Part 18 (1/2)
He stopped and tilted his head. She had the funniest sayings. ”What do you mean?”
”It means I won't 'what if' or worry about the compet.i.tion or next week or whatever.”
Mason smiled. He liked the phrase. He liked the way she always had such an interesting take on life and circ.u.mstance. Truth be told, he liked her. A lot.
The realization should have stifled him. Stunned him. Choked him with fear. Sent him running.
It didn't. And then he knew. It hit him like the hammer he'd wielded at the housing build. He was falling in love, if not already knee-deep in it.
In fact, he felt almost...relieved. Like he'd been expecting his psyche to hand him that information at any moment.
This just in! Wait a minute, folks, this report can't be true. Yes, it looks like Mason Dillon has fallen in love with the one woman he shouldn't have.
And there it was.
He liked liked Kevan Landry. No. He f.u.c.king loved her. The warm feeling that ran through his body when she was near, the need to know where she was at all times, the constant craving to feel her skin against his, mark her when they f.u.c.ked. No. When they made love.
Holy s.h.i.+t.
He really was falling in love with her. How had he not seen this coming? But, really, look at her. Who could spend more than a couple of days with her and not fall horribly, utterly, and hopelessly in love with her? She was brash and funny and beautiful. An angel, a devil, a stranger, a rebel. Like the song.
G.o.d, that was her. The sad girl. The strong, soulful rebel. Always there for whatever anyone needed, but then left alone. And a woman like her, so kind and pa.s.sionate, shouldn't be alone. She needed someone worthy of her strength and her l.u.s.t for life. Someone who would always be there, make her a priority above all else. He wasn't that guy, though.
Was he?
He was work, work, work-with a little time off to hang with the guys and a little s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around on the side. Even if they did find a way to be together, he didn't want to end up like his parents, in a cold, planned marriage fraught with terms and good manners, where dinner conversation was centered around work. Wasn't that the way it always turned out?
He wasn't good for her. The sudden realization made his blood turn to ice. He didn't know how to be anyone but Mason Dillon, CEO, and really didn't know how to give love. And there was still this thing hanging over them-the Manix Curse deal.
What was he going to do? It wasn't just his job any longer. No, it was so much more. It was her happiness. Her business and her brother's wellness. And their future. He snorted. Like Mason and Kevan could have a future. Like Kevan Landry could ever fall in love with the normal guy.
”What's wrong, Mason?” she asked, concern marring her pretty face.
”Huh?”
She squeezed his hand hesitantly and twirled a lock of blue around her finger. ”What's wrong? You look like your stock portfolio just tanked, cowboy.”
”I have a very balanced portfolio.” He said it so matter-of-factly, she laughed. And he shook off the dark cloud that had descended over his mood. Tonight was not the night to ponder the big questions.
”Nothing's wrong, darlin'. Let's get you back before you freeze.”
The doubt that had been niggling around the edges of his brain since he'd been put on notice about his job and then after meeting Kevan grew stronger, but he shoved it in with the other ”stuff to be dealt with later.”
On the drive back from dinner, a sultry rockabilly beat playing softly, Mason looked over at Kevan in the pa.s.senger seat. She was humming loudly and tapping her fingers on her knees in rhythm to the strong ba.s.s of the music. She twirled her hair around her index finger as she often did when she was lost in thought or in her music.
”Kevan?”
”Hmm?” She looked over at him, shadows and light dancing across her pale skin.
”Who is this?”
”Imelda May. She's an amazing singer from Ireland.”
”This song is beautiful.”
”Hmm. Yes. It's a little out of character, since most of her music is pretty straight-up rockabilly. It's one of my favorites.”
She sang along to the ballad of a struggling couple who made it through some tough times. She had an exceptional singing voice, soft and rich. Add it to the list of features of the most amazing woman he'd ever met.
”Mo chroi? It means my love, my darling, right?”
Her cheeks burned pink. ”Yes, I think so.”
”Can I ask you something?”
”Can I stop you?” She looked sideways at him.
Ignoring her question, he asked, ”Did your brother do your artwork?” he asked as he traced the lacy brocade pattern over her knee and on her inner thigh.
”Most of it. Nathan did the lace on my thigh, and Jax did the flowers on my foot. For the big pieces, I wouldn't let anyone else work on me.” She smiled at him proudly, almost defiantly.
”No, I wouldn't either. They're really f.u.c.king good.”
She looked confused. ”You like my tattoos?”
”Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?” But he knew the answer before the words were out of his mouth. She was the edgy modern pinup, and he was the boring suit. ”I think they're s.e.xy as f.u.c.k.”
Her smile lit up her face. ”You do?”
”You think because I wear a suit to work and went to an Ivy League school I can't appreciate heavy metal, hot women, and tattoos? Really?” That was the real reason they could never be a couple. She'd never see them as compatible.
She shrugged.
”Don't play me,” he said. ”If I wasn't attracted to you, how do you think I could sleep with you?”
Again, that d.a.m.n lift of her shoulder.
”Kevan, I meant it that first night when I said you are the s.e.xiest woman I have ever laid eyes on. All of you. Not just that kissable, f.u.c.kable mouth, not just your perfectly round a.s.s, or amazing t.i.ts. All. Of. You.”
She looked down. Apparently fascinated by her hands again.
”I lo...like your wicked sense of humor, your creative business sense, your blue hair, your tattoos, the stud in your nose. I like it all.” He'd almost told her what he was starting to feel, that he might be falling in love with her.
Might. Uh, bulls.h.i.+t. f.u.c.king wussy. He was in love with her. And if he told her now, she'd run like a startled deer in the road.