Come

by Becca Jameson

  Mason inhaled, his chest puffing up at her comment. She hadn’t overlooked a single characteristic about him that normally left women swooning. She just chose to pretend she was unaffected. “I work out. A lot.” More than you can imagine.

  When Rafe had said to keep his hands to himself, Mason was pretty sure he also meant for him to keep his mouth shut about a lot of things.

  “Really? Huh. Couldn’t tell.” Oh, she was all spit and vinegar.

  “What about you? What do you do when you aren’t lining up roses?”

  “Lining up roses?” She laughed again. “You are so good with words.”

  You have no idea. My words can make you cream in your panties if I so choose.

  “I read. I jog. Hang with friends. I work a lot of hours.” She looked out the window.

  By her body language he knew she was leaving out several parts of her life—intentionally. What are you hiding, Ms. Jenna the rose girl?

  Whatever it was, it couldn’t be as big as his own personal secrets. He was not one who should judge.

  Jenna reached for her purse on the floor and rummaged around inside until she produced a hair clip. She lifted both arms and pulled her long straight locks back, twisting the glossy strands into a knot at the back of her head.

  “Don’t.” The word slipped out before he could stop it.

  She froze, the clip between her teeth, and turned to look at him.

  He couldn’t help it. If he was going to spend the evening with her, he wanted to at least have the pleasure of admiring her silky black hair. The librarian look wasn’t going to do it for him. “I like it down,” he muttered. “It’s beautiful.” As he pulled to a stop at a red light, he turned and reached for her wrist, tugging her hand down. “Leave it?”

  He was so out of his league here. It had been years since he’d entertained a woman for thirty minutes who didn’t know who and what he was. His words tumbled out haphazardly under the stress.

  Women didn’t usually ignore his demands, but this particular woman didn’t know that.

  The look she gave him made his vision blur for a moment. She took a deep breath, and the clip fell from her lips to her lap. Her right arm still held her hair in the air, but it slowly slipped between her fingers and cascaded back around her shoulders.

  Mason ran his hand through the locks and leaned in to smell the scent of her shampoo. He closed his eyes and learned her scent, feminine, floral of course.

  Someone honked and he jerked his gaze back to the front and grabbed the steering wheel. He hit the gas a bit too hard and they lurched forward.

  Jenna didn’t comment. She lowered her arm and stuffed the clip back in her purse. She turned her gaze to look out the passenger window again. He saw her chest heaving with breaths out of his peripheral vision.

  Fuck Rafe and his demands. There was no way in hell he could let this woman go. He’d had good intentions, but for Christ’s sake she was so damn malleable he wanted to pull over and see what else he could command her to do.

  Instead, Mason gripped the wheel harder and concentrated on driving. He might not be able to keep any promise about leaving Jenna alone, but he could at least get her from point A to point B without mauling her in the car. Later…

  Taliesin Publishing

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