by Sonya Weiss
Olivia could believe it. She thought about the scars on Mason’s back and the tattoo she’d seen across them and a shiver went through her. She sensed he wasn’t a man who worried whether or not he was pushing others to get what he wanted. “I think I can handle him. What I’m fighting for is something that I believe in. Something that makes a difference in the lives of others. Just like Mom did.”
She squared her shoulders, mentally stiffening her resolve. Mason might be the one calling the shots, but if he thought she was a woman who would meekly go along with his every demand, he was in for a big shock.
…
A quarter to eight the next morning, Mason wasn’t surprised to open the door to his hotel room and find Olivia on the other side. She had her hair down and wore a minimal amount of makeup, yet she was stunning. He stepped to one side and she breezed past him, stopping when she saw the food-laden service cart. She swung around to look at him and when she did, he caught a faint whiff of perfume.
“I took the liberty of ordering breakfast,” he said, motioning toward the spread of meats, eggs and strawberry-covered waffles.
Olivia dropped her purse into one of the chairs and pinned him with a hard look. “You had no doubt I would show up? You think I’m that predictable?”
Mason could feel the waves of dislike wafting from her. “I don’t know that much about you. Only what I’ve read. But I know me.” He slouched with his hands in his pockets, enjoying watching the play of emotion across her face.
“Is that your way of saying what Mason wants, Mason gets?”
He studied her, taking in the tantalizing way her breasts rose and fell beneath the emerald-green shirt she wore. He’d never ached for a woman the way he ached for Olivia. “If I deny that, I admit some things are outside the realm of my ability to have. If I admit it, I’m an arrogant bastard.”
“You’re right that you don’t know me. Reading a few articles doesn’t give you insight into who I am.”
He smiled. “Do you think I’d face an opponent and not know far more than what I could read about them in some damn publicity pieces?”
She leaned her deliciously curved backside against the arm of one of the chairs. Understanding crossed her beautiful face. “You had me investigated.”
It was a statement without any emotion, and Mason admired the way she held herself in check. He knew women well and had fully expected a strong reaction once she realized he’d had her life dissected. She certainly wasn’t playing the role he’d envisioned she’d play, and it intrigued him. “You’re not angry?”
She lifted one shoulder and the silky material of her shirt slid across her body. “Why should I be? Investigating the woman you’re going to force to act as your girlfriend is a smart business move. I’ve done some investigating of my own.” Crossing the floor, her heels soundless on the thick carpeting, Olivia went to the cart and picked up a piece of bacon. She bit into it, licked her lips, and gave him a smile. When the hell did eating bacon become so erotic?
“And what did you discover?”
She swallowed and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ll show you mine after you show me yours.”
Amused, Mason laughed. “Olivia Carter. Thirty-one. Never had a serious relationship, but you don’t sleep around. You were torn between studying fashion design or art in college. You chose design and then took art classes after graduating.”
“Is that all you’ve got?”
Mason raised an eyebrow and continued. “You often devote time to causes that mean a lot to you. You’ve volunteered at homeless shelters and no-kill animal organizations, and participated in drives to raise money for underprivileged children. You’re financially okay, but by no means wealthy. No serious debt other than your mortgage. Good credit, good friends.”
Picking up a napkin, Olivia wiped the tips of her fingers. If his words bothered her, again, she didn’t show it. “My turn. Mason Parker. Thirty-two. Photographed with numerous beautiful women and I’m assuming none of those relationships were platonic. You have a pet—a Great Dane named Redemption you call Red for short. And you’re worth millions upon millions of dollars thanks to the security software company you started. How am I doing?”
“That’s information you gleaned from online searches.”
“I didn’t have time to put my team of lawyers and investigators on it.”
Mason knew damn well she didn’t have either. “Do you want to eat or do you want to go at it?”
She lifted an eyebrow, her irritation clear from the quick tightening of her lips. “By ‘go at it,’ I’m assuming you mean discuss our lives intersecting outside of the bedroom?”
“Of course. But for your benefit, we should discuss inside my bedroom as well, since there’s no doubt in my mind that’s where you’ll end up.”
Olivia poured herself a cup of coffee and yawned. “Forgive me if I’m not on top of my game. I had a very late night last night. But if I recall, there was nothing in our conversation about the two of us becoming lovers.”
“I said you would come to my bed without any persuasion from me.”
“That’s right. So you did.” Moving to the chair, Olivia picked up her purse and opened it. She removed two folded sheets of paper and held them out.
He took them and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
“My list of requirements if I’m going to enter into this facade with you.”
Mason blinked. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure you fully grasp the situation. You’re in no position to ask me for any concessions in this deal.”
“Oh, no, sweetheart, you misunderstand. I’m not asking. You can call that my counteroffer.” She walked back to her coffee and took a sip, smothering another yawn.
Annoyance surged within him. “Without me, Olivia, you lose everything.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Without me, Mason, so do you.”
Checkmate. Damn, she’s good. He decided to call her on it. He took out his cell phone and began dialing. “I’ll arrange to have a team of reporters at my company by the evening, and once I return to Chicago, I’ll let them know this was all a ruse.”
“Okay.” Olivia set the coffee cup aside and picked up her purse. She slid the strap onto her shoulder and nodded at him. “I’ll show myself out.” She opened the door.
He moved forward and put his hand over hers, pushing the door shut. No one had ever called him out before and he damn well didn’t like it. He had no intention of giving in, but said, “We’ll discuss your requirements.”
This close to her, with her lips parted, her gaze locked on his, the desire to take her, to feel her body yield beneath his, hammered at him with the force of a battering ram. Her lips curved ever so slightly and Mason knew she felt the same attraction he did, but he also knew she was fighting it tooth and nail. She raised herself up, bringing her face closer, and he waited for the kiss.
The kiss that never came.
Instead, she said, “Good. I’m glad you’re in agreement. I’m starving. Let’s talk while we eat.” Turning on her heel, she headed toward the cart, talking ninety miles a minute about some damn elusive pearl beads she’d finally tracked down for a wedding dress.
Forcing his raging desire to behave, he pulled out a chair for her and she said, “A gentleman?”
Waiting until she was seated, he leaned down and put his lips close enough to brush her ear. Her body gave a faint shiver. “Hardly. But I’ll be glad to show you how gentle I can be.” When he straightened, he caught the flash of anger in her eyes before she quickly hid it.
“About the requirements,” she said, helping herself to a waffle. “Some of them I can be a little lenient with. Others are nonnegotiable.”
Mason scanned the list and frowned, then looked at her. “It’s not possible for you to remain here in Butler Field while I’m in Chicago.”
“Why not?” Olivia added a dollop of whipped cream to the waffle and then tasted it. “Our relationship has been great so far with this distance between us.�
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“Cute.” He reached for a coffee cup and righted it before pouring himself some of the steaming hot brew. “The answer is no. We’ll share my house in Chicago.” Olivia in his home was a foregone conclusion as far as he was concerned.
She shook her head and pointed out the obvious. “My business is here.”
“Your business is portable.” He settled the coffee carafe on the table again. “You can design anywhere. I can have whatever you need, including a group of the best seamstresses, at your beck and call. I’m sure you have someone you can trust to run the day-to-day operation here.”
Impatience flashed in her eyes. “I do, but that’s beside the point.” Olivia set down her fork. “You’re assuming I can uproot my life while yours remains the same.”
“So it seems.”
“I have obligations and can’t simply disappear. I would need to be in Texas at least two days out of the week.”
The way she said it, in an almost desperate tone, made him wonder if there was something going on in her life his investigators missed. “‘Disappear’ is a strong way to phrase it.” Mason leaned back in his chair. As far as he was concerned, there were no roadblocks. Whatever she needed, he had the ability to make it happen. “My pilot can fly you back any time you need to return to handle business.”
She blew out a breath and he saw frustration flit across her face. Drumming her fingers, she said, “What about transportation around Chicago while I’m there?”
“My chauffeur can take you or I’ll buy you a damn car.” He shifted his position, leaning forward. “We’re not going to nickel-and-dime this agreement to death. I’ll see to it anything you need for your business or transportation is taken care of. Any of your personal needs, clothes, services, and the like will be provided for you as well.”
Her eyes narrowed and she looked decidedly angry.
Mason frowned. What the hell had he missed? He thought his offer was damned generous. She couldn’t possibly want more.
“And if we do end up sleeping together, will you toss some money on the bedside table afterward?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the way it makes me feel.” Olivia threw down the white cloth napkin, pushed her chair away from the table, and stood. “I’m not interested in anything your money can provide. I pay my own way or not at all.”
Olivia’s disinterest in his money was unlike any of the other women he’d known. Most couldn’t get enough. Cars. Jewelry. Clothes. Lavish vacation trips.
He’d assumed, wrongly it seemed now, she’d be exactly like them, that he only had to mention there were no limits to what he could offer and she’d jump at it. Olivia’s stubborn pride would be admirable if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. He didn’t have time for this. Mason looked at his watch and rose to his feet. “Come with me.”
She frowned. “Why? We haven’t finished going over the agreement. I thought you said you had to leave for Chicago.”
“My pilot won’t leave without me. I need to pick up my dog.”
He waited for Olivia while she reluctantly retrieved the paper she’d written her list of demands on and stuck it back in her purse. She walked toward him and stopped, keeping her gaze on the door of the suite. “I’ve never been a follower.”
Reaching around her, he opened the door and motioned her out. “Meaning?”
He joined her in the hallway and together they headed to the elevator. Once they entered and the doors closed, she said, “You and I are both leaders. Used to being the one on top.”
He smirked. “I’m assuming that’s a business metaphor?”
She rubbed her forehead. “If you and I do come to an agreement, it will be business only. I guess I’m concerned that one or both of us will end up hurt if we go through with this arrangement.”
The elevator doors slid open into the lobby and they walked to the front of the hotel, where Mason handed the valet the ticket for the Ferrari. “I have no intention of deliberately hurting you.”
“You’re not concerned I’ll hurt you?”
He looked down at her, not following her line of thinking. “Why should I be?”
“You might fall madly in love with me and end up brokenhearted once our arrangement ends.”
The valet parked the car in front of them and passed Mason the key. When the valet stepped back, Mason opened the passenger door for Olivia. With one hand on the roof, he leaned slightly down, catching and holding her gaze. “You forget I don’t have a heart.”
Fall in love with Olivia. What a damned ridiculous idea. He wasn’t the falling-in-love type and he sure as hell wouldn’t fall for Olivia, even if he were. He wanted only one thing from her—that goddamned miserable land.
He shut the door and moved unhurriedly around to the driver’s side. In the car, Olivia’s perfume was even more intoxicating than it had been in the hotel room. She opened her little black purse and extracted a tube of red lipstick. As she slid it slowly and sensuously across her full lips, Mason amended his earlier thought. He only wanted two things from her. Getting both of them would satisfy the hell out of him.
Chapter Three
Olivia wasn’t familiar with the road Mason took away from Butler Field. She hadn’t paid much attention to the area they passed as the car ate up the miles because it had taken all her strength to stop fuming about the man behind the wheel. It galled her that because of her lie, she’d tangled up her life. Again. Some days it felt as if she couldn’t do anything right. She should have known better, but what was done was done. Plus, it bothered her that she had to deal with the added issue of the spark she felt around him. Sparks toward a guy she didn’t even like.
Every time his thigh muscle contracted to hit the brakes or the gas pedal, she was acutely aware of the strength there. His presence filled up the car the same way it had the elevator.
She hated the attraction she felt toward him. Attraction she knew stemmed from the past. In high school she’d ignored it, had known giving in to it would be as dangerous as standing in the middle of traffic. Every time she’d looked into his eyes back then, she’d known he wasn’t like the other boys. Inexperienced. Unsure.
He could have taken her body places she’d never been, places she’d longed to go, but the bargaining-with-the-universe good girl she’d always tried to be let fear get in the way. She’d needed to be in control in the hopes that she could stop what was happening in her life. So she’d stayed in her world and he’d stayed in his. But now their worlds had collided, and already the intensity of the dislike she felt toward him, added to the heat of her former attraction, was more than she’d imagined it would be. And just as dangerous.
At least twenty miles passed before Mason bypassed a fork in the road that curved and would have taken them back the way they came. Instead, he took a sharp right onto a narrow, paved road, the Ferrari coming to a stop outside an impressive stone gate.
“We’re almost there,” he said as pressed a series of numbers into the keypad on a pole by the gate.
The gate swung inward and Mason eased the car forward. Past a clump of trees, a house came into view, and Olivia gaped. The home looked like a replica of the Magnolia Gardens plantation house she’d seen as a child when her family went to Charleston, South Carolina, for a vacation. “Your dog is here? Is this your place? This doesn’t seem like your taste.”
“Yes, my dog is here and no, it’s not my home.” His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered there.
Same old Mason. Stare at a girl with those mesmerizing eyes until she couldn’t think for herself. But there was too much water under the bridge and too much at stake for her to let some silly high school fascination take over.
He gave a wicked smile. “You don’t know a thing about my tastes, but I’d be happy to teach you.”
Olivia fought to keep her voice on an even keel and ignored his suggestive offer. “Is this a home for one of your…lady friends?”
“A mistress? Here?” He laughed
. “Hardly.” He put the car in Park and opened the door.
Olivia followed suit and drank in the view before her. Purple, blue, and pink flowers lined the edges of the walkway leading up to the porch. Thick ferns in hanging baskets filled the spaces between the white columns.
An earlier rain left droplets of water clinging to the various roses. Dogwood trees dotted the landscaped yard. On one side of the wide porch, between two rocking chairs, a fawn-colored Great Dane lumbered to her feet and bounded down the steps to greet Mason. Rising on her hind feet, she put her paws on his shoulders, her tail wagging back and forth in delight.
“Down, girl,” he ordered, affectionately rubbing behind her ears. Taking the steps two at a time, Mason bounded up to the front door and pushed it open, pausing to wait for her.
Olivia slowed her steps when an elderly gray-haired woman appeared in the doorway and greeted Mason warmly. Mason introduced the woman as Martha, then disappeared inside the home. The older woman gave Olivia a long look and Olivia realized how she knew her. She was Martha Evans, the grandmother of two of the boys convicted with Mason. She’d been the only person during the hearing to stand up and loudly defend all the boys against the sea of people crying out for them to be punished.
The older woman’s smile faded and though she didn’t look unfriendly, she certainly didn’t look welcoming, either. If she had to hazard a guess, Olivia thought Martha’s sudden reserve might be due to the fact that it was her father who’d made sure the boys were caught and later prosecuted. She knew that during their stint in the facility, Martha’s grandson Adam had died unexpectedly.
Martha had abruptly left town after that and since she’d never been seen again, like others, Olivia had assumed the woman had moved to another state, but apparently, that wasn’t the case. “Hi, Martha.” Olivia gave her a tentative smile.
The smile wasn’t returned. “Olivia.” Martha pinched her lips together for a moment, then said, “Come on in.”
In the living room, wide ceiling fans lazily stirred the air. A red-and-yellow-flowered sofa pressed against a wall below a large painting of a storm crashing over a seawall. In front of the sofa, matching chairs in red and yellow plaid faced a coffee table where a half-finished puzzle waited. Tiffany lamps were situated on both end tables, and scores of books populated the built-in shelves on either side of a large-screen television. Olivia admired the elegant beauty of the room.
