by Anthology
“Don’t worry about it. We’re a team. You play your position and let us play ours,” Matt said with a this-is-gonna-be-good grin. “Focus. Commitment. Execution. That’s what we need from you.”
Adrianne rolled her eyes at Sapphire Falls’s head football coach. “You’ve been to too many coaching clinics.”
Matt chuckled and took a drink of his beer.
“You want Sapphire Hills too, right?” Phoebe asked Adrianne. “What about your shop? You want that to happen, don’t you?”
Adrianne sighed. She really did. “Of course.”
“Then you need to help make it happen. If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem. Or something like that.”
Adrianne knew she was going to regret this. “What do I need to do?”
“Show up at the build site at ten in the morning and be prepared to wow Mason.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Wow him?” she repeated.
Phoebe regarded her for a moment. “Wear your blue sundress,” she finally decided.
Adrianne felt her eyebrows rise. A sundress? That was her church outfit. “Why?”
“You have great legs and breasts.”
She turned to look at Matt. “Did you say I have great breasts?”
He shrugged. “You do. Sky is blue, ocean is deep, you have great breasts. And legs.”
Adrianne wasn’t sure what to say. She glanced at Phoebe wondering how she felt about the observation by the man she was in love with. She seemed lost in thought.
“Don’t you think I should try to wow him with information about the project and the building plans?” Adrianne asked.
“Sure, sure.” Phoebe waved that away. “That’s a given. Don’t show up in cut-off sweat pants and we’ll be good.”
Adrianne thought there was a compliment in there and then started to protest Phoebe’s assumption she would show up like that anyway. Then she realized that yeah, it was possible. It was a construction site, not the dinner theater or even her office. Cut-off sweat pants would be appropriate. “I could wear—”
“But we have to get them apart tonight too before any more damage is done,” Phoebe cut her off. “We have to do something now.”
Adrianne couldn’t help but glance in Mason’s direction again. “How are you going to do that?”
Phoebe definitely had a twinkle in her eye when she looked at Adrianne. “I have an idea.”
“Oh boy.” That didn’t sound good. “Tell me.”
“Can’t.”
“Phoebe—”
“It’s better if you don’t know.”
She was probably right. “Phoebe—”
“I have to say one thing—he was looking at you while you danced too.”
That made Adrianne pause. He had been looking at her. Not as a dance partner or even a very interesting new acquaintance but like…he’d really like to do body shots off of her.
And he didn’t seem the type to generally do body shots.
“What do you mean?” she asked, wondering if Phoebe had noticed the same things she had.
“You know how I said I noticed how you were looking at him?”
Adrianne nodded.
“He was looking at you like that too.”
Adrianne swallowed. Okay, she’d noticed. No matter Mason’s history with Hailey, there had been some definite heat between them on that dance floor that wasn’t one-sided. “You sure?”
“I was surprised you both got off the dance floor with all your clothes on.”
Adrianne felt her cheeks heat and put her hand over her heart. “I—”
“Get up.” Phoebe got to her feet and reached to pull Adrianne out of her chair.
Adrianne stood. Phoebe looked at her. Adrianne spread her arms. “Okay. Now what?”
Phoebe picked up her shot glass and splashed the butterscotch schnapps down the front of Adrianne’s shirt.
“Hey!” Adrianne stared at her friend. “What the hell?” She started to reach for a napkin, but Phoebe stepped on her foot. Hard.
“Ow!” Adrianne glared at Phoebe. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Come on.” Phoebe yanked on her arm, causing Adrianne to trip over the leg of her chair.
“Dammit, Phoeb—oomph.” She lost her train of thought as she spun and bumped into Mike Corbin. His beer sloshed out of the mug, a large spot landing on her thigh. “Sorry.”
Mike smiled and skirted around her as Phoebe pulled her forward.
“Let’s go.”
“What is going on?” Adrianne demanded of her friend when there were no people or chairs between them.
“What?” Phoebe called over her shoulder.
Adrianne found herself limping the next two steps due to her sore toe. “What is going on?”
“What?” Phoebe asked again from a step ahead of her.
Adrianne raised her voice. “What. Is. Going. On?” she practically shouted. As the song ended. Several people turned to look. Phoebe pushed her into the table to her right and Adrianne knocked the bowl of popcorn on the edge to the floor.
She mumbled an apology and turned to blast her friend. Only to find herself face to face with Mason. She froze for an instant as she met his gaze. Dang. There was something about this guy that could stop her in her tracks. And she didn’t mind.
He was still standing with Hailey, but his attention was fully on Adrianne.
“Hailey.” Phoebe grasped the other woman’s arm with her free hand. “Adrianne needs a ride home.”
Hailey was talking to Christine, one of the bartenders. But her knees were very close to Mason’s crotch. Her bare knees—thanks to the short skirt and how she’d crossed her legs.
Phoebe wasn’t one to be ignored. “Hey, Hailey!” she said louder. “Adrianne needs a ride home.”
Adrianne barely registered the words as she continued to stare dumbly at Mason. But she did hear her name. And the word home.
Hailey stopped mid-sentence and swiveled toward them as she realized Mason’s eyes were no longer on her. She looked Adrianne up and down. “Why? Are you okay?” she asked Adrianne.
“Look at her,” Phoebe said before Adrianne could answer. “She’s got schnapps and beer down the front of her, she can’t walk a straight line and she doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“She doesn’t drink,” Hailey said with a frown.
“She’s a mess,” Phoebe said, conveniently not quite lying.
Adrianne opened her mouth to protest that she was a mess. Or drunk. She didn’t know what Phoebe’s plan was, but it seemed like a bad idea.
“Phoebe, I…” But she made the mistake of glancing at Mason again.
He was watching her with a faintly amused expression. She didn’t care. She loved that he was still looking at her. Pathetic, ridiculous, silly. But true. His expression was hard to label. It wasn’t the way he had been looking at Hailey, but she decided not to analyze that.
His eyes on her made her warm and a little jumpy, but not in a bad way. Jumpy, excited, short of breath, but her heart didn’t skip or race. So it was all good. Very good.
Phoebe turned to Adrianne. “What time are we meeting to put the picnic stuff up tomorrow?”
They hadn’t talked about that yet. “I don’t know.” Adrianne frowned, confused. “I thought…”
Phoebe turned back to Hailey. “See what I mean? She doesn’t even know what’s happening tomorrow.”
Hailey sighed. “You need to learn to pace yourself,” she said to Adrianne.
Adrianne really wanted to protest now. She didn’t need to pace herself for drinking soda. And she always knew all the details to all the plans. She made most of the details and the plans. This was character defamation.
“Are you taking her home then?” Hailey asked Phoebe.
“Oh, I can’t. My car’s full of stuff for the softball game and picnic.”
“Completely full?”
“Packed,” Phoebe insisted.
Hailey sighed. “Drive her car.�
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“How will I get home?” Phoebe asked.
“Walk.”
“It’s like five miles.”
“It’s two. At most.”
“I don’t want to walk two miles in the dark.”
Hailey rolled her eyes and reached for Adrianne’s arm to pull her closer. “Fine.” Though her tone suggested it really wasn’t fine. “I’ll take her. In a minute.”
Phoebe frowned. “I think—”
“I’ll take her home.”
Hailey, Phoebe and Adrianne all stopped and looked at Mason as one. Adrianne quickly glanced at Phoebe who had a suspiciously pleased smile on her face. Her gaze swung to Hailey, who looked exasperated. Then she looked at Mason again.
He was watching her with a slight curve to his lip.
He didn’t look like he minded the idea. He was already setting his glass down and straightening.
Phoebe looked at his half-full glass. “Have you been drinking?”
“Soda.”
She beamed at him as if he’d announced she was Miss America. “Then that’s a fantastic idea.”
Phoebe pushed Adrianne forward and she had to step quickly to avoid Mason’s toes. He steadied her with two warm, large palms on her upper arms. “Easy,” he said quietly, staring down at her. His eyes went from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes. “I’ve got you.”
“Thanks,” she said. It sounded breathless to her, but she couldn’t help it.
“You can give me directions, I assume?” His smile hinted that he knew she was more than capable of telling him how to get her home.
“Seven twelve Crimson,” Phoebe said, earning her another frown from Hailey.
“She could walk from here,” Hailey inserted.
Adrianne felt her right knee buckle. Enough that Mason had to pull her up against him.
“Look at her,” Phoebe said. “She can’t walk home.”
Adrianne knew exactly why her knee had given and she couldn’t look at her friend or she’d start to laugh. This was junior high get-a-boy’s-attention stuff.
“This is ridiculous,” Hailey muttered. She pivoted on her stool. “There are a dozen guys here who would take her home. Hey, Dave!” she called.
“I’m taking her home,” Mason said.
Adrianne was surprised by the firmness of his tone. He turned her and tucked her under his arm.
“It’s fine,” he said, less forcefully. “I was heading out anyway.”
Hailey was quite obviously not happy. Adrianne carefully avoided making eye contact. Instead, she let herself lean into Mason, enjoying his strength and warmth.
What the hell? It wasn’t like being up against him was going to last. He was only here for three days, and Hailey obviously had some kind of stake on him already.
Besides, Adrianne didn’t want any kind of excitement or pulse-increasing activity. She was looking for a laidback, home every night, steady and simple farmer for the long term. So having Mason’s hands on her was going to be short-lived. She might as well enjoy it for the moment.
“Let’s go,” he said near her ear and started for the door.
Adrianne wondered if she could get away with giving him the round-about directions to her house instead of going straight home.
As they stepped onto the wooden front porch of the Come Again, Mason said, “Hey, Adrianne, hold these a minute.”
He flipped his car keys into the air and she reached out and snagged them smoothly. No problem.
Mason chuckled.
Oh.
“You definitely smell like butterscotch schnapps, but I’m not convinced you drank that much,” he said.
“Um, we never said I drank it.” She tossed the keys back to him and headed for the parking lot.
“Good point.”
She headed for his car, the only one with Illinois plates in the lot. And the only Porsche in town. Or the county probably.
He hit the button on his key chain to unlock the doors—it was also probably the only car in the parking lot that was locked—but made no move to open the door.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. He was standing really close to her. She pressed her back to the car, her palms against the warm metal of the passenger door.
“I need to ask you something,” she said quickly before she could rethink it.
“Anything.” He seemed to move closer.
“Did you offer me a ride because you would have offered anyone a ride or because it was me?” Internally, she cringed. Definitely junior high stuff.
It was a dumb question and she felt dumb asking—and even dumber letting the answer matter so much. But she really wanted to know. Because she was about to do something crazy and needed to know if there was even a slightly good reason.
“I would have given anyone a ride.” Mason slipped his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight back onto his heels.
“Oh.” Her heart dropped. She put her hand against her chest. “Okay.”
He leaned in, hands still in pockets. “But I was really happy about it because it was you.”
She wondered if she’d imagined the words for a moment, then she saw his grin and let herself be glad she’d asked.
Now for the crazy part.
“So you know that I haven’t been drinking.”
“I was pretty sure.”
God, she loved that grin. She returned it. “So you will also know that anything I do or say is for reasons other than being under the influence.”
“Okay.”
She leaned forward, her hands still on the car door, rose on tiptoe and kissed him.
There were no hands, no contact other than lip to lip, but she felt her entire body catch fire.
She started to lean back away from the blaze, but Mason brought a hand up and cupped the back of her head, holding her in place.
This was—sensational.
They stepped forward at the same time, bringing them belly to belly. Or belly to belt buckle. And something very nice below his belt buckle.
The kiss deepened as he tipped her head to one side. Her hands went to his shoulders and she pulled herself up more flush against him.
Mason seemed to approve, because he growled in the back of his throat, grasped her thigh with his other hand, pulled it up to his hip and then stepped forward again so her back was against the side of the car.
With the firm surface behind her and her thigh in his big palm, Mason was able to press exactly where she most needed him.
They groaned together and Adrianne knew that this was going to get out of hand.
Chapter Three
Though Mason felt his pulse hammering as he struggled to rein his desire in, their mouths moved together slowly, deeply and fully.
Her lips were perfect, her tongue was perfect, the sounds she made were perfect and how she smelled—like every one of his favorite things rolled into one and dipped in sugar—was absolutely perfect. And not a bit like butterscotch.
Several minutes—hell, it could have been a day or two—later, he pulled back. He stared down at her, loving that she looked dazed. The women he kissed enjoyed it, but he didn’t exactly surprise them and wouldn’t describe them as overcome by him. He dated women who dated a lot of men. He wasn’t sure he brought anything new or unusual to the interactions.
Adrianne was acting, and looking, like she was stunned by him. Or by what was happening. Or how she was feeling. Or something.
Something he hoped wasn’t inane like how nice the weather was tonight or that he drove a Porsche.
“No butterscotch,” he said, pulling his thumb along her lower lip, simply doing what he wanted to do, instead of thinking it out from every angle.
She shook her head. “No butterscotch.”
“Too bad. I like butterscotch.”
“How about cinnamon?”
“I really like cinnamon. Why?”
“I chewed cinnamon gum earlier.”
He smiled. “Yeah?”
“I can pro
ve it.”
She pulled him in for another kiss.
She tasted good. Not specifically any flavor other than Adrianne. Which was better than anything he’d ever tasted.
She also felt good. She was short enough that tiptoes were necessary to really fit together, but her body seemed shaped perfectly for his. And vice versa.
When she pulled back, she smiled up at him. “See?”
“Delicious.”
She licked her lips and he was ready to start all over again.
This was nuts. He felt a hunger. It was never like this with women. Things were very predictable in his dating world—as they were with everything in his world.
Drinks, dinner, dessert. That was the order in which his dating life progressed. Dessert was telltale for him. What his date ordered, how she ate it, how much she ate all told him how much she wanted him. He hadn’t published his research, but it was ninety-five percent accurate.
He hadn’t had dessert with Adrianne yet.
Then again, he never kissed women up against his car like he couldn’t get enough of them.
He always got enough.
He knew the female body and the science and psychology of female sexuality better than anyone in his acquaintance. The same way he’d studied agriculture, geology, political science and business, he’d studied women, read about women, experimented with women until he understood everything and had the right formula.
The right formula meant the right—and predictable—outcome.
Adrianne was an anomaly.
Generally, he intensely disliked anomalies.
Looking down at her now, however, he realized he was going to make an exception in this case.
She was too short to fit where he wanted to be, so he did the logical thing and slid his hands to her butt, picked her up and set her on the hood of the car.
She instantly wrapped her legs around his waist, moaned and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“God, I want you,” she panted. “This is crazy.” She spread his shirt open, her gaze roaming over his shoulders, chest and stomach. “I want to taste every inch of you. I want to suck on your earlobes.” She did, making Mason groan. “I want to lick your neck.” She did that too. “I want to lick your chest.” She wiggled against him to reach his left nipple, which she licked, making his erection pulse. “I want to suck on your fingers.” Instead, she put her index finger against his mouth. Mason drew it past his lips, swirled his tongue over the pad and then sucked the length of her finger into his mouth. Her breath hissed out between her teeth. “Like that.”