Jada just shook her head as she turned into a filling station. Eventually, she would find out what had Kiera so distracted.
She pumped twenty dollars’ worth of gas into her car and got back behind the wheel, waving off the bill Kiera tried to hand her as she reached for the hand sanitizer she kept in her glove compartment.
“Take the money, Jada. You’re driving me to my place.”
“I can afford to drive you ten miles to your house, Kiera. I don’t need any more reminders that I’m a broke loser.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t have to. I had a reminder earlier today.” She looked over at Kiera and let her head fall to the steering wheel. “I ran into Eric at the bank.”
“The bastard,” Kiera said. It was their universal name for her ex-husband. “What was he doing, taking a couple of hundred thousand out of that account he keeps in his sister’s name so that you couldn’t touch it in the divorce?”
“I didn’t ask,” Jada said. “I just got the hell out of there as soon as possible. It’s a bit demoralizing to have to find spare change under my car seat just to pay my bills every month while he’s sitting on a mountain of cash.”
“I still would have gone after some of it in the divorce,” Kiera griped. “This is a community property state.”
“Which is why Eric Pearce is worth only about twenty grand on the books, despite the millions he has access to. He knew exactly what he was doing well before he filed for divorce.”
“Bastard,” Kiera reiterated.
Jada had to agree. It was amazing how quickly one could go from loving a person to wishing they would come in contact with a deadly, flesh-eating bacteria.
They made their way to Kiera’s condo and was out of there in less than a half-hour. According to Kiera, the building’s management company was footing the bill for movers to pack up and store all of the affected apartments’ belongings while the walls were being replaced.
As they started back for Mason’s, Jada considered just dropping Kiera off and leaving. After learning that Mason still thought of her as a ditzy, shallow cheerleader, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop herself from inflicting bodily harm when she next saw him.
However, an assault charge wouldn’t help to dispel the crazy lady image she’d earned after the clothes-burning incident with Eric, so she’d resist the urge to knee Mason in the groin. Hopefully.
***
Mason rested his head against the firm leather headrest of the lounge chair in his office. Eyes closed, he allowed the soothing cadence of the jazz music flowing softly from the speakers mounted throughout the office to lull him into a state of relaxation he could only seem to find in this room. He brought the cut crystal tumbler to his lips, taking a sip of aged Dalmore Scotch. The expensive liquor felt like velvet against his tongue.
He rubbed the spot between his eyes, trying to blot out the bulk of his day.
The client whom he thought would be the ticket to an eventual partnership in the downtown New Orleans firm where he’d practiced tax law for the past eight years had turned out to be the biggest pain in his ass. But even without Oscar Davis’s constant phone calls and emails, Mason figured he would still be nursing this headache. They were in the thick of tax season so, of course, every client had an emergency, and every single one of them thought their emergency should be his top priority.
And let’s not forget his biggest headache of the day, coming home to find Jada Dangerfield and her bevy of erotic toys.
Mason pitched the remaining alcohol down his throat, trying to wash away the memory of her seductive invitation to offer him a demonstration. He’d been semi-erect since the moment the words left her mouth, and had a feeling the only way he would get things under control down there was through some manual self-gratification.
Actually, he did have one tried and true method for quelling any amorous feelings.
Mason reached for his cell phone, and pulled his mother’s number up on the speed dial.
“Hey there, Mason,” she answered, and just like that, any lingering desire was instantly squelched by the sound of his mother’s voice.
“Hey, Mom,” he said. “I stopped by on the way home to check out your television, but you weren’t there.”
“I was at my Zumba class,” she said. “And don’t worry about the television. Linda Pennington’s grandson came over and fixed it. Apparently, I had the input set to DVD instead of HDMI, whatever that means.”
“Well, I can come over and we can figure out which inputs go with which settings,” he said.
“It’s already done. Joaquin even typed me up a little diagram. Oh, I’ll have to call you later. Linda’s honking her car horn outside. We’re going to check out the sales at the outlet mall.”
“Okay,” Mason said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later, baby. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom,” he said before disconnecting the call. Mason set the phone on his desk and stared at it for several moments, trying to disregard the unease—possibly even resentment—stiffening his jaw.
He remembered a time when his mother wouldn’t have even thought to get help from anyone else. Now, the last couple of times Mason had offered to take care of something around the house, he’d been usurped by some neighborhood kid who his mother had already called on.
He should be grateful. He had enough on his plate these days.
But taking care of his mother and Kiera had been ingrained in him. It had been his top priority since his fourteenth birthday, when he’d made a promise to his dad that he would always take care of them.
The week before, Mason had been hailed a hero for rescuing Kiera and his mother from their home after it caught fire from a faulty electrical outlet. His dad had been working the night shift at the local concrete plant. When he’d arrived at the burning house and learned from firefighters that Mason had gotten everyone out, he’d burst into tears. That night his father hugged him for a solid hour.
The next week, on his birthday, his father had taken him fishing—his favorite pastime back then. They’d had their first real man-to-man talk, and his dad made Mason promise that he would take care of his mother and sister if ever he wasn’t there to do the job.
The following morning, at forty-two years old, he’d died unexpectedly of a massive heart attack.
Mason had taken the promise to heart, and spent his adolescence and adulthood caring for the two women in his life. He was having a hard time dealing with the fact that right now neither seemed to need him as much as they used to.
Mason pushed up from his chair and, despite his better judgment, returned to the dining room. He took a slow stroll around the cherry wood table, perusing the collection of toys, noting a few that he had first-hand knowledge of.
He felt sorry for those men who insisted they didn’t need any extra help in the bedroom. He’d been introduced to the delights various enhancement products—as Jada had described them—could bring to the sexual experience by a woman he’d dated several years ago. He’d been the one to suggest their use in every relationship since.
The only problem was, it had been a while since he’d been in a relationship long enough to feel comfortable introducing any kind of erotic toys to the bedroom. The realization gave him pause. Maybe he needed to get himself a woman. It stood to reason that the stress he’d been under lately would be greatly reduced if he had an outlet for it.
Mason picked up a set of furry handcuffs and couldn’t help but picture Jada standing there with that wickedly sexy smirk. The playful, hot pink fur looked like something she would choose. He closed his eyes as he trailed the soft fur between his fingers, and the previous situation in his pants roared to life yet again.
“Shit,” he cursed with a sharp whisper.
His landline trilled and he tossed the handcuffs onto the table as if they’d bitten him. Mason stomped over to the kitchen and jerked the headset from the cradle with more force than necessary.
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“Hello?” he answered.
“Hello, can I speak to Kiera Coleman, please?” asked the voice on the other end of the line.
Mason’s forehead creased with his frown. Why was Kiera getting phone calls on his landline?
“Kiera stepped out for a minute,” he said. “Can I take a message?”
“Would she be available on her cellular phone? She suggested I call this number first because the cellular service where she’s staying isn’t ideal, but if she isn’t there maybe her cell service is better wherever she is right now?”
“Who’s calling?” Mason asked. “And what exactly do you want with Kiera?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not at liberty to discuss that. I will try Kiera at the other number she provided. Thank you,” the woman said before hanging up.
Mason immediately searched through the Caller ID.
“Hammond Guaranty and Loan?”
Why in the heck would Kiera need to speak to someone at a loan office? She’d paid off the mortgages on both her condo and the building that housed her catering business; Mason had seen to it. And, to his knowledge, she still had a healthy sum left over from her portion of what had been paid to them through their father’s life insurance policy. She shouldn’t need a loan. And even if she did, why would she borrow from a finance company instead of coming to him?
Just as he was about to call her cell phone, he heard a car pulling into his driveway. Mason opened the front door and was met with a cardboard box, which Jada shoved into his hands.
“Here,” she said.
He set the box on the floor next to the apothecary chest. “Where’s Kiera?”
“Getting the rest of her stuff out of my car.”
Mason moved past Jada and walked over to the car. He lifted the armful of clothing from Kiera’s arms and asked, “Why is there a loan office calling you?”
Kiera froze. “When did they call?”
“Just before you pulled up,” he said. “Why do you—” Mason started, but Kiera was gone, turning and walking swiftly toward the curb, her cell phone to her ear.
Jada walked up alongside him and gestured with her chin. “Any idea what’s going on with her?” she asked.
“You don’t know?” Mason returned. He figured if anyone knew what Kiera was up to, it would be Jada or their other friend, Callie Webber. Those three were thicker than gravy.
She shook her head. “She’s been acting weird all day. I figure she’ll tell me when she’s ready.”
“I’m not waiting until she’s ready,” Mason said, tossing the clothes back into the open trunk.
Jada grabbed his forearm. “Just what do you think you’re going to accomplish? God, Mason, you never change. When will you get it through that head of yours that Kiera is not some helpless child always in need of rescuing? Stop being a pain in her ass.”
Mason’s jaw clenched. He stepped up to her, and in a deceptively calm voice, said, “What goes on between my sister and me is not your concern. Stay out of it.”
Jada folded her arms across her chest and jutted her chin in the air. “It is my concern when I have to hear about it from her. Kiera can take care of herself. She doesn’t need you butting into her business.”
He huffed out a laugh. “This probably won’t come as a surprise to you, Jada, but you’re the last person I’ll take advice from regarding my sister.”
Mason gathered the clothes from the Nissan’s truck and started up the driveway. He was pretty sure he heard the word asshole muttered as he made his way back inside the house.
Chapter Three
Jada walked up to the glass doors of the beautifully landscaped club house on the grounds of Oak Grove Country Club in neighboring Covington, but she didn’t open them. Not yet. She needed to collect herself; get her mind in interview mode. She adjusted her jacket, plucked a piece of lint from its collar, and pulled in a deep breath before grabbing hold of the door handle and pulling it open.
She was greeted by a receptionist with a friendly smile who instructed her to take a seat in one of the lobby’s vacant chairs. As she made her way to her seat, she looked around the richly appointed room, taking in the marble columns, brilliant hardwood flooring and vases overfilling with fresh flower arrangements.
She wondered if the nauseous feeling bubbling inside her stemmed from the overall pretentiousness of the place or the fact that her ex-father-in-law was a member.
When she’d run across the job posting for the Membership Coordinator position, Jada had immediately disregarded it. Then she’d run across her utility bill and had returned to the posting. Not only did she meet every one of the qualifications, but the job would make use of her marketing degree and could possibly be a stepping stone to another position. Her mother always told her that beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she was way past the point of begging. She was spiraling full-speed toward Grovel Ville.
The receptionist instructed her to go to the HR director’s office. A half hour later, Jada drove out of the country club parking lot knowing that she wouldn’t accept the position even if it was offered. The thought of spending eight hours a day feeding the egos of privileged businessmen and women by practically begging them to join a country club caused her to break out into hives. She’d risk high blood pressure from a ramen noodle-only diet before she reduced herself to working for this set.
She pulled into a drive-thru and ordered a burger and fries, something she normally wouldn’t eat. But she’d skipped lunch and, dammit, she deserved to splurge every now and then. She figured if she was going to splurge she may as well go all out, so she added a milkshake to her order.
As she pulled onto I-12, heading east back toward Maplesville, she wondered yet again if it was time for her to call her parents.
“No,” Jada said around a mouthful of truly decadent French fries. She was not calling her parents.
Despite her rapidly dwindling savings, she was not ready to give up on herself just yet. Being a “surprise blessing” as her mother called her, she experienced more than just the normal baby-of-the-family treatment. Her sister, Angela, and brother, Montgomery, Jr., were sixteen and fourteen years her senior. Jada had been spoiled by both her parents and her siblings; never having to worry about anything because they were always there to catch her.
She’d immediately gone from the safety net her parents provided to being taken care of by her former husband. This was the first time she’d been required to stand on her own two feet. She would not cave, even if it meant peddling dildos and nipple clamps to every woman in the New Orleans metro area.
Jada exited the Interstate and pulled into the parking lot at the strip mall that had just been built on the very outskirts of Maplesville proper. She’d stopped in at the drugstore a couple of days ago and noticed that the Valentine’s Day items had been marked down by thirty-percent. She figured they should be down to at least fifty-percent by now.
Jada grabbed a shopping cart and made a beeline for the aisle with the red clearance sale banner hanging over it. She grinned when she turned down the aisle and saw the “60% off” stickers.
“Yes,” Jada said with a fist pump.
She made her way down the aisle, throwing in heart-shaped garland, paper table centerpieces, and stuffed animals. They would make good door prizes.
Jada tried to stave off the sadness clawing at her chest as she pushed her cart past hearts with “Be Mine” written across them, and the boxes of chocolates. For twelve years Valentine’s Day had been more than just a day for flowers and candy, it had also been her wedding anniversary. But a few weeks ago, her ex-husband, who had turned out to be the cruelest bastard to ever walk the planet, had turned her favorite holiday into a day she would forever abhor when he flew to Las Vegas and married his new bride on Valentine’s Day.
It was the ultimate slap in the face. For the umpteenth time since he’d asked her for a divorce, Jada wondered how she could not have known that Eric could be so conniving, so heartless. He could not h
ave simply changed overnight. It was as if she’d never really known him at all.
Jada shook off thoughts of Eric, which she had become adept at locking away in the back of her mind, and finished picking over the shelves. By the time she was done, her shopping cart was nearly full. She just hoped she sold enough products at her next couple of Naughty Nights parties to pay for this stuff before the credit card bill was due.
“Now I just need to find somewhere to put it all,” Jada said as she stacked the bags in her trunk. God, she missed her big house with its ample closet space.
She suddenly realized that she wasn’t too far from Mason’s. Maybe Kiera could drive over so that she could unload it at his house.
Jada speed dialed Kiera. “Hey, I picked up a few decorations for your party. Do you have a minute to head over to Mason’s so I can drop it there?”
“He’s home,” Kiera said.
“What?” Jada’s head reared back. “On a Thursday afternoon? Isn’t that against the workaholic’s code of ethics or something?”
“I know, right? He took a vacation day. Said he needed to get away from the office for a bit. He said he would be home all day, but if you get there and he’s not, just give me a call. It won’t take me long to get there.”
“Thanks,” Jada said before disconnecting the call.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go out to Mason’s now that she knew he was there. She could only take him in small doses, and after their run-in a couple of days ago, she figured she’d met her quota of Mason Coleman for the month. Maybe even the year.
Jada drove up to the gate of his subdivision and was surprised when she was waved in by the guard who was manning the gate the last time she was here.
“Seriously?” Jada snorted. What if she was a crazy ex-girlfriend who wasn’t welcomed?
She’d suspected that the guard, like the gate itself, was just another way to provide a false sense of security for the former city dwellers who didn’t realize they were moving into a town that saw crime about as much as it saw snow.
A Little Bit Naughty (Moments in Maplesville) Page 3
