A Family Kind of Guy (10 page)

“His…friend,” the woman, obviously stunned, repeated. Maybe she had a thing for Mason, or was already involved with him. So who cared? Right now, all Bliss wanted to do was take Mason to task.

“I have his address, but not which apartment is his.”

“Cawthorne?”

“John Cawthorne's my father,” Bliss answered automatically, and wondered at the tension tightening the corners of the woman's mouth.

“He rents a unit in the back,” the woman said, still eyeing Bliss with a sense of horror—or was it just curiosity?—for she managed a thin, though certainly not warm, smile again. “Upper level of the carriage house.”

“Dee Dee's daddy?” the cherub with the dark curls asked.

“Mmm.”

Dee Dee's daddy.
The thought of Mason fathering a child did strange things to her. “Thanks,” she managed to say, though she barely noticed what happened to mother and daughter as she walked around the corner of the house and along a tree-lined drive.

Would she ever have a child of her own? A baby? “Stop it,” she muttered, ignoring that empty barb that pricked her soul as she thought about her childless state. She wasn't a hundred years old, for crying out loud. There was still time—plenty of it. She just had to find the right man.
Oh, right. Like that's going to happen anytime soon.

Rounding the corner of the main house, she spied a second tall building with paned windows, black shutters and the same gray siding as the main house. A private staircase led to the second story, and despite the perspiration on her palms, she marched up each step. She rapped on the door and was rewarded with Mason, all six feet of him looming directly in front of her.

“Well, Ms. Cawthorne,” he drawled, his gold eyes silently appraising. “What brings you here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?” His smile slid from one side of his square jaw to the other.

“About Dad.”

He leaned a shoulder on the doorjamb. “Come on, Bliss. I bet if you think real hard, you can come up with a better topic than that.”

“Do you?”

With that same amused, cocky smile, he stepped out of the doorway. “Come on in.” As she passed, he added, “How about something to drink? Soda? Coffee? Something stronger?”

“I don't think a drink is the answer,” she said as she tossed her purse into one of the few chairs in a room with glossy wood floors, windows opened slightly to let in the hot summer breeze and walls paneled in yellowed knotty pine.

He left the door ajar, allowing a bit of cross ventilation as Bliss realized they were alone for the first time in a decade. Goose bumps rose on the back of her neck and the fragrances of honeysuckle and rose swept through the narrow room.

“Let me guess. You're here because I bought part of the ranch from Brynnie,” he said, as if he'd been expecting her.

“Right out from under Dad's nose.”

“She approached me.”

“And you just couldn't say no, could you?” Bliss said, folding her arms over her chest.

“I didn't want to.” The smile fell from his face and she noticed the fans of crow's-feet at the corners of his eyes. “I've always liked the place. Dreamed of owning it years ago.”

“And now there's a chance to get back at Dad.”

“That wasn't the intention.”

“Sure.”

He crossed the room and stood directly in front of her. She'd forgotten how intimidating he was, hadn't remembered that the scent of him sent unwanted tingles through her blood. The temperature in the carriage house seemed to shoot upward ten degrees, and she found drawing a breath much harder than it had been. “Why, exactly, did you come over here?” he asked.

No reason to avoid the truth. “I think you manipulated this—this ridiculous situation. Somehow you convinced Brynnie that she needed to sell.”

“I said, she came to me.”

“You're lying.”

“Ask her.”

“Why would she sneak around behind Dad's back and—Oh!”

Quick as a rattler he struck, grabbing hold of her arm and yanking her toward him. “It was her idea.”

“I don't believe—”

“Because you don't want to. Brynnie's a grown woman. She knew I was looking for a place and offered hers. We struck a deal.” His face was so close to hers Bliss could see the striations of brown in his gold eyes and watched as sweat dotted his forehead, darkening his hair. His nostrils flared and his lips barely moved. “I'm not going to deceive you, Bliss. There's no love lost between me and your old man. Never has been. But I didn't have to coerce Brynnie into selling out. She was more than willing.”

“Was she?”

“Absolutely.”

“You are a bastard, Lafferty.”

His smile was cold and cruel, and his hand, rough with calluses, clamped in a viselike grip over her wrist. But the scent of him, all male and musk and leather, filled the mere inches that separated his face from hers. “I wouldn't be throwing that particular word too loosely around here, if I were you,” he warned. “It might hit a little close to home.”

Frustration pounded in her pulse. Blast the man, he was right. Her father had sired two children out of wedlock. Two that she knew about. “Let go of me.”

“If I only could,” he said. Then, as if her words had finally registered, he dropped her arm and backed off a step. “Hell.” With both hands, he plowed stiff fingers through his hair.

Idiot,
she silently berated herself. How did it come to this—that she was alone with the one man she wanted to avoid, the one man who could make her see red with only a calculated lift of his eyebrow, the solitary man who had touched her unguarded soul?

“Look, I didn't come back to Bittersweet to stir up trouble,” he said.

“Too late,” she retorted but decided, though her heart was thudding with dread, that there was no time like the present to sort out a few things with this man who seemed to be, ever since she'd glided into this part of Oregon, forever underfoot. “Just because you dumped me ten years ago and—”

“I didn't dump you.”

“Ha.” She shook her head and started gathering her purse. Coming here had been a mistake, and really, what had she expected—some kind of rationale for his need to buy the ranch? Or was it something more?

“I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“But you married another woman,” she said, the words, having been pent up for ten years, tumbling out of her mouth. “What do you call that?”

“A mistake.”

The word echoed over and over again in her heart. But it was too late to hear it, far too late for apologies or explanations. “Listen, I shouldn't have asked.”

“But you did.”

“Never mind, I really don't need to know,” she said, starting for the door.

“I should have called you. Shouldn't have been bullied into… Oh, hell, what does it matter?”

She swallowed hard and turned to face him again. Maybe this was the time to sort things out. “When…when I got out of the hospital ten years ago, you were already gone,” she said and saw a shadow of pain pass behind his eyes. “Dad said you'd had some surgery yourself, then eloped to Reno.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “That's not exactly what happened.”

“No?” She stood straight and met his gaze with her own. “The way I see it, you were two-timing me.”

“Never.”

Oh, God, how she wanted to believe him, to trust the honesty reflected in his eyes; to think, even for a minute, that he'd cared about her. But she couldn't. He'd been a liar then and was a liar now. She was shaking inside and realized that the conversation was getting too personal.
Way
too personal, and Mason, blast his sorry good-looking hide, didn't seem afraid to open doors that had been locked for a decade. “I think you should back off with Dad.”

“I thought we were talking about us.”

“There is no ‘us,' Mason. You took care of that. Remember?” She caught the door handle with one finger.

“It might be a good idea for me to explain.”

“And I think it might be a good idea for you to go straight to hell, but I told you that already, didn't I? Ten years ago. If not, then consider the request retroactive.”

“Damn it, Bliss, don't you think I've been there?”

She arched a cool brow. “I don't really care.”

“Liar!” This time he reached forward so quickly she gasped. Strong fingers surrounded her arm.

“Obviously we need to talk a little more,” he said, pressing his face so close to hers she noticed the furious dilation of his pupils, felt the warmth of his breath on her already-hot skin. Determination glinted in his eyes.

“I don't think so.”

“There are things you don't know.”

She tried to hold on to her rapidly disintegrating composure and yank her arm away, but his steely grip only tightened. Her heart began to thump so wildly she could scarcely breathe. “I'm sure there are, but I'm not interested in ancient history, Mason.”

“Then let's talk about now.”

“What about now?”

His gaze lowered to her lips and her breath stilled. A dozen memories, erotic and forbidden, waltzed slowly and provocatively through her mind. Her pulse ran rampant. Swallowing against a suddenly tight throat, she said, “Let me go.”

“I made that mistake once before.”

She yanked hard on her arms, but his hand only gripped tighter, his eyes glinting with sheer male persistence. “As I said, I think we should talk about us.”

Her laugh was brittle. “Us. Now? You and me? You can't be serious.”

“I've never been more serious about anything in my life,” he said, though there were doubts in his eyes, as if he, too, remembered the pain and the lies. He pulled her closer to him and she knew in an instant that he was going to kiss her.

“This—this is a mistake.”

“A big one,” he agreed, his breath whispering across her face before his lips found hers in a kiss that questioned and demanded, that was fragile yet firm. A kiss that stole the very breath from her lungs and caused her heart to trip-hammer madly.

Every instinct told her to stop this madness, to pull away; but another part of her, that silly, romantic, feminine part of her, wanted more. Her lips parted and his tongue slid quickly between her teeth, touching and tasting, dancing with her own.

Strong arms surrounded her and his hands splayed possessively over her back. She thought she heard a disturbance somewhere behind her but discarded the sound as part of the rush of blood through her brain. Mason didn't stop kissing her and Bliss's heart, damn it, thundered in her chest.

Stop this lunacy now,
rational thought insisted.

Don't ever let him go,
her heart replied.

She heard a soft wanting sound and realized it had come from her own throat. It had been so long, so damned long…and she wanted, needed, so much more.

“It's always been this way with you,” he said as if disappointed, and she realized that their kiss had been a test, to see if he, like her, would respond.

“And it can't be.” Though her breathing was as ragged as his, she was angry with herself for falling into his trap, for letting her body dictate to her mind. She couldn't,
wouldn't,
let this happen again. “It…just can't.”

Slowly he let go of her. Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, he cleared his throat. “I didn't mean to—”

“Of course you did,” she retorted. “You just didn't expect to be affected.”

“So now you're a shrink?”

“Well?”

A muscle worked his jaw. “I was curious.”

“So was I.” She took a step even closer to him and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “But anyone can get caught up in lust. We did before, remember?” The words as they passed her lips stung. She'd always thought she loved him, but she had to stop this destructive urge right now, because she wasn't about to take a chance on letting this man hurt her again. “And just for future reference, cowboy,” she continued, “that kind of Neanderthal tactic might work on some of the women around here, but with me—”

“I'm sorry.”

She couldn't believe her ears. Never had this man apologized to her. “What?”

“I came on too strong. You made me see red and then all of a sudden…” He leaned against the wall, sighed loudly, then before her eyes drew himself upright. “It won't happen again.”

“You bet it won't!” she said, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Her pulse was still beating erratically and the taste of him lingered on her lips. “And as for my dad, just leave him alone, okay?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don't know that I can.”

“Why not? What makes you want his place so badly?”

Mason shrugged as he held open the door and she passed through. “It's the right time.”

“The right time for whom?”

“Brynnie, to begin with, and, yes, me. I need a place down here. Cawthorne Acres has everything I want.”

“Except a for-sale sign on the front door.” She reached into her purse for her keys and, as she extracted the ring, cut herself on a pair of nail scissors tucked into an inner pocket. “Ouch. Oh, damn.” A drop of blood oozed from the tip of her forefinger and before she could do anything, Mason took her hand in his and eyed the wound.

“Let's see.”

“It's nothing.”

“Maybe.”

“I said, it's…” Her voice faded as he slowly placed her finger to his lips. “Oh, no, don't—”

But his lips were warm, and the flow of blood was quickly stanched, the inside of his mouth so slick and seductive Bliss could scarcely breathe. Why, oh, why did this one man still get to her? What was it about him she found so damned irresistible?

“I'm okay,” she said, retrieving her hand.

“I know.” He rocked back on the heels of his boots and had the decency to look uncomfortable. “I, uh, don't know what came over me.”