She lightly pushed at him with one hand. “If you’re feeling charitable, you should spread your holiday spirit elsewhere. Your mother is the head of several committees. There must be a dozen places where you can volunteer.”
“This is one of them. Is it so bad I showed up?” He took a step closer to her, and though she wanted to move back, she didn’t. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “And trust me, I’ve tried.”
Ditto. She lost the ability to breathe for a second, and swallowed. “You’re no different from any other man I’ve known, Mason. You just like the chase.”
His brow furrowed and he appeared offended. “No, I like you. If you ended the chase right now, and agreed to go out with me, I’d like you even more.”
“I said I would think about it, and I did. The answer is no.”
“Why? Give me a reason I can understand.”
“I already did. You’re Sophie’s brother, and I don’t date the locals.” And a few other, private, reasons why. She sensed once their match was lit, a whole blaze would start. Though she’d taken part in a brief affair or two in the past, it wouldn’t be very wise right now. Her attitude had changed; she wanted to go back to England, meet someone special, perhaps start a family. Giving in to Renclair would be a giant step back to her old ways. She couldn’t tell him that, however. “I didn’t come to Swan’s Crossing to be seduced by Sophie’s brother. She’s like a sister to me, and no matter how much I—” She caught herself. She was about to say “no matter how much I want you” and that would’ve been a mistake. “I mean, no matter how flattered I am, it’d be crossing a line. And even a woman like me has boundaries.”
“What about that kiss last night?” he asked, closing the space even more, cocking his head.
Greta shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Her lips tickled in remembrance, betraying her. “It was nothing. Just a kiss. In fact, I’d already forgotten it happened.” Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard laughter. She’d done everything except forget it. She’d replayed it, fantasized about it, ached for it, but forgotten it? Ha.
“I see.” He moved back with a slightly wounded expression, and for a wild second she had the instinct to recant her lie. To heal his pride and confess her desire. But as a smug smile came across his mouth, she rejected the impulse.
“I guess next time,” he drawled, “I’ll have to kiss you a little longer.”
“Mason! Could you come out here?” Leo called. “Mrs. Vickers needs help taking some bags out to the car.”
Hands on hips, he asked, “So can I stay?”
Heaven help her, he was winning. “Fine.”
He grinned. “Leo! I’m on my way.”
Greta dumped her purse, coat and scarf in a chair and grabbed an apron hanging on a hook. As she jerked the tie around her waist, she cursed at her weakness. To think she’d felt guilty for hurting his pride. As if it was possible! “Kiss you a little longer?” she repeated in a whisper. What made him think he’d get the chance to do it twice?
Tying her hair up in a quick bun, she marched to the front counter where Leo was setting out more samples of fudge.
“I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings by letting Renclair come aboard,” he said.
“Don’t be silly,” she dismissed, forcing her irritation aside. “I know I can’t keep you all to myself.” She winked at him and grabbed a rag to wipe down the tables.
He laughed with gusto, shaking his head. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger. You’d be in trouble, young lady.”
She laughed as she wiped the crumbs from a table, and straightened the chairs. Mason stood outside by Mrs. Vickers’s car, gently setting down her bag in the passenger seat. The old woman clapped her hands as if he’d performed a magic trick, and Greta marveled at how he gallantly escorted the woman to the driver’s side, making her grin from ear to ear.
This was the second time she’d had to witness his unfailing charm with another woman. No one else repelled it except her. And even she was beginning to wonder how much longer she could keep up le resistance.
Leo turned up the volume on the stereo. “I love this song. Reminds me of the times I would take Raquel dancing. When we were on the floor, everyone watched. I used to tell her it was because I was such a magnificent partner, but I knew it was all her.”
Greta’s heart warmed at the devotion in Leo’s tone. He was clearly still in love with his wife even though she’d passed away almost a decade ago. Since he hadn’t remarried, she sensed no woman would ever live up to Raquel Rossi.
“Is that her?” she asked, gesturing to a black-and-white framed photo hanging on the wall behind him.
He nodded with pride and she joined him to get a better view of the picture. Raquel had kind, almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. Her wavy hair hung over her shoulder, and her warm smile glowed.
“Hard to believe she gave a chump like me a chance, isn’t it?” Leo asked, crossing his arms.
“Chump? Leo, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Now, now, you don’t have to pump old Leo’s ego. I know I’m not much to look at. I’m short, I’m chubby. I have a lot of hair where it shouldn’t be. But!” He raised a finger. “I can dance. That’s how I got her, you know. All those idiots were trying to impress her with their money and flash. But me? I took her to tango. We’d dance for hours. Time would,” he swept his hand through the air, “fly by. I never wanted to take her home. I knew I wanted to marry her that first night. Believe it.”
“You knew that quickly?”
“Baby girl, when it’s right, it’s right away.” His eyes misted and he cleared his throat then stared at the photo once again.
Greta’s heart went out to Leo. It was truly heartbreaking Mrs. Rossi had been taken from him. Greta didn’t know what it was like to be loved like this. Once, when she’d first started her nanny job, she thought she was in love with a boy from Scotland. He was so passionate, so energetic, a total charmer. Oh the rush of a first love. He’d wanted to marry her and start a family, but Greta hadn’t been ready. She’d just begun her nanny position and craved to see the world. Their relationship ended, leaving her heartbroken for months. Two years later, she’d gone to Scotland and passed through his town, found him married with a child on the way. From how he’d gazed at his wife, Greta knew she and her first love were never meant to be, and everything had turned out for the best. Still, she hadn’t loved anyone since. She never allowed herself to get attached. It hurt too much when she had to leave. Best to keep things casual and fun. Even so, her heart longed for someone to love her as Leo loved his Raquel. “Do you think your wife would mind if I asked you to dance with me?”
Leo brightened. “Of course not. I might be a little rusty though. Not as, uh, limber as I used to be.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the middle of the store. “Quick. Before the rush starts.”
“Right now?” Greta smiled, placing her hand on his right shoulder while he put his at her waist. They began to dance, and with every misstep, every stumble, she and Leo laughed.
“You dance a lot like my daughter,” he announced. “You won’t let me lead!”
Leo’s daughter was yet another female Greta envied. If Greta had a father like him, she would never let a Christmas go by without visiting him, no matter how far away she lived.
Leo glanced out the window. “If Mason spends as much time with every customer as he does Mrs. Vickers, I’ll never close today.”
Greta turned her attention to Mason, watching the woman prattle on and on while he appeared to hang onto her every word.
“I’m not a blind man, you know,” Leo declared, and Greta blinked with confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“You and the rich stud. There’s something going on, isn’t there? I saw your face when he came out. Your eyes went…” He demonstrated a comical, wide-eyed expression.
&nb
sp; Greta gave a nervous laugh. “I was surprised to see him. He doesn’t come off as a man who will get his hands dirty with hard work. Not the kind you and I know about. He’s pen and paper, checks and suits.”
“No, no. I’ve met those types. They would never volunteer their free time to help out some old fart in a café.” He snorted. “No matter how much they want a woman.” When she opened her mouth to protest, Leo cut her off. “I know he’s mainly here because of you and I don’t blame him one bit. It only took me a couple of seconds to sense something’s going on between the two of you. When he heard your voice, the man lit up like a Christmas tree. Doesn’t even try to act macho and hide it!”
“Regardless, I…I can’t get involved with my friend’s brother. Even if I wanted to, what would be the point? I’m only here for a week.”
“Take him while you can, doll! Okay, I’ll stop being a nosy old goat, but I think you should throw the poor guy a bone.”
“Did he ask you to vouch for him, Leo?”
“Nope. I swear, doll,” he added at her skeptical look. “He reminds me of myself when I was his age.” He lifted his arm and made her turn. “Except he’s got a handsome face and money.”
Greta laughed.
Mason came through the door, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “What’s so funny?”
Leo spun Greta around one more time and grinned. “My terrible dancing.”
Greta stumbled into a chair and took her breath. “He’s lying. Leo is a superb partner. Thank you, handsome. That was fun.”
“Anytime.”
Leo disappeared in the back and Mason helped her up. Her hand practically sizzled from the contact, and she rubbed it on her apron.
He stared at her for longer than she liked. “I wish you looked that happy when I was around.”
“Jealous, Mr. Renclair?” she teased.
“Only a little,” he admitted in a low tone.
Leo handed him a broom and a dustpan and without hesitation, Mason began sweeping the floor with focus and diligence. One would never know he came from a home of privilege.
The lunch rush started shortly after that, and all three of them were too busy to make much conversation above the cheerful ruckus.
Even though they were little harried from the mountain of orders that came in all at once, they worked very well as a team. Greta took charge at the register, making small talk with the customers. Leo whipped up the caffè lattes and smoothly sailed them down the counter while Mason caught them, placing the to-go cups in carriers.
Greta had to endure watching Mason flirt with almost any woman, young or old, who batted eyelashes at him. Quite a few of them he knew.
They never could avoid running into each other because of the small space. Once, she bent over to retrieve a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie, and her butt bumped his. He sent her a wicked glance as if she’d done it on purpose.
She’d lost her balance because of some grease on the floor and found herself caught in Mason’s arms. He chuckled, teasing, “You keep finding ways for me to touch you.”
She pushed him as though he burned her. Two women in line had exchanged looks of amusement. She straightened her apron and became frustrated when she rang up a customer for ten cappuccinos, instead of one. She could only imagine how her cheeks flamed. Mortifying. Where was the cool, poised, worldly Greta? Apparently, nowhere to be found when Mason was around, she thought sourly.
The rush was over eventually, and it’d lasted longer than usual. It was almost two o’clock.
“Holy cannoli, I need to sit down,” Leo stated as he plopped in one of the chairs. His chubby cheeks were red, face ashen, and he patted a rag to his brow.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked, concerned for the older man. She poured him a glass of ice water and brought it over.
“Don’t fuss over me, doll face. These old lungs need a breather.”
Mason came from around the corner, wiping his upper lip with his sleeve. “I don’t know how you do it, Rossi. I haven’t busted my butt that hard since I worked on a farm in high school.”
“You worked on a farm?” Greta found it hard to believe.
“My grandfather insisted on it. Said nothing would make me appreciate sitting on my ass more than after getting the hell beat out of it. He was good friends with a farmer outside of town who always had more than enough humbling work for me to do. It was either work for his friend or stay home with him during the summer. Trust me, I chose the better end of the deal.”
She’d heard the eldest member of the household had been harsh and even harder to please, but he clearly instilled a sense of a work ethic into his grandson. “Well, it helped shape who you are, a hard worker. You should thank him for that.”
Mason met her eyes and smiled.
The door chimed. Anne Renclair stepped in first, followed by Sophie.
“Mason? What on earth?” His mother gave him a thorough once-over.
He wiped a hand on his apron. “Hi, Mother.”
While Anne gaped at her son, Sophie giggled and rushed over with her arms wide open. “I’m so glad you both came to help out Mr. Rossi! If you really want to make my day, you can read stories to the children at the hotel tomorrow.”
“Mason,” said Mrs. Renclair, “did it ever occur to you to ask me if I needed help with anything?”
“You always seem to have everyone and everything under control.”
Her blue eyes, the same color as Mason’s, narrowed. “Very funny.”
Greta decided to intercede. “Sophie, what’s this about reading stories at the hotel?”
Sophie grinned. “It’s a service we offer during the holidays. Volunteers dress up in old-fashioned clothes, like from A Christmas Carol. Guests with young children sign up to have them tucked in and read stories at bedtime while the parents go out for the evening. It gives the in-house nannies a break, the parents love the service and the children have fun. A couple of my regulars got sick and I’m short some storytellers.”
“How fun! I would love to help out.”
“You would?” Sophie and Mason asked at the same time.
Greta laughed, untying her apron. “Are you kidding? Dressing up and reading to kids? Definitely count me in.”
“Perfect!” Sophie giggled, prancing over to squeeze her arm. “You’re the greatest.”
“That’s very kind of you, Greta.” Mrs. Renclair smiled tightly. “I admire anyone who is willing to spend time with other people’s children. Mr. Rossi, may I bother you for a cup of decaf to go?”
“Coming right up.” Leo sprang from his seat to fulfill her request.
Greta disappeared behind the counter for her coat and belongings, and when she emerged to see Sophie clapping in delight at her brother’s words, she had a suspicion what he’d done.
“I talked Mason into going with you to read to the kids, too,” Sophie exclaimed, confirming Greta’s guess. “Now you have a partner!”
Greta was beginning to wonder if her friend kept putting her and Mason together on purpose. “Are you sure I need one?”
“Trust me, it’s easier with two. Sometimes the children can be a handful. Mason, you continue to shock me this Christmas. Tomorrow night you and Greta come to the hotel. We start at seven. This is the last weekend we offer it, so don’t worry, it’ll only be for one night.”
“I actually think I’ll enjoy myself,” Mason said smugly, fixing his sight on Greta.
You already are. She sent a quick glare back.
Mrs. Renclair paid Leo for her coffee. “No time to linger, girls, we have shopping to do.” She brushed a kiss on Mason’s cheek. “You should have dinner with your father while we’re out. You know how your grandfather likes to push his buttons when I’m not around.”
“Grandpa pushes everyone’s buttons regardless of who’s in the room.”
Sophie linked her arm in Greta’s while her mother went outside to the waiting car. “I’m painfully happy you’re here. Shopping with her can be so exhausting. We’ll drive to Rochester, browse around Lord & Taylor, Macy’s and wherever, then have lunch at Max of Eastman. Their steamed mussels are to die for.”
While Sophie talked, Greta heard Mason clear his throat behind her, and she turned. He mouthed the words “Good luck.” Despite her previous annoyance, she gave him a little wink.
Chapter Six
“Why the heck didn’t you leave town?” asked his father, Daniel, as Mason walked through the dining room.
“I’m beginning to wonder that myself,” Mason murmured, taking a seat at the table.
His father had set out his usual dinner-time setting with several types of newspapers scattered around his plate, a tall glass of sweet tea, and a public radio broadcast on in the background. Even though his father had lived in Swan’s Crossing all of Mason’s life, the man was—forever until the day he died—a true Southerner. He never got used to the winters, and Mason had Daniel’s complaints about the “northerners’ ways” memorized verbatim.
Their butler Ben brought in Daniel’s supper and he thanked him. He wearily took off his glasses, grabbed a fork and mouthed a little meal prayer. “Mason, are you going to eat or are you here to supervise?”
When Ben turned to him, Mason smiled. “Bring me whatever Amah has left on the stove, thanks.”
“So,” Daniel began as he started to cut through his beef Wellington, “I thought you were going to Bali or what-have-you. You could barely stand to be in the office the other night then Sophie tells me you changed your mind. After five years of you skipping on Christmas, I’m curious to know what made you stay this year.”
“No real reason.” A lie, but he didn’t want to admit it was because of a woman. Though his father might find it funny, it wasn’t so funny the woman was Greta, and so far she wanted nothing to do with him. “I didn’t think you minded when I left. You haven’t asked me to stay home for Christmas since I graduated college.”
Wrapped Up in a Beau Page 5