by Carol Caiton
"How long have you known the Oslunds?" he asked instead.
The cop smiled. "Since the twins were eight years old. Third grade."
"Well I'll tell you straight out that legally, if she applies for membership to RUSH, there's nothing I can do to stop the process. But if she has issues, it'll show up. She won't make it past the application phase, if that's what's bothering you. The women at RUSH are well-balanced and healthy," he said. "It's not an outlet for victims of abuse—any sort of abuse. And before you start an argument, the same standards hold true for our male clients. Yes, we stand in support of bondage and yes, there can be some pretty extreme methods of pleasure-seeking. But the screening process is thorough. We're careful. Very careful. Because we have to be."
Nathan finished off his bottle of beer then studied Mason thoughtfully. "And what about you?" he asked. "You think you're gonna tie my sister up and have some kinky sex?"
Jill had joined Ali and Rachel at the picnic table and, standing side by side, the twins made a fascinating picture. But Joshua still held onto Ali and apparently she was fine with that.
"My sexual practices," Mason told her brother, "are none of your business. But I have a five-year-old son whose mother died three months after giving birth. I decided RUSH was both a sound investment opportunity and an efficient way to circumvent a string of women trailing through his life."
The cop gave him a considering look. Then he nodded. "Fair enough."
* * *
"So," Rachel mused, watching the two men deep in conversation, "they just met one another. What do you think they're talking about so intently?"
Ali shrugged a shoulder. "Guy stuff. Right, Joshua?"
"Yep. Guy stuff."
"Law," Jill inserted. "Nathan's a cop and Mason's a lawyer. It probably has something to do with law."
"I don't know about that," Ali responded. "Luke said his brother works in corporate law, right Jill?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Well, corporate law and criminal law are completely different animals." She looked to Joshua. "Do you know the name of the place where your daddy works?"
His face brightened. "Yep. Hurry Up."
"What, honey?"
"Hurry Up. Daddy works at Hurry Up."
Rachel, Ali, and Jill stared at one another. Jill shrugged. "It's probably one of those big parent corporations with tons of subsidiary companies."
* * *
Joshua wriggled off the picnic bench, slid under the table, then surfaced again on the other side and raced over to where Ali sat.
"Hi there." She gave him a bright smile.
"Can we go see your Boltswagen now?"
Ali laughed. "Let's check with your dad." She looked across the table where Mason sat watching them. He smiled and nodded.
"Well, your dad says it okay." She held out her hand.
Joshua jumped backward, then forward before sliding his hand into hers. "I already knowed that."
"You did, huh?"
"Yep. He made me eat five hot dogs before he let me come get you."
"Five hot dogs?" She started laughing. Looking over at his father, she saw Mason laughing, as well.
"Yep. Five." Joshua tugged on her hand, swinging it back and forth.
"Don't you mean five pieces of hot dog?"
"Yep. That's how old I am. Five."
He pulled his toy Volkswagen out of his pocket as they walked through the house. Ali dug inside her purse for her keys, then the boy tugged her along the sidewalk.
"Oh, boy!" he called out when he was able to see the orange and gold flames licking along the side of her little car. "Fire!" he squealed, skipping over to follow the line of flames with his fingers and holding up his toy car to compare whatever it was he thought he should compare.
Ten minutes later, after he'd thoroughly examined the graphics, the wheels, and was climbing around the interior, Mason joined them. "Do you need to be rescued?"
She brushed her hair over her shoulder and smiled up at him. "No. He's great."
"I think so." He paused. "What is Ali short for?"
"Alison. Alison Juliana, I was named after my mother's mother and her mother." She grinned. "She—my mother—called me by all seven syllables, but my father and Nathan shortened it to Ali."
"I can see the logic in that."
"It's a mouthful, isn't it?"
He nodded toward his son who was fingering the strands of Mardis Gras beads hanging from the rearview mirror. "You're good with him."
"Thanks. I'd say it goes with the job, but it's the other way around." She shrugged. "I like kids."
"What's the job?"
"I'm a teacher. First grade."
Joshua leaned halfway out the open passenger door. "I know all my letters," he declared, showing that he'd been listening.
"That's pretty good for five years old."
"Daddy showed me on his computer."
"Well I'm impressed."
"Yep. And I have an e-mail number, too."
"An e-mail address," Mason corrected.
"Yep. And I get e-mails from Uncle Luke and from my book club."
"Now I'm really impressed."
Joshua bounced down onto the front passenger seat. "Do you have an e-mail number?"
"I sure do."
"If you tell my daddy what it is I can send you some e-mails."
She looked up at Mason.
Chuckling, he removed a cell phone from its case on his belt. "What can I say? He's a fast worker."
Ali smiled and gave him her Internet address.
"Will you send e-mails back to me?"
"Yes, I will."
"Okay."
His dark head popped back inside the car and he climbed into the back, maneuvering his toy car along the top edge of the seat.
"I'm taking Joshua out boating on Lake Butler tomorrow. Would you like to come with us?"
The question took her by surprise. Mason watched her, waiting for a response, and it occurred to her that this was more than a friendly invitation to spend the day out on a lake. She saw it in his eyes—an alert intensity. Mason Ingersol was asking if she was interested in being part of an intimate family outing. He wanted to know if she'd consider becoming involved with a man who was somewhat older than she, along with his five-year-old child.
She felt pleasure at the compliment. But she had to keep this in perspective. Yes, she found him attractive . . . the moment she'd seen him on the other side of the front door, she'd thought he was more attractive than his brother. As well, she enjoyed watching him interact with his son. Joshua was well-behaved in a way many parents didn't have time to nurture. But was she ready for this? Did she want to become involved with someone who had a child? She turned to look at his son, still preoccupied with steering his toy car along the upper edge of the back seat, his dark hair and blue eyes so much like his father's. And what if her relationship with Mason grew serious?
Mason had undoubtedly asked himself the same question and she supposed he'd seen enough, gleaned enough about her to take that chance.
Turning back to the father, she met his eyes. "I'm seeing someone right now," she told him. "But it's not serious, and if you ask me again the next time you go out, I'll say yes."
Slowly, visibly, the same emotion that warmed his eyes when he looked at his son now included her. A half smile curved his mouth and heavens, but her heart began to melt.
How old was he? Luke was thirty and the younger of the two. She was twenty-three and the life experience in Mason's eyes told her she was probably in over her head.
"All right, Ali," he said, and his tone of voice was deeper, softer. "Expect my call in a week."
Time seemed suspended as he held her gaze with his. She became aware of his height, aware of the way his shirt clung to broad shoulders, aware of his air of authority.
Then he broke their private interlude and stepped toward the car. Bracing a hand on the roof, he leaned down and stuck his head inside. "Time's up, Josh. Mrs. Oslund
is ready to serve dessert."
Ali's heart thumped in her chest.
"Yaaay! Is it chocolate cake?"
* * *
Mason slid a stack of file folders to the side of his desk, leaned back in his chair, and let his thoughts drift back to the weekend, specifically to Alison Brosig. He wondered if she'd broken things off with the man she was seeing.
He was drawn to her friendly nature, and his son wasn't the only male fascinated by that streak of blonde in her hair. It was her honesty, however, that had hooked him. She'd been up front about her involvement with the man her brother had mentioned. Without giving any details, she explained the uncomplicated nature of that relationship, but it was her refusal to become involved with him until she ended it that changed everything.
His own reason for inviting her to spend the day out on the lake hadn't been as up front. Admittedly he liked what he'd seen. And her comfortable interaction with Joshua was important. Still, he'd wanted to prove her brother wrong equally as much as he would have enjoyed those hours alone with her.
All of that changed, however, when he watched her weigh the potential impact she might have on Joshua and his on her. She'd asked herself some damned important questions, then she'd turned him down in order to end one relationship before starting another. A man with a child took note of a woman with ethics like that, particularly if he was looking to become involved.
He hadn't been. Not yet. He figured an afternoon spent in close proximity would be enough to determine where a relationship with her might lead. But that had changed, as well. Now, he couldn't care less about the brother. He wanted the woman.
But she was young. Very young. Twenty-three to his thirty-four years. Maryann had been his own age. They'd worked together on a case, become attracted to one another, and she too had been honest and up front. She hadn't wanted to become involved if it wasn't going to be serious. Her biological clock was ticking and she wanted children.
He smiled with the memory. Up front in a big way. But he'd fallen for her. Attractive and professional, she'd had a quirky sense of humor. And as corporate attorneys, they'd had a lot in common. Two months after he asked her out, he'd married her, and a year after that, Joshua had been born.
But life dealt out hardship as easily as it did happiness and the hardship that struck Maryann was an airplane that crashed en route to a seminar. Mason had suddenly been left with an infant son and the joint role of parenthood. It was one of the few times in his life when he'd known a deep sense of inadequacy. But he'd been gazing at his son one morning and blue eyes the exact color of his own had stared back at him, curiously solemn. Something had passed between them during those few seconds. It was something Mason had never experienced before or since. And from that moment Joshua became the center of his life.
Leaning forward he picked up his pen, then sat back again and rolled it absently between thumb and forefinger. He and Maryann had been good together. But they'd only known one another a short time. Five years later, looking back on that time, the memories were pleasant, but little more. And now, for the first time since her death, he was attracted to someone beyond the physical. Strongly attracted. He'd spent the rest of his time at the Oslund's home watching Ali interact with his son, with Jill, and with the rest of the Oslund family. The parents treated her like a third daughter, but she'd been friends with the twins since childhood. Which meant she'd been part of their lives when Rachel was attacked. He wondered how that had impacted her. How would the brutal rape of a close friend affect a twelve-year-old girl?
Tossing his pen onto the desk, he reached for his cell. He needed to get in touch with his brother, tell him to delay talking to Jill about RUSH. He wanted time with Ali first, a few weeks for her to get to know him. And then, he wanted to be the person to tell her about RUSH. He didn't want her jumping to the same wild conclusions her brother had and—
His secretary buzzed as he was about to press Luke's speed-dial number. Reaching for the landline instead, he said, "Yes, Lois?"
"Mason, I have a Rachel Oslund on hold. Are you free?"
For a couple of seconds he froze where he sat.
Rachel had phoned him here at RUSH.
He was too late.
He'd left it too long.
CHAPTER 11
After sleeping away the afternoon and most of the evening, Nina was rested, hungry, and curious. She'd never been inside RUSH after dark and it was Saturday night, probably the busiest night of the week.
She slipped out of her apartment and glanced at her watch. Ten o'clock. She'd slept away twelve hours. No wonder she felt better.
The corridor was deserted and the sconce lights had been dimmed to cast a warm glow. She rode the elevator down to the lobby and found it deserted as well, except for a different residence attendant behind the reception desk.
She took a few minutes to introduce herself and exchange polite conversation, then headed for the exit. There was no biometric scanner on this side of the doors. So she reached for the polished brass handle, depressed the thumbpiece, and stepped outside.
Colored floodlights positioned amid the shrubbery lit the jungle and its meandering path with soft, inviting color. Enchanted, she crossed the veranda and started down the winding walkway.
Three separate gates led into and out of the R-link complex. The north gate led to Checkpoint 2 and its parking garage, the south gate to the training center, and the central gate led back out to the main promenade.
Goose bumps stood out along her arms by the time she reached the central gate. Without the warmth of the sun, the night air was chilly, almost brisk. When she looked to the other side of the gate, however, she was glad her sweatshirt had still been too wet to wear.
Keeping to the shadows, she watched the stylishly dressed women who passed, some wearing outlandishly revealing ensembles and exotic demi-masks that hid their identities. She needed new clothes. Part of her membership package supposedly included a wardrobe designed specifically for R-links. She'd been thoroughly measured after her final breast injections, but she had no idea what that wardrobe would include or if any of it would be appropriate to wear outside a bedroom. She hated to spend the extra money, but she couldn't walk amidst all those fabulous costumes dressed in T-shirts and sneakers.
Making her way back through the jungle, she approached the north gate. Hidden from the main walkway, she pressed her hand to the scanner in the wall, waited for the gate to slide open, then hurried to the checkpoint. She'd planned to eat something at the food court, but decided on a fast-food restaurant instead.
At the front desk she asked about the tunnels so she could carry her things back unseen. The guard behind the counter confirmed her identity, then gave her a map. Another guard rode the elevator down with her and pointed out the various signs that directed the way to the food court, the administrative building, and back to the R-link complex. Standing on the wide pavement that bordered the roadway, she was surprised by the freshness of the air. Since the tunnels were used for deliveries, she'd expected a strong odor of exhaust. They rode the elevator back up to the checkpoint and a few minutes later she was inside her car.
At Wal-Mart she spent more than she'd planned, but it took surprisingly little time to transfer all the bags in her car to her new apartment. She arranged her clothes, including the new ones she'd bought, inside the walk-in closet and stared at the pitiful few belongings she owned. They hadn't filled even one row of drawers.
Wide awake at one in the morning she took a shower, toweled off, then put on her faded nightgown. She probably should have bought a new one, but a nightgown was a luxury, not a necessity. It would have to wait.
Her bare feet sank into the carpet when she walked back out to the living room. She studied the controls on the television remote, turned it on for company, then gathered together the instruction manuals for the various components and carried them over to the breakfast bar.
At three o'clock she took herself off to bed. But she woke again at six th
irty. So she freshened up and dressed in a new pair of jeans and the eyelet lace top she'd found on sale.
Turning on the television, she used up half an hour surfing the channels. Apparently she had a comprehensive cable package, including all the pay stations. She'd enjoy that.
At seven thirty she decided it was late enough to venture out. She slid her arms into a white sweater she wouldn't have purchased if she'd thought to bring a jacket from home, slipped her feet into a new pair of sandals, and let herself out of the apartment. Her feet would probably get cold, but she refused to wear her old sneakers again. When she exited the elevator, she smiled at the soft, pleasant scuff her sandals made on the marble floor.
The colored floodlights were still on outside, but the sun was rising now and the effect wasn't as pronounced. Instead, a different sort of enchantment surrounded her as she stepped off the veranda. A light, misty fog had settled in pockets along the path. It drifted through the courtyard and hung suspended over one of the short wrought-iron gates that led to a meditation alcove, shrouding it in mystery.
The glossy pamphlet Stephanie had given her included a detailed overview of the R-link complex. Various footpaths wound this way and that, intersected one another, and formed a sort of web. Exploring, she turned onto the next one that branched off to her left and wandered through the mist. She became so absorbed, she forgot to keep track of where she was on the map. Sooner or later though, she'd end up somewhere familiar, so she wasn't concerned.
Closing the pamphlet, she approached one of the open gates and walked inside to investigate. A small, inviting retreat lay beyond, surrounded by a circle of flowering hedges. In the center was a small clearing for a single mat and directly opposite the entrance, a stream of water trickled down the face of a simple sheet of slate. She stood for a short time, appreciating the serenity, then returned to the path, intent on checking out all the other gates.
Each small recess was different, secluded and created for silent introspection, quiet meditation, or just communing with nature. She wished she'd brought her sketchbook along. Her artistic strength lent itself to portraiture. For some reason, capturing a person's character and emotion on paper came naturally to her. But to capture the character and emotion of nature, attempting to transfer all that beauty into something she could experience through her fingers and put on paper, made her ache inside for a deeper talent she knew she didn't have. RUSH, however was turning out to be an endless source of inspiration and she was willing to take on the challenge.