Misunderstanding Mason (5 page)

Now, here
they were again. Only this time, Kirstin was so desperate to get away from him
she couldn’t even recognize Lisa’s poison was already running in her veins. And
this time, there wasn’t a damn thing Mason could do about it.

Except finish
the project before Kirstin suffered irreparable damage.

God his head
hurt just thinking about the coming fallout.

No, he
amended as he eased a grey T-shirt over his head. The banging against his brain
came from beer. Shit—how many had he had last night anyway? All he could
remember was sitting down in the recliner with the second one in his hand. Then
he woke to the bright sun, in his bed, with the worst hangover he’d experienced
since college.

He glanced in
the mirror. Ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. Shaving would have to wait
until he rehydrated. With the way his hands were still shaking, he’d cut the
hell out of his face. Besides, it wasn’t like he had clients to see today. He’d
finished the project for Gamesquare—

Shit!

Gamesquare’s
launch party was tomorrow night. As their lead designer, he was presenting the
final prototype at the banquet dinner. He and Kirstin had reserved seats at Don
Margelies, the owner’s, VIP table. Just last week Don hinted when the deal was
finished, he wanted Kirstin and Mason to join him and his wife on their yacht
in the Caribbean for a week.

Mason groaned
inwardly. Last week he’d been convinced Kirstin was in a snit. The last thing
he wanted was to face the banquet solo and the inevitable questions. He might
be able to find excuses to explain her absence for one night. But not with the
invitation for a week-long cruise hanging over his head.

He yanked the
bedroom door open and wandered into his office. Kirstin sat in his chair, long
black hair spilling all the way down to her waist and dangling over one arm.
She started when he entered, spinning around to set wide green eyes on him and
steal the very breath from his lungs. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t move. His
gut clamped down so tight he’d swear someone punched him. She was so damn
beautiful.

“Good grief,
you scared the crap out of me, Mason.”

The melodic
ring of her laughter relaxed the constriction in his chest. But the wide smile
that turned her pretty face into something crafted by the divine laced him
further into knots. His pulse kicked up a notch, and for one frightening
moment, he was thrown back in time when David Kirkoff had introduced them. For
the first time in his life, Mason doubted himself. She wouldn’t want him. He
was a gamer. A nerd who’d rather sit in front of the computer than throw
footballs or hit the courts with guys like David. He didn’t have a chance.

Except,
somehow, for some unexplainable reason, those mesmerizing green eyes didn’t
leave his. Not a day had passed since, that he didn’t consider himself lucky.

Her smile
faltered, and Mason’s gaze riveted on her full lips. He wanted to kiss her
right now as much as he had that long ago night at David’s dinner party. More
than he’d wanted to then. The need to feel the soft silk of her lips against
his, to taste the way the rich flavor of black coffee lingered on her tongue,
swamped through him like fire over dried tinder. Heat mingled in his veins, and
he swallowed with effort.

Kirstin
turned back to the monitor before the urge could steal the last bits of sense
in his head and he did something unthinkable, like tangle his fingers into her
thick hair and force her into something she’d made clear she didn’t want. He
steered his thoughts back to the slowly rotating, 3-D skateboard on his monitor
and fought down a pang of regret.

“Oh, God,
Mason, this doesn’t look easy at all. She wants a virtual storefront. With
interactive options.”

“Nah, it’s
simple.” Doing his best to ignore the tempting aroma of kiwi, he bent over her
shoulder to snag a piece of blank printer paper. Before he reached for a pen,
Kirstin had one ready. He accepted it with a smile, and sketched a square on
the paper. Inside, he drew two rows of three smaller squares.

“This is your
part, babe. You put together a flat graphic with Flash. Make this look like
bins on a wall. Each box has something different inside it. Wheels, paint cans,
decals—you get the idea.”

Kirstin
nodded.

“Stick a
label on the bin for further clarity. Give them some animation, some
enhancement, and we’ll put the skateboard right here.” He tapped the open space
in the middle of the square.

“Okay…”

“After you
finish that, I’ll put the code on the back end. When the user taps their finger
on the bins, we’ll bring them to a list. The list can route to Edge
Skateboard’s website.”

Straightening,
he passed her the pen. Her fingers touched his, sending a jolt of electricity
all the way up to his shoulder, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from
those bright green eyes. His voice lowered of its own accord. “It’s just
teamwork.”

“Yeah.”
Something he couldn’t define passed across her face, dimming the light in her
eyes. She took the pen from his hand and slid out of the chair. “I, ah, guess
I’ll go back home and get started on those drawings.” She pushed her hair out
of her face. “I’ll bring you something to work with later this afternoon.”

He couldn’t
do it. Couldn’t let her walk out that door no matter how logical her suggestion
was. Allowing Kirstin to leave this office would drive the final nail into the
coffin their life together had become. He sensed it in his gut.

Mason caught
her by the elbow as she turned. She stopped, surprise lifting her eyebrows.

“Why don’t
you use mine?”

Confusion
drew her brow into a tight line. When she opened her mouth to presumably argue
the logic in his proposal, Mason dropped her arm and rushed to eradicate her
protest. “It’s easier. If you work here, I can haul out the laptop, and we can
pass files back and forth as we go along.”

“Here,” she
repeated with a nod at his computer, as if she didn’t believe him.

“Yeah.” Mason
swiveled his leather chair around. “Have a seat.” To cover up any desperation
that might have inched out through his voice, he forced a grin and plucked her
empty coffee cup from her hands. “I’ll refill us, and we can get started.”

Chapter Five

Working at
Mason’s computer wasn’t just odd, it was as strange as a snowstorm in summer—in
the Sahara no less. Not because his comfortable leather chair dwarfed her or
retained the stirring scent of Mason fresh from a shower, but because he didn’t
let anyone get close to this whirring piece of technology. His affair with his
high-end, custom-built for graphical design computer was, simply put, sacred.

Any time
she’d thought to jump on and do something as simple as borrow his electronic
sketchpad, he’d find a reason she couldn’t. It made him edgy to have her check
their email from this mechanical princess.

Yet, for the
last four hours, they shared the same office space, he working just off to her
left at the decrepit laptop, and not once had he hovered over her to verify she
wasn’t torturing the poor machine. He hadn’t tried to tell her things she
already knew, hadn’t cautioned her to be careful.

She stole a
sideways glance at him. For all intents and purposes he looked completely at
ease.

Kirstin
crossed her feet Indian style and shifted her weight. The leather creaked and
gave off another whiff of soap, sage shampoo, and woodsy aftershave that
stirred warmth through her veins. Beyond all his normal paranoia about letting
her near his computer, she was sitting in his spot. His office. His kingdom. No
room in the house better described him. His professional awards hung on the
wall to the right, framing the window that overlooked the front lawn. Little
trinkets from childhood—a metal fire engine, a G.I. Joe figurine, a raggedy
stuffed donkey—adorned the shelves overhead.

An 8x10 picture
of the both of them on their vacation in Hawaii last year sat right beneath her
nose.

For a moment,
she abandoned the digital wood-tone shelf with its three bins and stared at the
photograph. In it, he stood behind her, his arms clasped around her waist, his
chin tucked into her shoulder as he nuzzled the side of her neck. It wasn’t the
picture he’d worked to convince the lady who’d been enjoying sunset with her
daughter to take. That one, where they stood side by side in a staged shot with
the red horizon at their back, hung in the front room. They hadn’t even known
the lady took this one until they returned to their hotel room. The
accommodating woman had snapped it just before they posed.

Kirstin’s
heart rolled over. They looked so happy. Back before Lisa and the project that
pushed them apart. They’d walked along the beach until well after sunset,
collecting the little shells that were now tucked into the shelf next to
Mason’s printer. Holding hands. Laughing. Kicking frothy seawater onto each other’s
bare feet. When they’d returned to their suite…

She shivered
as vivid pictures of the thorough way Mason made love to her throughout the
night leapt to life in her mind. Hours later, when they were both so exhausted
the only thing they could do was curl up and yield to sleep, he kissed her
shoulder and slipped his fingers into hers as he closed his eyes.

I love you,
baby.

A shadow
descended on her screen, and Kirstin scrambled to pull herself out of memories.
She glanced up to find Mason at her side, his blue eyes dark and intense—and
watching her. Heat crept into her cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze. “I
think I’m almost done with this next bin.”

“Looks good.”
He beckoned for the electronic pen. “May I?”

Without
waiting for an answer, Mason plucked the pen from her fingers and bent over her
shoulder. As his hand moved over the digital sketchpad, she studied the fine
dark hair that shadowed corded forearms and dusted over the back of his hand.
His fingers weren’t rough, didn’t sport the thick calluses of a man who worked
with his hands. They held just enough strength to reveal the countless hours he
spent doing yard work, but retained elegance in their length. Gentleness only
Mason could pull off. On another man, they’d look effeminate. On Mason, they
were sexy as hell.

“What do you
think?” He pulled back a fraction to give her a better view of the screen, and
his elbow brushed her shoulder. His gaze jumped to hers, the spark that shot
between them impossible to deny.

Kirstin
moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. He was so close, so temptingly
close. Where they touched, his skin warmed hers. Tingles skittered up her
spine. Goosebumps raced down her arms and tightened her breasts. The
uncomfortable ache of longing spread into her womb.

As if caught
by the same magnetic pull that forbade her to look away from his mesmerizing
stare, Mason reached out to tuck her hair behind her shoulder. The
feather-light caress of his knuckles against the side of her neck almost made
her gasp. Every particle of her being jumped to life, arcing toward his body,
yearning for the comfortable familiarity of his strong arms. The brush of his
lips against hers. How long had it been? Two weeks? It felt like two
eternities.

“Kirstin.”

Low and
husky, his voice rolled through her like a tidal wave. His warm breath stirred
the fine hairs on her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, weighed down by irresistible
temptation. All she needed to do was turn her head…

Kirstin
blinked hard. Mason was entirely too close. And she, entirely too on the verge
of forgetting all the reasons she walked out of this house.

She twisted
in the opposite direction and looked at the screen. “What’d you do?”

If it weren’t
for the casual way he gestured at the screen and the impassive expression on
his face, she’d have sworn an oath hissed through his teeth.

“Blue,” he
answered as he tapped the monitor. A swathe of electric blue now offset the
shading she’d been working on for the last thirty minutes, lighting the graphic
with just the right amount of color.

He stood up,
raked a hand through his hair. “I’m starved. Gonna go call in Chinese.”

Chinese?
Since when did Mason order takeout? For that matter, how did he know which
place to call—for as long as she could remember, she always planned dinner.

She dismissed
the questions. What Mason did for dinner, or where he ordered from wasn’t any
of her concern. He’d obviously figured out how to fend for himself. Of course,
when it came to food, he wasn’t terribly picky. It wouldn’t surprise her if he
had become a regular at the greasy imitation Chinese place three blocks down.

He vanished
out the door. Folding her arms on the desk, Kirstin dropped her forehead to the
back of her wrists and let out a groan. She’d almost kissed a man who hadn’t
bothered to object, even once, to the fact she’d walked out on him. What the
hell was wrong with her?

Lack of food,
that’s what. She hadn’t finished her breakfast and subsisting on coffee the
entire afternoon had left her lightheaded. Thankfully, Mason had given her the
perfect opportunity to call a break. If he were ordering Chinese, she’d run
over to Sam and Theresa’s and put together a sandwich. They could regroup
later, if Mason still wanted to work on Lisa’s project today.