Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce (15 page)

He sucked his lips into his mouth to keep from making any more noise, and she rested her palms on his pecs. She waited, holding him captive with her sheath.

“Hear anything?” he whispered.

She shook her head. No one was coming to investigate the screams. Thank God. Because if she tried to scramble off him and hide now, she’d no doubt explode. And she wasn’t sure she could be quiet about it either.

“Plan on moving anytime soon?” he said.

“Nope. I could stay here all night.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But if I move now, we’re both going to go.”

“I thought you just went,” he said.

“Only a little one. I can feel the big one coming, though.”

“No pun intended?” He laughed, and the movement sent another slow shake through her. “Oh, I felt that one,” he said.

She made a face and took a deep breath. Then she rocked against him. Slowly at first, but she couldn’t keep up the rhythm. She slid up and down his length twice more, and he yanked her hand up to cover his mouth. She stifled his scream as he thrust deep into her and came, then had to bite her lips as the big one racked her body, all her muscles shaking uncontrollably.

She collapsed on his chest, and he slid fully from her. Her clit rubbed against his abdomen as he moved, and she shuddered, biting down on his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He leaned down and pulled the condom off and put it in the small can beside his bed, then wrapped his arms around her, his fingers tracing circles around and around her back. She nuzzled her cheek against the soft hairs of his chest and closed her eyes.

“Don’t forget to set the alarm,” she whispered.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said.

* * * *

“Maso— Oh, my God!”

Amy started awake, and Mason’s arms tightened around her. She looked over her shoulder to see Martha standing in the doorway.

“Oh, shit,” Mason said.

Mason tensed beneath her, but her gaze was drawn to Martha’s distraught face. Even when Lewis had punched Mason, Martha hadn’t looked so upset. Shit. She’d gone and ruined everything.

Mason didn’t say anything else. He didn’t move either.

They were both incredibly naked beneath the thin sheet that he’d pulled over their bodies last night. At least he’d done that much, or poor Martha would’ve gotten even more of an eyeful. The woman looked too shocked to move.

“Um…Martha, could you maybe give us a second?” Amy asked.

Martha blinked and nodded. She stepped back and closed the door without another word.

“Son of a bitch.” Mason’s voice was like the lash of a whip, but he squeezed her tighter instead of throwing her off him. Had he ever done anything before this to make his mother disappointed in him?

He kissed the top of her head. “I forgot the alarm,” he whispered. “I’m
so
sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. Too late now to go back.”

“She must have knocked. I’ve never known her not to. We must have been dead to the world.”

“Guess so. What the hell do we do now?”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

Mason cringed as his mom’s voice rang out from down the hall. He sighed and seemed to sink into the bed beneath her. Oh, what a mess she’d created.

It never would have worked out, Mason told himself for what had to be the fiftieth time. He shifted in the seat on the plane, trying to get comfortable, but it was no use. All he could do was remember Amy’s look of defeat when she’d given him a halfhearted good-bye at the house that morning. Poor James had been desolate. But he hadn’t appeared to be mad at Mason, or Amy.

Mom’s voice still rang in his ears.

“How could you have lied right to my face, Mason?”

A flight attendant came by, and he quickly ordered a rum and cola. She handed over the booze and the can of soda, and he forked over eight bucks. If the burn of alcohol helped dull the ache that had settled into every bone in his body, he’d pay whatever they wanted.

His mother had looked shell-shocked, just like during the first few months after she’d kicked his father out. She’d ushered them all out of the house after a quick, silent breakfast that she’d cooked before discovering Mason and Amy.

He mixed his drink and took a big gulp. There was enough rum and cola to have two full glasses before the flight was over. Thank God.

He slammed his head back into the seat. How the hell had he forgotten to set the alarm? He’d been terrified of James hurting his mother, and he’d gone and done it himself with his carelessness. He’d wanted Amy from the moment he met her, but he should have backed down. He guzzled more of the drink as the airplane bumped along. The seat belt sign lit up, and he groaned. Just what he needed, turbulence to upset his stomach further.

His mom liked Amy, had treated her like a surrogate daughter the past few days, and Mason had turned around and slept with her. His mother knew him, knew better than Amy that he was bound to hurt her, no matter his intentions otherwise. He had no clue how to fix things between him and Mom.

Or Mom and James. Mom’s discovery had led to a nasty fight between them. She’d argued with him in a way Mason had never heard her fight with his father, even when they’d been right in the middle of the divorce and she’d been furious. It was with the same passion he and Amy had fought that first day. He pushed that thought aside. He couldn’t afford to think about Amy right now. His mother had to come first.

As soon as he finished his drink, he poured more into the plastic cup. He continued to torture himself over the what-ifs as he finished his second drink and the plane began its descent into Denver. His stomach lurched, and he focused on the beautiful mountains as the plane pitched and swayed.

When they were finally on the ground, Mason couldn’t wait to get off the plane. After getting his bag, he caught a cab home. Entering his silent apartment was usually a welcome relief at the end of a long day, but tonight the silence suffocated him. After he’d been in a house full of laughter and holiday spirit for days, his bachelor pad was cold and empty.

* * * *

Mason stared at the ad spread before him, trying to force his mind to focus. Sleep had offered no relief from his guilt. He’d woken up just as weighed down by it and plagued by dreams of Amy’s creamy skin and welcoming arms. Her laughter, her smile, her voice had all taunted him through the night and continued to do so long into the hours of the workday. He’d tried to drown the memories out with music, with a workout during lunch, with a new ad, which usually consumed his focus as the possibilities unraveled in his mind.

But today work held no distraction for him. His office phone rang, and he pushed the Speaker button.

“Mason, your brother’s on line two.”

No way could he add Lewis’s crap to this wretched day. “Can you take a message? I’m really on a roll here,” he lied.

“Sure,” Nathan said. His assistant was the best. Nate was always on the ball, ready and able to help Mason no matter what he needed. The man was a godsend. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called.

“So, boss man, you wanna talk about it?” Nate said as he strutted into the room. The man was incapable of just walking anywhere. Mason had liked him from the minute he came through the door to the interview room. Clean-cut, blue-eyed, and with a wicked sense of humor, Nate was one of the few guys in the office Mason called friend. And he loved being an assistant. Mason liked having someone work with and for him who had no intention of taking his job.

Mason laughed. “Not on your life.”

“Just checking.” Nate turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

Mason pushed the intercom to the outer office. “Hey, Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“I lied.”

Nate disconnected the line and walked back in without knocking. He closed the door and sat in one of the chairs facing Mason’s desk. The story started pouring from Mason as soon as the other man’s butt hit the chair.

“And now everything’s a giant mess. For once in my life I have absolutely no idea what the hell to do. I can’t see any path that doesn’t end in the same place we’re all in right now.”

“So basically you’re screwed, then, huh?” Nate said, rubbing a hand absently through his short blond hair.

“Gee, thanks. I really missed your pep talks while I was away,” Mason said.

“Honestly, though. You have to let your mom figure this out on her own. It sounds like she was maybe using what happened between you and Amy as an excuse to end her relationship with James. Maybe she’s really not ready.” Nate twirled a pen through his fingers. He always had to be doing something with his hands. Mason had gotten used to the behavior months ago and barely noticed it. At first it had bothered him, made him think Nate wasn’t paying any attention. He knew better now.

He hadn’t thought that Mom might be using his broken promise as an excuse. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I lied to her.”

“She loves you, man. She’s your mom. It comes with the territory. I’m sure she’ll be able to forgive you.”

He wasn’t so sure. But if she’d really used her fear of Mason hurting Amy to end things with James, did that mean he and Amy weren’t over just yet? And why the hell was he more concerned with that than with what his mom would want? That wasn’t like him. But when it came to Amy, it seemed he was just as selfish as his father after all.

* * * *

Amy paced the length of her hotel room again. And again. She was there, in Denver. She looked down once more at the phone clutched in her hand. Should she call Mason? She wanted to. God, she didn’t think she’d wanted anything more in her life. Everything had ended so badly between them, she wasn’t sure he wanted to see her again. But she was freaking out about these interviews, and she found herself aching for his calm take-charge attitude. She’d kill for a Mason plan right about now.

If it had been anyone else, or hell, even if it had been Mason a week ago, she wouldn’t have thought twice about calling him or just showing up at his place. But she needed to start planning more than five minutes ahead, even if it might kill her. The most she’d done in the past fifteen years had been her few months of plotting to get her father down to Austin to see Martha. And that had turned out
so
well.

No wonder she wasn’t eager to plot anything else out.

She tossed the phone onto the bed, hating the uncertainty swirling through her. She’d made herself schedule these interviews after Dad had agreed to go see Martha. If he had her, Amy wouldn’t have to worry as much about him. Maybe. But the thought of leaving him now made her nauseated, and accepting a job in the same city where Mason lived might lead to disaster.

She’d looked up his address; she really could just show up at his apartment. What would he say to that? She didn’t know how he would react, and for once the answer to that really mattered. She
hated
thinking like this, worrying about the future. Her whole life had been a string of five-minute snippets. How the hell did Mason stand it? He was the kind of man who plotted out every detail of his life and always worried about what was coming around the corner before it got there. It must drive him insane.

She knew she needed his help to get their parents back together, but she didn’t know if he’d be willing to try. Dad had been miserable the past few days at home. It was finally Friday. A full four-and-a-half days after leaving Austin and she was able to get out of the house and away from his dark mood. She’d gone almost a week without seeing Mason. Okay, half a week, really, and after three nights sleeping in his bed, she now found it difficult to fall asleep alone in hers at the end of the day.

She’d never really wanted a bed partner, not past the sex part anyway.

Screw it. She was tired of agonizing over the decision. She’d been waffling for days. She’d flown two thousand miles. For a job interview. Not to see Mason. If she believed that, why the hell had she looked him up before she’d even gotten on the plane?

She’d made her decision. She was just terrified of following through on it.

“Grow a pair, Easton,” she said. She took a deep breath and grabbed her phone and his address and strode out of the motel room.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later she was standing before his door. She lifted her hand and knocked. Instantly she wished she could take it back. When the door swung open and she stared into the face of some man she didn’t recognize, she panicked.

“I’m sorry. Wrong apartment,” she stammered and flushed. She turned to leave, and the man grabbed her arm.

“Hold on, honey. Who are you looking for?”

He let go as she turned back to him.

“Nate, who is it?” Mason came up behind the man in the doorway and dropped the beer he was holding. The bottle shattered on the hardwood floor around his shoes, and beer splashed up his pant legs. He didn’t even flinch. “Amy,” he whispered.

“Hi, sweetie. Be nice to him, huh? He’s been
impossible
at work all week.” Nate set down his own bottle of beer on a table beside the door. “Night, boss man,” he called over his shoulder and slipped past Amy. The door started to close in her face, but Mason leaped forward and snatched it.

“I bet you didn’t see me coming this time either, did you?” she said, trying to lighten the mood. He was looking at her with too much intensity. Emotions flickered across his face too fast for her to follow them, but then he was lifting her in his arms and backing up into his apartment. The door slammed shut behind her.

She couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t tell him this wasn’t what she’d come there for, because the second he crunched through the glass and pressed her back against the wall, her mouth fused to his. She wrapped her legs around his hips and nibbled on his upper lip.

He pulled his head back and tried to mumble something, but she was yanking at his shirt, sending buttons flying as she ripped it open in her quest to get to skin. He stopped trying to talk and moaned when her fingers connected with his nipples. She ran her nails over them lightly as he propped her upper back against the wall. She arched into him, and he used one hand on the small of her back to keep her steady and sent the other up under the front of her shirt.