“Yes, sir.”
“What position?” Mason rose, handing the boy the paper and pen.
“Running back. Broke my arm last season, though. Kinda like you.” He lifted his sleeve to show Mason.
“Whoa, that’s a pretty big scar. Must have been an epic tackle.” The boy nodded proudly. “You watching your little sister?”
“Yeah. Every week. It’s so boring.” His mother motioned to her son to hush. “Why are you here, Mr. Mason?”
Mason winked at the boy. “I like ballerinas.”
“I know. Ms. Emory is hot!”
Mason chuckled, admiring Emory bent over. “Yes, she certainly is.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
His mother shook her head in embarrassment and mouthed “I’m sorry” to Mason.
Mason patted the boy on the shoulder. “I’m working on it, kid.”
Emory ended the class and hugged her little ballerinas before they filed out of the studio to their parents. The boy’s sister hugged her mother, and the family turned to leave. “Good luck with Ms. Emory,” the boy said, “and the Panthers.”
When her last student left, Emory locked the door and turned to face Mason, his pulse quickening. Throughout his flight, he longed to kiss and hold her again. He walked slowly towards her, then pulled down her ponytail, running his fingers through her hair. Emory felt her breath catch in anticipation of his kiss, but he didn’t. Instead, his hand drifted down her face outlining her cheek, then down her neck, sending tingles down her spine. He touched her body as if he never had before. Her breath became more rapid, his fingertips grazing the contour of her breast. Mason’s eyes grew dark blue, watching her nipples harden from his slightest touch. Emory locked her fingers in the belt loop of his jeans and pulled his hips towards her. Mason smiled and kissed her neck, letting his tongue linger. Emory let out a soft moan, as he placed little kisses up her neck and jaw. Her breath growing more rapid and her legs weakening in anticipation of his kiss, but he moved to the other side of her neck.
“Mason,” she whispered through ragged breath. Emory needed his kiss, but Mason was in total control, knowing exactly what he was doing to her. He gently kissed her bottom lip, as her hands went to his hair, pulling herself tightly against him. He smiled as she nibbled his bottom lip, then he turned to her mouth, exploring it with his tongue, while she moaned in pleasure. They kissed passionately for several minutes, then slowly pulled apart. Mason ran his thumb across her lips, red from the intensity of his kiss. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips for comfort and smiled with a naughty glisten in his eye. “Tease,” she said, gently slapping his arm. “Come upstairs. I need to change.” She took his hand. “And I have something for you.”
They went into the apartment, and in less than a minute, Emory emerged from her room, dressed in a cotton camisole and boxer shorts, holding a small box topped with a bow.
“What is this?” Mason’s eyes brightened, so heavy from the time change and long flight.
“A surprise.” Mason studied it and shook it a little. “It’s nothing big. You can open it now.”
He removed the bow from the box, placing it on Emory’s hair, then gleefully tore it open. What is this? He removed a key from the box. “Wow!” Mason beamed. “Is this for the apartment?”
Emory rolled her eyes. “No, I can give you that if you want.”
“Then what is it for?” he asked, confused, Emory nudging him to take a closer look. He turned over the key in his hand and saw the numbers 302. “Is this really it?” Mason couldn’t believe what he was holding; it might as well have been the Lombardi Trophy.
“Yep.” She bit her lip. “Special weekend.”
“I can’t believe you kept our key!” Emory told him she hadn’t kept it. She’d read online a few years ago that the historic hotel had been sold, and the new owner was upgrading the floors and rooms. She didn’t want the hotel tossingtheir key, so she called the hotel and asked if they would send her the key to Room 302, explaining it was important to her. The hotel was cordial, but must have thought she was crazy. Still, a few days later, the key arrived in her mailbox.
“I’m shocked you did that, Em.”
“I never stopped thinking about you.”
Mason hugged her tightly.I don’t deserve this girl. “I’ll take that key to your apartment, too.”
Emory giggled and pulled away, opening the drawer of a side table. She reached inside and dangled a key in front of him, Mason grabbing it and Emory, too. With one arm, he pulled her on top of him. My favorite position! He ran his fingers across her cheek, with his blue eyes piercing into hers, the intensity in his eyes throwing her off balance. She tried to sit up, but Mason pulled her back, slowly kissing her neck, gently sliding his hand under her shirt onto her waist, but she pushed his hand aside.
“Hey, I was following your rules,” he said, smiling. “I was going slow.” Emory kissed him, then kissed him again, for several hours, keeping their hands above their clothes. Shortly before midnight, a loud growl from her stomach interrupted them, Emory covering her face in embarrassment. “I’ll go make you a little snack. Be right back.”
Mason kissed the tip of her nose and forehead and walked into the kitchen. Emory nestled herself into the pillows of the sofa.
Mason grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and some blueberries, then made his way back, a slow smile coming across his face seeing Emory was fast asleep. If he had full use of both arms, he’d have carried her to bed. Instead, he draped a blanket over her and settled in a nearby chair to watch her sleep.
* * *
Steven and Olivia rested in bed watching television. It was late, and they couldn’t sleep, Steven worried about his brother’s career and divorce, and Olivia was just too uncomfortable from the baby kicking her bladder. They hoped unfunny, late-night reruns would bring some sleep. Steven heard his fax machine downstairs. He patted Olivia’s belly and walked down to his office, taking a single sheet of paper from the machine -- one year, $2 million offer from the Seahawks. Damn, still just one year. At least it’s more than Carolina.
He picked up his phone and dialed the Panthers. “Hi, it’s Steven Mason. . . . Yeah, I know it’s late. . . . I just heard from Seattle. . . . A million more than you guys. . . . My brother wants to be in Carolina, but you’re going to have to come up, or go to two years. . . .”
Olivia yelled down for a back massage.
“This shouldn’t be so difficult. . . .We can play hardball, too. . . .With the extra million, my brother can buy some fancy raincoats in Seattle. . . . If you’re not going to increase the money or years, we need incentives. . . . Base it on number of starts, snaps, games played. . . . Be creative if you want. . . . Let me know something soon.”
He hung up and walked to the staircase, feeling his hair thinning some more. Then his phone rang, and he darted back to his office, scribbling furiously on a legal pad.
“Yes. . . . Let me make sure I understand. One year, $1 million base salary. Another $250,000 if he starts at least four games, and another $250,000 if he plays in at least eight games . . . . Potential total value of $1.5 million. . . . I need to talk to him.”
Olivia yelled down again, and Steven hollered back for her to be patient, needing a few minutes for business. He knew it was late, and Mason likely was with Emory. Rather than disturb them, he shot his brother a text. Need to talk. Call me ASAP! He made his way upstairs, and the phone rang again.
Olivia rolled across her bed, stretching for the phone on the nightstand. “How’s my nephew?” Mason asked, turning the hotel key between his fingers, as Emory slept peacefully.
“Fat, or at least I am.” Olivia reached back across the bed for the remote and lowered the volume on the television, hearing Steven come up the stairs.
“Oh, come on. That’s not what Steven says.”
“He’s full of it. Anyway, he needs to stop eating all my ice cream!”
Mason let out a quiet laugh. “I’ll tell him to sto
p.”
“By the way, are you hooking up with your college girlfriend?” Olivia blurted out.
“Put Steven on the phone!” Steven walked into the bedroom and saw a devilish look on his wife’s face.
Olivia massaged her belly. “Don’t take that tone with a pregnant woman, Mason.”
“You can’t play the pregnant card with me!” Mason fired back. Olivia brought energy and excitement to any situation, and that’s why Mason knew she was perfect for his brother, loosening him up -- a stressed-out, hard worker who tackled any challenge, including helping raise Mason when their father left.
“Liv, are you tormenting Mason? Give me the phone.” Steven pulled it from her grip. “Sorry about that. You know, Liv -- as soon as she has a thought, she says it. It’s part of her charm.” Olivia rolled her eyes and scooted off the bed, waddling into the bathroom.
“It’s fine,” Mason said. “What’s up?”
“I got Seattle’s offer.” Steven sat down on the bed. “It’s better. One year, $2 million.”
Mason cringed and looked at Emory sleeping. “I need to be in Charlotte,” he whispered, walking to her bedroom and shutting the door.
“I figured. I just got off the phone with the Panthers, too. They are being stubborn. Added a few incentives, $500,000 worth, if you start four games and play in eight, but that’s it. They won’t go any further. All that’s guaranteed is $1 million.”
“Shit.”
Olivia called out from the bathroom for toilet paper, and Steven walked to the hall closet to fetch a roll. “I’m assuming you want to discuss all this with Emory.”
“Nope,” Mason said quickly, “and don’t you ever say anything to her either!”
“Geez, calm down.” Steven tossed the roll to his wife.
“Just make the deal with the Panthers.”
Steven rubbed his eyes and returned to the bed. “Mason, I really think you ought to discuss this with her. If you’re serious about her, you need to tell her what’s going on.” Olivia sat on the bed next to her husband.
“I don’t need your advice about women,” Mason said.
“Oh, really?” Steven said, his voice rising, as Olivia rubbed his back. “I seem to recall telling you not to marry that bitch and telling you to beg Emory for forgiveness. Should have followed my advice then, and you wouldn’t be in this fucking mess!” Olivia frowned at Steven, shaking her head that he would talk to Mason that way.
Mason clenched the phone with a fierce grip but bit his tongue. If he would have responded, he’d have been loud and disturbed Emory, and he didn’t want that. Plus, he knew his brother was right. I have made a mess of my life.
“Sorry, man,” Steven said softly. “I shouldn’t have gone there.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You still aren’t going to talk to Emory?”
“Nope.”
“If she finds out, she’s going to flip.”
“Then make sure she doesn’t find out.”
“I’ll do my best, but we have to consider it might get leaked.”
“You worry too much. Just wrap it up with the Panthers. And my divorce, too.”
Mason hung up and ran his fingers through his hair, wondering if he should tell Emory about both offers. But he feared she’d use the Seattle offer to push him away, and he felt he couldn’t ask her to give up her career for his -- that wasn’t such a good strategy six years ago, and they had only started back up again. It would be unfair to ask her to give up her life for football so soon. He got on his knees in front of her bed and clasped his hands together. He bowed his head. Please, God, don’t let her find out I gave up $1 million for her. She’d want me to take the better deal. And she wouldn’t come with me.
Emory opened her bedroom door, finding Mason on his knees. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, fine.” Mason quickly got up.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving thanks.” World class lie.
“For what?”
Mason gave a huge smile to hide the guilt. “It looks like it’s going to be the Panthers!”
“Really? Oh my God!” Emory ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist and squeezing tightly. Mason placed his hand in her hair and closed his eyes. “I’ve been so worried about you moving to Seattle!”
Mason looked at her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Well, you never brought it up, so I didn’t either. I didn’t know the status of any contract talks, so I figured you’d just let me know when you were ready. I didn’t want to get in the way.”
Mason sat on her bed and grabbed her hand. But you have gotten in the way -- in the most unbelievable way. And I didn’t bring it up because I was staying no matter what. “I knew things would work out this time.”
“I still can’t believe it!” she screeched. “I’m so happy!”
Mason was hopelessly conflicted -- thrilled by her response, but riddled with guilt that he’d withheld information and lied. He tried to be happy, as Emory sat on his lap and kissed his cheek. “We should celebrate. How about I take you out on a real date tomorrow night? We’ll dress up. I’ll pick you up and everything.”
“Perfect,” she said and rolled off him into bed. “Now come to sleep. It’s late.” She pulled him down beside her.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea. We promised to go slow and with this good news, I don’t think I could. I’ll take the sofa.” Mason didn’t trust himself in bed with her and hated himself for being a liar. This wasn’t the right time.
“I’ll make you behave,” she said sweetly.
Mason gave a weak smile. I can’t say no. He turned off the light and crawled next to her. Emory rested her head on his chest, Mason placing his left arm around her, as she nuzzled herself into him, giving a little moan. Mason leaned over and kissed the top of her head, Emory’s bare leg sliding over his. He felt himself harden. He moved his hand down, slightly pulling up her shirt, resting his hand on her bare waist. He found it hard to hold back, and ran his finger underneath the waistband of her shorts.
“Good night,” she said softly. Mason removed his hand and exhaled deeply, then waited a few minutes to make sure she was in a deep sleep before making his way to the sofa.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Between his lies and his shoulder, Mason didn’t sleep well. He hadn’t told Emory about his Seattle offer, or the seriousness of his shoulder injury, or Alexis’ challenge of the prenup. He felt he had good reasons for not revealing these things, but that didn’t lessen the guilt. And sleeping on the sofa wasn’t helpful. He rubbed his shoulder. Penance. He walked to the kitchen and whipped up some eggs and bacon. It was no small feat to cook breakfast for two with one arm, then walk to her bedroom, balancing the tray of two plates and two cups of juice.
He gently pushed open the door with his knee, the squeaking door stirring Emory. Mason grimaced, regretting he woke her. “Thought we could have breakfast together.”
Emory flashed him a glorious smile and pulled up her legs to make room for him and the tray on the bed. She dug into her food, savoring each bite, but noticed Mason was just moving food around with his fork. “Everything OK?”
“Fine.”
She knew better but had no idea what the problem was. He had stayed over, which was great, and last night he was so happy to be a Panther. Is he having second thoughts? She was afraid to ask, and only one other thing occurred to her. “Are you upset about Alexis?”
There were other things rattling around in his mind, but this one certainly was taking up a lot of space. “Divorce is a huge headache.” Mason pushed his plate away slightly. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“OK, I understand.”
Mason took her hand. “I don’t want her to be a distraction to what we have, what we are starting again.”
“Me neither.” Emory squeezed his hand. “Just don’t blindside me down the road with something. You can talk to me about anything.”
Mason smil
ed and nodded, feeling sick inside. I can’t talk to you about my wife. He wanted Alexis to be in the past and to build a future with Emory and hated he felt the need to lie in order to build that future. But he saw no other way, fearing if he revealed too much, there’d be no future to build. Indeed, Emory repeatedly cautioned they must take things slowly, and that didn’t lend itself to unloading about the prenup or anything else about Alexis, his shoulder, or a better contract from Seattle.
Emory scarfed down her last piece of bacon, then gave him a quick kiss on the lips before going to shower. Mason drank his juice in one gulp and moved the tray to the nightstand. The phone rang, Mason seeing Eric’s name appear. He seized it, debating whether or not to answer.
“Is that my phone?” Emory called out from the bathroom. Mason just stared at the phone ringing again -- then again -- until it stopped. Emory appeared from the bathroom in only a towel. “Was that my phone?”
“Why?” Mason tossed the phone towards the foot of the bed. “Are you expecting a call?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Emory got her phone and saw who had called. “This is nothing. He’s been calling and texting me for days. I haven’t answered him. Check my phone if you want.”
Mason realized he was being a jerk. “I’m sorry. I don’t need to do that.” Emory kissed the top of his head and walked towards the bathroom. “Call him back.”
Emory stopped in her tracks. “What? Why?”
“He obviously has things he needs to say to you. Maybe if you hear him out, he’ll understand it’s over.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Emory said, turning back towards the bathroom. “Maybe later.”
“Please do it now, Em,” Mason begged softly, giving away his insecurity. Emory wasn’t used to seeing him lacking confidence. She knew Mason already was upset about Alexis and didn’t want to torment him further. Plus, she wondered whether Mason had a point -- perhaps a quick call would resolve things with Eric once and for all. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and hit Eric’s number on her phone. She took a seat on his lap, Mason running a finger under the top of her towel, whispering, “Speaker.”
First Position Page 11