Yet, every night, his heart ached for his wife. He missed her like crazy and so these unexpected thoughts of Drea were confusing the hell out of him. Part of him wanted to hold on to the guilt and sadness, but another part was trying to break free. It was all so new to him and he could only go with what felt right in the moment.
She remained silent. He knew what she thought about his family. She had no warm feelings for any of them, with the exception of Aunt Lottie. Drea had misconceptions and so much hurt buried deep inside, he didn’t know if she’d ever find resolution or peace. So he let the subject drop. Today wasn’t the day to be on a Boone family soapbox.
“Actually, the beach house belongs to a business associate of mine. She was nice enough to overnight me the keys so I could look the place over at my leisure.”
“Have you been here before?”
He almost heard the “with her” in her question.
“Yeah, I have been. Once. Missy coaxed me to come out and stay here shortly after Larissa passed.”
“Missy? I see. So you stayed with her?”
“I did.”
He glanced at Drea and she immediately looked away, concealing her expression from him. But her face had turned that green shade again. Was it disapproval? Disappointment? Jealousy?
Thinking of her being jealous made him smile inside. Maybe she’d been fantasizing about him a little bit, too.
“For a few days, yeah. Missy needed me almost as much as I needed her.”
Slowly, Drea nodded, as she fiddled with straightening her blouse. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“Missy’s husband had passed, just about the same time my wife... Uh, anyway, after her grandchildren showed up to the beach house, I went home.”
“Grandchildren?”
Mason grinned. “Yeah, she has five of them, as I recall. Did I mention Missy’s in her seventies?”
“No,” Drea said, then cleared her throat. “You left that part out.”
“Well, she’s an incredible woman.”
Drea’s eyes narrowed on him. Had he deliberately led her down a merry path? Maybe. He sort of liked thinking she’d been jealous.
“You know, you’re a—”
He gave his head a shake. “Uh-uh, Drea. Don’t say it.”
Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I won’t.”
Mason kept a straight face, but inside he was actually grinning.
Four
The beach house, two stories of gorgeous space, smart styling and incredible views, was set on a shelf of land just above the ocean. Drea looked out on the waves as the fall sun began to lower to the horizon. Ten steps led down to the sandy shore, where the water foamed only thirty feet away.
“It’s perfect,” Drea mumbled.
Mason placed a glass of white wine in her hand as he came up behind her. “Now it’s perfect,” he said.
Both of them watched the waves hit the shore, and quietly sipped wine.
After several minutes, Mason asked, “I take it you like this place?”
She turned to look into his eyes. He seemed genuinely interested in her opinion. “What’s not to like?”
He shrugged. “It’s different than Texas.”
“Isn’t that the point? You’d use it as a getaway, right?”
He shrugged again. “I’m...not sure.”
“Then why are we here? I mean, why are you considering buying this house, if you don’t think you’ll be comfortable here?”
Mason finished his wine and set his glass down on the white wooden railing. Both floors had a wraparound veranda.
“It’s hard to explain. I feel as if I need to do something to move forward with my life. I thought a change of pace, something new, might help me figure it out.”
He stared at her, as if wondering why he’d told her something so intimate. Most of the men she’d known weren’t forthright in sharing their innermost thoughts. Was he sorry he’d confessed this to her?
“It’s weird, right?” he asked, doubt evident in his eyes.
“No. Not weird at all.” She didn’t want to sympathize with Mason. It was crucial to hold on to her anger and indignation and never let it go. Because her life hadn’t been peachy, either. Not only had she lost her home, her mother, and her father to alcohol, she’d lost something even more precious.
A baby.
“Hey, are you okay?” Mason tipped her chin up so he could meet her eyes.
Sincere concern washed over his features, frightening her. She didn’t want to be friends with Mason. She didn’t want his concern. Quickly, she snapped out of her musings. “Sure, I’m fine.”
She faked a smile and turned to walk into the house, but he grabbed her hand, halting her retreat. “Would you look at that.” He pointed to the ocean. Following his gaze, she glanced at the water and saw a frolicking school of dolphins close to the shore, their smooth, silvery forms rising up from the water and then diving back down, making perfectly shaped arches. Up and down, up and down.
“Wow, I’ve never seen this in person.”
Mason tugged on her hand. “Let’s go get a better look. You game?”
“I’m game.”
Once they were both barefoot, Mason led the way down to the beach, where sand squished between her toes. The air was cooler by the ocean and beaming sunlight cast a beautiful sheen on the water. Breezes kicked up as she kept her eyes trained on the dolphins swimming by. She stood stock-still, watching them until they faded from sight. “That was something.”
“It’s pretty incredible.” Mason glanced along the empty beach. “I’d like to take a walk before we have to leave. Care to join me?”
She wanted to say no, to put some time and space between them, but when would she ever get another chance to stroll a Pacific beach? “I think I’ll tag along.”
They walked along the shore, with the foamy waves inching up the sand and teasing their feet. She’d never been a beachgoer, but this little game of keep-away was fun.
Until she stepped on something sharp. It jabbed at her right foot, catching her off guard. “Ow!”
She stumbled, and Mason rescued her midway before she fell, grabbing her waist and righting her. “You okay?”
“I think so. I stepped on a seashell or something buried in the sand.”
Mason looked around. “You’re right. It was a seashell.”
He held her still, his hands clamped around her waist. Ocean breezes swept his hair back and ruffled his shirt. As they stood facing each other for a moment, a monumental thrill scurried down her spine. He was incredibly handsome like this, appealing in a way she didn’t really want to admit.
She was about to tell him that maybe the cowboy was also a beachcomber, but her lips parted and nothing came out. When Mason’s gaze slid to her mouth, a little gasp escaped her throat. Before she could utter a word, he pulled her closer, bent his head and delivered a gift to her lips. It was so pure, so natural a gesture, with them standing on the deserted beach, the sun lowering on the horizon and all the planets aligning, that she didn’t think to stop the kiss. Or him.
He pressed his mouth more firmly now, and she parted her lips in a gasp of pure pleasure. He wasted no time inserting his tongue and tasting her, shocking her senses in the very best way. His kiss shot hot beams of pleasure straight through her, and if that wasn’t enough, his arm snaked around to bring her even closer. Her legs were touching his, with her hips against his groin and her breasts pressed to his chest, She was willing and at his mercy.
Yes, Mason knew how to kiss.
He knew where to touch her to elicit a needy response, too.
He wove his free hand through her hair.
His other hand dropped from her waist, his long fingers inching down to graze her rear end. Oh God. She craved his touch, wanted more, wanted to stay like this a good
long time.
His masterful kiss did that to her.
They were molded together, lip-locked and fully engaged. She felt his shaft, thick and hard, pressing against her. It didn’t surprise her to feel it, but what did surprise her was her total acceptance of the situation.
She sighed deeply, majorly turned on but confused all the same.
“Don’t think,” Mason whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “I’m not.”
He nipped at her lower lip and then drove his tongue into her mouth again.
I’m not thinking. I’m not thinking.
When the kiss finally ended, Mason’s dark eyes probed hers. He reached out to touch the side of her face, his fingers a gentle caress on her cheek. “Thank you,” he said softly.
She blinked. Instead of saying that was amazing, or you’re beautiful or wow, Mason was thanking her?
And then it hit her like a ton of bricks. She made him feel “alive.” He’d already admitted she’d been the only woman to make him feel that way. So far.
She could turn him on. Make him hard. Get his juices flowing.
Yet she couldn’t help feeling used. Slightly. It pissed her off a bit.
She didn’t want to be Mason’s test kitchen.
She didn’t want to be Mason’s anything.
His phone alarm buzzed and he reached into his pocket and pushed a button on his cell to shut it off. “It’s time to go. There could be traffic.”
She nodded, speechless, and when he grabbed for her hand, she pretended not to see it and jogged up to the house. Once she was on the veranda, she turned to him as he approached the steps.
“Just so you know, thanking me wasn’t necessary. You’re a good kisser, Mason. And like I’ve said before, it’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed.”
His eyes narrowed. She whirled around before she had to acknowledge the deep frown surfacing on his face.
It was definitely safer to harbor resentment for Mason.
But it sure wasn’t as easy as it had once been.
* * *
Electricity charged the air at the Hollywood Bowl that night. The iconic outdoor stadium in the Hollywood Hills held a huge crowd of country music fans. A person might think she was back in Texas for all the cowboy hats, silver belt buckles and snakeskin boots filling the arena. Drea’s sour mood lifted the second she entered the place and they were shown to their center stage seats. She had to hand it to Mr. Nesbitt.
They’d arrived just in time to see The Band Blue walk onstage amid a roar of cheers. To be the opening act at the Hollywood Bowl was huge. Landing a commitment from the band would almost surely guarantee the fund-raiser’s success. She understood that Nesbitt was just doing his job; she understood his hesitation. From this point on, their careers depended on visibility. Drea just had to make sure Nesbitt would see it her way. At least she had Sean Manfred, the lead vocalist, in her corner. The kid had an amazing voice.
During the performance, she found Mason’s eyes on her. Too often. It was as if he was puzzling her out. But her puzzle pieces didn’t fit with his and it was time she made that clear to him.
No more hand holding. No more kisses. No more intimate conversations.
Business with Mason.
She sat with her hands in her lap, swaying to the music and applauding when the songs ended. The Band Blue drew a noisy crowd bordering on rowdy. But it was all in good fun and she found herself really enjoying the music.
Thirty minutes in, Sean angled his guitar to his side and spoke into the mic. “Thank y’all for coming. The band and I, well, we sure do appreciate your support.”
“We love you,” a woman shouted from behind Drea.
Sean chuckled. “We love you guys, too. And now, if you’re ready, we’re gonna end our night with a song I think you’ll recognize. Recently, my mama took sick with her heart, but she’s one of the lucky ones. She survived.”
Drea drew a deep breath. Mason glanced at her, his eyes soft, and for a second—okay maybe more than a second—she connected with him emotionally.
Sean went on. “So tonight I’m dedicating this here song to my mama. Love you, Bethy Manfred,” he said. The crowd shouted words of support and adoration, and then quieted as the band began to play.
When the sweet love ballad called “Your Heart Is Mine” was over, Sean thanked the crowd again before the lights dimmed and the band walked off.
“Time to get backstage,” Mason said.
Drea rose and Mason ushered her down the aisle and over to the backstage door. They showed their VIP passes and were immediately let into a special room. A buffet table lined one wall and they were told to help themselves. Drea grabbed a bottle of water and took occasional sips.
Finally, the band entered the room, led by a guy who couldn’t have been more than thirty years old. He actually looked like he belonged in the band, with his wispy blond hair and casual dress. He took a look at Drea and Mason, then immediately walked over, while the band members hit the refreshment table. “I’m Alan Nesbitt,” he said, no smile, all business.
“I’m Drea Macdonald.”
“Mason Boone.” The two men shook hands.
“The show was spectacular,” she said.
Alan shook his head. “It’s always a challenge with outdoor acoustics, but yeah, the boys did real good. Would you like to sit down?” He gestured to a group of tables. “We have a bit of time before they go on for an encore performance with Rusty Bonner.”
The conversation was stilted and one-sided, and Alan didn’t seem to want to make any allowances. He called the band a hot property and said that right now they needed to keep their options open.
“I understand all that,” Drea said. “But what if we promised you they’d get a ton of exposure? And don’t forget the goodwill this charity would invoke.”
“Listen, I’m not hard-hearted, but there are costs involved. We’d need a place to stay, since traveling with a band is expensive. These boys have played for pennies, and now’s their big chance. We’re just gaining momentum.”
“Okay, so you’d need a place to stay and travel expenses.” She glanced at Mason and he nodded. “Got that covered. What else?”
“We need maximum exposure. This is a small-ass town, right? Who’s gonna see them perform?”
“We can accommodate about five hundred people on the grounds.”
“Did you see the size of the Bowl? Try five thousand for starters.”
“Yeah, but Boone County is full of larger-than-life Texas donors. These are people who have connections all over the globe. Isn’t it all about networking?”
Alan’s brows lifted. “Keep talking.”
“This fund-raiser is a big deal for the community. There’d be a lot of local news coverage.”
“Understood.”
“So what if we auctioned off one of the band members for a date with a fan? We could start promoting it now, and by the time the event rolled around, you’d have a ton of exposure, and the fund-raiser would get an added boost, as well.”
“I’m volunteering to do it,” Sean said, walking over to the table. “I think it’s a great idea. And... I’m single at the moment.” A crooked grin spread across his face. He was probably twenty at best.
He put out his hand to Mason first. “Hi, I’m Sean.” They shook and then he turned to her. “You must be Drea MacDonald. Nice meeting you in person, ma’am.”
Drea smiled. “Same here.”
“Yeah, uh, I’m sorry about what happened to your mom, Miss MacDonald. Losing her like you did must’ve been very hard.”
“It was. Still is,” she said honestly.
“I like the date idea,” Alan said quietly, considering it. “It’s a good marketing ploy.”
“If you agree, I promise no one will work harder to get the coverage you want than I will,” Drea declar
ed. “I’ll write up a press release tomorrow.”
“I’d like to help your cause.” Sean looked at his agent. “I’ve been telling Alan that we should do this. It’s important. Chances are my mother wouldn’t be here today if she hadn’t had excellent cardiac care. I spent a lot of time in the hospital chapel praying for her recovery. I think this is a way I can give back and make good on the promises I made that day.”
If Drea had liked this young man before, now she adored him. “Thank you, Sean. And it is important.” She glanced at Mason. “Many of us have lost loved ones.”
Mason’s expression softened, his gaze touching hers. She hated the effect he had on her. Tonight she wanted no distractions.
“My family owns a hotel in Boone Springs,” Mason said to Alan. “We’d be happy to put you all up. And I can make sure the company plane is available to fly the band in.”
Alan Nesbitt’s expression changed, his skepticism replaced with consideration. She’d done all she could to address his main concerns, and luckily, the group had that weekend free. This might work out, after all.
The rest of the band members walked over and stood around the table. “It’s a good gig,” the drummer said. “I’m in.”
The others nodded.
“We’ve got the details covered,” Drea said. “Now we just need an agreement. And I happen to have something written up here in my briefcase.”
* * *
Drea felt as if she was floating on air, spreading her arms like wings and gliding through the parking lot. She’d signed the deal with the band. “Can you believe it?”
Mason grinned. “You were amazing in there. You had a comeback for every single one of Nesbitt’s demands. I’m impressed.”
“Now we can go back to Texas with clear heads.”
“Yeah, we can.” Mason glanced at his watch. “But not tonight.”
“What?” Drea stopped in her tracks.
“I told my pilot if we didn’t need him by 10:00 p.m. to go to bed and rest up. It’s only fair. We’ll have to take off in the morning.”
Texan for the Taking Page 6