She was busy with work, she told herself. Caroline did important work at the Second Chances Credit Union. She was one of the counsellors who specifically worked with small business owners in the community; she could point to a dozen businesses on Main Street that she’d helped to weather the recession. She could pay the mortgage on her townhouse, and if she looked out the living room window at just the right angle on a clear day, she could totally see the lake. What more could a woman want, really?
Friendship. Companionship. God, some hot sex would be nice. Bonus points if it didn’t require recharging.
Caroline sighed and rubbed her eyes. 4:25. Any sane person would just get up and leave. She’d had back-to-back clients until lunch and no more than a five minute lull in the afternoon. Her boss had already left for the day, cutting out at 3:30, and Jack, the other SB Counsellor on staff, would be here until 5:30 when the office closed. He would happily handle anything that came in between now and then.
But still. Her ass was glued to her chair. For five more minutes.
When the bell attached to the front door jingled, she sighed and prepped her professional face. She looked up, smiled, and then made a concerted effort to reel her tongue back into her mouth.
The guy in the doorway was tall—probably taller than her own 5’11”, though she wasn’t positive without standing in front of him and seeing how far up she had to look. His hair was a deep auburn, and curly. He wore it long, and it was pulled back from his face in a braid, of all things. He had a full goatee and mustache, but his beard was trimmed down neat and tight to his jawline, his cheeks clean. He wore a dark grey T-shirt that looked like it was at least a size too small—the better to highlight his cut abs and built shoulders, my dear—and jeans that traced over his narrow hips and— She yanked her eyes back up to his face. HIs green eyes were all but laughing at her.
“Hello,” Caroline forced herself to say, standing and extending a hand. From his desk, Jack looked up, smirked, and went back to the computer file in front of him. “My name is Caroline Lewis. How can I help you?”
He was taller than her, by several inches. The man stepped in a hair too close and took her hand. He had ink around both his wrists in a pattern of Celtic knots and weavings and he smelled amazing, like sunshine and leather.
He held her hand a spare moment longer than he needed to and she resisted the urge to smooth her blonde hair back. First of all, there was no way she was going to look that stereotypical in front of Jack, and second, her hair was in a ponytail. It was fine.
“Hi,” he said. “Mason. Mason Butler. I just took over the books for a garage, and I was hoping you could help me sort something out.”
“Sure,” she said. “Come on over here and sit down.”
She had a crazy urge to start neatening her desk, as if he wasn’t sitting down just a few feet from her. He was watching her carefully, maybe more carefully than strictly necessary for someone who needed to get help straightening out company accounts. She wasn’t going to let herself hope, but there was nothing wrong with fantasizing. “So you just took over the accounts for this business. What sort of business is it?”
“A garage. Basic stuff: maintenance, repair, some resale, but not too much.”
“So what’s making you think that something’s off?”
That fun zing of energy switched off like he had it on a switch. His eyes were intense, and his fingers were tight on his legs. “Funny feeling?” he said, and she knew there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. Whatever the problem was, however it was that he’d taken over the business, there was a story here.
Caroline hated to admit it, but she found herself leaning forward, interested. The clock on the bottom corner of her monitor clicked over to 4:31; she reached over and tapped the monitor off. “So, a garage, huh? Cars, trucks, motorcycles, all of the above?”
“All of the above, but we specialize in bikes.” He seemed surprised at her sudden left turn in the conversation.
“Bikers,” she laughed to herself, thinking of her cousin Teddy. “Organ donors waiting to happen.”
His smile came back, almost looking like he was swallowing a laugh. “Really?”
“Basically. I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just—all the drama about helmet laws and safety precautions, all the resistance. My cousin’s always going on about it. My point has always been: you’re welcome to go without a helmet, just as soon as you sign your organ donor card and notify your next of kin.” She shrugged. “Plus, the beards.”
“The beards?”
“I’d be afraid they’d get caught in the gears somehow.”
He was all but laughing now, and his hands were relaxed. Good. That was what she needed. Him open and ready to talk, so that she could figure out what was going on.
“So, Mr. Butler—”
He did laugh at that. “Jesus, no. Mason. Please.”
Caroline grinned. “Sure. While I certainly respect your funny feeling, Mason, and I’d be happy to help you figure out what’s going on, I’d need more information. Books, maybe? Billings and receipts?”
She’d seen enough small business attempts at accounting to be beyond relieved when he pulled out a black ledger marked with “2014” on the cover. It wasn’t bristling with random papers, either. A good start. He passed it over and she opened it up, tracing her finger down a column of numbers. They added up, nothing immediately tipping her over into “what the hell” territory, but it was also just the books. To really know…
“Nothing’s jumping out at me, but to really go over things, we’d have to be able to look into past billings—accounts receivable and payable, that sort of thing. Do you have access to all of that? From before and after you took over?”
Mason looked uncomfortable again. “I don’t have it on me. I could get it for you, but—it’ll take time. I could come back in an hour or two?”
“I’m off at 4:30,” she said before thinking it through. “Jack’s here until 5:30, though, when the office closes.” She gestured at her colleague, and she was quite sure she saw Mason’s face fall, just a little bit. “Monday?”
“This whole thing is kind of time sensitive,” he said. “I need to get this settled as quickly as possible.” He leaned in close, and she felt her panties all but dissolve as the smell of sunshine and leather washed over her again. God, she needed to get laid. She needed to get laid in the worst way.
“We could go over to the garage together—”
“No!”
Jack looked up at the outburst, and Caroline could see Mason calming himself.
“Sorry,” he said. “I know this sounds like a bad movie line, but… I think someone may be setting me up to take the fall for something I didn’t do. I don’t want to go back there until I know what I’m up against.”
Then take me out for a drink, she thought, and shook her head. “Can you get the paperwork?”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I can get someone to get it for me, though.” He flashed her that smile again, that one that warmed up her insides. “Can I meet you somewhere? A bar? Hell, the public library?”
She wrote down an address. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head screaming Caroline Lewis, what are you doing? But she didn’t care. “This is my place,” she said. “Come by with whatever you can get your hands on. We’ll take it apart and see if there’s anything to worry about.”
He took the paper from her, his fingers brushing over hers, and she felt that heat kick up again in the lowest parts of her belly. My, oh my. So much for a quiet night with Gloria. “You sure about this?”
She nodded. “I’m glad to help.”
“Thank you.” He stood and left then, a surety of purpose in his walk that hadn’t been there when he’d come in.
Jack was shaking his head at her. “What?” she asked.
“That guy is trouble,” Jack said.
“You’re just jealous because I haven’t given you my address and invited you over.” She tossed her phone an
d her empty coffee mug into her bag; she needed to get home and shower before he got there. If he even showed up. The whole thing might have been some weird attempt at a scam. Who knew?
“That’s not the point,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair and giving Caroline the once over with no attempt to hide it. She rolled her eyes, and he laughed. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I’m always careful.”
“Your track record says otherwise.”
She couldn’t think of any response other than to stick her tongue out at him, and that would be immature, even for her. She did it anyway, then walked proudly out the door while he laughed.
CHAPTER TWO
Caroline caught the bus headed back towards her townhouse. She had a car, but parking was such a nightmare downtown that it wasn’t worth it; she commuted unless she knew for a fact she was working late. It gave her quiet time to read, or catch up on blogs she liked, or chat with online friends.
Jack’s comment about her track record had struck home harder than she guessed he’d meant it to. Aside from his comments about how to get hold of him, if she ever decided she wanted to be a unicorn for him and his wife, he was a pretty decent guy. He carried his share of the work in the office, and he didn’t slap her ass if she had to bend over for something. She’d vented to him at one point, and unfortunately, he had a great memory.
She’d dated three guys in the five years since college. With each of them, she’d run into the same issues. They shared her interests, they thought she was fun and entertaining, but within a few months the sex just died off to nothing.
She’d tried a million things to perk things up. She had an entire box of nipple clamps, dildos, butt plugs, cock rings, vibrating cock rings—anything she could think of to try and spice things up.
No dice.
Michael had disappeared into his video games, Alex had fallen down a hole chasing some jam band around the country and broken up with her via a social media post. And then there was Sam. Sam, who’d seemed like “the one,” who’d talked about family and kids and matching careers like it was a given. Sam, who’d promised her everything she’d ever wanted.
And then some chick came to her townhouse, demanding to speak to Sam, saying she was knocked up and needed him to deal with it. And Sam hadn’t denied it. When Caroline had asked him what the hell was going on, he’d stared at her blankly and said, “You’re the one I want to marry. Isn’t that enough for you?”
She gave herself credit that she’d thrown his ass out, right along with the chick, whose name she’d never actually learned. She was still ashamed of the number of nights since then she’d cried herself to sleep over it all.
And that had been the last. No one night stands, no flings up against dirty walls in bars, nothing. On the one hand, it sucked, but on the other, it was easier. Much less pain this way.
But here she was, inviting a handsome stranger home. Maybe she’d manage to be interesting before she was old after all.
Gloria went nuts when she heard Caroline’s key in the door. As soon as she got in, she dropped to her knees and let Gloria lick her face and bounce around a minute, then took the dog to the back door by the leash.
She had no idea what time Mason would arrive—if he arrived—and no idea if he’d want to eat, or if they’d just look at the paperwork, or if maybe he had something else on his mind just like she did. She just couldn’t guess, and if she tried, she’d be spinning in circles, chasing her tail and herding squirrels like a certain someone she could see out the back window.
She laughed, shook her head, and went to take a shower.
The hot water coursing over her didn’t do much to alleviate her tension. Since she’d felt his fingers on hers, Caroline had been imagining his fingers—tightening in hers, wandering through her hair, maybe reaching up her shirt.
Just thinking about it made her blush, but it didn’t stop her from sliding her hand low. She was wet, wetter than just the shower would explain, and she heard herself hiss as her fingers glided over her clit. She spent a minute just exploring, running her fingers around and inside her body as her other hand teased at her nipples. She left off after a moment, however. Lately playing with herself, even if she orgasmed, just left her feeling unfulfilled, desperate for more.
She washed her hair, used the fancy body wash that smelled like sandalwood, and scrunched her hair in a towel to bring out the curls in the blonde. She drew the line at putting on make-up again. That was too desperate, no matter how much she might need to scratch this itch.
She found jeans that made her ass look amazing and a sweater and bra that made it look like she actually had tits bigger than mosquito bites. She let Gloria back in, fed her, then settled in on the couch with a book. It was 6:00; he’d show up or he wouldn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
Around 7:30, Caroline gave up. She fixed herself some leftover chili and poured a glass of cheap pinot noir. She stopped posing on the couch and just settled back with her feet up. Gloria looked more relaxed; this was how the night normally went.
Somewhere after the second glass of wine, while she was debating on whether or not a third was a good idea, she heard a loud roar coming down the street. It took her brain a moment to place the sound. Motorcycle. Yes. Teddy would have been able to tell her the make, and maybe the model, without even going to the window. She didn’t give a crap. Deathtraps, all of them. Hurtling through space at 75mph was ridiculous enough when you were doing it encaged in a giant steel box designed to keep you from killing yourself. Doing it with nothing between yourself and certain death but a damn helmet was idiocy.
And why the hell was there a motorcycle in her neighborhood at—she peered at the digital clock on her phone—bleary o’clock? And why was it slowing down outside her house? She stood up, wobbled, and then made her way to the front window.
The motorcycle was parked next to her car. The biker swung his leg off, settled the bike, and then consulted a piece of paper that looked distressingly familiar before walking directly up to her door.
The urge to flutter nearly overwhelmed her. Her hair was still damp, her sweater was all rucked up from being stretched out on the couch, and she hadn’t bothered to put her contacts back in. Gloria was curled up in her bed, blinking owlishly at her person; Caroline was sure she was trying to figure why things were suddenly getting so excited.
Mason knocked on the door, and Caroline glanced towards Gloria as she opened the bolt. Gloria huffed a sigh and then put her nose back under her tail. “Some guard dog you are,” she said as she pulled the door open.
“I aim more for bite than bark,” Mason said, and she peered at him, trying to understand what he was talking about. “You said—the dog?”
“I was talking to my dog,” Caroline said. Her words seemed sort of jumbled, her tongue a bit twisty. Had she had two glasses of wine or three? Well, it didn’t matter now, she’d drunk them.
“You have a dog?”
She nodded and pointed.
“May I?”
“Sure, come on in.”
She pulled the door wider, hit herself in the shoulder, and stumbled. Mason caught her easily, one hand on her elbow, and a wave of the want she’d banked in the shower washed through her like the tide. An electric current, wired straight from her elbow to her clit apparently, as her nipples tightened and she stared up at him, grinning like an idiot. She licked her lips, and he made a sound. It was barely a sound, hardly more than a tiny huff of air, but she heard it. “Hi,” she said, her voice quiet and low.
“Hello,” Mason said back. His eyes were locked on hers, and he seemed to be feeling that same rush, based on how wide his pupils were, how carefully he held her arm.
“I was drinking some wine,” she said, reaching behind him to push the door closed. The door bumped against the saddlebag he’d carried inside. He stepped all the way in and shut the door, shooting the bolt for her.
“I noticed.” He smiled, but there was something a little more reserved
about it now.
“I thought you’d be here earlier.”
“I’m sorry about that. I know it’s late, but I was hoping your offer was still good. I really need some help with this. I’m good with numbers, but I’m no forensic accountant.” He grinned and held up his helmet. “And I wore this, just for you.”
The things she’d said that afternoon tripped back into her brain, and she felt her cheeks heat up. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say—I’m sure you’re careful—”
He laughed, stepping away from her now that she was standing on her own. “I’m not worried about it. It made me laugh.”
“Still, I can’t believe I said all that, and you didn’t stop me!”
He shrugged. “You seemed to be on a roll.”
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