Wrapped Up in a Beau (12 page)

“You're damn right you do.” With a deep inhalation, Daniel rubbed his slightly round belly. “I'll go first so you can think about it for a second. Let's see…I…well, I promise to drive your mother crazier this year than ever.”

Mason laughed and stopped his father's arm from raising the glass to his lips. “Dad. That's not the right kind of goal.”

“Sure it is, son. The more I drive her crazy, the more she tries to fix me. That seems to be the only kind of attention I can get from her these days.”

He eyed his father with a questionable gaze. “What makes you say that? Now that you're semi-retired, you and Mom have more time together.”

“Eh, nothing's changed. She still does her own thing; I do mine. Think we've had that routine going for so long, feels too weird to do anything else.”

“I see your point. All right, Dad, to driving Mom crazy.”

Mr. Renclair smiled roguishly and tossed back the scotch, swallowing, and setting his glass down with a satisfied ahh. “Your turn. Make it a good one, too. You haven't done this with me in too long!”

Guilt knotted in his throat at the reminder of how he'd ditched Christmas—including all of its little traditions—and he knew immediately what his goal for the year was going to be. One only his father needed to know. “I will take everything less for granted. That includes all of you.”

Daniel seemed surprised at this admission. “Why, Mason. All mature and grateful. There is some Southern spirit in you yet, boy. For a true Southern man, nothing is more important than family.”

Mason gave a short nod, raised his glass and drank the scotch in one quick swallow. It, and his guilt, burned down his insides with a smooth fire. He'd meant what he said and it felt good to say it out loud. “Thanks, old man.”

His father slapped him on the back as he hid the bottle away. His favorite show of affection. “Like old times.”

As they turned around to join the others, another tradition occurred to Mason, one he hadn't seen since he was in high school, maybe even before that. A tradition that could kick off his father's goal of receiving more of his wife's attention, but in the right way. “Say, Dad.” He raised his voice so everyone would hear, and tapped a finger to the grand piano as they walked past. “When was the last time you and Mom performed together?”

Sophie's head snapped in Mason's direction, eyes wide. Even grandfather's wiry brows shot up.

“Performed together? The duet?” his father asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don't know. We haven't done that—”

“Since 1994,” Anne cut in, shaking her head as she continued to pour a glass of wine.

“A real shame,” added Christopher.

Greta grinned, setting her glass of eggnog down. “What duet?”

Sophie bounced up toward the piano. Pleased to share the story, Mason smiled down at Greta. “Every year, as far back as I can remember, my grandparents would sing ‘Baby, It's Cold Outside' for everyone, with a little dance routine to go with it. I used to think it was corny and annoying, but after a few years, I anticipated it.” He sauntered over to his grandfather and laid a hand on his shoulder, and the old man patted his hand. Mason continued. “After Grandma passed, my parents took over. When Sophie was old enough and learned how to play it on the piano, she joined the act.”

On cue, Sophie played a few notes of the song. “We haven't done this in forever!”

“And I'm not about to revive this tradition,” proclaimed Anne. “I'm much too out of practice.”

Daniel added, “I still can't sing worth a damn.”

“Dad!” Sophie protested. “That's not true and you know it. You do the best impression of Dean Martin! Come on, you guys, do it for us. It'll be fun. Mason's here. Greta would love to see it, too. It's your signature Christmas Eve entertainment.”

With a reluctant, uncertain twist of his mouth, Daniel glanced at his wife, who was trying not to smile. He swept over to her, captured her hand, leading her to the piano. “What do you say, Anne? I'm feeling nostalgic.”

“You're feeling the Bowmore,” she retorted dryly.

He chuckled at her quip. Mason went to sit next to Greta, knowing his mother was going to cave in. He distinctly remembered how much she enjoyed singing the song with her husband, even though he couldn't recall why they ever stopped. Then again, those few Christmases after high school had been a little strained, with his mother's father passing away, and Mason's dad missing a couple Christmas Eves due to handling the company on his own. After that, they never picked it up again. Now seemed as good a time as any to bring it back, and he could see the old sparkle in his mother's eye.

“Well,” Anne sighed, pressing a hand to her chest and clearing her throat delicately. “I
barely
remember the steps—”

“We'll improvise,” encouraged Daniel with a smile.

“I haven't sung in ages. My voice isn't what it used to be—”

“Don't be scared, Anne.” Daniel tucked his hands in his pockets and stepped back a few feet, grinning at his wife.

“Scared! Please, Daniel.” She smiled, smoothing a hand over her blouse. “All right. Sophie, give me half a minute to run the lyrics through my head.”

Sophie hit a few keys, smiling. “Of course, Mother.”

“This ought to be good,” mumbled Christopher, pulling out his flask.

Anne Renclair sent a chiding glance to her father-in-law, then shifted her gaze to her daughter, and gave a single nod. Sophie started playing the appropriate notes. With a slight lift of her chin, Anne gracefully set one hand on her hip, and gestured to Daniel with the other. She started the song, and with her husband, acted out the words of the famous duet. Greta bumped Mason with her elbow, crossing her legs, and setting her folded hands on her knees. She whispered, “You should be recording this. It's adorable. I didn't know your parents could sing.”

Pleased with himself, Mason sat back, grinning at his parents as they performed the song and the accompanying moves as if they'd done it yesterday and the day before.

He leaned over to Greta, speaking low so no one would hear, “They actually look like they're having fun.” Studying her profile, how she smiled so genuinely as his parents sang and his sister played the piano—and Grandfather took another sip from his flask—he was unable to tear his gaze away. The night before Christmas hadn't been this enjoyable in ages. To think he would've missed out had he not made his driver turn the car around. On impulse, he squeezed Greta's hand then lifted it to kiss it. She whipped her gaze to his, blushing. Earlier, he'd immediately sensed her shyness about displaying any affection between them, choosing to sit away from him rather than next to him while they opened gifts, and ignoring his direct gaze. They weren't fooling anyone, Mason knew, but if it made her more comfortable to keep a distance, he didn't mind. As long as she was nowhere but in his arms at the end of the night.

His parents came to the end of the song, and Mason smiled as his father wrapped his arms around his wife's waist from behind, swaying, as they sang the final line in unison.Greta sprung up with applause, Grandfather saluted with his flask and Sophie clapped, beaming. Mason whistled as he clapped, seeing his parents smile genuinely at one another. A rare sight. One he hoped would happen a helluva lot more often than on Christmas Eve.

Greta looped her arm in Mason's, eyeing his grandfather. “You've inspired me to keep the party going. I think I have an idea to lift Christopher's spirits a little more this season.”

“Oh? Determined to make the old man jolly all year round, are we?”

His grandfather already adored her—hell, his whole family was practically eating out of her hand these days—and it probably wouldn't take much more to make the old man happy. This was Greta's talent, her gift. Too bad when it came to her own happiness she seemed to run more than anything. Well, for the moment her hot little feet were in Swan's Crossing and he had every intention of making her Christmas as memorable for her as it had been for him.

Later on in the guesthouse, Greta lit her candle for Leo, whispered a prayer for his health and smiled when she heard the static of the radio waves. Mason tuned up the radio.

They'd turned all the lights off, with only the flames of a few candles and the enchanting Christmas tree lighting the small room.

Mason stood at the window in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

He gestured her over. “Come here.”

Walking over to him, she interlaced her fingers with his. He set her in front of him, wrapping his arms around her. He pointed outside. “Out there. Do you see them?”

Searching the moonlit dark, she gasped softly at the sight. Deer were wandering through the open field of the back lawn. “A little family.”

The most mature of the group—a doe—craned her head and waited as the smaller two caught up. They slowly made their way across the snow-covered lawn, and eventually disappeared in the trees.

She gloried in the shared moment, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love your home, Mason.”

He took her chin, turning her face to his. His lips feather-touched her mouth, and she quivered at the sweet tenderness. Smoothing his thumb across her bottom lip, he said, “It's almost midnight.”

“Time for bed?” She lifted a brow with a smile.

He tapped her nose. “Not yet.”

In the living room, he stretched out on the sofa and brought her to sit between his legs and against his chest so they could face the tree. Gazing at the lights, listening to the radio, he simply held her. No seduction. Just warmth and affection.

He hummed along with the radio, grazing his lips in her hair, making her laugh, and the pure contentment overwhelmed her.

She eventually drifted to a deep sleep.

Early sunlight in the bedroom woke her up, as it always did. This time it was Christmas morning. Mason must've carried her upstairs after she'd fallen asleep. Pushing up, she realized he wasn't in the bed with her. “Mason?”

Swinging her legs off the bed, then shuffled to the bathroom. Did he leave? She frowned. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she wondered if he'd headed over to the main house early without her. Well, she definitely needed a hot shower and a cup of coffee before joining him.

Her hand touched the rail to head downstairs, when she stopped.

Mason stood below, waiting, smiling up at her. An astonishing amount of boxes were under the tree. He opened his arms wide. “Merry Christmas.”

She didn't know how long she stood there, taking in the scene below. With fingers to her mouth, she took each step one by one, aghast.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs, hands on hips, unbearably attractive and proud.

Finding her voice, she breathed, “You did all this?”

“Of course not. Santa was here.” He pointed behind him. “Clearly.”

His thoughtfulness shot straight to her heart like a blast of light. She laughed and threw her arms around him.
Don't cry.
He won't appreciate tears. Squeezing him tight, she held them back, striving to keep her emotions in check. Kissing him would help. So she did.

“Now, now,” he chided, breaking away, rubbing her arms. “It's not Christmas morning for me.” He arched a brow. “Yet.”

She grinned, whirled around, hands clasped, memorizing every detail so she would remember it forever.

Mason gave her a sound smack on her butt. “Go on! Tear them open already.”

It wasn't very ladylike, or refined, the way she ripped at the wrapping paper, but she didn't care. A box of chocolates here. A set of candles there. A red cashmere winter hat. She loved them all.

Sitting among the torn paper, surrounded by her presents, she laughed as Mason burst out of the bathroom with nothing on but his boxers and a reindeer headband.

She pulled him down to his knees, and his mouth descended on hers, playful at first, then firm and sensual. He untied her robe, slipping his hand inside and spanning her waist. Her laughter died to desire, needing his touch, aching under it.

With a groan, he moved his lips down her throat to her shoulder, his tongue sliding along her skin, the reindeer headband falling off.

She let the robe fall to the floor, and raised her arms for him to remove her nightgown. Gently kissing along his jaw line, tasting his clean skin, the masculine scent, she gasped as his fingers dug into her backside. He was trembling.

She pushed his shoulders, urging him down, and climbed on top. He had a condom in his hand for her and she took the liberty of sliding it on for him. As she eased herself on his hardness, a low, broken moan emerged from her throat as he hissed his pleasure.

He gazed up at her, holding her hips as they moved together. “Oh, baby. You are so good for me.”

The intimacy in his voice suggested more than sexual desire. As if he said it with love. Not allowing herself to believe it, she bent down, capturing his face, kissing him deeply, as she slowly rode him. He smoothed her hair away, and she moaned.

Greta closed her eyes as the pressure expanded, the rush climbed. Her entire being flooded with shimmering desire, flowing through her blood like molten heat. And when it claimed her, she cried out her ecstasy to the sky, feeling her heart going with it.

Chapter Eleven

The day after Christmas, when Greta got the news Leo was ready for more visitors, she and Mason drove to the hospital that afternoon. As soon as she walked in the room, he gave her a tired but bright, pleased smile. His kind eyes were red-rimmed, his usually flush cheeks pale, but he never looked better to Greta, knowing he could've been much worse.

She tossed her coat over the chair and leaned a hip on his bed, squeezing his hand. “Hey there.”

“Dollface! Good Lord, you are a
sight
for sore eyes,” he greeted, his usually boisterous voice rough.

“It's about time you woke up to join the party. You already missed Christmas, but I guess I'll save you a dance for later.”

The older man kicked his feet together. “Name the time and place and I will be there.”

She smiled, patting his hand. “How are you feeling? You gave us a big scare. If you wanted attention, all you had to do was ask.”

His chuckle shook his broad chest. “This was nothing. Wish my heart would keep up with my head. I tell my body I want to work all day and party all night, but I lost that battle. Pfft. Hey.” Peering over her shoulder, he noticed Mason standing in the doorway. “You brought Renclair.”

“Good to see you, Rossi.” Mason smiled as he approached the bed.

Glancing from her to Mason, Leo dropped his head back on the pillow with an awe-like sigh. “Ah yes. I knew it would happen. And such a beautiful couple you make! You did good, Renclair. Not many girls like her around these parts. I knew you wouldn't let her get away.”

Silence settled, crackling. Greta, uneasy at Mason's odd silence, corrected Leo. “Oh—we aren't a couple. We're good friends. Besides, he insisted on driving me. Made me return my Mustang.” Unable to see Mason's face, she wondered what he thought at that moment. Since he hadn't rushed in to negate Leo's statement, she felt she had to say something. One, to remind herself they weren't a serious item by saying it out loud and two…well, to make sure Mason agreed.

“Friends?” Leo scoffed. “Playing me for a fool again. Told you, I'm old, not senile. You two are hotter and heavier than a pot of Minestra Maritata. These old eyes see it
plain
.”

“It's true,” Mason added at the skepticism in Leo's face. “Miss Marcum and I are friends. She's heading back to the UK on New Year's Eve. She belongs to no one, Leo.”

Greta cast a grateful glance back at Mason, and tried to mask the hurt in her eyes. Why did that sting? Because it drove home the fact he wasn't a part of her new plan and for some reason that bugged her. A little ruffled—more than she cared to admit—she changed the subject, sucking in a reviving breath. “I met Lena. She's the mirror image of her mother. We've been stopping by Galore. Her husband won't let her do anything resembling hard labor. It's funny to hear them argue.”

He smiled softly. “Yeah, that's my Lena. Even though I could shoot my son-in-law for taking her away from Swan's Crossing, I know he loves her very much. Takes good care of her. Did you know she's going to be a mama?”

“Yes! Very exciting. Grandpa Leo. There's a certain ring to that.”

“Guess I found something else to live for. She's going to be a wonderful mother. I know it. Like you, my girl. Someday. Think of the children you two would have!”

She sighed. “Leo—”

“Mason? Is that you?”

At the door, a red-haired woman in scrubs smiled and gave a quick wave, her face familiar. When Mason turned to her and started toward her with a warm greeting, Greta remembered this was the same woman he'd had lunch with previously. They hugged and he followed her out of the room to talk.

Greta switched her attention back to Leo, who was studying her curiously. She feigned indifference. Only her rapid pulse would give her away. “Do you want me to bring you something to eat? Or are you on a strict diet from the doctor? I can just imagine what they're feeding you in here.”

Ignoring her, he asked, “Who's that?”

Greta shrugged. “A friend of Mason's. I don't know her.”

He flipped a hand. “Eh, the RN got you worried? She's got nothing on you. Cute gal, but anyone can see how taken he is.”

She kissed his cheek.
He's never going to let up.
“I'm not the least bit worried. She can have him all she wants. Like he said, I'm leaving town pretty soon.” Rising, she reached for her coat. “I should let you rest. I'll stop by tomorrow and bring you some soup.”

He fixed his stare on her. “Greta…” Leo's tone reminded her of a parent about to give a dismissive child a warning.

“Yes, Leo?” she replied innocently.

“Don't be foolish, baby girl. Remember what I told you about me and my wife? When you know, you know. Don't fight it.”

“There's no reason to fight in the first place. And it's not the same. Mason and I, well, we have an understanding, okay? Neither one of us has plans for anything serious.”

Leo pursed his lips, unsatisfied with her explanation, but seeming to give up. “If you say so.” He smiled at her. “Promise I'll see you tomorrow?”

“I promise.” She blew him a kiss.

Mason smiled at Shannon as she recounted Christmas with her family. They'd been friends for a while and she'd often come over to check on Christopher when he was between nurses. She and her husband divorced two years ago and it'd been hard for her without a male around the house to help with little things. Sometimes he'd take her out to assuage their moments of loneliness and enjoyed how he could spend time with a woman who bore as much disinterest in a relationship as he did. That is until recent weeks. More and more he noticed she dressed a little sexier every time they met up, wore perfume, and held on longer when they hugged. Greta had seen it the day he took Shannon to lunch at the hotel even though he insisted he and Shannon were platonic.

Speaking of, Greta had reiterated to Leo, quite firmly, that they were only friends. A remark that—to his disconcertion—cut a little deep. Not that he had entertained any illusions about them. Greta was right to affirm their standing out loud both to him and Leo. Good to know she didn't hold some expectations of going beyond their holiday rendezvous. Perhaps when she left, he'd consider taking Shannon out on a real date.

The thought of Greta's departure and using Shannon to get over her twisted his stomach.

The attractive nurse must've caught the change in his expression as she cut off mid-sentence with a smile. “Anyway, enough about me. What have
you
been up to? How was your first Christmas at home? I still can't believe you canceled your trip to Bali.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment cancellation. One I'm glad I made.”

“Good! And you survived.”

“Christmas with my family wasn't as bad as I remembered. I actually had fun. Starting to think my holiday travel tradition is over for good.”

“Well, well. I'm glad to hear it, Mason. I was wondering when you were going to let go of that bachelor mentality and settle down.”

“Who said anything about settling down?” he asked sardonically.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I spoke too soon.” Shannon went up on her toes and glanced over his shoulder. “Are you…” She hesitated as if unsure, and finally asked, “Are you seeing someone new? The woman in the black coat perhaps?”

Keeping a neutral expression, Mason shifted his gaze to Greta down the hall. He met Shannon's curious expression. “Her? She's Sophie's friend.” It sounded better to call her Sophie's friend than his. An awkward answer tangled on his tongue. He was doing more than seeing her, but their affair had a definite deadline. “We're not dating. She's just visiting from England.”

“Oh, well, that's a shame she's leaving.” She rocked back on her Croc heels. “She looks your type.”

“Does she?” he asked as though he hadn't thought about it. The first moment he'd met her, he knew Greta was exactly his type and it only took less than two weeks to feel as though she was much more. “Well, maybe I should go to Europe more often to widen my dating net.”

“Or you could search right here in Swan's Crossing,” Shannon commented with an arching brow. He gave her a self-deprecating smile and nodded. She had a point.

“Shannon!” A nurse popped her head out from a nearby room. “We could use a hand in here.”

“I'll be right there!” she tossed back then surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. “Gotta run. It was good to see you, Mason.” Backing up, she arched a brow. “Let me know if and when you cast that net.” A flirtatious smile spread across her mouth as she waved good-bye, disappearing inside the patient's room.

Okay, so Shannon seemed hopeful to become more than friends now. Maybe seeing him with Ms. Marcum had encouraged her to voice her romantic interest. Some women couldn't resist a man once he was off the market. Rubbing his chin, he turned and sauntered back. But, he
wasn't
off the market. Not in the long run. This thing with Greta would be over in a matter of days and he'd be free to pursue any woman, including Shannon, who was attractive, smart and fun to be with. All the qualities he sought in a potential girlfriend. Now that he knew Shannon was interested in dating, he asked himself if he was, too.

As he lifted his gaze and locked eyes on Greta—who gave him a slow, sexy smile as she spoke with someone on her cell phone—he knew the answer.

He wasn't interested in Shannon. Not like that.

He
should
be. The pretty nurse was a logical, easy choice. Oh and the fact she lived in the same town should've put her leagues ahead of Greta too. Nonetheless, he couldn't deny he'd rather take things to the next level with the untamable woman standing in front of him.
There is no next level,
his rationale exclaimed.
There's next week, when she thanks you for a good time and flies home.
He frowned, taking out his leather gloves and unnecessarily shoving his hands in them.

Greta mistook his stiff actions as impatience and touched his forearm. “Sorry. I'll be done in a minute. I finally got through to a live being at the airline.”

Attempting to cover up his open display of vexation, he gave her a smile of understanding. “No problem. Take your time.”

Pretending to be distracted by the passing traffic, he showed no reaction as she confirmed her flight on New Year's Eve and asked what other flights were available. Did she want to leave sooner? Had something come up? He didn't hear the conclusion of the call as a page for a doctor was announced over the PA system. A few moments later, satisfied with the answer she received, she hung up and tucked her phone in her bag. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” He marched through the automatic doors and to his SUV, sort of leaving Greta to trail behind in his dust. Irrational frustration fired in his blood and he took it out on his car as he slammed his door a little too hard. Greta climbed in warily. He started the ignition and threw the gear into reverse.

Greta's curious gaze was on him as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. “The nurse you were talking to…was she the woman you were having lunch with last week? At the hotel?”

He nodded. “You have quite the memory.”

“I never forget a face,” she stated. “I would've liked to have met her.”

“Why didn't you come over and introduce yourself?” he asked as he took a right turn.

“That would've been a little rude. Besides, I think she was happy to have your attention all to herself for a minute. I didn't want to interrupt.”

“Or you thought you'd look jealous?” he teased without forethought.

She whipped her face to his profile. “Jealous? Hardly.”

Not even a little?
Not that she had any reason to be. After a strained moment of silence, he blurted, “She asked about you.”

“Oh?”

“She wanted to know who you were. If I was seeing someone new.” Without waiting for her to respond, he added, “I told her we are friends, enjoying each other's company.”

Out of the corner of his eye, she folded her hands in her lap, and crossed her legs. “That was the right answer. It's the truth,” she said blithely.

“I was just echoing what you told Mr. Rossi. I distinctly remember you telling me men and women can't be friends.”

“What else could I tell Leo? He thought we were a serious couple or something.”

“And you
had
to correct him.”

“Yes,” she emphasized.

Because he couldn't take his eyes off the road, he couldn't see her expression, to discern if it matched the lightness of her voice. Not that he expected her to argue with him about it, but her blasé tone ticked him off, emphasizing how casually she took what was between them. Reminding him he needed to do the same.

“You should ask Shannon out,” Greta suddenly suggested. “She likes you as more than a friend and you seem to get along very well.”

“You mentioned that last week,” he remarked dryly.

“The way she smiled at you made it completely obvious. It'd be only natural for you two to take the next step.”

His brows drew together. The last thing he needed was Greta patronizing him as though he was some clueless teenage boy and she the indifferent lover bestowing wisdom about another woman's interest. “Are you seriously playing matchmaker right now?”

“I'm merely suggesting you ask her out,” she replied somewhat too brightly.

What the hell? This was a first. A woman he was currently involved with—albeit temporarily—encouraging him to ask out another. Was she trying to get off the hook so she could leave early without feeling guilty? He shoved away his irritation and instead decided to play along. “Maybe I will. Should I wait until you leave or give her a call tonight?”