False Hope (McKay-Tucker Men Book 2)

by Marianne Rice

  Emma turned the water off and toweled her body dry—at least Mason had towels. She used a smaller one to defog the mirror and caught another glimpse of dark circles under her eyes, and she had no concealer to hide them. No moisturizer to soften her skin. No mascara to accentuate her dark lashes.

  Nothing. Emma had absolutely nothing. She sat down on the edge of the tub pulling the towel tighter around her and looked down at her pile of dirty, smoky clothes. No clean clothes to change in to.

  The tears didn’t come. They rarely did. Like the mirror above the sink, she was living in a fog. Her family and friends continually wiped it away, but it only took one little incident to fog back up again. Not wanting to cry—since she had no makeup to conceal her red, blotchy, skin—she got up and went into Mason’s bedroom. She rummaged through his drawers and pulled on a pair of mesh gym shorts and a Red Sox shirt.

  She found him in his office, multi-tasking. A desktop computer showed a bunch of numbers and charts while on the shorter end of his “L” shaped desk Mason typed on a laptop. He rolled his chair over to the desktop, tapped at the keyboard, and swore. Emma cleared her throat, not wanting to startle him.

  Mason spun around in his chair and smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Not used to feeling self-conscious, she bit at her lip and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt—his shirt. “I borrowed some clothes. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t have any…” The feeling of hopelessness overpowered her again.

  “Sure. Yeah, uh, take whatever you want.” Mason stood up and put his hands in his front pockets. “Uh, Paige came by earlier. She’ll be back later.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Are you hungry? My folks stopped by as well. Mom made some chowder and a casserole.”

  As if on cue, her stomach growled. “My tummy loves Nana Betsy’s chowder.” Mason started to move. “You keep on working. I didn’t mean to interrupt. You probably have a ton of work to do since you left New York so soon.” Emma pulled her hair back and reached for a hair elastic on her wrist, but there were none. Something else she didn’t have. She let her hair down and sighed. “You really didn’t need to come back. I’m sorry I screwed up your job.”

  “I know I didn’t have to come. I wanted to,” he said shyly.

  Tiny goose bumps covered her flesh and her cheeks reddened. Those simple words erased all of her problems. She couldn’t deny it. She was falling in love with him. It wasn’t the kind of love she experienced in the past, nor was it a welcome love. Actually, Emma had never been in love before. Sure she’d told a few boyfriends she loved them, but that was mostly in high school when girls freely tossed the “L” word around. This was different. She stepped toward him and placed her hands on his chest. “Mason, I—”

  The doorbell chimed, cutting off her near confession.

  “I’ll get it,” he said, walking around her. Emma stood alone in his office. Maybe it was good they were interrupted. He’d probably freak at such a confession. She went to the living room to greet their guests.

  “Emma, honey,” Meg said, smiling sadly and holding up loaded bags from Target. “I bought you a few things.”

  “A few?” Connor laughed behind her, carrying two boxes.

  “Hush.” She elbowed her husband and looked Emma up and down. “I didn’t think Mason had much for toiletries so I stocked up.”

  “Thank you, Mom.” Emma smiled sadly as well. “I just got up from a nap and took a shower.” She smiled at Mason. “No offense but your shampoo is terrible. And I would have used your razor but I couldn’t find one.”

  “Electric, in the drawer,” Mason said.

  “I’m glad you took a nap. You still need more rest, but it’s a start. Come help me unload these bags. You can let me know what else you need me to get for you.” Meg headed down the hallway and turned to the guest bedroom. She stopped short in the doorway, Emma on her tail. Meg cleared her throat and then took the final steps into the room.

  Curious as to the sudden stop, Emma entered the room and saw the room through her mother’s eyes. Three-ring binders and manila folders covered the bed instead of sheets. Obviously Emma had not slept there.

  “I, uh…Mason let me sleep in his room since this one is a mess. I’ll bring some of these files into his office and we can make up the bed in here.” She scurried out of the room before her mother could grill her on the sleeping arrangements.

  Once the room was clear of clutter, they made the bed and unloaded the plastic bags. Her mother thought of everything: moisturizer, face wash and creams, hair products, makeup, hair elastics, tampons, razors, underwear, bras, and flip-flops.

  “Oh, Mom. You’re a lifesaver,” she said opening the package of hair elastics. She pulled her hair back out of her face and into a ponytail. She rummaged through the bags some more and pulled out three bottles of nail polish and polish remover. “Is there anything you didn’t think of?”

  Meg laughed. “Pretty toes in the summer are a necessity.” She winked. “I didn’t have time to go clothes shopping, but I did clean out my closet a bit. Connor was happy to see more space in there. I didn’t bring anything fancy, but I brought a lot of shorts and T-shirts and some workout gear and sneakers. I know it’s mostly what you wear to work anyway.”

  Emma unloaded the clothes and held up a jeweled tone sundress. “Well, this isn’t practical for work, but I thought the color would be perfect for you. Tracy sent it last year and I haven’t had the occasion to wear it yet.”

  They opened all the bags and found places for everything either in the bathroom or on the dresser in the guest bedroom. It was comforting to have her mother at her side, but she never felt so helpless in her life. Her mother taught her to be independent, to take care of herself. And here she was relying on everyone around her to get through the day. The week. The month. Her life.

  *

  Mason ladled the last bowl of chowder at the kitchen table when Emma and her mother finally emerged from the guest bedroom. He felt ambivalent about his house—well, his guest bedroom and bathroom—being taken over with girly things. He liked his privacy and his space, but he liked the idea of having Emma close by.

  “You need to eat.” He didn’t mean to sound so abrasive, but he wasn’t happy about being happy about the feminine takeover. Mason opened the fridge and took out a gallon of milk, scanning the nutritional value for carbs. He had no idea how many carbs were in a glass of milk—or bowl of chowder. Diabetics had to figure it out for every snack and every meal; he wasn’t sure how they ever got used to it.

  Mentally calculating the carbs in the milk was easy, but what about the little chunks of potato in the soup? He put the milk back in the fridge and pulled out his smartphone. He googled seafood chowder carbs and did a quick search.

  Tucking his phone back in his front pocket he said, “Probably about forty-five carbs here.”

  Three sets of disbelieving eyes looked up at him. He scanned them all—Connor smirked, Meg’s processed, and Emma held the best damn poker face he’d ever seen. She was usually fairly readable, but her expression had him stumped.

  She didn’t reveal her thoughts but walked over to the counter, picked up her purse, and pulled out her meter and pricked her finger. Squeezing the tiny drop of blood from her left index finger and touching the little test strip to the blood, she sighed deeply and then took out her insulin pen. Her back may have been to him, but Mason could read her body language. She was exhausted. She turned the dial on her pen, pushed up her left sleeve, and inserted the tiny needle into her tricep.

  He wasn’t a squeamish guy but watching her give herself injections made his heart heavy. Mason turned away before she caught him staring only to find Meg eyeing him suspiciously. Emma probably hadn’t told her mother how their relationship had changed from family friends to…something else. Should he tell Connor of his intentions with Emma? If he knew what they were. Telling her stepdad he had the hots for his stepdaughter and planned on taking her to bed probably wasn’t the best approach, but
he needed to broach the subject some way and soon.

  “Oh my God,” Emma moaned. Mason’s head snapped toward her. “My extra supplies. My insulin, needles, test strips. They’re all…gone. I don’t have my long acting insulin. My Lantus. I’ll need to take it in a few hours. How am I going to—”

  “It’s all right,” Mason assured her. “I—”

  “It is not all right! I have to call my doctor’s office.” She swore and pulled at her ponytail and dumped her purse out. “Where’s my phone? Crap, it’s Saturday night. They’re probably not even open—”

  “Emma! You’re all set.”

  “I am NOT all set!” she screamed at him.

  Cole walked through the door whistling. “Hey, what’s this hollering about? I came over for chowder, not a—” He stopped short and looked from Emma to Mason raising his eyebrow in question. He set a paper bag on the counter, nodding at Connor and Meg. “What’s going on?”

  Ignoring Cole, Meg stood up and rubbed her hands up and down Emma’s arms. “I’ll make some calls. We’ll get you what you need.”

  “Meg, Emma. It’s all set.” Mason opened the bag Cole brought and unloaded the medical supplies Emma lost in the fire. “I called your doctor while you were sleeping and he called the pharmacy. I asked Cole to pick it up on his way over.”

  “You…” Emma stood shell-shocked and stared at him. He wasn’t great at reading signs, but he had a premonition tears were on their way.

  Meg had less control; tears escaped, making little streams down her cheeks, and she gave Mason the most endearing, loving smile he’d ever received. She crossed the kitchen, squeezed him tight, and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good man Mason Tucker,” she whispered.

  Shrugging, Mason pushed the chowder bowls to everyone. “Chowder’s getting cold.”

  Connor and Cole picked up their bowls and started scarfing down the delicious medley of cream, haddock, scallops, shrimp, and potatoes. Meg reluctantly picked up her bowl, but Emma stood encased by the counter.

  “You’re always taking care of me,” she whispered.

  It came out as a factual statement without a drop of emotion. Not sure it was meant to be a compliment or if he had insulted her feminist rights, Mason picked up his spoon and started eating. Eventually she followed suit and pulled out her chair, sitting in between her mother and Cole.

  The meal was quick and silent. Connor scraped back his chair and cleared the bowls. “Okay, beautiful. Let’s get going. We promised the kids a boat ride tonight.”

  Mason didn’t really care if the boat ride was legit or an excuse to leave. He wanted to be alone with Emma. His house had turned into Grand Central Station. With that thought, he remembered his work waiting for him on his computer.

  After the obligatory goodbye hugs—Meg’s being extra-long and hard—he retreated to his office and buried himself in his work. He felt uncomfortable with the “hero” status Meg and Emma had silently placed on him. At his desk, he tried to ignore the scene outside his window. Cole’s arm draped loosely over Emma, her head resting against his shoulder as they sat on the bench by the pond.

  It should be him outside with her, giving her comfort, but he took the cowardly route and hid in his office. It was one thing to advance their relationship on a physical level or to take it slowly by dating here and there, but living together brought it to a whole new level. This wasn’t his area of expertise. Emma thrived in social environments while he preferred laptops and gigabytes and servers.

  In his college psychology class he’d had to take a personality test. The results weren’t surprising, but it was scary to see his entire being so easily spelled out. Mason was a “Reliable Realist.” Their strong points are thoroughness, a marked sense of justice, doggedness bordering on pigheadedness, and a pragmatic, vigorous, and purposeful manner. The definition had made him proud, but now he could see how it could be a problem in his personal life. The test also pointed out his strengths and weaknesses in personal relationships.

  At the time, he didn’t focus on that aspect of it but remembered being labeled as faithful and sensible. He’d have to look up the test results and see if it offered any dating advice. In the meantime, he needed to focus on his work and give Emma the space he hoped she needed.

  Chapter 13

  Alone at last, Emma sat on the bench overlooking the pond and pulled her knees to her chest. Cole was compassionate and sweet, but not the pair of arms she wanted around her. He tried, he really did, but serious emotion was not one of his strong suits. Thankfully he didn’t try to placate the seriousness of the situation with a joke.

  The peacefulness of the pond and the serenity of the flowers should have calmed her, but she was wired tighter than the damn computer Mason worked on. One minute he was elusive and distant, the next supportive and caring. Calling up her doctor and taking care of her medical supplies was the most genuine, caring thing anyone had ever done for her.

  But did he care about her the way she cared about him? He was loyal and sweet and kind. He would have done the same for anyone else. Unsatisfied with what Mother Nature had to offer, she unfolded her legs and slipped inside the comfort of Mason’s home. Not wanting to disturb his work but needing to feel him, she slipped under his sheets—thankful he’d changed them—and let the coolness and subtle scent of him relax her.

  Moments later, the bed dipped, and her shoulder rolled into Mason’s body. Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Hi,” she murmured.

  “Hi,” he echoed. He lay on his side, his left arm above his head and his right hand resting on the bed in between them.

  She took in the innocent beauty of him. His chocolate gaze roamed her body but worked hard to avoid eye contact. It concerned her that he had no problem taking care of her, yet he didn’t seem comfortable around her. At times his nervousness was adorable, but this wasn’t one of those moments.

  Emma closed her eyes and pushed back the fear which threatened to bubble to the surface. Unable to restrain herself anymore, she allowed a single tear to escape. She squeezed her eyes tighter, which resulted in pushing more tears down her cheek. Gradually, she opened her eyes and rubbed her cheek the small wet spot on the pillow.

  Mason reached out and wiped her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He tenderly stroked her cheek, then her hair, neck, and shoulder. Emma moved toward him and laid her head on his shoulder, shifting so he could move his arm under her body. They lay in silence. Not wanting to ruin the mood with questions of their relationship, she broached another subject even though she knew it would cause an argument between them. Mason was too protective.

  “I need to go see him,” she finally said. “I should be more concerned about whoever is trying to hurt me, but I can’t even concentrate on that until I figure out my family.”

  “I’ll take you,” he said without any hesitation.

  Emma lifted her head and looked down at him. “Really? You’re not going to tell me to wait until the police catch whoever is trying to hurt me?”

  “No,” he said as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her. It was a soft, sweet, I care about you, kiss. One that spoke promises but didn’t ask for anything in return. One by one, they removed each other’s articles of clothing, kissing, touching, and stroking each other’s naked skin. Mason’s mouth felt warm and comforting as he made love to her mouth.

  This. This is what Emma needed. Strong, silent, comforting hands touching and loving every inch of her, so different from the wild sex they shared a week ago, and nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Mason reached over to his nightstand and withdrew a condom, shyly looking her in the eye for the first time as if asking for her permission.

  Emma took the condom from him and slowly sheathed him. His moans, encouraging and exciting her. Their bodies caressed and joined from head to toe, becoming one, temporarily erasing the insecurities that dwelled within them both.

  * * * *

  Rolling her shoulders back, Emma cracked a few vertebrae and yawned.
Without opening her eyes or feeling the bed beside her, she knew she was alone. It was becoming an unwelcomed routine, waking up alone. Discouraged about her future relationship, she got up and pulled Mason’s discarded T-shirt over her head. It smelled fresh despite the heat they generated while he wore it. The memory of their slow, sensual lovemaking flooded her mind and instantly relaxed her. A moment of nausea rushed through her head but quickly subsided. I probably got up too fast.

  Emma knew where she’d find him.

  Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms and watched Mason work. The sight made her weak not just in the knees, but all over. He seemed confident, focused, and incredibly sexy sitting in his leather swivel chair wearing nothing but his shorts. The physical therapist in her studied his shoulder as he rolled it, an obvious effort to release some tension.

  Walking up behind him, she placed her hands on his bare skin and began massaging his shoulders. Surprised, Mason glanced up at her, but she bent over him and kissed him before he could protest.

  “Is your shoulder bothering you?”

  “It’s fine.”

  Emma snorted. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” She pressed her thumbs into his shoulder blades and moved her fingers in tiny circles. “You feel tense. Is it from your injury or work?” She paused. “Or me?”

  Mason spun his chair around and pulled her on his lap shutting her up with a kiss. “You loosen muscles.” He smiled. “This,” he nodded toward his computer screen, “tightens them.”

  “Hmm,” Emma moaned as she brought her lips to his. “Do you need some more…loosening?” Her hands traveled down his chest toward the elastic band of his shorts. Her eyes blurred and head went dizzy. “Damn,” she muttered, of all times for her to have low blood sugar. Grudgingly, she pulled back and lifted her hand to cup his chin.

  Mason noticed her shaking hand and shot out of the chair and swore. “Emma!” He pulled her toward the kitchen and gently pushed her into a chair. “Test your blood while I make you something to eat.” He tossed her purse in her lap and fumbled through the cabinets.