by Unknown
Mase looked him over with a critical eye, noting he didn't look like hell, he looked refreshed and ready for action. He wore an outfit similar to Mase's consisting of a team T-shirt and low-slung basketball shorts, only he was all in silver, whereas Mase was all in navy. "You can say that."
"My man, up late with a laaady," he said, his smile turning into a sly grin.
Mase shook his head and grimaced. "Up all night with a puking five-year-old." Tom gave him a quizzical look, so he explained, "I babysat my nephew last night, so my sister and brother-in-law could go out on a date, and we had a movie marathon, during which, I let him eat a big bowl of popcorn. Make a note, man," he placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "When that baby of yours starts eating solids, extra butter is not okay."
Tom slapped Mase on the back and laughed. "So noted."
Mase looked around the room. "You've seen Jared or Stan yet?"
"They're out on the field already. They sent me in here to look for you."
"Well, then we best get our asses out there."
Mase stepped onto the field and smiled when he saw the crowd of kids that awaited him. He looked forward to this program every year. Nothing gave him a better feeling than sharing his love of football with the next generation. His eyes scanned the gathering and halted when they landed on a petite brunette, standing among a small cluster of kids and at the side of Rick Jensen.
His feet stilled. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tom kept walking, unaware of Mase's sudden immobility, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the vision before him. He was transfixed by her beauty, completely captivated, and while he'd seen many beautiful women in his lifetime, none had stopped him in his tracks, paralyzing him as this one had. That thought alone caused his heart to pound heavily in his chest and sweat to break out on his brow.
He felt a strange sensation overtake his body. It started with a tingle in his fingertips, working its way up his arms, causing goose bumps to appear in its wake. His stomach tightened, feeling like a punch to the gut, creating a loss of oxygen that made his breathing erratic. And, finally, the pounding of his heart, thumping in his ears and echoing through his head, so loud, it was all he could hear.
What the fuck? He didn't know what was happening to him, but he did know that he had an uncontrollable urge to rip her away from Rick Jensen's reach and plaster her to his side. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, wondering why such a graphic image would even enter his head. He wasn't like that. He wasn't possessive or controlling when it came to women. He was the life of the party, the happy-go-lucky guy that everybody swarmed to for a good time. He was the guy who told jokes and pulled pranks. The guy girls flocked to because of his energetic personality that they knew would transcend into the bedroom, showing them a whole other level of a good time.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there but soon found his feet moving forward. His mind was still in a fog, but luckily, his body knew where it wanted to be. He watched as her head tipped back in laughter, and his racing heart stopped for a few beats as he took in the sight. He expected angels to descend from the heavenly sound of her laughter, rainbows to appear in the skies above her, or at the very least, the whole of the male population, bending a knee to worship at her feet.
Again, what the hell? He sounded like a girl. Thank God none of his teammates could read his thoughts. He'd have his man-card revoked, of that, he was sure. One of the kids noticed his arrival and soon a low din turned into an enthused chatter, but Mase kept his attention on his objective.
She was even more beautiful up close. The sunlight glistened through her hair, highlighting hundreds of red and gold strands interwoven through the brown. Its length fell in a soft, smooth cascade halfway down her back and framed her face in chunky layers with a set of bangs that brushed the tops of her sculpted eyebrows. The deep chestnut locks looked thick and so incredibly silky, his fingers itched to dive in, testing its softness. Her deep, rich, brown eyes were big and expressive, surrounded by thick, dark lashes, and she had a small, pert nose that was rounded, not sharp, at its tip. Her skin looked flawlessly smooth and had a light golden tan, but it was her lips that held him spellbound. Shined pink with some kind of gloss, the bottom slightly fuller than the top, her lips were made for kissing. And he wanted to be the one kissing them.
She'd been talking with a teenage girl, but the raised, excited voices drew her attention, and her eyes collided with his. He saw her smile slip as her mouth slightly parted, and her eyes widened in what he hoped was wonder and maybe even a little awe. That hope was soon dashed as her lips thinned into a straight line, and her brows drew together, forming a cute line between her eyes that he wanted to smooth away with his finger.
He drew closer, giving her his winning smile, the smile that never failed with the ladies, and held his hand out to her. "Mason Connor, quarterback for the Pursuers, and one of the summer coaches, but you can call me Mase." He ended his introduction with his customary wink.
If possible, her frown deepened before she quickly recovered her manners. Pasting on a "fake" pleasant smile and slipping her small, amazingly soft hand in his, she said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Connor. I'm Joanna Welsh, Jo, the liaison for CPS."
Mase got distracted by her lips and thus missed what she further said. "Pardon?" He forced his eyes back up to hers and noticed the little line between her brows had grown deeper.
"I said, my kids are very excited to meet you. It's all they've been talking about since discovering you were one of the coaches."
Something was wrong. He wasn't getting the come-hither vibe from Jo that he usually got from other women. He mentally went back over his approach. Charming smile. Check. Encouraging wink. Check. Maybe he needed to step up his game with some playful banter? But the look he was receiving from her now, did not inspire witty dialogue. In fact, for the first time in a very long time, he found himself speechless.
Jo didn't seem to share that same problem. She took a couple steps back, raised her hands to cup her mouth, then shouted, "Hey guys, come meet Mason Connor."
He soon found himself surrounded by teens, talking all at once. He smiled, said all the right things, clasped hands, pounded backs, patted heads. After a few minutes of distracting chaos, his eyes sought Jo out once more. She stood about a yard back, watching the crowd, a shit-eating grin on her face. He gave her a slow, sly smile.
Gauntlet thrown, challenge accepted, may the best man (yes, man) win.
*
Jo sat back on her couch, feet up on her coffee table, glass of wine in her hand, and e-reader resting on her lap, but she wasn't reading her book. Instead, her thoughts had drifted to the impossibly good-looking football player she had met that afternoon. Mason Connor, Mase. Even his name was sexy. Too sexy, and that was the problem. She had been burned twice before by the incredibly-sexy-extremely-hot-cocky-jock type, once in high school and once in college and promised herself she would never go down that road again.
Oh, but it was tempting. She obviously had a type, and Mason Connor was definitely it. His short, spiky, dirty-blond hair was the epitome of sex hair, messed as though a hundred women had run their fingers through it, and quite honestly, she wouldn't mind joining the club. His eyes, such a light blue they almost looked gray, were surrounded by short, thick, dark lashes. She could stare at them for hours. He had a perfectly shaped nose, defined cheekbones and a full, strong jaw covered by a very short, light-brown beard. But it was the dimple that formed in his right cheek when he smiled that made her heart skip a beat. Add in a drool-worthy body, and that made him one utterly magnificent example of perfect male beauty. It had taken every ounce of her rigid control, not to stand, mouth hanging open in awe upon their first meeting. Yes, he was that beautiful.
He'd been obvious in his attempts to catch her attention that day. Many times, she'd looked his direction he'd already had his eyes on her. He would smile, raise an eyebrow, almost as if challenging her to come over and start a conversation. But sh
e'd done the right thing, resisted the temptation that was Mase Connor, and she would do the same for the next six weeks. Yes, he would play a part in her nighttime fantasies for a few weeks (possibly months) to come, but a fantasy never cheated on you, disappointed you, or broke your heart.
She took a large sip of her wine and sighed. If only she could find her perfect man. Granted, she hadn't looked very hard. It had taken her a couple of years to get back into the dating game after her disastrous relationship with her college boyfriend, Mike (jock number two), whom she'd broken up with after a wasted year of her life when she discovered he'd been cheating on her from the get-go. Boy, did he have her fooled. He had worked so hard for their first date and had paid her so much attention, she'd never doubted his intentions or his declarations of love and with both of their busy schedules, between classes and work, she never once questioned his whereabouts.
Until one day when he accidentally left his phone at her apartment, and he received a text from another girl. Not one to usually invade someone's privacy, she couldn't help but read it. The message was damning, as well was the rest of the crap she'd found on his phone, dating back to when they'd first gotten together.
She was devastated.
For about five minutes, and then she was pissed. And through her anger, she realized, she'd never truly loved him, but more loved the idea of him. Who wouldn't love the idea of a super-hot guy fawning all over them? It made her feel special. But by discovering she was more upset about being deceived than losing him, she knew what she'd felt for him couldn't have been true love but only a young school-girl crush. What she'd never understood was why the charade? But she'd never given him much of a chance to explain, and he'd never made much of an effort to try.
Yeah, it took some time to get over something like that but starting a new career had helped. And in time, she got over the anger at his deception and promised herself she would never be someone's fool again.
Then about two years ago, her best friend, Debbie, decided she needed to start dating. Jo took it seriously for about six months (she tried, she really did) before she called it quits. Bars and clubs just weren't her thing, she discovered, and she'd decided if love wanted to find her, it would find her. And, in the meantime, she would make do with her book boyfriends, BOB, and now, fantasies of Mason Connor.
Jo took the last sip of her wine then got up and rinsed her glass in the kitchen sink before heading for bed. She checked her phone's status, making sure the battery was full (a habit she'd gotten into since she still didn't have a backup alarm) and snuggled into her blankets and pillow, closing her eyes, visions of Mase dancing through her head.
Jo sat at her desk, late Thursday night, trying to quickly finish a report so she could go home. She'd gotten a little behind now that a big chunk of her day was spent at boot camp. She hoped that eventually she wouldn't be required to go on a daily basis, but until Rick Jensen gave her the all clear, she was stuck.
Not that it was a huge hardship to be in Mason Connor's vicinity for a large chunk of her day. He was definitely eye candy out on the field, his muscles flexing as he taught the kids football moves. They'd been involved in quite a few staring contests throughout the week, she always the first to look away, her cheeks hot, and her heart racing, but he'd never approached her, not once since that first day, and she refused to approach him. That had bad idea written all over it. No, Mason Connor wasn't someone she wanted to tangle with, and she'd be wise to keep her distance.
She glanced at the time on her computer screen, ten after eight. The report was taking longer to finish than expected. Only two other coworkers were still in the office, Brandy, who like her was catching up on paperwork, and Fred Klein, who sat at his desk across the office from them.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she'd missed dinner. Her stomach should know better than to get upset over a late meal. With her unpredictable work schedule, set times for anything never worked. At some point in the middle of a workday, she would grab a bite to eat for lunch, and dinner happened whenever she dragged her ass home.
Her cell phone rang, and her eyes cut to the screen. Unknown number. She sighed as she picked it up, hoping her day (or should she say night) wasn't about to get longer. "This is, Joanna."
"I have a proposition for you."
Jo pulled the phone from her ear and looked at the screen, again. She wasn't sure why she did that. It's not like the phone would have any new information for her. "Who is this?" She asked, after bringing the phone back to her ear. She heard the person on the other end of the line chuckle, and then she knew, Mason Connor. She had committed his sexy chuckle to memory.
"Aw, Angel, it hurts my feelings that you need to ask."
Jo sighed into the phone. "Listen, I don't have time to play games. I'm still at work, and I want to finish up, so I can go home and have dinner." Why she'd said that, she didn't know. Tiredness must cause loose lips.
His voice turned serious. "You're still at work and haven't eaten? I'll be there in ten minutes to take you to dinner."
She thought about the pile of TV dinners stacked in her freezer and for one fleeting moment, seriously considered his offer. But no, she would stay strong and not let her stomach rule her actions. "Please, no. That's very nice of you, but I don't know how much longer I'll be here, and I really just want to go home and relax. I have a busy day tomorrow, as well."
"Babe, you need to eat."
What was with all the pet names? "And I will when I get home. Now, I thank you for the offer, but I really must go." She hung up before he could argue with her more and before his voice worked its magic and changed her mind.
"Who was that?" Brandy asked, nodding at Jo's cell phone.
Jo shook her head. "Just a guy, no one important."
Brandy tipped her head, scrutinizing her. "Your face is flushed. Tell me, does Mr. Unimportant have a name?"
Jo had known Brandy since she started working for the department six years ago. She was about ten years older than Jo and married with three kids. She was one-hundred percent class from the tip of her bleached-blond, perfectly styled hair to the points of her high fashion shoes, but beneath her polished exterior was a dirty mind with an even dirtier mouth that shocked the shit out of Jo the first time she'd heard it. Although, they didn't hang out a lot socially, they were still good friends, and Brandy knew her pretty well. Translation, she would have to navigate this conversation carefully so she didn't give away any of her true thoughts. If Brandy knew Jo was even just a little bit attracted to Mase, she would never stop hounding her about him. She wanted to see Jo find someone and settle down more desperately than her own mother did.
She turned back to her computer and fiddled with her mouse, pretending to look busy. "Mason Connor," she said, in a distracted voice, hoping Brandy would take the hint and drop the subject. Brandy's next words killed that dream.
"Mason Connor, quarterback for the Pursers, Mason Connor? Where the hell did you meet him?" Brandy snapped her fingers. "Wait, is he part of that football boot camp thing you got roped into? And, oh, my God, please tell me he's as hunky in real life as he is on TV."
Jo chuckled and lightly shook her head before turning back to Brandy. She couldn't help it, her friend cracked her up. "If I tell you everything I know, do you promise to drop the subject?"
Her friend lifted her hand in the air, palm facing Jo, and with her other hand drew an X over her heart with her pointer. "Promise. Cross my heart, hope to die... blah, blah, blah."
Jo shook her head, still smiling at Brandy's antics. "I met him the day before yesterday, and yes, he's one of the coaches for that football boot camp thing."
"And..." Brandy made a rolling motion with her hand.
"And what?"
"Is he as good looking in person as he is on TV?"
Jo shrugged. "I don't watch football, so I wouldn't know."
"He's in like a gazillion commercials!"
Jo shrugged again. "I don't watch a whole lot of TV. I'm a rea
der." But she could well imagine Mase in a TV commercial. Preferably one where he's naked in a shower with shampoo suds running down his chest. He would tip his head back into the spray, stretching the long line of his throat. His eyes would close and his lips would slightly part as he reached his arms up, muscles bulging, to run his fingers through his hair...
Jo came back to the present when Brandy snapped her fingers in front of her face. Jo gave her a sheepish smile.
"By the dreamy, faraway look on your face, I'm going to assume he's as good looking in person as he is on TV."
Jo giggled. "That would be a fair assumption."
"I am so envious of you right now."
"Don't be. He's a typical jock, full of himself and thinking he's God's gift to women."
Brandy gave her a quizzical look, and she wondered whether she'd said too much. "So you've talked to him?"
"Yeah, briefly." At her friend's bug-eyed look that clearly stated she wanted her to elaborate, she sighed then continued, "We introduced ourselves. That's it."
"That's it? He didn't try to talk to you again?"
Jo turned back to her computer and mumbled low and incoherently.
"What? I didn't hear you. You need to slow down and speak up."
With a big dramatic sigh, Jo flung herself back in her chair and eyeballed her friend. She knew she wouldn't leave her alone until she told her everything. "I said," she said, maybe a little too loudly, seeing as Fred from across the room raised his head to see what the hubbub was about. "He hasn't tried to talk to me again, but he stares at me a lot. I think he finally got the hint today though when I gave him my back and ignored him. There, happy? That's it. That's everything. Can we stop talking about this now?"
Brandy held up her hand. "One more thing, and then I'll let it go."
Jo felt herself relax in relief and nodded her consent.
"If you gave him the brush-off, which I'm telling right now, no woman in their right mind would ever do such a fool thing, so I know for a fact you're fucking bonkers, why was he calling you?"