The Lesson (15 page)

Sighing she pushed her hair back and glanced
at Martin. “I guess it was too hard to give up all the trappings.
He never worked a real job. He had the apartment, the car, the
credit cards, you name it. At first I thought it didn’t matter. We
loved each other and I believed everything would work out. Then he
took me to a dinner party so I could meet his parents. It was a
huge affair, one they threw every year for their top clients. The
crème de la crème of Portland society,” she frowned. “That’s when I
knew for sure we would never work.”

Martin’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I
still don’t understand.”

“His father is Mason Freeman. The first,”
she finished, making air quotes with her fingers.

His eyes widened. “As in Freeman
Industries?”

“Yup,” she nodded. “As in Freeman
Industries.” She sighed, plucking at the sheet. “I remember getting
ready for the party, all the time I worried over what I would wear.
I believed if I was able to dress the part, I would blend in at
their little soiree, and they wouldn’t be able to tell by looking
at me I was some poor dago from the wrong side of the tracks.
Unfortunately, they saw right through me. His mother all but called
me a cheap whore to my face. And the whole time, Mason stood by and
said nothing,” she finished bitterly.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she remembered
the rest of the evening. “We might have been able to get past that
night if it hadn’t been for my grandfather.” The tears spilled over
and trickled down her cheeks as she looked up at him. “He called me
while I was at the party. He hadn’t been feeling well earlier, but
he insisted I go to the party, and when he called I knew something
was wrong. He collapsed while we were talking and I made Mason rush
me home. When we got there …” Bianca squeezed her eyes shut and put
a fist over her mouth.

“He was already gone,” she sobbed,
shaking her head. “My grandfather died while the Freeman’s looked
down their noses at me, judging me, judging Nonno Joe, and Mason
did nothing. He cared more about pleasing his parents and falling
in line like a good little soldier, so when they called him and
demanded he return to the party for appearance sake, he
left
. He chose his parents and their
damn party over me. He said he loved me, but when I needed him the
most, he left me.”

“How long ago did all this happen?” Martin
asked.

She used the sheet to wipe away her tears.
“Six years now.”

Martin nodded. “And you haven’t been with
anyone since.”

“No.” She shook her head. “He contacted me
last week, wanted to see me and apologize. He said he wanted to
show me something. Tomorrow night, in fact. He insisted, said it
was terribly important and he would leave me alone if I went with
him. I agreed to go, although I can’t imagine why.”

Martin studied her for a moment before he
spoke. “Well, obviously you’re not over him.” He sighed, running a
hand through his hair.

“I really care about you, Martin,” she
whispered, her tears starting anew. “I respect you and admire you,
and I genuinely like you. I think we have a real connection. I
wanted to make love to you, and I’m so sorry if I’ve hurt you.”

“I feel the same about you,” he sighed. “But
if part of you still belongs to him, if you still love him, it
won’t work. I won’t be in a relationship with you and another man,
and I won’t play second fiddle.”

“It isn’t like that,” she protested. “When I
said his name, it was only because talking to him again stirred up
the past. It doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

He flashed her a look of disbelief. “That’s
the first time you’ve lied to me, Bianca.”

She flushed, her face hot with
embarrassment.

Martin took her hands in his. “Look, Bianca.
I care about you more than I’d like to admit. Making love to you
was everything I thought it would be, but hearing the name of
another man coming out of your lips is a lot to deal with right
now. You made arrangements to see Mason tomorrow night and I think
you should go.”

Bianca opened her mouth to speak, but closed
it when he held up a hand. “Go with an open mind. Talk to him, let
him say what he needs to say. Figure out whatever you need to
figure out. Maybe seeing him will provide the closure you need, or
maybe you’ll realize I’m right, that you still love him and things
aren’t finished between the two of you after all. If it’s the
former, come back to me and maybe we’ll figure out a way to get
past this. If it’s the latter …” he shrugged and gave her a sad
smile. “I’ll be disappointed, but the only thing it will change
between us is we’ll be colleagues, like before, and everything that
happened tonight will be a sweet memory of friends taking comfort
in each other.” He brushed a hand against her cheek. “I promise I
won’t let it affect our working relationship. I’m your friend,
first and foremost.”

“Oh, Martin,” she sobbed, throwing her arms
around him. “I’m so sorry. Truly I am.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered as he
held her. “So am I.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bianca found she could barely look at Martin
the next day. All through the taxi ride to the airport and on the
plane, she avoided his gaze. He was too kind, and she felt she
didn’t deserve it.

She had cried in his arms for what seemed
like hours the night before, finally composing herself enough to
get dressed and slink back to her room.

She felt horrible whenever she thought about
what she had done. What was wrong with her? Was there some secret
part of her that wanted to be with Mason?

Of course there is,
responded the little voice inside her.
You went ahead and sabotaged what could have been an amazing
relationship with an amazing man, all for the possibility of Mason
growing up and getting his act together. Something you know is
about as likely as pigs taking flight.

But I don’t want Mason.

Ha!
The voice
mocked her.
Even Martin saw straight
through you. You want him. You don’t want to want him, but you do.
The sooner you admit it, the sooner you might be able to let
go.

By the time they landed in Portland and
collected their luggage, Bianca muttered something to Martin about
calling him later and hurried out the front door, jumping in the
first taxi she could find. After giving the driver her address, she
pulled her phone from her pocket and sent Mason a text.

Where am I meeting you tonight? What
time?

His response came seconds later.

7 pm. May I pick you up? I promise to be on
my best behavior. Please?

She sighed. He wouldn’t give up, would
he?

I don’t think he’ll give
up until he has you in his bed again,
the little voice
inside her piped up.

Too damn bad,
she answered.
I don’t want him. I
can barely stand to look at him after what he did.

Liar. You want him so bad you’re practically
quivering.

No,
she
insisted.
I want Martin. Martin is the
perfect man for me. I want to get this over with and fix the mess I
made. Hopefully, Martin will forgive me and I can get on with my
life and pretend like none of this ever happened.

You fraud!
the voice shrieked.
You can’t wait
to see Mason. You’re going to let him come pick you up, because
you’re hoping he’ll knock on your door, take one look at you and
lose control. You want him to grab you and fuck you seven ways from
Sunday until you’re screaming.

“Shut up!” she snapped.

“What?” asked the cabbie, glancing at her in
his rearview mirror.

Bianca felt her face grow hot as she
realized she’d spoken aloud. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

Don’t be a fool,
came the voice one more time.

Bianca ignored it, and defiantly sent her
address to Mason so he could pick her up.

By the time she reached her apartment, her
hands were shaking so hard it was all she could do to get her key
in the lock. Finally, the door burst open and she scurried into her
bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

“Stop it,” she told herself sternly. “This
isn’t a date. This is so you can get closure on the past. There’s
nothing remotely appealing about Mason Freeman.”

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she
yelped and jumped up. Six-thirty already, and here she was,
travel-worn in wrinkled slacks.

Bianca stripped her clothes and ran to the
bathroom to take the quickest shower of her life. She spent the
next twenty minutes racing about the apartment, pulling on clothes,
fixing her make-up, changing clothes, tidying the living room,
drying her hair, pinning it up, and changing her clothes a third
time.

She stood staring into the mirror, studying
the simple red dress she’d picked. It had a modest V neckline,
three-quarter sleeves and a flirty skirt that stopped above her
knees.

Red is the color of
sex,
the little voice mocked her.

“Oh god,” she groaned. “It’s too much.” She
opened her closet to try and find a more appropriate outfit when
her doorbell rang.

“Shit!” she breathed, cursing under her
breath pulled on a pair of heels and raced for the door. She
stopped when she reached for the handle, taking a deep breath to
calm her nerves.

Don’t let him see your
nerves,
she told herself as opened the
door.

And there he was, his eyes laser focused on
her, running up and down her frame before meeting her gaze.
“Bianca,” he greeted her, his voice low and husky.

“Mason,” she replied, feeling her cheeks
flush under his scrutiny. She studied him as well. He’d dressed to
impress she noted, taking in the casual jacket over a sleek button
up and jeans. His five o’clock shadow met his hairline, giving him
a manly, rugged look that stirred something inside her.

Told you,
the
voice whispered.

Go away.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come out with me
tonight,” he told her, his eyes drilling into hers.

She glanced away, trying to escape the
intensity of his gaze. “You were pretty insistent,” she answered.
“Let me get my jacket and we can leave.”

She hurried off to her bedroom, leaving him
standing in the doorway.

“You are in control,” she whispered to
herself as she grabbed her purse and a lacy wrap.

Ha! That’s the funniest
thing I’ve ever heard!
the voice mocked.
I’m surprised you didn’t jump him in the
doorway.

Oh my god, leave me
alone!
she snapped at the voice.
Fine, I admit it. I’m still attracted to him. Are you happy?
Even so, it doesn’t mean anything and it doesn’t change the past.
He was weak and he hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me. Why
would I let that back into my life?

Because you still love him. You never
stopped.

“I don’t want to love him,” she whispered as
she took one last glance at herself in the mirror before she
flicked off the bedroom light and went to join him in the
hallway.

Poor Bianca,
came the voice, sympathetic for once.
What will you do? How will you ever get over this man you
hate to love?

I don’t know,
she answered in despair as Mason smiled at her, the image
shooting straight to her heart.

“Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his
hand for hers.

She ignored it and walked out of the
apartment, pausing only to lock her door. “Yes,” she answered, her
voice harsh. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mason’s smile disappeared for a moment, and
he gave a terse little nod before he plastered a grin back on his
face. “Yes, let’s,” he answered.

They rode the elevator down to the lobby in
silence as Bianca tried to ignore the heat radiating off him as he
stood next to her. What she couldn’t ignore, however, was the
memory of her and Mason in a different elevator. Her cheeks flamed
when he glanced at her and she knew from the expression on his face
he was remembering as well.

When the doors opened, Bianca almost ran
from the elevator, grateful to escape the confined space.

Once outside, Mason led her to the same
Nissan Sentra he’d pointed out previously, opening the door for
her. He quickly joined her, pulling away from the curb at a
reasonable speed.

Bianca glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.
“I’m still floored you’re driving an economy car, but now I’m
doubly so. Really, Mason? Going the speed limit? That’s so unlike
you.”

Mason erupted in laughter. “As I told you
the other night, this is a little more my style these days. As well
as obeying all posted speed limits.”

Bianca grinned despite herself.

“I told you last week that I’ve changed,” he
told her. “I have in ways you can’t know.”

“Hmm,” she replied, turning to stare out the
window. Soon, they were driving through downtown Portland and Mason
was pulling into a parking lot off nineteenth street.

“I’ll get your door,” he told her and for a
brief moment, Bianca was alone in the car.

Admit it, you still want
him,
taunted the little voice inside her.
Once you admit it, all this will be a lot
easier.

I already admitted
it!
she shouted back, her frustration boiling
over.
Quit hounding me. You’re right,
you’re right, you’re right! I want him. And so what if I do? What
does that mean?