’d seen her, he’d been overcome with the need to have her. Consequences be damned.
He worked his fingers up her legs and pressed quickly between her thighs, teasing first her clit, then the edges of her slit.
She moaned at his attention, but he didn’t linger. He stood up and tossed his clothes aside. He shifted around her so he could reach the shower. After fiddling with the knobs, he offered her his hand and helped her into the stall. He followed her in and closed the door.
“Now I see why you said we would get absolutely no talking done in here,” she said as he brushed up against her.
There wasn’t too much room to move around, but he grabbed the soap from the low shelf on the wall and began lathering her body in suds. She squealed and moaned as loudly as she wanted as he teased and caressed her. When he was sure she was close, he sat down on the low shelf and lowered her onto his shaft.
“Oh, my,” she said as he stretched her folds. The water turned tepid, then cool as she rode him slowly. He reached to shut it off. “No, leave it,” she said. “It feels terrific.”
He smiled as she glided up and down. She was right. The cool water pelting his body mixed with the heat of her, rocketing him to the edge in a matter of moments. Her nipples turned to even harder peaks, and he took one into his mouth. When Amy cried out, he bit down and pinched the other nipple hard. Then she came, screaming and taking him with her a second later.
She slammed down on him one last time and banged her hand into the wall of the shower to keep steady. He hadn’t really appreciated until now how difficult it must have been for her all those times she’d come silently in his mom’s house.
She rested her head against his shoulder and kissed the side of his neck.
“I could sit here all night, but soon that water’s gonna be frigid,” she said. He slid his hands over her wet hair, and she stood up, using the wall of the shower to help keep her upright. She grabbed the soap from the floor and quickly ran it over her body. He had to turn from her, for fear of wanting her again. She took it as an invitation and smoothed her soapy hands down his back, over his backside, and to his legs. She washed him, and he turned. They stood under the spray for another minute, simply enjoying each other’s touch, and then she switched it off.
“If we don’t get out of here soon, we’re gonna freeze.”
He nodded and opened the door. Even the cooler air from outside the shower was cold enough to bring goose bumps to his skin. He snatched a towel off the shelf and wrapped Amy in it, then grabbed one for himself.
“Thanks,” she said as they dried themselves off. She bent to pick up her dirty clothes.
“Leave them. If you go walking around here in that skirt and no panties all night, I’m not going to be able to concentrate on whatever it is you want to talk about.”
“So it’s better if I’m naked?”
He laughed. “No. But I have two dressers and a closet full of clothes. We’ll find something for you to wear.”
She followed him out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. “I think that means you officially have more clothes than I do.” Her voice was light. Teasing. So unlike the formal tone she’d used when she said good-bye to him on Sunday. She’d been so closed off, so rigid. He didn’t want to see that side of her again. He loved her like this. Free, no-bullshit, no-holds-barred Amy.
That was the woman who had blindsided him in Hanson’s grocery store and the one he wanted to get to know even better. He pulled a pair of tight boxers, sweatpants, and a T-shirt from his drawers and handed them to her.
“Be right back,” he said and went into the bathroom to retrieve her bra. His shirt would be big on her, but it was thin, and it would hang on her bare breasts, showing him her nipples. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself, and he needed to hear her out. Whatever else was coming around the corner, he had to focus on what she needed first.
When he got back in the bedroom, she was dressed, and the towel was wrapped around her hair. He held out the soft white bra. She raised her eyebrows.
“I can…um…” He couldn’t say it out loud. He was still a Southern boy at heart, and no matter how often he played with Amy, he didn’t think he could say something as embarrassing as that he couldn’t focus on her face when her nipples were showing.
She looked down and then licked her lips. “Ah, right. Nipping, am I?”
“Yes,” he said, grateful she saved him from saying it.
She took the bra from him. He rummaged around in his drawers for some comfortable clothes, and after putting on boxers, jogging pants, and a black T-shirt, he turned back around. She was fully covered and drying her hair with the towel.
“Better?” she said.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Now he just had to get her the hell out of his bedroom. She still looked too tempting in here. He led them out to the couch, and Amy grabbed her purse. She pulled her hair up off her neck and clipped it behind her head with the ease of many years of practice. She sat on the couch, so he sat on the chair opposite her, a safe distance away with the glass-topped coffee table between them.
“This is a great place,” she said, looking around. Her hands stilled in her lap. Was she nervous? His brain started thrumming again with all the possibilities she wanted to discu
ss. She had to just tell him. Put him out of his misery.
“Thanks,” he said. “So…what did you come here to do if it wasn’t to jump my bones?”
She smiled as he’d hoped she would, and her shoulders relaxed. “My dad’s miserable. You have to help me get them back together.”
He probably would have handled the news that she was pregnant better.
Chapter Eighteen
Oh, that had gone well. Mason sat across from her, as far as he could get while still sitting in the living room. His face would have been comical if it weren’t her dad’s happiness on the line. She knew she’d screwed up, and she would help fix Dad’s relationship with Martha as best she could. But she needed his help. No way could she do it on her own. She’d only screw it all up worse.
“Say something, will you? You’re the man with the plan, remember?”
He finally closed his mouth. “Mom was adamant about things being over. I believe her exact words were ‘It didn’t work out in college; I don’t know why in the hell we thought it would work this time.’ She’s not going to change her mind. Your dad made her swear. That never happens. Not ever.”
She got it; really she did. But it didn’t change the fact that her dad deserved the chance to make it up to Martha. “He took our side, you know. He defended me and you to your mom.”
“Yeah. I know. But she’ll never accept a relationship with him if she thinks we’re still sleeping together.”
She was prepared for this reaction and knew at least that much about Martha. Amy also knew what she’d have to do to give her dad a chance. She had to give Mason up.
“So then we won’t.”
No reaction. None whatsoever. Her stomach flipped. So he was either completely indifferent to them continuing whatever they’d started, or he was as confused and hurt by the idea as she was and wanted to hide that from her. She tried to pretend his reaction didn’t matter, but she knew better. She wanted to know their pseudorelationship was important to him, at least a little bit. If he were really indifferent, would he have thrown himself at her so forcefully after he’d gotten over the shock of her standing in his doorway? She hoped not.
He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, taking a minute to compose himself.
“I still don’t know if it will be enough,” he said. That was it. No emotional reaction or personal protest that he wanted her enough to fight Martha’s traditional view of relationships.
She pushed aside the pain from that and focused on the reason she’d come here tonight. If they were going to get Martha and James back together, they would have to do it as a team. “It’s a start, right?”
After a moment, he nodded. “I don’t know if she’ll forgive me for lying to her. And she really might not be ready for a relationship with your dad.”
She started to tell him he was wrong, but he held up a hand, and she waited for him to continue.
“I know he makes her happy. I saw her. It’s just that I think she’s scared to try again. Honestly I can’t blame her. My dad did a number on her. Almost thirty years of marriage was ended in an afternoon. She got her heart broken. I don’t know if I can encourage her to risk it again. I can’t lie to her anymore. I won’t. If we’re going to try this, we have to really stop. And I don’t know if I can.” He whispered the last as a confession.
The same truth burned inside her. She didn’t know if she could either. But for her dad, she would try. Maybe someday Martha would come around, but for now, Amy would make herself keep her distance.
“Me neither. But we have to try,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. “Starting now?”
No. She wanted to scream it, but she stopped herself. She had to think this through, no matter how painful it was. “I was hoping maybe I could stay in town for a few days while we work out the plan. I have another interview on Monday, so I’ll be here until Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest.”
“If you stay here, we won’t stop.”
“I know,” she whispered. Why did the idea of stopping fill her with such dread? It was just sex. Great sex. Sex she didn’t ever want to stop having. But still. Just sex. She’d have to get over it.
“Well, then, we’ll start the hands-off rule the day you go home.” His voice was hoarse, deep.
Oh, thank God. At least she’d have a few more days to really get used to the idea of letting go. Tuesday or Wednesday, depending on how long she stayed. And he’d said “here,” as in, in his apartment?
“Deal?” he said.
“Yes, deal.” She reached out and took his wide hand in hers. They shook on it.
“Okay, then. Let’s get to work,” he said. He reached in the drawer beside the couch and pulled out a pad of paper. Get parents back together, he wrote at the top of the yellow sheet. Why was she not surprised?
She stifled a laugh.
“All right, accomplice. What’s step one?” he said.
“We have to convince your mom that we’re over. And get her to forgive you.” She still couldn’t shake the shame that she’d been the one to put such a strain on their relationship.
No sex.
“What’s next?” he asked.
“We’ll have to convince my dad to go down and see her again. I don’t think she’ll be willing to go any further with their relationship if he stays up north and she stays in Texas.”
Get them in the same state.
“How are we going to do that?” he asked.
“I think we’ll have to lie to my dad,” she said. Unless he received an engraved invitation complete with an apology and explanation from Martha, there was no way he’d fly back to Texas. Mason shifted, and she knew he was uncomfortable with the idea. But she wasn’t sure there was any other way.
“How so?”
“I don’t know. We have to do something to convince him that she wants him there. That your family wants him there.”
“That might be hard to pull off,” he said.
“What about telling your brothers and sister about what’s been really going on in the family?”
He looked at her as if she’d suggested he fly to the moon and back. With Superman’s cape.
“Okay, then. That’s not happening,” she said.
He shook his head. “I won’t ruin their relationship with my dad for a chance. I’m sorry.”
She leaned over and squeezed his hand. “I understand. It’s okay. You’re a good brother, Mason. And a damn good son too.”
The right side of his mouth quirked up into a tiny smile.
“Do you think your mom would just come up to New York and meet him?”
“I doubt it.”
“Then it has to be Dad who goes to her. The only way that’ll happen is if he thinks she invited him.”
He tapped the pen against the pad, then put the end in his mouth. He chewed on the cap and stared off into space for a few minutes. Was this what he looked like at work coming up with ideas to sell to his clients? Thinking of him in his office, surrounded by a team of loyal employees and followers, made her grin. She would bet they took his lead in all things. He always had his shit together. Except maybe with her. She liked that she could unravel him a bit.
She would miss that. But she would find a way to make herself okay with only being friends with Mason. Somehow. Her chest tightened with disappointment and something a little deeper, even darker, than that.
* * * *
The following morning, Mason wrapped his body around Amy’s, thrilled to have her back in his bed, even if it would only be for a few more days. She mumbled something in her sleep and burrowed her naked backside deeper into the cradle of his hips. He slung a leg over her and closed his eyes again. His alarm would sound soon, but he couldn’t deny them even a few minutes of cuddle time. They’d had so little back at his mom’s house, and they’d have even less after he gave Amy up for good.
He forced himself to stop thinking about what would come next week. And the week after that. They had the semblance
of a plan to help their parents, but it would take some fancy footwork over the next few weeks if they were going to pull it off. The only window they had would be Christmas. Both their parents would get time off from work, and he didn’t want his mom to go through Christmas as miserable this year as she had last year. He couldn’t bear to see that again.
He was supposed to spend Christmas with Dad. Not a chance in hell. He’d barely tolerated holidays with the man when Dad lived in the same house as his mother, but now that his father was several states away, Mason had no intention of spending even a minute of the Christmas holiday with him. If that made him a horrible son, so be it.
He uncurled one arm from around Amy and reached across the bed to click off the alarm clock before it woke her. She didn’t have another interview today, so there was no reason she should get up at five a.m. He wanted to kiss her awake. Wanted to slide into her body and start the morning right. But he didn’t have time, and he wouldn’t be that selfish. He slowly lifted his left arm from around her waist. She murmured and snuggled closer to him. He inched his way back from her on the bed. She turned toward him, and he stood.
“Mason?” she whispered. Her voice was heavy with sleep, but the sound of his name on her lips was caressing, erotic.
He leaned over and brushed her hair out of her face. “Shh, sweetheart, I have to go to work. Go back to sleep.” She nodded and closed her eyes.
He grabbed a suit and boxers and rushed from the room before the temptation to climb back into bed with her became too much. He quickly showered and got ready. After leaving a note and the key on the counter, he ran from the apartment.
All through the morning at work, he fought the urge to call and check in on her. She’d been the one to show up at his place, the one to propose they work together to help James win his mom back. But he’d seen the look that flitted across her face when she agreed they’d stop sleeping together.
She was as unhappy about the prospect as he was. Why did this woman always blindside him? He looked down at the spread before him and picked up another colored pencil. The graphic just wasn’t right. He drew in a few more lines on the label for a can of cranberry sauce. Maybe it was Amy’s return to his life, but suddenly his mind sped into hyperdrive, an entire commercial for the new brand of cranberry sauce spinning out inside his head. He called his team into the conference room and laid out his plan.
Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce Page 13
