by T. A. Foster
She reached for Grey’s hand. He looked ready to get out of Pete’s Bar.
“See you around, Uncle.” He patted Mason on the back.
“That’s right. I’ll catch you two later.”
“You’re not leaving Padre right away are you?” Eden asked.
“No, I’ve got enough to keep me busy here for a while.”
“Good.” She grinned. “Bye, Sydney.”
He waited until they had left before he spoke. “So, what do you think about a round of shots?” He waved the waitress toward us.
I tried to protest while he ordered a top shelf tequila.
“I-I-we still have the interview. I can’t do shots.”
“Sure you can. I insist.” He placed the glass in front of me, brimming with tequila. “One round.”
“Only one.” I held up my finger.
He laughed at the face I made when I swallowed the shot. “That’s good stuff. What a face. It’s not like I made you drink vegetable oil.”
The tequila warmed me from the inside out. I was hot enough already after trying to stay out of the sun, chasing Mason Lachlan around, and now in dangerous territory with a professional flirt.
I tossed the lime on a napkin. I wasn’t sure if it made the tequila better or worse.
“Ahh, this is nice, isn’t it?” His eyes were focused on the horizon. Sailboats glided past us. Their lights brighter now that the sun had dipped below Port Isabel.
“It is. Do you spend a lot of time here?”
“I split my time between all of my assets. I’m based out of Dallas though.”
“And what do you do when you’re in South Padre?” I was certain the tequila had reached all the way down to my toes. Everything felt tingly.
“A little bit of this. A little business.”
“And which do you prefer?” The stubble along his chin darkened under the sunset shadow. It gave him a rough and athletic look. A twist after seeing him polished and professional all day.
“It sounds like you’re trying to interview me.” His gaze moved from the sailboat to me, and my breath caught in the back of my throat.
“I’m only trying to have a conversation. How do I do that without asking questions?”
“How about I ask the questions?” When he smiled like that I could see the straight lines of his teeth.
I laughed. “You want to interview me?”
He shrugged. “Until it’s your turn.”
The way my cheeks flushed was involuntary. I didn’t know how he did that. Everything he said was dripping with sex, without even mentioning it. I pressed my knees together.
“Ok. Let’s test your reporter skills. What would you like to know?”
He ordered another round, and I waited for his first question.
“Why would a pretty girl from Longmire drive all the way to this island for a job at an online business journal?”
It was the way he said pretty that made me smile. It was the second time he had mentioned it today. “That’s an easy one. I already told you. I needed a job.”
“Hmm. I think there must be more to it than that, Miss Paige. How about this one? Was there a guy involved?”
I tipped back the second shot of tequila. This one went down smoothly and I knew why Mason liked it. “You think I moved here for a guy?”
“It would make sense. What’s down here for someone like you?”
I didn’t know whether to be insulted or complimented. “I told you I moved for the job. It’s not really the time to be picky in the job market, especially for someone who just graduated. And no, there was no guy.”
“Was there a guy in Virginia?”
I shook my head. “Not for awhile. We broke up before the holidays.”
“Was it serious?” His eyes gazed heavily on my lips, and I couldn’t resist drawing my lower lip against my teeth.
“Depends on how you define serious, I guess. We didn’t date very long if that’s what you’re asking.” I didn’t know why I was even answering these questions. It was as if the tequila was some kind of weird truth serum.
He grinned. “So you didn’t move here for a guy, and you didn’t leave one back home?”
I shook my head. My chest rose with deep breaths. “No,” I whispered.
“Sounds like you are unattached.”
I didn’t know if it mattered to him what my answer was, but I nodded. “Completely single.”
“I guess that makes two of us.” He grinned, and somehow I felt as if I had just told a wolf my secret hiding spot.
I didn’t know much about his personal life. He didn’t grant interviews so what I found online were gossip articles and the occasional picture from a groundbreaking. He had no social media accounts, which I guess made sense. He obviously worked hard to keep a low profile. He was busy taking over the world, not adding friend requests.
But there were rumors—plenty of rumors. He was a womanizer. A fun-loving, perpetual player who never got close to settling down.
I wanted to ask him about the women in his life, but it wasn’t my turn. I’d have to wait.
“I was wondering if you’d like to see where I live when I’m visiting Padre.” His eyes had turned playful. “Maybe you could add it to the interview.”
“Your place?” I wasn’t entirely sure my voice hadn’t cracked.
“Mmm-hmm. Come on.” He stood from the table, waiting for me to join him.
I felt the sweet hum of the drinks circle my veins when I met him. “I don’t know that I should drive.” I looked up at him, suddenly aware at just how broad his shoulders were.
“That’s ok, Miss Paige. I live right across the street. We can walk.” I didn’t expect him to take my hand. It fit over mine, warm, smooth, and strong. I exhaled as he tugged me through the bar.
We emerged in the parking lot of Pete’s. He pointed. “I live right over there.”
Of course. I had forgotten the Palm Palace was practically next door. I followed him across the street, his grip against my palm firm and reassuring. The tequila was working through me with electric magic.
I could hear the waves crashing against the sand as we walked closer. Mason’s condo was the last one in the row and the closest to the beach. We climbed the stairs and I could make out the surf pounding the shore while he punched in the combination on the lock.
“Why do you have a combination lock?” I asked.
“This unit is for sale.” He opened the door for me. “Although, after today it looks like I’m going to be spending more time here so I might need to find a new place to live.”
I took in the condo. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of something personal. Something that would tell me more about him. But it was a perfect model unit. Nothing was out of place. The only thing that looked like it belonged to Mason was the laptop glowing on the glass dining table. There was a short pile of folders stacked next to it.
“Nice.” I admired the furnishings.
“Eden did the decorating. But check this out.” He pulled me toward the balcony. “You can see the entire beach from here.”
I leaned over the railing. He was right. On the right the famous South Padre hotels jutted out over the beach. On the left were a few cottages before the park began.
“It’s beautiful here. Why don’t you keep it?”
He had that faraway look again. “Nah. I’m not meant to stay here. I’m here for business. Besides, this is the most expensive unit on the entire property.”
“But you have family here. You could keep it.”
He turned toward me, and I felt the heat of his stare burn against my lips. I took a slow step back, feeling the wall block my movements.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Mason’s eyes locked on me and all I could think about was being kissed by him. I ran my tongue over my lips, wetting them slightly, anticipating the move he was about to make.
He took a step closer, and I felt my heart hit the back of my ribs, it was pounding so strongly. He was sexy
as hell. He was smart. Conniving. Powerful and controlling. And if he didn’t kiss me there was a chance I would never recover.
His hands cradled my face, and I tilted toward him as his lips lingered against my mouth. I wrapped my hands around his neck, pressing him closer, urgently, forcefully. The kiss was reckless and breathless as our mouths devoured each other with hungry strokes. I eased into his hands as they coasted down my shoulders and entwined at the small of my back. He slowly worked my shirt from my skirt, sliding his hands along my skin, moving in luxurious circles.
I felt the cotton flutter over my skin as the wind danced off the ocean.
I tasted his lips and his tongue, deepening the kiss with each inhale. The tequila was sweet on his breath. His teeth grazed over my bottom lip and I gasped. His hands had worked up my back and landed on the clasp of my bra.
The air around us was salty and heavy from the sea, but it hummed from the warmth building under our skin. A curious kiss had turned into an electric current that was firing so rapidly I wasn’t thinking anymore. All I knew to do was to give my body over to Mason Lachlan as he began to unbutton the front of my blouse. His head dipped to kiss below my throat, and he carefully moved the shirt off one shoulder and then the other. His movements were deliberate—intentional in how he wanted to touch me.
My heart beat rapidly against my chest. I stood while he slid the bra off my arms and tossed it on the chair.
The blue eyes, now dark on the balcony, drank in my skin. The look he gave me sent shivers along my arms and between my legs. God, he had to know what he was doing.
He was silent as he bent to kiss my neck and collarbone. My head reeled back at the sensation. His tongue was hot and lethal. I gasped when it flicked over my breast. He looked up at me, smiling wickedly. His mouth covered my nipple and I groaned as he sucked and grazed his teeth against the tender skin. He held me against the wall, exploring my flesh, kissing me, until my knees were trembling with want and weakness.
The sound of the waves echoed off the walls, and I immediately braced myself when I felt his hands wrap around me and lift me from the floor. He settled me on one of the chaise lounges. I hadn’t noticed them when we first stepped on the balcony, but there were two side by side. He worked the button on my skirt and began to shimmy it over my hips. It was enough to jar me back to reality.
“Wait,” I breathed.
He tossed the skirt on a table. “What is it?” He kissed behind my ear as he lowered his body against mine. He was warm.
“The interview. You promised me an interview tonight.” I tried to steady my voice. Nothing in me was calm. Every part was raging to touch him.
His fingers inched over my hips and were roaming the inside of my thigh. I tried to read his expression in the dark.
He sat forward and I helped him with the buttons on his shirt. My body was reacting one way, while my mind was trying to latch onto the idea that I still had work to do. I traced the lines of his chest, taking in the way his body was sculpted and athletic. There were ridges under his ribs, and his muscles flexed along his torso. God, he was sexy.
“Interview?” His mouth was on mine again and I settled against the chaise.
I nodded, although not convincingly. There was a heat burning between my legs which was taking over all rational thought. Logic was drowning and sinking helplessly against his skilled hands. I started to rock lightly as his fingers moved closer.
“Yes.” I tried to still my hips. “I have a deadline.”
“Go ahead.” He hooked the edge of my panties on his thumb and was working them down my thighs. His eyes unyielding. “Ask me a question,” he dared.
“I can’t interview you like this.” I tried to sit forward, but realized I made it that much easier for him to finish his task. I was completely naked.
“Why not?” His hand ran along my ankle, crossing over my knee until he had pressed my thigh to the side.
I groaned as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of my leg, sending pulses to my core.
“Afraid you can’t concentrate?” He bent to blow air across my breast. It was delicious torture the way he kissed me before moving on to the next part of my body. It made the tightening feeling in my stomach lurch with pleasure. Too much pleasure.
I reached for the buckle on his pants. To hell with concentration. I needed this man. He was driving me wild, teasing and toying with me.
“I don’t want to concentrate,” I whispered. I slid the leather belt from the loops, and freed him from his slacks. I watched in awe as he shed his boxer briefs on the deck floor.
This was a man who could have been sculpted from a block of stone. I stared in disbelief at the symmetry of his body. My palms pressed against the flesh over his heart. He was warm and solid.
“Good.” He settled between my legs, kissing me tenderly. “Because this is all I can think about.”
His tongue parted my lips and I greedily sucked and kissed him, desperate to stop the burning that was raging through my body. It had built to a peak that was so consuming I thought the pain would start to rip me apart if he didn’t fill me. I pressed my nails deep into his back, urging him to take me.
He hovered over me, his eyes piercing even in the dark. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
I wrapped one leg against his waist, pushing him toward me. I arched forward ready to take him, needing to feel him, wanting him to rock my body into total oblivion.
He held strong against my efforts. I searched his eyes. “Is something wrong?” I asked completely breathy.
He rested on his palms. His movements slowed.
He sat back on his heels. He shook his head, running in hands through his hair. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I think I let things get too carried away.” He reached for his boxer briefs and stood to pull them on over his toned legs.
“Carried away?” It sounded accusatory and slightly whiny. I sat forward, realizing none of my clothes were in arm’s reach. I was naked on display on the balcony. I tucked my knees to my chin, unable to look at him.
He dropped my clothes in a pile at the end of the chair. “Yeah. We have an interview to do. I’m sorry. Get dressed and meet me inside.”
Before I could protest or wallow in my utter humiliation, he walked inside the condo, sliding the glass door behind him.
What the fuck just happened? I walked into the bedroom and grabbed a T-shirt from the top dresser drawer. I pulled a pair of running shorts on and headed for the bathroom. I splashed my face with cold water, knowing full well I needed to soak in a damn ice bath after what almost happened on the balcony. What was I thinking?
I paced, running my hands through my hair. She was sexy, gorgeous, smart as hell and somehow I had forgotten she was a reporter.
I felt my body go rigid thinking about what a disaster it could have been. I almost fucked the girl on my balcony. I shouldn’t be surprised. She was after something no one had ever gotten.
Too many drinks, I cursed, although I knew I wasn’t drunk. Far from it.
I dried my face then waited for her in the living room. After a few minutes the door opened and she walked in. Her shirt was tucked in, her skirt back in its proper place. It was almost as if it had never happened. The only problem was I wasn’t going to be able to forget it.
“Sorry about that.” I cleared my throat. “I realized it’s late and you have a deadline. I apologize, Miss Paige.” Using her last name reminded me this was supposed to be a professional exchange.
Her eyes focused on the floor. “Thanks for being so concerned.” The sarcastic tone was tinted with something soft.
My chest tightened.
I had screwed this up. Whether she wanted to have sex or not, it didn’t matter. I slept with a lot of women, but not ones who could cause problems for my company. And a business beat reporter could do just that. Only I hadn’t made all of that clear to her.
I should have stuck with my gut instincts and left her the hell alone, but I was feeling cocky from the deal and
too many drinks. Shove a gorgeous woman in my hands, and there was only one way I was going to react. I wanted to kick myself for thinking it was ok to take her home. For thinking I could ignore who she was.
I stood and walked into the kitchen. Eden had set me up with one of her fancy one-cup coffee dispensers. I threw in a dark roast, made the first cup and then a second. I walked back toward Sydney and handed her one of the mugs.
“Here you go. Drink this. It might be a late night.”
She took the mug. “Thank you.”
“So, where do you want to start?”
She scooted back on the couch when I sat close to her. I couldn’t blame her. I had confused the hell out of both of us. But, no harm done. I stopped it before it happened. I would honor the promise I made to her and then this would be over. No need to see Sydney Paige again.
“I-I need to get my notes.” She placed her coffee on the table and walked to the door where she had left her bag. She walked back through the room, flipping a few pages in the tablet. I waited for her to get comfortable on the couch.
God, I needed that cold shower. Watching her hair fall against her cheek, all I wanted to do was pull her under me and start over where we stopped. I could yank her off this couch and carry her to my bed right now. Screw the interview. Screw my rules.
“How old were you when you sold your first property?” she asked.
I shook my head. The question jolted me back to reality.
“I was twenty-two.” I drank the coffee. I needed to kill the buzz her lips had created. She had tasted like the sun. Her skin was like warm honey under my fingertips. And her breasts were gorgeous. I had to stop thinking about her body.
“And was that one in Dallas?”
I nodded. “Yes. It was a warehouse that I converted into apartments.” I smiled. It was my first deal, and even though I didn’t walk away with much money, I walked away with enough to buy two more tracts of land. It was the start of everything for me. This was good. Talking about business kept my mind off the sweetness of her thighs.
“And why do you think you became interested in land acquisition and development?” She hadn’t lifted her eyes off the page.
I could give her the real answer or the canned speech that the public relations department liked to distribute.