Game Plan (26 page)

“Mason’s not the bullshitting type.”

“Looks, brains
and
a soul? I didn’t think any of them came that fully equipped. Go ahead, tell me all the romantic details—the where, what and how of your big lovey-dovey exchange. I promise not to gag. Too much.”

“I, uh, didn’t say it back.”

Totally inappropriate whooping broke the cultured silence in the restaurant. “There’s hope for you yet, girlfriend.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t love him, only that I didn’t tell him.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Nerves. I was chicken.”

“What a load of crap. He said it first, you had nothing to be afraid of.”

This is why she’d called Lasha for lunch. Her friend might not have much experience in the love department, but she knew Andie to the core. Lasha never sugarcoated her opinions—which seldom meshed with Andie’s—but she supported whatever choices Andie made. And that’s why Lasha was her best friend.

All traces of sarcasm and raunchy humor disappeared as Lasha reached for Andie’s hand. “Honey, being tightlipped with your feelings won’t make it hurt less if things don’t work out. You know that better than anybody.”

Andie managed a little nod and a whispered, “Thanks.”

“For reminding you of the miscarriages? Sure. What are friends for, if not to dredge up your most painful memories?”

“I haven’t forgotten…in fact, I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately.”

“Oh, shit. Tell me you’re not knocked up.”

“I’m not.” Not that she knew of, anyway.

“Thank god—you’ve been through enough hell in that department.” Lasha’s phone vibrated on the table, its blaring ringtone treating the restaurant patrons to explicit song lyrics. Typical Lasha, she let the entire chorus play through before hitting the mute button and shoving it back in her purse.

They were the center of attention again. “We’re going to be blacklisted from this place.”

“Don’t worry, I’m on very friendly terms with the manager,” Lasha said as she exchanged the check for three crisp twenties.

Andie looked around for a manager-type as they headed for the exit. “Is he in the current rotation, or have you already cut him from the roster?”

“Current all-star, but you’ve got the wrong team.” Lasha’s nod indicated a gorgeous redhead standing behind the bar.

“Wow, she’s beautiful. Nice boobs too.”

“You should see them in the flesh.”

Okay, so this was a new vein of conversation—and lifestyle, even for Lasha.

“Um, since when are you bisexual?”

“Since when are you a cougar?” Lasha asked, hand on hip, smile on her face.

“Point taken.”

Her friend doled out the usual hug and cheek-smooch before folding herself into a sporty two-seater better suited to an exotic dancer than an accountant at a livestock feed plant. “So. You going to tell the hunky veterinarian that you love him, be all conventional and stuff?”

“First chance I get.”

Chapter Fifteen

“What?” Not the nicest way to answer Cara’s page from the front desk, but he was sick of politely dodging her sexually laced offers every time he turned around.

“There’s somebody here to see you. Scott Finch, he doesn’t have an appointment. Do you have time—I told him you’re swamped today.”

Ah, fuck. What a day for this visit. “Yeah, send him back.” At least this once, his receptionist was using a part of her brain that wasn’t focused on getting at his cock. “Hey, Cara—thanks.”

“Oh, my pleasure, Dr. Lang. If there’s
anything
else I can do for you, buzz me.”

So much for the reprieve. The longest, worst day in the history of having his own clinic, and now he got to deal with Andie’s bitter ex-husband. Fucking great.

He turned his chair toward the knock. The only glimpse of Scott he’d had was from a distance, the day he’d first met Andie at the ballpark. The man standing in his open doorway wasn’t a geeky dad in a golf shirt. Not even close. Eighty-dollar button-down tucked into name-brand, wrinkle-free, belted khakis. Wire-frame glasses over wary eyes. Yeah, he was being a judgmental jerk, but he didn’t like Scott Finch.

Mason forced a smile into submission when he stood. Finch came up to his chin. If they were buddies, height wouldn’t mean a damn thing. Towering over Andie’s ex, however—that was all right.

“Dr. Lang,” Finch said, extending a hand. “Scott Finch, Andie’s husband.”

Husband? Think again, pal. So the ex wanted to play games. No problem. “Call me Mason, unless you brought Andie’s dog in for a check-up.”

“We have an excellent veterinarian with whom we’re very satisfied.”

First the husband thing, now referring to them as
we
? This guy was either delusional or he thought Mason was an idiot. Probably the latter. Wrong day to fuck with him, Finch.

“Your
ex
-wife is very satisfied with her new veterinarian.”

Surprisingly, Scott didn’t slug him. Self-restraint, or lack of balls? Again, Mason put his bet on the latter.

“Thank you for bringing us to the heart of the matter. Let’s have a seat.”

“Help yourself.” He motioned to the assortment of chairs in his office, waited for Scott to choose one, then leaned against his desk. “I’m good to stand.” His legs would have to fall off before he’d let this weasel control the show. Knowing what he did about how Scott had controlled Andie, Mason wasn’t giving up an inch.

Scott’s jaw clenched as he looked up at Mason. “I’m aware that you’re having a physical relationship with my former wife. She’s a beautiful woman with a particularly healthy and diverse sex drive.”

The words,
no shit
and
understatement of the year
, came to mind, but he held back. “Andie agreed to let you screen any man she wants to introduce to Dylan. I know she didn’t intend for us to discuss her libido or sexual preferences.”

“Nobly said. It sounds as though you care about her.”

“Of course I do, she’s incredible. Excuse my lack of nobility here, but you were an idiot to let her get away. Whatever she wants, I plan to give it to her.”

“And she wants you to meet her child, so you’re doing that.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, barrister. Meeting Dylan was my idea, one hundred percent.”

“Why bother? You’re already reaping the benefits of her midlife crisis. Why get tangled up with the rest of her life?”

Finch thought Andie was having a midlife crisis? She’d ended their marriage two years ago, for chrissake, and not gone on a single date until recently. This guy was delusional.

“So I should keep having sex with your ex, but stay away from your son, is that it?”

“I see no reason to subject him to this.”

This conversation was getting surreal. “Subject him to what—his mother moving on with her life? Forget it, Finch. Run a background check on me or whatever. Aside from wanting to assault you because you’re aggravating the shit out of me, I’m a decent guy. Ties to the community and the rest of it.” Mason stalked to the door and shut it in Cara’s nosy face. “Maybe Dylan will like me, maybe he won’t. But it’ll be his decision.”

“He’ll like you. He’ll probably even think you’re
cool
.”

“So what—you’re worried I’m going to steal your son from you?” For that, Mason managed to feel a little compassion for the man sitting in front of him.

“If I died tomorrow and Andie kept you around indefinitely—which is unlikely—you’d never be able to do that. The parental bond is an amazingly strong thing. You wouldn’t understand that, though.”

“Not yet.” This motherfucker had Mason’s buttons lined up in a tidy row. Push, push, push. “Remember when I said I’d give Andie whatever she wanted? Yeah, that.”

That brought the little bastard out of his pansy, legs-crossed position. Right into Mason’s face, or as close as he could get. They stood inches apart, surrounded by mutual fury.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Impregnate your ex-wife and start a family with her? In a fucking heartbeat, I would.”

“She didn’t tell you.”

“That she always wanted more kids? Yeah. How impossible that would be since you rarely touched her? I figured that part out for myself while helping her make up for lost time.”

Scott backed away, one hand on his temple, rubbing. “Here’s some figures for you, doctor…Andie had five miscarriages prior to Dylan. That’s five babies, each of which she wanted desperately, all lost. She’s youthful and healthy—getting her pregnant shouldn’t be a problem. But if you do that to her, you’ll be giving her more heartbreak, not a second chance at a family.”

The stress and fatigue headache he’d been fighting all day reared up and slammed against his skull. He dropped into his chair. Scott Finch was a miserable asshole, but this information about Andie’s history put things in different perspective. She would’ve told him when the time came. Or would she? They’d had unprotected sex twice and she hadn’t said a word about her medical issues. Fuck.

“I’ve checked you out, Lang. Thoroughly.” Scott paused, inspecting his professionally buffed nails several times before getting back to his speech. “You’re barely thirty. You’re from a close-knit family. Odds are you’ll want one of your own in the future. My ex-wife isn’t the woman for you.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t know Andie anymore, either. I love her. I’m not going anywhere.”

Scott smirked and shook his head. “How sweet. So you love her, but does she love you? She’s a very open person, direct and demonstrative with her affection and opinions—but I don’t have to tell you that, I’m sure. She’s told you that she loves you, I assume?”

“Your interest in my relationship with Andie is out of line, not to mention fucked-up.” The chair thudded against the desk, Mason pushed it away so hard when he stood. “I’ve got work to do. I’ll tell her you cleared me to meet Dylan.”

The lawyer slid his hands into his pockets, as if he was settling in for a long conversation. “Andie and I didn’t have a pornographic sex life, but we had a good marriage. Solid. Dependable.”

“Sounds like a Volvo. Guess she’s interested in a performance model now.” If the prick was going to ignore the obvious dismissal, it was open season.

“You’re finally getting it. It’s normal for women her age to have a spike in their hormones prior to menopause. When Andie’s ends—and it will, that’s simple biology—she’s going to want her family back, not some young stud who’ll still want the sex she’s no longer craving. You love her?” A vindictive smile replaced the controlled, straight face. “She lusts for you, junior, it’s not love.”

* * * * *

By four o’clock, the crazies had set in. Scott had dropped Dylan off hours earlier. After tolerating her mushy hugs for a full three minutes, Dylan had broken free and asked for food, as on any normal day. It was over veggie quesadillas in the kitchen that he’d brought up the boyfriend topic. Damn Scott and his technicalities. She hadn’t asked him not to tell Dylan…so, of course he’d told Dylan about the email. And her sweet boy had been okay with it. More than okay. He’d even said it was about time. After a bunch of questions he’d closed the discussion by saying Mason sounded cool.

She had the best kid in the world. That kid had kissed her goodbye half an hour ago. Dylan loved the cottage and spending time with his dad, but he hated missing out on hang time with his friends. She had a couple more hours until he came home for refueling. Enough time to check in with
her boyfriend
and share the news that had her bouncing off the wall. Oh, and tell him she loved him. Definitely that.

Her legs shook as she walked from her car to the front door of the West End Veterinary Hospital. Anticipation, not nerves like the first time she visited. If a little bird landed on her shoulder and started singing a happy tune, she wouldn’t be surprised. Everything was
that
right in the world.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Finch,” Cara said at the top of her voice when Andie walked through the door.

Andie rolled her eyes. Not even Mason’s irritating receptionist could ruin her mood this afternoon. The juvenile antics were getting old, though. One of these days, the ditz would have to accept that Mason wasn’t interested in her sexy offers.

“Wait…you can’t go back there right now.”

Out of respect for Mason’s business, she stopped at the desk. “Is he with a client?”

“He’s doing a surgery…and it could be awhile. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

Her chest tightened. Surgery in the afternoon wasn’t good news. Poor Mason, what a horrible day. “Another emergency? Maybe I should wait in his office.”

A manicured hand shot over the desk to stop her. “No, you shouldn’t. It’s not an emergency, just a routine neuter appointment.”

Something was definitely up. A little rope and the airhead would probably wrap it around her neck and tie a pretty bow. “Well, that’s a relief.” She leaned over the reception desk. “Hey, is it a cat or dog?”

“I think it’s a,” Cara shuffled some papers on the desk and fiddled with her computer, “cat. Yup, there it is, a cat named Princess, scheduled for neutering.”

“First of all, Cara, Mason does those procedures first thing in the morning.” She leveled a stare at the bimbo. “And not only does neutering a cat only take about fifteen minutes—a female cat gets spayed, not neutered. When lying through your teeth, it’s a good idea to know some basic facts.”

Cara’s lips puckered open and shut. The fishy face matched the fishy story.

“Fine.” Cara sighed, as if talking to Andie was an enormous pain in the butt. “He’s not here right now and I didn’t want you hanging around until he gets back. Sue me for not liking you.”

The bitch was still lying about Mason. His truck was around back, its rear end visible from the front lot to anyone who cared to look. Andie issued Cara the middle finger and marched straight to Mason’s office. The knob rattled in her hand. Locked door.

“I told you, he’s not here,” Cara said from beside her.

“His truck is here.”

“He went for a walk. Said he needed the fresh air after the day he’s had.”

Finally, a sensible answer. “You could’ve said that from the start. Mason’s not going to be happy about the hard time you gave me.” And yes, she was totally tattling later. For now, though, she just wanted to find him. Do whatever she could to make his day less crappy. She fished her phone from her purse and tapped his number while moving toward the front door.