“I found a place for my parents,” she finally said. “They’ll be moving tomorrow.”
“That’s nice—is something wrong?”
Just as he’d known it would, his question only made her more nervous. She started to slowly strip the outer layer off the corrugated paper sleeve.
“No,” she said, then took a big swallow that was probably still very hot, considering the way she winced. “I’m fine. I just...well, I didn’t realize there would be so many people here at this time of day.”
“Still embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked. Then wondered why in the hell those words came out of his mouth.
She must have wondered too, because her eyes widened, her gaze darting between her drink and his. “No, I mean, that isn’t the issue at all.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He wasn’t buying it. Especially not with too many bad memories to back up his beliefs.
“And my father’s reaction didn’t teach you any differently?”
That gave him pause, almost coloring those memories with a new hue. But he refused to accept any excuses, so he shrugged.
“Anyway—” she drew in a deep breath “—they chose to move into a senior living facility so my mother would have help with my dad. The cost of getting them settled is more than I anticipated. I wondered about an extension on the house?”
“Nope.”
He caught just a glimpse of frustration before her calm mask slid back into place. “Mason, I can’t afford first and last month’s rent on a place to live and to pay someone to move all of our stuff.”
“Don’t you have friends? You know, the old standby—have a nice pizza party and pickup trucks? That’s how normal people do it. Oh, right, you aren’t familiar with normal people—just the high life.”
She looked away. He could swear he saw a flush creep over her cheeks, but he certainly saw her lips tighten. That guilty satisfaction of getting under her skin flowed through him.
She turned back with a tight smile. Boy, she was certainly pushing to keep that classy demeanor, wasn’t she? “Honestly, I’ve spent the last two years taking full-time care of my father. I don’t have any—many close friends. And while I’d like to think of myself as capable, even I can’t move the bed or couch on my own. I just need—”
He opened his mouth, ready to interrupt with a smart-ass answer, when a woman appeared at EvaMarie’s side.
“Oh, EvaMarie, you simply must introduce me to your handsome friend.”
“Must I?”
EvaMarie’s disgruntled attitude made him smile and hold out his hand to the smiling blonde. “Mason Harrington.”
“Liza Young,” she said with a well-manicured hand laid strategically over her chest. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you—I would most certainly remember.”
The woman’s overt interest wasn’t something Mason was comfortable with—he preferred women more natural than Liza—but rubbing EvaMarie the wrong way was worth encouraging it. Besides, he and his brother were gonna need contacts. Liza’s expensive jewelry spoke to money, her confident demeanor to upper class breeding. “I’m new to the area.” He glanced across the table so he could see EvaMarie’s face. “Or rather, returning after a long absence.”
“Oh? And what brings you here?” So far she had completely ignored EvaMarie beside her, but now she cast a quick glance down. “Surely not little EvaMarie Homebody.”
Okay, this wasn’t as fun. Mason narrowed his gaze but kept his smile in place. For some reason, it was perfectly acceptable for him to pick on EvaMarie—after all, Mason justified that he had a reason for his little barbs—but this woman’s comment seemed uncalled for.
“The area’s rich in racing history,” he explained. “My brother and I are setting up our own stables.”
“Oh, there’s two of you?”
No substance, all flirt. Mason was getting bored. “Lovely to meet you, but if you’ll excuse us, we were discussing business.”
“Business?” She threw a sideways glance at EvaMarie, who looked a little surprised herself. “Well, that makes more sense.”
Liza giggled, leaning forward in such a way to give Mason a good look into her not-so-modest cleavage. He couldn’t help but compare the in-your-face sexuality and lack of subtlety in a woman he had just met with the image of soft womanhood sitting beside her. EvaMarie was smartly dressed, and yes, he detected a hint of cleavage, but she hadn’t flashed it in his face in order to get what she wanted. Of course, that thought reminded him of just how much of her cleavage he’d seen...and how much he’d like to see it again. Sort of a compare-and-contrast thing. He remembered her as eager to learn anything he’d been willing to teach her—did she still need a teacher?
Mason quickly reined himself in. There was no point in going there, since he had no plans to revisit that old territory. No matter how tempting it might be. Besides, EvaMarie was looking stoic again. Maybe he should relent—a little.
He stood, then pulled a business card out of his inner jacket pocket. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Liza,” he said, handing the card over. “I hope I’ll get to see you again soon.”
Liza grinned, then reached into the clutch at her side for a pen, wrote on the card and handed it back. “So do I,” she said, then flounced back to a table across the floor where several other women were waiting.
EvaMarie had turned to watch her go, then groaned as she caught sight of the other women seated at Liza’s table, all of whom were craning their necks to get a good look. “Well, I hope you’re ready to announce your presence, because it’s gonna be all over town in about two hours.”
“That’s the plan,” Mason murmured. A glance at the card revealed Liza’s cell phone number. With a grin because he knew how much it would annoy EvaMarie, he slipped the card back into his pocket. “Now, where were we?”
The pained look that slipped over her face as she opened her mouth, probably to start from the beginning, made him feel like a jerk. So he broke in before she could speak.
“Let me see what I can do,” he said. Not a concrete answer, but he needed time to think. And a few more days of worry wouldn’t hurt her.
* * *
Dang it!
How come Mason Harrington had to show up every time she looked like a dusty mess? Here she was desperately trying to pack like a madwoman with only five days to move, and he was interrupting with his loud, insistent knocking.
She seriously considered leaving him there on the doorstep, especially since it was raining. Her nerves were strained from the physical labor, emotional stress and learning everything she needed to navigate while losing their home, but a lifetime of training had her opening the door.
But she only forced herself to produce a strained smile. After all, she was exhausted.
“Mason, what can I do for you?”
His lazy smile was way too tempting. “That’s not very welcoming.”
It wasn’t meant to be. And she refused to be lured in by his teasing—a long time ago it had been a surefire way to shake her out of a bad mood. Instead of saying what she thought, she simply focused on keeping her smile in place. But she didn’t move.
He didn’t own the place yet.
“Come on, EvaMarie. Let me in,” he added, a playful pleading look to his grin. “I have an offer that will make it worth your while.”
She hesitated, then stepped back, because continuing