Stepping into the elevator, he picked up Pete so he couldn't shake his wet coat, and entering his office he headed straight into his private bathroom. Retrieving the blow dryer from the cabinet under the sink, it took him only a couple of minutes to get the dog dry, but as he was about to move into his office the phone on the wall buzzed. It was George. Mason wasn't surprised. There was an important meeting scheduled and he was already a few minutes overdue.
"Yes, I know I'm late," Mason said hastily. "Please let everyone know I'm on my way."
"Um, actually there's a problem. I contacted Mr. Cochrin's office because no-one has shown up. His secretary was crying. Mason, he had a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital a little while ago."
"Oh, my, God!"
"They've taken him to Mercy General."
"I've got to get over there. You'll need to take Pete home for me."
Edward Cochrin was not just a business colleague, he had been Mason's mentor when Mason had started making a name for himself. Mason owned a successful Italian eatery, and in partnership with Edward, he was developing a chain of high-end restaurants.
"Sorry, Pete," he said as he hurried from the bathroom. "I need to scoot."
Moving swiftly into his office he found George waiting, and handed him Pete's collar and leash.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets home," George assured him. "Will your housekeeper be there?"
"Yes. Buzz the call box and she'll let you in. Please have Herman bring up the town car, and obviously you'll need to cancel my appointments for the rest of the day."
"Right. Will do."
"Bye, Pete," he said, patting his dog on the head, then strode hurriedly into the hallway.
His private elevator sent him directly to the basement garage, and he stepped out just as his town car rolled to a stop. Mason's driver, Herman Maxwell, jumped out and opened the back door.
"Really sorry to hear about Mr. Cochrin," Herman said sincerely as he settled behind the wheel. "He's a nice man."
"Yeah, he is."
"I'll get you there as fast as I can. George said Mercy General. Is that right?"
"That's what he told me."
"Didn't Mr. Cochrin donate a wing there?"
"He certainly did. They'll be pulling out all the stops. I just hope it's enough."
Mason was worried sick, and as Herman expertly weaved the car in and out of the city traffic, Mason's only focus was his dearest friend. As they pulled into the hospital parking lot, though it had been a quick trip, to Mason it had felt like forever, and climbing from the backseat, he hurried inside. Knowing he'd probably need to be a relative to gain access, he told the pert young woman behind the marble reception counter that he was Edward Cochrin's son-in-law. It worked. She gave him directions to his room.
Edward believed a comfortable environment could help the emotional state of the patients, and he was housed in the wing he'd designed. It resembled a first-class hotel, but stepping from the elevator, Mason barely noticed the opulent surroundings. Reaching Edward's suite, he found Marion, Edward's wife, sitting on the couch. Two men he didn't recognize were loitering nearby.
"Mason, thank goodness," she exclaimed, her red-rimmed eyes staring up at him.
"How is he?" Mason asked, sitting next to her and placing an arm around her shoulders. "How are you coping?"
"I'm managing. I don't know how bad he is, but he's alive. This is his room and I assume they'll be bringing him in here at some point, but I've been told to wait."
"Do Mia and Sophie know?"
"I haven't called them. I wanted to be able to tell them something specific about their father, not just scare them."
"Probably a good idea. Who are those guys," he asked, dropping his voice and jerking his head towards the two strangers.
"They were with him when…"
"I'll handle this," he said softly. "Give me a minute."
As he approached, Mason could see they were uncomfortable. It was obvious they'd been waiting for someone close to the Cochrin's to arrive so they could leave.
"Hi, I'm Mason Abbott," he said, shaking their hands. "Thanks so much for coming. I'll stay with Mrs. Cochrin now. If you leave me your cards I'll make sure you're contacted with an update, but please don't speak to the press. The rest of his family have yet to be contacted. We don't want them hearing about this on the news."
They introduced themselves, and earnestly assured him they wouldn't breathe a word.
"Thank you, I appreciate your discretion," he said quietly, and as they disappeared through the door, he moved swiftly back to Marion's side.
"Mason, what will we do if we lose him?" she asked tearfully. "I can't bear the thought."
"He's tough and in excellent shape," Mason said confidently. "Try not to worry. The doctors in this place are fantastic."
"It's such a comfort to have you here," she said gratefully. "It will be for him too."
As she finished speaking, the door swung open and an attractive woman wearing a white lab coat and carrying a manila folder entered the room. Mason tried to read her expression, but she looked familiar, and he found himself trying to place her.
"Hello, I'm Mason Abbott, a close friend," he said, rising to his feet. "Are you his doctor?"
"One of them."
"How is he? What's happening?" Marion asked urgently. "Is he conscious?"
"Your husband's chances of coming through this are excellent," the doctor said, sitting next to her.
"Thank you, thank you," Marion stammered. "Will you have to operate? Do I need to sign anything? How long will he be in here?"
"Let's take this one step at a time," Mason said reassuringly, sitting down on Marion's other side. "Go ahead, doctor, please give us the update."
"The procedure is quick, and we don't anticipate any complications. Your husband is very fit for a man of his years."
"He plays tennis and he swims, and he's very good about taking care of himself," Marion said, a deep frown crossing her brow. "I have to say, this is confounding. How did it happen?"
"I suspect stress probably played a role, but one of the other doctors will give you further details in a little while. There are some forms you'll need to sign. Perhaps you could help her with that, Mr. Abbott."
"Of course I will."
"We want to take him into surgery now, so please look through them right away," she said, handing Mason the file. "When you're ready, text the four digit number written on the inside of the folder. It's 4141, but it's in there if you need reminding. Can I get you anything Mrs. Cochrin?"
"Uh…"
"I believe Mrs. Cochrin would like some hot tea," Mason suggested. "Is that right, Marion?"
"Yes, please."
As the doctor rose to her feet and left the room, Mason couldn't shake the feeling he had met her somewhere.
"Mason?"
"Sorry, Marion, I was just thinking about something. Let's take a look at what we have here."
"Mason," she repeated, touching his arm. "May I ask a favor?"
"Anything."
"Would you be able to come to the house tonight? It will be so difficult, and the girls will be upset."
"I was going to ask if you wanted me to come over."
"Thank you, and bring Pete of course. He's such a joy to have around"
"Don't worry. You can count on us both."
"Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me. You know I'll always be here for you and Eddie and the girls. Now let's get these papers signed."
But as he opened the file his eyes widened in surprise. Next to the numbers 4141, he saw the name Dr. Jeanine Austen. That's why she'd looked familiar. She was related to Mary.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mary slowly opened her eyes. She remembered feeling a chill coming on and climbing into bed, but she didn't remember falling asleep. Rolling on her side she glanced at the clock.
"Four o'clock? It can't be. Shit. Mason will be here in three hours. I have to be okay. I have
to. Aspirin and coffee should do it, but I'd better eat something first or my stomach won't be happy."
Sliding out of bed, she discovered she was still wearing her track suit, and as she moved unsteadily forward she cursed under her breath.
"Dammit. This can't be happening! I need to be okay. I have to be okay. Three hours. I have three hours to get it together. I can do this. I can!"
Walking through her living room towards the kitchen, she glanced down at her phone. She had messages waiting, but decided to get the water boiling and take something for her headache before checking them. Filling the kettle and fishing out her aspirin, she let out a heavy sigh. The place still needed tidying up, and she didn't know if she had the energy to pull out the vacuum. Feeling pangs of hunger, she was about to reach into her cupboard for a cookie when her phone chimed. Moving back into the living room she flopped down on the couch and picked it up. It was Jeanine. She groaned, but she knew if she didn't answer her sister would worry and appear at her door.
"Hi," Mary said in the brightest voice she could muster.
"You don't sound good."
"You know I don't sound good from hi?"
"Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. Your voice is thick. I'm coming over."
"Jeanine, please, I'm fine. In fact I have a date tonight. He'll be here in a couple of hours."
"Then I need to get over there right away."
"Jeanine!"
"Hey, you can't mess around with this. You were feeling better. You must have done something. What was it?"
"Okay, okay. I went for a short walk."
"What do you mean you went for a walk? It's been cold and raining all day."
"This morning it was gorgeous. The sun was out."
"For about half-an-hour, but it was still in the thirties. Let me guess, you got caught when the weather came in."
"Only for a minute. I barely got wet."
"But you were out in bad weather, cold bad weather. I'll be there shortly."
Jeanine abruptly ended the call. As much as she hated to admit it, Mary knew her sister was right. Going out had set her back. Feeling glum, she opened her voice mail. She had two messages waiting. One from Nancy, and one from—him! Mr. Biker. Just knowing he'd called sent her pulse skipping, and clicking the icon, she listened intently.
"Hi, Mary, it's Mason. Could you please call me when you get this? Thanks."
She stared at the phone. She didn't know what to do. Should she cancel? She didn't feel terrible, just a bit achy and there was a slight tickle in her throat, but the headache was getting worse.
"I could feel a thousand times better in a couple of hours," she muttered, trying to convince herself she'd be fine by then. "Darn it. He called ages ago. I must've really been out of it. I have no idea what I'm going to say to you, but here goes nothing."
Placing the call, she waited anxiously, hoping he'd answer. When he did, the sound of his voice sent a warm feeling through her bones.
"Hello."
"Hi, Mason. It's Mary."
"Thanks for getting back to me."
"I'm sorry it took me a while, I've been, uh, I just saw your voice mail."
"No problem. Listen, I hate to do this, but I have a bit of a crisis on my hands. One of my dearest friends was hospitalized today."
"Oh, no. I'm so sorry. What happened?"
"Heart attack, but he'll be okay. He's out of surgery and apparently there were no surprises, but his wife is still upset. I need to be with his family tonight."
"Of course you do, and it's fine, actually it's better, not that your friend had a heart attack, I didn't mean that," she said hastily, feeling like a complete idiot. "I mean tomorrow or later in the week would—"
"Excuse me for interrupting, but you sound hoarse. Are you all right?"
"I guess I am a bit under the weather. That's what I meant about postponing."
"Perhaps you should call your doctor."
"I did. She's on her way."
"A house call? You're kidding."
"My doctor is my sister."
"What brought about this setback?"
"I did something I shouldn't have," she admitted, "but I'd probably do it again."
"Which was?"
"I've been cooped up so long I just had to get out. The sun was shining so I took a walk to Chatham park. Unfortunately the weather changed and I got caught in some rain. I felt really chilled by the time I reached my house."
"That would do it. Cold and wet isn't the best idea for a young lady who has just recovered from pneumonia."
"Uh, no, but a funny thing happened. I saw a dog that looked exactly like Popcorn. I mean Pete. I could have sworn it was him. He even barked at me."
"But you knew you shouldn't have gone out, certainly not as far as Chatham park," he said, ignoring her comment. "If memory serves me right, it's not five minutes from your house, it's more like ten, isn't it?"
"I suppose. I tell myself it's only five minutes because that's how it feels."
"I realize we don't know each other," he said, lowering his voice, "but now it's my turn."
"Your turn?"
"You should be spanked and put back to bed with a stinging backside for being so foolish."
Mary's heart leapt wildly in her chest, and every part of her being burned hot. She wanted to respond, but his remark had left her at a loss for words.
"Did you hear me?"
"Yes, I heard you," she finally managed.
"Would you agree?"
"Uh, probably."
"Probably? Just probably? You said if you had it to do over again you would. Clearly relapsing is not enough to prevent the same foolish behavior, but a good spanking would, don't you think?"
"Uh-huh," she said timidly, and though unnerved by the conversation, she heard herself say, "but there's no-one in my life who would do such a thing."
"Perhaps there might be."
Mary closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. He'd stepped out of one of her novels. He was saying everything she wanted to hear, and speaking with a quiet confidence that was making her toes curl.
"Since I promised you dinner and I can't bring it over, I'm going to have it delivered," he continued. "It should arrive around seven, and I want you to call me when you've finished eating. Will you do that?"
"That's a very kind offer, but—"
"It's not up for debate. Will you call me when you're done?"
"Yes, Mason, and thank you, thank you very much."
"Mary, you were extremely kind to Pete," he said, his firm voice softening. "It's the least I can do, and I'm sure I'll be seeing you very soon. I need to go now. Please take care of yourself, and don't do anything that will get you in even more trouble."
"I won't"
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"Goodbye, Mary."
"Goodbye, Mason."
Completely embarrassed, but totally tantalized, she leaned back and sighed happily. From his long hair, to his leather-clad muscled body, to his hot Harley Davidson, Mason was the man of her fantasies. Having the cutest dog ever was a heap of cherries on top of the cake, but the sound of the front door opening snapped her from the blissful pondering. Jeanine had arrived. Rising slowly to her feet, she moved into the kitchen to make the tea, and as she placed a tea bag in her favorite mug and poured in the boiling water, her sister walked in.
"Hi, Jeanine. Do you want a cup?"
"Definitely, but I'll make it," her sister replied, placing her doctor's bag on the kitchen table.
"I'm not an invalid."
"What have you eaten today?"
"I had granola this morning, but when I came back from my walk I fell asleep."
"I'll make you something. How about scrambled eggs and tomatoes?"
"Sounds perfect, and that should keep me going until later. I'm being spoiled tonight."
"You're not going out!"
"No, of cours
e not. Look at me. I'm a mess, but my dinner will be delivered."
"Nice, as long as it's not from McDonalds."
"It will be Italian I think. Jeanine, if I may say so, you look tired. Maybe I should be the one making the eggs."
"I just finished a long shift."
"Here's your tea."
"Thanks. Let me check you out," Jeanine said, opening her bag. "What's this dinner thing?"
"I've met a dreamy guy."
"Really? Tell me everything."
"Remember that adorable stray dog I found before I got sick? He was the owner."
"A cute dog! That's always important," Jeanine said, rolling her eyes. "I meant, what does he do? What do you know about him?"
"Uh, I'm not sure what he does," Mary replied, wishing she hadn't said anything. "Please don't give me the third degree. I don't have the energy."
"I'm just looking out for you. Be quiet now. I need listen to your chest."
As Jeanine retrieved her stethoscope and placed the disc against her chest, Mary knew to take in several deep breaths.
"Only slight congestion. Let's check your temperature. Good, no fever, but you can't take any more chances," she declared, pulling out a foil pill package containing three tablets. "Take one of these, then one in the morning for the next two days, and make sure you get plenty of rest. Now tell me about this guy."
"What can I say? He's tall, dark hair, unbelievable blue eyes, and he says all the right things."
"But you don't know what he does?"
"Not yet."
"What kind of car does he drive?"
"Seriously? That is so trite, and I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"Because when he arrived to pick up his dog, he was on a Harley."
"Oh, great."
"It was awesome. The dog had a custom-made seat, a helmet, and even some goggles. Why are you always so judgmental?"
"Experience. Mary, forget the biker. I met a guy today who would be perfect for you."
"Of course you did. Some boring doctor. Sorry, no offense."
"Definitely not a boring doctor. He's tall, dark-haired and has blue eyes too, so if that's what turns you on at least it's a good start."
"I'm not really—"
"But I doubt he rides a Harley," Jeanine continued, cutting her off. "He probably drives a Bentley or Mercedes. He's very wealthy."
TYCOON_His Money. His Harley. His Control. Page 3