"Hello, George," Mason said briskly as he passed. "Bring me some coffee."
"Anything special?" George called after him.
"Just coffee."
Praying he was right, George moved into the small kitchen, poured the coffee, and carried it into Mason's office. Walking across the expansive room he saw the intriguing case sitting open. He smiled. Moving close enough to glance inside, he placed the mug on the desk. The top folder was in plain view.
MELVILLE: Counter-offer. Final Terms and Conditions.
It was too good to be true! He needed to copy it, or at least have a quick read of the basic terms.
"How's Mr. Cochrin?" he asked, hoping he sounded appropriately sincere.
"Doing extremely well. Strange thing though, the doctors don't know how it happened."
"Isn't a heart attack pretty normal for a man his age?"
"George, Edward Cochrin isn't just any man," Mason replied. "He's in exceptionally good health with no signs of heart disease. The police have been contacted and they're opening an investigation."
"An investigation! Why?"
"Two-and-two aren't adding up, and Edward Cochrin is an important man with close friends in high places. They want answers. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish this counter-offer on the Melville property. I want to get it in today, and George—"
"Yes, Mason?"
"Please stay at your desk. I might need you."
"Of course."
Striding quickly back to his workspace, George closed the door behind him. He needed to communicate with the man who was paying him a ridiculous amount of money to spy, but Mason had just ordered him to stay put. There was the kitchen area, but it was just an alcove with no door.
"Fuck. I just have to risk it," he muttered, walking to his desk and picking up his phone.
He had to warn Meeks about the investigation, but the good news would outweigh the bad. Mason was bound to walk his dog at some point, and George would take the opportunity to photograph the offer. He just prayed Mason wouldn't lock the damn thing in his safe.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was late afternoon. After surrendering to a magical flow for several hours Mary was finally closing her laptop. The tickle in her throat was gone, and she was convinced her relapse had been momentary.
"I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Mr. Biker Man," she said with a smile, "though how I'll be able to look at you after our conversations I have no idea."
Being so inspired had left little time for anything but cups of tea. Feeling hunger pangs, she ambled into the kitchen to heat up the leftovers from the delicious dinner the night before, but as she opened her refrigerator she was interrupted by a call from her sister.
"Hi Jeanine, and before you ask I feel great. Do I still need to keep taking those pills?"
"Yes, finish the course. You had a minor amount of fluid in your lungs and the medication will have knocked it on its head, but it could still come back."
"Are you calling just to check on me?"
"I'm on my break. Is your offer to sample that great food from Giovanni's still open?"
"I was just about to have some. I've been in my writing hovel all day. It's been fantastic, but now I'm starving."
"Is that a yes?"
"Sure, if you promise not to badger me about anything."
"See you soon."
As the call ended she noticed the time. Mason had said he'd check in with her, but it was past four o'clock. Telling herself not to fret, she plated some of the leftovers ready for the microwave. A moment later, as if he'd picked up a telepathic message, he called.
"Hello, Mason."
"Hi, Mary, how are you?"
"Great, thanks," she replied, ambling back to the living room. "I've been writing up a storm in front of my fire. And you?"
"I've been busy as well. I completed a very important project this afternoon. Am I seeing you tomorrow?"
"I don't know. Am I?"
"You always have a come-back," he said with a chuckle. "You should have been a comedy writer."
"Does it bother you?"
"Not at all. I love not knowing what you might hit me with."
"That's my line," she quipped, then hastily added, "Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry, that just slipped out. Now I'm totally embarrassed."
"Don't be embarrassed. We both know we're on the same page."
"Uh, I guess we do, but to be honest, Mason, I keep asking myself how I'm going to look at you when you land on my doorstep."
"Wear sunglasses for the first ten minutes."
"That's a really good suggestion," she giggled. "I think I will. How's your friend? I should have asked right away, but you can be very distracting. Did you know that?"
"He's doing well, and you think I'm the one that's distracting?"
"Very."
"Mary, Mary…"
"Yes?"
"Let's get back to my original question. Are you feeling as good as you sound? Am I seeing you tomorrow or Sunday?"
"I am, and tomorrow, if you'd like."
"I would like, and so would Pete. What time would suit you? I could bring lunch."
"That sounds super. Uh, Mason?"
"Yes, Mary?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"What do you do?"
"I walk my dog, I ride my Harley, I—"
"For a living."
"Let's see, how do I describe what I do?" he murmured. "I make deals. That's what I do. I make deals. All kinds of deals."
"So, you sell things?"
"In a way."
"Do you realize I don't know your last name?"
"I do realize that."
"Are you saying you haven't told me on purpose?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. If I tell you my last name, you'll google me."
"And that would be a bad thing?"
"I would hope not."
"Then what's the big secret? Are you a celebrity?"
"Not exactly. Will you tell me more about your books? Do you have a pen name? Can I read them?"
"Um…I'm not sure if I'm ready to share that with you yet. It's weird, talking about my work."
"I completely understand, and I feel the same, so when you're ready to tell me about your books, I'll tell you about my business and my last name."
"I'll bet you're really good at your job. You just wiped the floor with me."
"Not really. If I'd done that I'd know all about you, but you'd still be in the dark. Are we in agreement?"
"Yes, we are, but—uh—shoot, maybe I shouldn't say anything."
"You have to now. That's the rule."
"I hate that rule."
"Except when you're the one quoting it."
"This is true," she said with a sigh. "It's just…"
"Just what?"
"Isn't this all a bit weird?"
"Isn't what all a bit weird?"
"Is it me, or are things a bit—wonky? Maybe that's the wrong word. Backwards! Are things a bit backwards? I'm used to spending time with someone before having conversations like we've had—like we're having."
"Funny you should say that. I was thinking the same thing earlier today."
"Really?"
"Really, and I'm glad you brought it up. When we met, we hit a major speed bump. I was slammed at work, and you were sick. We were caught in a sort of limbo."
"Now we're playing catch up?"
"That's how I see it."
"Mason, I'm glad you put it that way. It's still a bit weird, but it feels better now we've talked about it. Shoot, I think I hear my sister pulling up. She wants to sample my leftovers."
"Then I'll say goodbye. I'll call you in the morning."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"I don't know, being you I guess," she said softly. "Tell Pete I can't wait to see him."
"And he can't wait to see you. Bye, Mary."
"Bye."
Placing her phone on the side table next to her chair,
she stared down at the fire.
"Do you have a fireplace in your bedroom?" she murmured closing her eyes.
She imagined he did, and they were snuggling together listening to the rain, but she could hear Jeanine opening the front door. Wishing she could stay where she was and bask in her fantasy, she reluctantly rose to her feet to greet her sister.
"Hi, Mary. I brought you some probiotics."
"Thanks. Come into the kitchen."
"Wow, look at all this food!" Jeanine exclaimed, eyeing the tubs on the counter. "You've got enough here for another week."
"I know. I can't even imagine how much it must have cost. You should take some home."
"Maybe I will, but sit down and let me give you the once over," Jeanine said, placing her bag on the table. Retrieving her stethoscope, she placed the sensitive disc against Mary's chest, then on her back. "Good! Your lungs sound clear. I have a suggestion. Why don't you join me for lunch tomorrow? I'm still working in the elite wing, and there's a fabulous dining room there."
"I thought you didn't want me to leave the house."
"You can, as long as you stay warm. No crazy walks to the park in freezing temperatures."
"A hospital cafeteria," Mary said skeptically. "If I'm venturing out for lunch I can think of better places to go."
"It's not a hospital cafeteria. It has gourmet everything."
"I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. You just want me there so I'll accidentally-on-purpose run into your Mr. Mogul."
"Was I that transparent?"
"Yeah, you were, and besides, I have plans."
"Mr. Biker?"
"Yep, and you're not invited, so don't even think about coming over here with the excuse you want to check on me."
"I wouldn't dream of it. What about one day next week?"
"I've already made it clear, Jeanine, I'm not interested in a guy who runs around in a three-piece suit and polished shoes. I'm going to get our food ready. I'm hungry."
Mary could see the disappointment in her sister's face, and as she placed one of the dishes in the microwave she felt a pang of guilt. In spite of the nagging, Jeanine's heart was in the right place.
"Okay," Mary said resignedly. "Email me his picture."
"YES!" Jeanine exclaimed. "Yes, yes, yes."
"You're hilarious. Do you honestly believe I'm going to jump up and down and beg you to introduce me?"
"I do, I seriously do," Jeanine replied, grinning broadly. "You wait. Biker or no biker you'll want to meet my billionaire. I'll do it right now? Get me your laptop."
"No! Now I'm going to eat, then you're leaving so I can get back to work. Email me. That's the deal."
"Okay, okay, but thank you, Mary. You won't be sorry, I promise."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mason's plan had worked perfectly.
In Tom's office that morning he had prepared a phony counter-offer, placed it in a clearly marked folder, put it in Tom's briefcase, and carried it down to his office where he'd told George the case was Edward's. After making sure George had seen the folder, he'd waited half-an-hour before leaving to take Pete for a walk.
But he'd actually slipped into Tom's office.
The two of them watched George open the briefcase, methodically photograph the false documents, and call Meeks to warn him about the investigation into Edward's heart attack. George had also told him about the file folder, promising the photographs of the counter-offer would be emailed shortly.
"You were right about that stairway in the garage," Tom declared, as George ended the call with Meeks. "I found a tiny hole drilled into the concrete wall inches above the second step. A trip wire had been stretched across to the bannister."
"I need to walk Pete for real," Mason glowered. "I need to calm down. I want to strangle George with my bare hands."
"Here's the good news," Tom continued. "The plastic insert for the screw was still embedded in the wall. It's now bagged for the police, and I'm fairly certain there'll be prints."
"Why?"
"Those things are a pain in the ass. You can't use gloves."
"I'm glad you're on my side," Mason said gratefully. "Come on, Pete, let's get a quick walk in before we head out of here."
Finally home, Mason had called Mary. The conversation had been like the others; spirited, enjoyable, and sexy as hell. He had every reason to believe his visit the following day would live up to his expectations.
But what about her expectations?
As much as The Biker Who Spanked Me had many sexy spontaneous moments, Mason wasn't about to throw caution to the wind. Bursting through her door, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her passionately was in his playbook, but he was well aware that turning fantasy into reality needed to be done with care.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was later that evening as Mary was busy writing that she received an email from her sister. Not wanting to break her flow she continued working. By the time she was finished, the email had slipped her mind.
Taking a relaxing bath, she'd climbed into bed, but she couldn't sleep. Her phone chats with Mason had been tantalizing and toe-curling, but what would happen when he walked in the door? As she stared up at the ceiling, one particular scene she'd written that afternoon began to float through her head.
The hero had blindfolded his lovely lady, thrown her over his shoulder, carried her outside, and tied her to the trunk of a tree.
Closing her eyes, Mary could imagine the cold air touching her skin, and she could hear Mason whispering in her ear, telling her how delicious it was to have her outdoors and naked. As her hand slipped between her legs, she thought about his fingers thrusting inside her as he tapped her bottom with a thin stinging stick. Her orgasm swept over, tingling through her body, and when her hand slipped away, she was breathless and serene.
"I can't wait to see you," she murmured dreamily. "I can't wait to kiss you, I can't wait to feel your arms around me. I can't wait…"
CHAPTER NINE
Mason felt a weight on his chest, and letting out a weary sigh he opened his eyes. Pete's wet black nose stared back at him.
"No, Pete, it's the middle of the night," he groaned, turning his head to glance at the clock. "What the hell? That's not possible! Nine-twenty-seven?"
Pete barked. He needed to go out. Stumbling from the bed Mason picked up his robe and wrapped it around himself as he walked down the stairs. Passing through the kitchen, he paused to fill his hot water kettle and set it to boil, then opening the back door he watched Pete bound into the backyard. His mutt refused to use the doggy door and Mason knew why. It wasn't because Pete couldn't figure it out, he just wanted to be with Mason. The thought made him smile, and taking a step outside he stared up at the slate grey sky. Though he wanted to ride his Harley to Mary's, he had no desire to be caught in a spring downpour, especially with Pete along for the ride.
"If I show up in a car and wearing normal clothes, would she be disappointed? I guess I'll find out," he muttered as he ambled back into the kitchen. "I need some caffeine. Damn. I can't remember the last time I slept like that."
But he knew why he'd been so deep in the land of nod. Edward's frightening heart attack had been deeply disturbing, and learning it had been the result of foul play had made it even worse. Discovering George had been spying on him for weeks had been unnerving, but both situations were now in hand, and he turned his mind to more pleasant thoughts.
In a couple of hours he'd be knocking on Mary's door. After their false start and sexy conversations he was eager to see her. By the time Pete trotted back inside the water had boiled, and making himself a cup of English Breakfast tea, Mason carried it back to the bedroom, set it on his nightstand, and climbed back into bed. Rarely did he have the luxury of lazing in the morning, and as Pete jumped up and settled next to him, he picked up his phone and called the young woman who had captivated him.
"Hello, Mason. How are you this morning?"
"Very well, Mary. Are you still feeli
ng good?"
"No, I'm so sorry. I woke up with a terrible headache and sore throat."
"You're joking?" Mason replied, instantly feeling a wave of disappointment.
"Yes."
"What?"
"Yes, I'm joking."
"Mary, Mary…" he said, his voice falling husky. "You are such a bad girl."
"I know," she said with a giggle. "That wasn't planned, by the way."
"Mary, Mary…" he repeated. "What am I going to do with you?"
"If you need to ask, I might be talking to the wrong guy."
"I was referring to the many choices at my disposal." He waited for the retort but getting none he added, "Nothing to say?"
"Apparently not."
"I think that's probably a first."
"What?"
"You! Speechless! I will be at your door with lunch in hand at twelve o'clock."
"I just heard it's going to rain. I'll leave my garage door open for your bike."
"I was just thinking about that. I didn't check the forecast, but the sky is dark. I think I'll use a car."
He cringed. A car. He hadn't said my car, he'd said, a car. He had three.
"You have more than one?"
He shook his head. The girl didn't miss a trick.
"I have a two-seater and a sedan," he said, not wanting to mention the third. "The two-seater doesn't work when I have clients in town, not that I drive them around much, but having a sedan is an option I need. The convertible is for the summer. It's fun, and Pete enjoys it too."
He cringed again. He was explaining himself way too much. He never babbled.
"I've often toyed with the idea of a convertible. If you change your mind and decide to ride your bike here, you're welcome to the garage. There's not enough room for a second car though."
"Do you have a wooden spoon?"
"Uh…"
"It's a yes or no question. Do you have a wooden spoon? If you don't, it's okay, I can bring one."
"Why, uh, do you need a wooden spoon?"
"To stir the soup. Why do you think?"
TYCOON_His Money. His Harley. His Control. Page 6