False Hope (McKay-Tucker Men Book 2)

by Marianne Rice

  She watched him focus on his reps, keeping perfect form. Toward the end of the last set, small beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead and above his lip.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He waited until he finished his final set before speaking. “Fine.”

  Exasperated, Emma sighed. “Mason, geesh, can you say any more than fine? Obviously you’re feeling something.” He remained stoic. “All right, up then. On to the next exercise.” She worked him slowly, unable to gauge his level of discomfort. After thirty minutes of slow movements, she knew he had enough. His poker face started to lose its effectiveness, slowly showing signs of pain.

  “That’s all for today. I want you to keep your left hand in view at all times. If your hand is outside your line of vision, you’re moving it too high or too far back and that can seriously damage your rotator cuff. No heavy lifting either.”

  She led him to the front office and scrolled through the computer to Friday’s schedule. “I have an opening at ten, or you can come after we close at noon.”

  “Noon works.”

  “Do you need an appointment card?”

  “No.”

  “Okay then. Bring your swimming trunks. I want to do some pool therapy.”

  “What?” Finally. The first emotion she saw all day. He seemed completely repelled by the thought, and she had to laugh.

  “What, can’t swim? Don’t worry. It’s a shallow pool. You can borrow Tucker’s water wings if you’re scared.”

  “I can swim.” Mason pulled his keys out of his pocket and left.

  Holy crap. Mr. Personality is a tough nut to crack. But I’ll work him on Friday.

  The next three days dragged. Literally. Her skeletal schedule didn’t help keep Emma’s mind off the irritating man who kept creeping into her thoughts. Nothing about him allured her, other than a firm six-pack set of abs and a pair of Godiva eyes. He was all business, no fun. How the hell had he and Cole ended up with the exact same genes and exact opposite personalities?

  Emma blamed her irritability on the Tucker boys. Her cell phone rang in her gym bag, pulling her out of the depths of confusion. She looked at the screen and smiled.

  “Paige. I was hoping to hear from you.”

  “Hey, girlfriend. Feel like going out tonight?”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “Meet at my place at six. Dress…cute.”

  Emma snorted. “Cute? I don’t do cute. It’s summer. I do shorts and flip-flops. Unless…Paige, you didn’t, did you? I told you I wasn’t interested.”

  “Come on, Em. When was the last time we double dated? Okay, forget I asked that, it'll be fun. They’re brothers. I met them at the gym last week.”

  The last time Paige set her up on a blind date turned into a disaster. Paige had found a cute new boyfriend, a law student vacationing for the summer with his family. Emma had gotten the other brother. The one with the reputation with the ladies. Although, they didn’t have any idea about his reputation until the four of them went out.

  The double date had started out okay. The brother had been a great dancer and a hilarious flirt; a perfect fit for Emma. But the arrogant prick thought his humor would get him down Emma’s pants. That part wasn’t so funny. He’d been completely put out when she wouldn’t let him in her mother’s house—more so her bedroom—and had tried to have sex with her on the front porch. Meanwhile, Paige and Wesley were making out in the back of the SUV.

  “I was thinking a girl’s night out. We haven’t had much time together this summer.”

  “I know. I miss you, but I already have plans with Hank tonight. If you don’t want to double, I’m cool with that. Can we go out tomorrow?”

  “Hank? What, is he forty? Who names their kid Hank?”

  Paige laughed. “I know, it’s odd but he’s really nice and extremely buff. I met the brother. He’s super athletic. I think he’s training for the triathlon this fall.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it. But you owe me big time. What’s the game plan for tonight?”

  Paige squealed. “Yeah! Thank you so much, Em. I owe you. Unless you and Brent hit it off, then you owe me big time.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Emma rolled her eyes.

  “Hank has a party boat. We’re meeting them at the dock at six thirty. The guys are taking care of all the food and drinks.”

  “Great, beer and chips. I’ll eat something before I go out. Chat later.” Emma ended the call, tossed her cell phone on her desk, and then finished her water. Lately she couldn’t get enough water in her. She figured it was the summer heat; although, the air-conditioned building kept her nice and cool. After another trip to the bathroom, hence the mass amounts of water she’d consumed, she locked up and drove home, dreading to find out what the night would entail.

  * * * *

  At nearly midnight, they walked through Emma’s front door. A little tipsy, Paige tripped over the burgundy area rug in the living room and plopped down on the overstuffed couch.

  “Wow. Brent’s perfect. Did you see him strip off his shirt to wipe up the beer I spilled? Oh, man.” Paige closed her eyes, a smile permeated across her face. “I thought I died and went to heaven. Such a gentleman. You’re so lucky.”

  Emma rolled her eyes and headed to the small downstairs bathroom. She had to pull over on the way home to pee and had to go again. Something wasn’t right. She remembered her mom having to go to the bathroom all the time when she was pregnant. Unless another miracle of immaculate conception, she definitely wasn’t pregnant. Maybe a urinary tract infection? She’d get it checked out soon. After washing her hands, she pulled out a few blankets from the linen closet and tossed them on Paige.

  “Here you go, buttercup. Sweet dreams.”

  “Em, don’t tell me you don’t think Brent is to die for. You totally owe me on this one. He puts Hank to shame in a heartbeat. Brent’s so…classy. He wants you so bad.”

  “Paigey, you’re trashed. And you’re mistaken; Brent has it bad for you. The move with his shirt? Totally planned. I saw him knock the beer over. The guy knows he’s jacked and used it to his advantage. I hate the type, but if you want him, he’s all yours.”

  “Mmm,” Paige moaned and curled up on the couch. “You’re the best friend in the whole wide world.”

  Emma laughed. She covered her sleeping friend with the thin blanket and went upstairs to her own room. As she washed her face and brushed her teeth, her mind once again drifted to another shirtless man. Damn. Why him?

  Mason’s sculpted body had been tattooed in her mind for the past week. She couldn’t figure out the bizarre attraction she had to him. Cole was a constant fixture in her life, she’d seen him shirtless, hell, she’d seen him in only his briefs, but she didn’t fantasize about his body. Probably because she thought of him as a brother and saw past his muscles and charming smile. Most girls craned their neck when Cole walked by. In return, he always, always, looked back at the girl as well. A notorious playboy, trying to follow in the footsteps of his oldest brother, Connor, Cole would never settle down. Heck, she couldn’t imagine herself settling down either.

  Taking out a ratty Red Sox shirt from her dresser drawer, she slipped off her denim capri pants, and then pulled off her light green top, replacing it with the soft, worn shirt and crawled into bed, snuggling into her light blue duvet. Sleep didn’t come as easily as she hoped, but when it did, her dreams were melded with glistening pecs, lush green grass, and chocolate, sultry eyes.

  Waking up to erotic dreams of Mason was almost worth a night of tossing and turning. Emma stretched and slid out of bed, took a quick shower and dressed before heading downstairs to make breakfast. The Keurig did its thing while she toasted two bagels and checked her phone for messages. Doctoring Paige’s coffee with cream and sugar, exactly how she liked it, Emma strolled into the living room.

  “Morning, sunshine.” She handed Paige a steamy cup of coffee.

  Paige moaned, “Go away. I hate perky people in the morning.”

/>   “Especially when you’re hung over.” Emma put the coffee on the end table and sat next to Paige on the couch. “I have to go to work. Have a bagel. There’s juice in the fridge if you don’t want the caffeine.”

  Paige rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up. “Coffee,” she muttered.

  Emma handed her the cup and smiled. “You look like crap, girlfriend. No more double dates, okay? I’ll be out of work around one. Wanna go for a run with me?”

  The evil eye sent a loud and clear message. Emma laughed. “You may feel up to it later. We’re still on for a quiet dinner tonight, right?”

  “Sure,” Paige said. “I’ll swing by around five. I’m driving tonight.” She sipped her coffee and peered at Emma over the rim of her mug. “You look cute.”

  “Yeah, well, some people have to work year-round.”

  “No, I mean, you don’t usually gussy yourself up for work. Got some hot client today?”

  “Patient, and no, just the usual old Betty whose arthritis is kicking in. Broken bone here or there.” Emma shrugged off Paige’s compliment. Her denim capri pants were her favorite. They turned her flat butt into a lifted, rounded mound she could be proud of. The white, sleeveless button-down wasn’t fancy, nothing out of the ordinary for most people.

  “Where’s the T-shirt and shorts? I thought you dressed comfortably so you could work out with your patients?”

  “It’s a slow day. Besides, I need to do laundry. Now go back to sleep. I’ll see you tonight.” Paige leaned down to give Emma a kiss on the cheek “Lock up behind yourself, ’kay?” She picked up her gym bag, closed the front door behind her, and then walked out to her Honda civic, prepping herself for another day on the job. She didn’t mention the tankini in her bag and extra lip-gloss in her pocket. And the fact that Mason was scheduled to come in today for pool therapy definitely didn’t mean a thing.

  Chapter 3

  His exceptionally grouchy mood today was all her fault. His shoulder had been bothering him all week, and it really ticked him off. Mason supposed Emma was right, he should have had x-rays done, but he had been doing the damn therapy she insisted on. Part of him was grateful, the other part aggravated he couldn’t fix the problem himself.

  The three simple exercises Emma showed him on Monday were easy enough—three pound weights, damn it—so why did it feel like curling fifties? He felt like a sissy, and that really pissed him off. Today she was making him go in the pool like some old fart. But she meant well. While he and Emma hadn’t been overly close over the past six years, she had become part of the family. Part of Cole’s life. Mason respected her and knew he had to keep a distance, not that distancing himself had ever been a problem.

  Letting himself in the front doors, he headed toward Emma’s office and waited for the next set of grueling exercises Queen Fitness was about to endure upon him. She sat hunched over her desk, aggressively biting her lower lip. The deep furrow in her brows told him she didn’t like what she read. Hopefully the mood wouldn’t carry over to his therapy.

  He cleared his throat, making Emma jump.

  “Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” Emma smiled and stood, closing the file in front of her. “You brought your bathing suit, right?”

  “Yup.”

  She raised an eyebrow and studied his face. Not one for showing emotion, if he was aggravated or annoyed with the fact he had to do meaningless pool therapy, it didn’t show on his face. He was sure of it.

  “Okay then. Go on in the locker room and change. I’ll meet you in the pool.”

  He turned, grateful for a few moments to himself. She affected him, whether he liked it or not. Not, definitely not. She was forbidden territory. Mason stripped off his khaki shorts and replaced them with his navy swim trunks. Taking off his shirt made him feel…naked, but he figured he’d look like a fool wearing his clothes in the water.

  The humid, steamy air surrounding the pool had an instant effect on his tense muscles. He slid into the shallow end and let out a silent sigh. The water was cooler than a hot tub, but not by much. He waded in a little further and found a jet blowing out hot water. Mason sat down and let the pelting water massage his shoulder. So maybe she was right, pool therapy would be good for his shoulder.

  Moments after he closed his eyes, Emma emerged from the women’s locker room wearing a black bathing suit. Thankfully it looked nothing like the skimpy two-piece she wore last week, but the hint of tanned belly that showed between the top and bottom was just enough to taunt him. Her arms were toned and defined, her shoulders would have been manly on another woman, but she had the height to balance them out. And her legs—damn—they went on for miles. The heat from the room, the water, and Emma, was more than he could take.

  Putting on his poker face, as Emma put it, he braced himself for contact.

  Emma waded in the pool and stood a few feet from him. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “What?” Could she tell? He subtly moved his hands to cover his crotch.

  “Shoulder? How does it feel?”

  Grateful she didn’t mean the other kind of feelings he let out a sigh. “Okay.”

  Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Such a meathead,” she mumbled. “How did you feel on Tuesday? Sore? Pain? Good? I need to know so I can adjust how hard to work you. If you felt absolutely fine, well, then I can give you a more intense workout today.

  Gulp. Intense workout. Nearly naked Emma. Nearly naked Mason. Hot and steamy pool. Yeah, honesty would be the best policy here. “A little sore.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes. If you said you felt nothing, I’d know you were lying. Honesty is important, okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay, let’s get started.”

  Mason was terrified of her touch. Terrified of what she made him feel, knowing he had no right to the thoughts that filled his mind. Terrified of the pain that may come back in his shoulder. Terrified of the feel of her wet skin on his. He concentrated hard on his shoulder, on his workout, and on his poker face.

  Thirty minutes later, Emma told him to sit in front of the jet so it could massage his shoulder. Thank God.

  “So now how do you feel? Honestly?”

  “Tired.”

  “Okay, that’s a start. How does your shoulder feel?”

  “Okay.”

  Emma put her hands on her lean hips and raised a dark eyebrow. “Mason Tucker, one-word responses don’t work for me.”

  Mason concentrated hard on forming the words so he wouldn’t sound like a fool, especially in front of Emma. “My shoulder feels okay.”

  “Argghh!”

  Mason almost laughed. She sounded more like a pirate than an annoyed physical therapist, and her face looked more adorable than pissed. Adorable? God, I’m pathetic.

  “You’re killin’ me, Smalls. I’ll settle for your lame-ass response today, but I want you to call me over the weekend if you still feel sore. The workout should feel intense, but I don’t want you hurting for days afterward. If you continue to be a difficult patient, Helga will break loose on you.”

  He nodded. Smalls. Yeah, so he wasn’t as big as Cole or as Connor—no one was as buff as Connor—but she didn’t need to put him down while he was at his most vulnerable state, sore and nearly naked. He’d been compared to his two brothers his entire childhood, and even into adolescence, and he knew he’d never measure up to the perfect football hero Connor McKay or insanely popular Cole Tucker. He’d be the underappreciated, fly-on-the-wall other brother for the rest of his life.

  “Helga?”

  “My alter-ego. She’s very rough and demanding. Especially with difficult clients.”

  He muttered and tromped out of the pool into the privacy of the men’s locker room. He quickly dried off, changed, and slipped out the front door before being embarrassed by Emma again.

  * * * *

  “Your cousin is the oddest, rudest, most obnoxious man I’ve ever met!” Emma huffed as soon as she ope
ned her front door and let Paige in.

  “Oh, God. What did Cole do now?”

  Emma stomped back to her tiny kitchen and poured herself another glass of cranberry and Malibu. “No gratitude. No thanks. Gets up and leaves.” She gulped down half her drink and set the glass down on the counter not too gently.

  “What’s going on?”

  Ignoring Paige, Emma stomped around her apartment picking up her cell phone from the coffee table, her keys from the end table, and then tossed the couch cushions aside searching for her purse.

  “He just gets up, gets dressed, and moseys on out. No ‘Thank you, Emma. That was great. I’ll be back. I appreciate the time.’ Nope. Not from that idiot. And why do I care, I ask myself?” Emma stomped back into the kitchen, finished off her drink and went in to the bathroom, leaving the door open while she did her business.

  “I don’t. I really don’t. I don’t care at all.” Emma stomped out of the bathroom, zipping up her shorts and headed to the fridge. “More?” she asked Paige. Not waiting for a response she poured a splash of cranberry in both of their glasses and started on the Malibu.

  “Slow down, girl. And no, I’m driving.”

  Emma looked down at the overfilled glasses. “Yeah, sorry.” She took a big sip of her drink and set it down a little too aggressively, the sweet drink splashing onto the counter. “Have you seen my purse?” Without waiting for a response, she trudged up to her room and found it on her bed. “Okay, we can go,” she said as she flew down the stairs

  Paige leaned against the back of the living room couch, her mouth open in surprise.

  “What? I’m in a pissy mood. I need more alcohol and a good meal. Maybe a run later. Let’s go.”

  “Hold your horses, girl. I can’t believe you did it. I mean, I always joked about you guys hooking up but really?”

  “We didn’t hook up.”

  “Sure the hell sounds it. Why was he naked?”