Chapter Eleven

Shit. He’d screwed up. Big time.

Mason didn’t have illusions of perfection. He knew that he made the occasional mistake—showed up late to meetings, didn’t call women back when he should. But this was worse. This was him being an asshole.

Worse, this was him being an asshole to Tess.

Nate grimaced. “You remember I’m supposed to be the dick, right?”

Cecilia started for the door, but Nate grabbed her by the arm. “I’m thinking he owes her an apology.”

“You’re damn right he…”

Cece was still arguing with Nate as Mason left the restaurant. He looked left and right, then saw Tess half a block away, walking at a furious pace. He sprinted after her.

“Tess, wait!”

She didn’t pause. He caught up with her in a few long strides.

“Hang on, will you?” He put out his hand to catch her, but she threw him off.

“Screw you,” she snapped, and kept walking.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She marched forward, not looking at him. “Sorry? What for?” Her voice was cutting, but it was more than anger. There was pain there. Deep pain.

“For acting like a caveman. For being a dick to Luke and dragging you into it. I had no right to do that, none at all.”

“You want to start there?”

He stopped, confused. “Wait, what?” She continued to walk, so he hurried after her. “Was there more? What else did I do?”

“Seriously?” She turned to him in astonishment. “How about embarrassing the hell out of me by bringing up my jobs and school? How about making it obvious that I didn’t belong there?”

Mason took an involuntary step back. “All I did was mention that you were planning to be a vet—is that what you’re mad about? I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Come on, Mason. You know I don’t like to talk about that.”

“I know you’re shy about it, but Tess, it’s something to be proud of, not embarrassed about. I just thought they should know.”

“Something I should be proud of?” She stopped to stand in front of him. “Really?”

“Really,” he replied.

“You think I should be proud,” she said flatly. “Because I’m almost twenty-seven and still trying to finish my college degree.”

“Yes. You absolutely should be proud. You work harder than anyone I know. How could you not be proud of that?”

She pushed back her hair. He couldn’t help but notice that her hand was shaking. “Of course. It’s so easy for you. How could I have imagined you’d understand?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She jabbed a finger toward his chest. “It means I’m not like you. Everything you do comes out perfect and everyone loves you for it. You walk into a room and people line up to get close to you. It’s not like that for me. It’s never been like that.”

“People want to be seen with me, but they don’t want to get close to me. Not really.”

He wasn’t sure what made him say it, but it gave her pause, just for a moment before she continued. “Look, you have a family who loves you and amazing friends, and you know damn well you can get any woman you want. I’ve never had those things. No one wants to be friends with the kid whose mom shows up drunk to parent-teacher conferences. Or who changes schools three times a year. No one wants the dropout working at a convenient store. No one.”

The words hit him so hard he caught his breath. His behavior, his jealousy—suddenly it all seemed irrelevant to understanding what had really upset her. How had he misunderstood her fear and vulnerability so completely?

She started to walk away again, but he caught her arm. This time, she didn’t pull away, just stopped and crossed her arms over her chest, looking deliberately over his shoulder as her eyes filled with tears.

“How was I supposed to understand all that?” he asked. “I can read people, Tess, but I can’t read minds. You’ve never even told me why you dropped out. You’ve never told me about your mother. I know I screwed up in there, but honestly, you’ve blacked out a huge portion of your life from me. How can I understand when you won’t talk to me?”

Tess wiped a tear from her cheek. Her shoulders were tight, and he could see her fighting with herself. “Fine,” she after a long exhale. “Fine. You want to know about me? My mother started taking me on ‘road trips’ when I was in elementary school, usually with some seedy boyfriend. Sometimes just for a few weeks, sometimes a few months. By eighth grade, I’d missed so much school I had a really hard time keeping up. In ninth grade, we moved to Phoenix, and I figured it was time for me to accept that I was just like her. I started messing around with drugs and drinking a lot. By the time I was sixteen, I was failing all my classes. I found a guy with a motorcycle who told me he loved me, and I moved into a hotel room with him. A few weeks later, I turned up pregnant.”

He blinked, shocked at the picture she’d painted. The image of a young, scared Tess danced behind his eyes. She’d shared a lot with him since they’d met, but almost nothing of her childhood. He’d known she’d been hurt—that was obvious. But he hadn’t been able to get past the wall she’d put up around her most sensitive, private history.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “That’s awful, Tess.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, waving a hand tiredly. “Apparently, the baby realized what a bad idea it would have been to have me for a parent. I got my period a few weeks later and dropped out a few weeks after that. I was a fuck up, and I’m trying to get my life in shape now, but it’s hard, and it sucks to always be on the outside. For a little while tonight, I felt like I was on the inside, and then you had to go and ruin it. Now when they think of me you know what they’ll remember? Online college. Still getting her undergraduate degree. How sweet, she’s working so hard. Maybe someday she’ll get a real job, like us.”

He swallowed, heart breaking at her bleak expression. “Tess, I’m so sorry. I can see how it might feel that way, but I guarantee, that’s not what they’re going to remember. They’ll remember the gorgeous woman who made them laugh and had to put up with me being a dick. And they’ll remember how impressed they were when they realized you’re working and going to school at the same time.”

She waved her hands in disgust. “Mason, think about it for a minute. I can’t afford the Aspen. I can’t afford the clothes or the drinks or anything about it. Did it not occur to you that I’d stick out like a sore thumb in there? Did you really think I’d just fit in seamlessly, like one of your group?”

“I was going to pay for drinks,” he said, heart sinking. “You could have worn your jeans and a T-shirt, and my friends would still have liked you. They don’t care what you look like.”

How could he have missed it? Her nervousness when she entered? The clothes that were so different from her usual attire? He’d thought it would be special and fun. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might all serve to make her feel totally out of place.

“I knew this wasn’t your usual hangout,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I was trying to embarrass you. I thought maybe if you had fun tonight, let me show you a good time, you’d let your guard down a little. You’re just so damn closed off, I didn’t know how else to get through to you.”

“Closed off?” She gave a cynical laugh. “That’s a joke. You know more about me than anyone else on this planet, Mason, except for Cece.”

“That may be true,” he said, “but let’s be honest, Tess. That’s not saying much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you’ve built some serious walls around yourself, and God help the person who tries to get inside. You’re the toughest person I know, and I know some really tough people. You work these incredible hours, juggle three jobs, and manage to go to school and master organic chemistry at the same time. But everything I know about you is something you let slip. I had to be a detective just to figure out your grandmother’s name. So yeah, I might have screwed up tonight, but I wasn’t trying to be cruel. If you think that, you don’t know me at all.”

She didn’t respond, and he took a tiny, unsatisfying pleasure in having temporarily rendered her speechless.

“Fine,” she said, going back on the attack, “maybe it wasn’t on purpose. But let’s talk about the whole possessive thing you were doing in there. What was that all about, anyway? We’re just friends, remember?”

He shook his head. “This friends thing is bullshit and you know it. I loved every minute of the time we spent together this week, but if you think I’m going to be unaffected when some other guy asks you out, you’re crazy. It’s not like you owe me anything, or I have any right to complain. Of course I don’t. But don’t expect me not to be frustrated.”

She closed her eyes for a moment as if seeking patience, and when she opened them again, she spoke through her teeth. “First of all, I like Luke, but I was never planning to go out with him. And once you started doing your caveman thing, I don’t think he had any plans to ask me out anyway. Second, this isn’t the eighteenth century, Mason. You don’t own me, and you don’t get to decide what I do, or who I do it with. You might say you want me, but you really only want the challenge. And that’s not enough for me. I can do without that kind of wanting.”

His patience finally ran out. “How many times do I have to tell you that’s not what it’s about! Is it so impossible to believe that I. Just. Want. You? That I look at you and all I can think of is kissing those ridiculously pink lips of yours, especially when you’re telling me off? That your body drives me crazy? That I think about your curves when I go to sleep at night and can’t wait to see you in the morning? That’s impossible to you?”

She froze, staring at him in surprise. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“You told me once that I didn’t know you,” he continued. “That I could never be friends with a woman because all I knew how to do was sleep with them. Did you know that I make your coffee every morning at seven fifty-five and stand by the door, waiting for you to arrive? Did you know that I asked Mrs. Walsh to help me figure out a recipe I could make you for dinner? You seem to think you know me so well—did you know that, Tess?”

“I don’t…” she trailed off unsteadily.

“I know the flavor of ice cream you like and the way you rub your eyes when you’re tired. I know how stubborn you are and the fact that you love watching Little House on the Prairie reruns. Is that nothing?”

“I don’t believe—”

He didn’t let her finish whatever stupid protest she was about to make. He put his arms around her waist and stepped closer. “If you don’t believe what I’m saying, can you believe what you’re feeling?”

Her eyes went wide in her face, and he waited, giving her time to push him away or tell him off, as she was so completely capable of doing. But she didn’t. Instead, she put her arms against his chest and gave him her hardest, most defiant stare.

“Fine. Show me, then. Prove it to me.”

He paused to study her, seeing both the tough outer shell and the sparkle of fear underneath. With the tip of his thumb, he traced the edge of her full bottom lip, and then the line of her jaw. She trembled and blinked furiously, her eyes glistening.

“Just kiss me, damn it.” Her hands tightened on the fabric of his shirt.

“No. Not like that.” The skin behind her ear was silky smooth, and he lingered there for a moment as he tunneled his hands into her hair. “Like this.”

He bent to capture her lips, but she was hard and unyielding. This was penance, he understood. She needed him to pay for hurting her and making her feel vulnerable. He coaxed her with light caresses and soft nips, trailing his tongue over her closed mouth until she softened beneath him.

When he felt her relax, her body loosening ever so slightly under his, he sought the seam of her lips and delved inside. Tasted her. Tasted fruit and rum and the passion he knew she didn’t want to reveal. Was scared to reveal? There was so much to her, so much he still didn’t know. He wanted to be unhurried in his exploration, but it was impossible when she felt so good in his arms.

This is how I feel about you.

He slid his hands under the sides of her backless dress, found the delicate skin of her waist, and left his thumbs there to stroke at the soft flesh. Instantly, he was struck by the image of laying her down on his bed, removing that dress, and replacing his hands with his mouth.

God, he wanted her. He wanted her with an intensity that scared him, that made him question everything he’d ever believed, every rule he’d ever made for dealing with women.

He focused on her lips, used every ounce of control he had to keep from grabbing her butt and tucking her tightly against him. His hands moved to her back, and he traced the line of her spine as he slid his mouth down her neck to land at the hollow at the base of her neck. She moaned softly, her breath caught low in her throat.

This is how I want you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against her skin, his breath a mix of desire and pent-up need. And then he kissed her again and let his hands and his mouth say the things he needed her to hear.

…

The man was a magician. A sorcerer. There was no other way to explain how quickly and completely he undid her. How he made her want, need, feel things she hadn’t felt in years. His lips traced the edge of her neck and she arched her back, let her breasts brush against his chest, and stifled a moan. Her nipples were hard and aching, and she could picture his hands on them. Teasing them, torturing her with his mouth and tongue.

She was pressed against him like a cat, arching and straining for more closeness. She moved her hips and felt him hard against her.

One of his hands slid from her back to her bottom. With a firm hand he rocked her against him, pressing them tightly together, and it was everything she wanted. Exactly what she needed. Her dress was a frustrating impediment. She wanted skin on skin. Flesh against flesh.

“I think we might be making a scene.” His breath was warm on her cheek. He pressed a kiss behind her ear.

She tried to make her mind focus, but his touch had left her senseless. “A scene?”

He pulled away with a sigh. “A scene.”

She glanced around, remembering with a start that there were people still spilling out of the Aspen, others walking past on the street. She felt the warmth of a blush color her cheeks. “Oh. Right. I guess this is a public street.”

He nodded. “I think there are laws about this sort of thing. Even in San Francisco.”

She couldn’t help but smile. The moment had been broken, and she felt a wave of indecision that forced her eyes to the ground. He touched her chin, dragging her gaze back to his.

“Come home with me?” he said.

There were so many reasons to say no, and one very good reason to say yes: she wanted him. And he wanted her.

Could that be enough? There were so many risks. So many things to be afraid of. Could she take a chance, knowing she might get hurt?

“I have to get my car.”

“Leave it. I wasn’t going to let you drive home anyway.”

She looked up, momentarily startled. “What?”

He smiled. “You’re a bit of a lightweight, you know. That second cocktail was one too many.”

She smiled, then bit her lip. Maybe he wasn’t for her and maybe she didn’t fit in, but maybe tonight it didn’t matter. Maybe sometimes Cinderella just had to take her one night with the prince, even if she knew that it was all going away in the morning.

“Come home with me?” he asked again.

She reached up and linked her fingers behind his neck. Heat seared the space between them. “Yes.” She leaned into him and dragged his face down, pressing her lips against his. One night. Maybe that was enough.

“Yes.”