Accidental Lies: An unputdownable, steamy, sexy contemporary romance novel

by Mason, Dana

  Accidental Lies

  An unputdownable, steamy, sexy contemporary romance novel

  Dana Mason

  Books by Dana Mason

  Accidental Groom

  Accidental Lies

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Accidental Groom

  Hear more from Dana

  A Letter from Dana

  Books by Dana Mason

  Acknowledgements

  To my mom and all the other single parents struggling to do what’s right.

  One

  Emily

  This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. To me, a getaway doesn’t include hundreds of other people. I should never have let Mac plan this vacation for me. I wanted a private, exclusive cottage somewhere in the mountains. Not a five-star resort in Maui and a list of activities an arm long. I’m going to kill my brother when I get home.

  I finally get to my room. No, correction, my second room. The first one was only thirty feet from a construction zone, and I wasn’t willing to listen to jackhammering all day. I drop the room key on the small table, and lift my face to the breeze that drifts in from the open lanai door. There’s a wall of windows on one side of the room and the curtains are open to a spectacular view of the Pacific, but before I even have time to step out and get a better look, someone knocks on the door. “Yes, I’m already feeling relaxed,” I mumble with an eye-roll as I tug the door open.

  It’s a bellman carrying a large basket full of fresh fruit and snacks. “Delivery for you, ma’am.” And how badly I want to poke his eye out for calling me “ma’am”.

  “It’s Ms. Thomas, and thank you so much. Who sent this lovely surprise?” I ask as he brings the large basket inside and sets it down on the small dining table in my suite.

  “I’m not sure, but there’s a card included.” He lingers a moment then gives a slight bow before retreating from my room. When the door clicks behind him, I realize what I missed. Dammit. I grab my wallet and follow him out.

  “Excuse me,” I call.

  He stops and turns toward me. His polite smile is the epitome of courteousness.

  “I’m sorry. You were too fast for me. Here, this is for you. Thank you so much.”

  “Thank you, ma—”

  “Please!” I hold my hand up. “Please don’t call me ma’am.”

  I hear a chuckle behind me, but I don’t turn.

  “Yes, Mrs. Thomas.” He gives me another little bow then walks away.

  I turn back and come face-to-face with the guy I heard laugh a moment ago. He shrugs. “I get it. I don’t like being called ‘ma’am’ either.”

  I look him up and down, from his worn-out flip-flops to the battered San Francisco Giants ball cap covering locks of chocolate brown hair, shading what look like golden brown eyes. His deep tan screams local, but if that were the case, he wouldn’t be staying in such an expensive suite in this resort. Maybe he’s an employee. Probably some maintenance man or plumber.

  “I image you don’t,” I say as I walk toward my room, trying to ignore how incredibly sexy his dimpled smile is. I’m sure he thinks he’s cute too.

  When I reach for the door handle, I realize I don’t have my damn key. Even on vacation Mondays suck. I rest my forehead against the door, sighing, and wonder when the fun part of this trip starts.

  “Uh oh, you don’t have your key,” the heckler says, stating the obvious.

  I straighten and turn, trying with all my might to act cool. Thank God I have my wallet. When I hear the chuckle behind me again, I try to ignore him.

  “Do you want to use the phone in my room? You can call your husband… or the bellman to come open the door for you.”

  The word “husband” makes my insides ache, but I ignore it and turn slightly to look at him. “You’re a guest here?”

  He lifts his hands, palms up. “Yeah, what’d ya think, I was the maintenance man or something?”

  Am I that transparent? I tilt my head as I look him over again. For a beach bum, he’s pretty built. It makes me wonder if his physique is the result of daily gym workouts or from actual work. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t go into strangers’ rooms.”

  He holds his smile and drops his chin to his chest. I can’t figure out why he keeps laughing at me. “Is that funny?” I ask.

  He lifts his head again, and the grin fades a little. “No, sorry. It’s actually incredibly smart. How about I go into my room and make the call for you? It’ll be quicker than going back downstairs and trying to find someone to open it for you.”

  I watch him for a quick moment, and I know he’s right. “It would be nice if you could ask the bellman to come back and open the door for me. Thank you.”

  He holds up a finger. “Be right back.”

  Near the elevator bank is a small seating area. I eye an armchair and lower myself into it. The setting is beautiful, with a huge picture window that looks out onto the bright, colorful garden, bursting with flowers and a neat green lawn. The heat radiating from the glass feels good against my skin and suddenly, the thought of resting my head and taking a nap sounds tempting. But no, even when presented with this much beauty, I have trouble relaxing. I’m tense and wishing I wasn’t here. What kind of woman takes a vacation alone? Hum… the kind of woman who has a dead husband, I guess. This is my first vacation since his death almost four years ago and I only agreed to this trip because everyone in my life insisted I needed it, but being here makes me sad. It makes me regret.

  This is the sort of thing I should have done with Tucker and God, I hate that I wasted our time together. I regret all those hours I put in at work for those assholes at my old law firm while I was neglecting my wonderful husband. Yes, I need a break, but being here isn’t making me feel any better about my life. That’s just not something you can explain to people who’ve never lost their soulmate.

  When Mr. Heckler returns, that smirk is back on his face, and I try for cheerful. I wish he were just a little ugly, but no, I can’t deny he’s attractive in a rugged dirty-sex sort of way. The thought almost makes me blush. He drops down in the armchair next to mine. “They’ll be right up to get the door for you.”

  I gesture toward the elevator. “You were going out, please don’t let me keep you.”

  He holds out a hand to shake. “Drew Whitney.”

  I glance at his hand, and I’m wondering where on earth this man is from. He doesn’t seem to get social cues at all. I reach out and give his hand a firm shake. “I’m Emily T
homas.”

  “Nice to meet you, Emily… and nice shake.”

  I smile and say, “Not my first time.”

  One side of his mouth raises in a crooked grin. “In a suit like that, I believe it.” He looks me up and down. “Did you forget to check the weather report when you dressed this morning?”

  “You know, I wasn’t in Maui when I dressed this morning.”

  “Oh, gotcha. First day of vacation.” He gives me a thoughtful look. “I bet you’re wondering when the fun starts.”

  “Yes.” I wave my hand to signal the space around me. “It’s starting off splendidly.”

  “This is just a small hiccup. You’ll be enjoying Mai Tais on the beach in no time.”

  I nod as I consider that. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a Mai Tai. Is that the drink of choice here?”

  “What?” He leans back, acting shocked. “Oh, damn, woman. You need a drink, stat.”

  I chuckle and say, “Don’t worry, my time is coming.” It feels good to laugh. I don’t do it much these days.

  “I hope so.” When the elevator opens, and the bellman steps out, Drew and I both stand quickly.

  “You need assistance, Mrs. Thomas?”

  “Yes, I do. Thank you for coming back.” I turn toward Drew. “Thanks so much for your help.”

  “Of course.” He reaches to press the down button on the elevator. “It was nice meeting you, Emily.”

  When the elevator opens, he steps inside, and as the doors close behind him, I’m struck by a familiar wave of loneliness.

  Once I’m securely inside the privacy of my room, I look over the basket the bellman delivered. There’s a card inside so I pull it out and read the script.

  Emily,

  We know you didn’t want this vacation, but you need it. As much as we’re going to miss you this week, we’re glad you’re taking a break to enjoy yourself. The resort concierge should have given you a list of activities I’ve signed you up for. Please don’t hide in your room. Go out, meet people, have some fun. Get some fresh air and take in the sights. This basket of snacks is here just in case you decide to stay in and not take any of the tours, but I hope that’s not what you do.

  Life is short, sweetheart. Too short to stay cooped up in your office pretending to live.

  We love you!

  Mac and Kelley

  I pick up the list of activities the concierge gave me when I checked in. The first is a dinner concert in the courtyard garden of the resort. The pamphlet for the show boasts a tribute show Hawaiian-style, with Elvis, Michael Jackson, and Madonna performers, along with fire knife dancers and hula. I shrug as I consider whether or not it’s worth the effort. Sounds like it could be fun, I guess. The dinner ticket also includes an open bar. I’m sold. Two of the best words in the English language: open bar. With a snicker, I unzip my suitcase and start to unpack.

  The room is bright and airy, and I try to focus on the advantages of vacationing alone. I don’t have to share the drawer space. I can help myself to endless servings of the breakfast buffet without judgment. I can sleep on whatever side of the bed I want. It’s a king-size bed too. I stare down at the swirls of green and blue on the elaborate bedspread. The use of these two colors helps bring the outside in, and it works. The wall of windows displays the glittering Pacific Ocean in all its glory… and danger, I remember with a gulp.

  The sliding door is open, the sun is streaming into the room and the sea breeze is blowing through, making the turquoise curtains flutter. Off in the distance is a small cloud bank and I see three rainbows sinking into the ocean. From here, the ocean seems so harmless and inviting, I think ruefully.

  When my phone rings, I have to wonder if I’ll ever get settled into my suite. I glance at the caller ID and hit the answer button. “Hello, Bec. I hope you’re not already running into problems without me?”

  “Oh, stop! We’re fine without you, Emily. How’s Hawaii?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had the chance to enjoy it yet. So far I’ve switched rooms, been locked out, been made fun of by my neighbor, and received a guilt trip from my brother. All before I’ve had a chance to unpack.”

  Rebecca laughs. “Who dares to make fun of you? What a bully.”

  “Oh, it was all in good fun. I snapped at the bellman for calling me ‘ma’am’, so I guess I asked for it.”

  “Oh, I hate that. Was it some kid?”

  “The bellman, or the neighbor who laughed at me?”

  “Wait, neighbor? I asked the wrong question. Was he hot?”

  I crinkle my brow in confusion. Rebecca is a fast talker. Conversations with her always keep me on my toes. “The bellman was older than me. The neighbor was indeed hot, but also a bit annoying. At least, until he came to my rescue.”

  “I don’t know what you mean when you say you haven’t had time to enjoy yourself yet. Sounds like your day has been full of adventure.”

  “That’s for sure. When the bellman came to deliver the fruit basket from Mac, I ran out to tip him and got locked out of my room. Only, I didn’t realize it until he was already back in the elevator. Enter the hot neighbor who called the guy back to let me into the room. Anyway, I’m now comfortably back inside. How are things in Sacramento? How are things at the firm?”

  “Things are lovely. Don’t even think about worrying. I just called to check on you. What’s the plan for tonight?”

  “Dinner and a show in the courtyard garden. Some tribute acts. It’s the open bar that’s drawing me in.”

  “Nice. I hope you run into that hot neighbor while you’re there.”

  “Oh, please. I’m here to relax, not get myself tangled up with some strange man.”

  “Speaking of strange men, Grant Russell was asking about you. What should I tell him?”

  “Oh hell, I don’t know.” I should have listened to my instincts when they warned me against agreeing to a dinner date with a business associate. I walk onto the balcony and drop into a deck chair, breathing in the sea air. My suite is oceanfront, and the view is spectacular. “Tell him I’m out of town, but don’t tell him where I am. Say it’s a business trip. I don’t need him getting into my personal business.”

  I hear Rebecca sigh on the other end of the phone. “What’s your plan, Em?”

  “I don’t have a plan. We talked to him about designing our new offices, that’s all.”

  “But you went out with him,” she says, expectantly.

  “Yes, I went to dinner with him twice. That’s it. I spent enough time with him to realize I don’t really want to spend any more time with him.”

  “Emily…” I know what she wants to say. It’s been nearly four years since Tucker’s death, but that doesn’t make it easier.

  “I get it, okay. I know you think it’s time and I don’t necessarily disagree with you, but that doesn’t mean I hop in the sack with Grant just because he’s shown interest in me. He’s not the one.”

  “Okay, I get it. He’s not the one, but you need to tell him. Let him off the hook. He’s acting like you’re his girlfriend.”

  I snort out a laugh. “Definitely not! We’ve only been out twice! My, have guys changed since I dated last.”

  “Well, don’t let Grant give you the wrong impression. Most guys aren’t interested in having a girlfriend. They’re just trying to get laid.”

  “I appreciate his efforts, but I’m just not feeling it with him.”

  “I get it,” Rebecca says. “If you’re not into it, feel free to give it up to the hot neighbor instead. A vacation fling is probably better for you right now anyway. That way you can get in a little practice before you come home and ease back into dating.”

  It takes me a minute to realize what she said, but when I do, I fall forward and guffaw. “Excuse me? Practice?”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a while. You might as well dust the cobwebs off with someone you’re never going to see again, rather than someone who has the potential to be a lasting relationship.”

  I�
��m still laughing when I say, “You’re so crude.”

  “But I’m right.”

  “I think I’ll just stick to myself this week. It’s going to be hard enough without the complications. I don’t need any more regrets at this point in my life.”

  “Yes, you do! Girl, you so do,” she says, emphatically.

  “Listen, Bec, I know you think I need a man in my life. Everyone thinks I need a man in my life, but, believe it or not, I’m fine.”

  “I know you’re fine. I wouldn’t have given up my position at Tate, Brown, and McKennon if I didn’t think you were fine. I wouldn’t have walked away from my high-paying job at that well-respected, eighty-year-old Sacramento law firm to be your partner if I didn’t think you were on solid ground. I just think a girl needs to get her wheels greased every once in a while.” She pauses, and it’s just long enough for me to take in what she’s trying to say. “Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind if you meet someone special in Hawaii, okay?”

  “Have I told you lately how happy I am you’re my partner?”

  “Only every day, but that’s okay, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Thank you, Bec. I promise to keep an open mind while I’m here. Then I’ll come home feeling relaxed and rested so we can get to work.”

  “And with a glowing complexion after having screwed the hot neighbor,” she shouts into the phone as I disconnect the call. I’m laughing as I lay my phone down in my lap and think about Drew. I can’t help but compare him to Grant. Two completely different types of men… I laughed at her, but maybe Bec is right; maybe it wouldn’t hurt to live a little and try to enjoy myself with someone who doesn’t know me. Someone I don’t have to worry about running into while grocery shopping or having lunch downtown.