Game Plan (17 page)

“It’s jabbing me in the back,” she said while catching some oxygen.

The vibrator was still humming away when he removed it from beneath her. “You were wrong about this. I enjoyed it as much as you did.”

She waited until the lights were out and Mason’s breathing had its distinctive, pre-sleep rhythm. Twelve hours ago, she would’ve sworn she didn’t care if he stayed or went—temporarily or permanently. Now, the idea he might get angry and leave gave her a stomachache. One in the heart too.

She liked him. As in, really, really liked him. Not only in bed—or the alley, or his truck—but anywhere, doing anything. Doing nothing but being together. Somehow, she’d gone from enjoying him carnally to pining for him on a deeper, more personal level. A dangerous place to be—but it was too late to rein the feelings in.

“Are you awake?” she whispered. “I have to tell you something.”

“What…yeah…go ahead.”

“I don’t have my period.”

“Hmm…yeah, okay,” he said in a slow, sleepy voice.

Telling him the rest now was cheating. “It was a stupid test, to see if you’re only with me for sex. I lied, I wish I hadn’t.” No reply, just breathing. “Mason?”

He merely hummed in acknowledgement. Crap, he hadn’t absorbed a word of it, meaning she’d have to admit the whole thing while they were both wide awake and face-to-face. She swallowed the lump in her throat and snuggled closer. His strong, easy heartbeat calmed her, made her feel secure—even if only for tonight.

Since he wasn’t registering anything she said, “I didn’t mean to fall so hard for you,” she whispered into his warm, firm chest. “Please, don’t be too mad at me.”

Chapter Ten

Mason winced as the drive-thru coffee burned his tongue. He’d rather be sitting in Andie’s kitchen with a mug of her instant, or better yet, propped up in bed, sipping while watching her sleep. But after her lie, or game, whatever it was—he needed space.

The only reason he hadn’t taken off after she fell asleep last night was her safety. He wouldn’t leave her alone and unconscious in an unlocked house. Now, at six-thirty in the morning, he was fine with it. Not really. But fuck it, he was still pissed off. He didn’t want to hear the daytime version of last night’s confession, not right now, and he really didn’t want to hear it while looking at her big, pleading eyes. So, yeah, he was gone. At least until he sorted through the crap from last night.

Hugo wrapped around Mason’s legs when he walked through the front door, practically tripping him as he made his way to the kitchen. Mason tossed more kibble in the half-full bowl, but the disgruntled feline turned his nose up at the offering.

“Yeah, I know, buddy. I haven’t been around enough lately. That might be changing—effective immediately.”

He headed into the bathroom and cranked the taps in the shower, setting the water as hot as his skin would tolerate. Thick steam and soap scent surrounded him, cleaning his body but doing nothing to clear his mind. He just didn’t get it. Testing him to see if he was using her for sex…what the hell was that about? He’d never treated her that way—the opposite, from where he was standing. He’d taken her to meet his family, for crissake, and it’d taken a hell of a lot of convincing to get her there. Not the kind of thing he’d do if he only wanted her for a booty call. Yeah, they had a lot of sex. Fucking amazing sex that neither of them could get enough of. But he wanted more than that and he’d made that pretty damn clear.

First her insecurity about the age difference, now this. Having to constantly reassure her wasn’t his idea of quality time, especially when
he
hadn’t given her any reason to worry. And having a girlfriend who lied to him…he wouldn’t go there again. If he couldn’t trust Andie, if she wasn’t capable of trusting him, he’d have to let go. No matter how much he liked her.

* * * * *

Too little sleep and too much bullshit made the doctor a grumpy jerk. After repeatedly barking at his assistant during morning surgeries, he holed up in his office. Clients wouldn’t be as forgiving. Canine, feline or human.

“Your sister’s on line one,” Cara’s voice informed him when he got tired of watching the light on his phone blink.

“Tell her I’m in surgery. Or an appointment. Whatever. I’m not available.”

“Is that how you’d like me to handle
all
of your personal calls?”

Nobody was around to see him roll his eyes, but he still did it. Could she get any more obvious? She’d been coming on stronger than ever since he’d started seeing Andie. It had gotten so bad—her copping a feel of his ass, or crotch, whenever he got within reach—he was actually considering suing
her
for sexual harassment in the workplace.

“No, just this one.”

“I noticed you’re in a foul mood this morning. Have a fight with your girlfriend?”

“Everything’s fine.” And Cara would be the last one to hear otherwise. Ever.

“Your schedule is open for the next fifteen minutes—I could come back there and cheer you up. All the way up, if you know what I mean.”

Only an idiot wouldn’t know what she meant. “No thanks. Deal with the call on the other line, then go file something. And I don’t mean your nails.” He hung up immediately. A bit harsh maybe, but necessary.

And by the knocking on his door two minutes later, ineffective. “Cara, that’s it—you’re fired. I’ll pay your two weeks’ severance, but you can clear out now.”

“Did you just fire your moron receptionist through a door?” Katie asked as she peeked around it. “That’s awesome. And way too long coming. That girl is a bimbo and an airhead. She’s a bimhead.”

“Don’t I fucking know it? I’ve got ten minutes before a hypochondriac Pug gets here. What’s up?”

“Dogs can be hypochondriacs? That is so cool. How can you tell?”

“Did you rub up against Cara on your way back here, because I think you caught the airhead bug.”

“Meanie.” Katie stuck out her tongue. “Why so cranky, big brother? I prefer the new, improved Mason, the guy who smiles all the time. And whistles. The one whose girlfriend will be making my wedding dresses.”

“Shit, Katie-Kat. Hiring Andie isn’t the greatest idea.”

“It’s a spectacular idea. She’s crazy talented.”

“What if we break up, won’t it be awkward?”

Katie pushed his feet off the desk and plopped in front of him. “A couple of days ago you’re gushing about her—”

“I was
not
gushing. Guys don’t
gush
.
”

“Fine, expressing your heartfelt affection, and—”

Mason cringed. “Stop, please, before they come and take my balls away.”

“Loser,” she said with a laugh. “Whatever. Now you’re talking breakup?”

If he didn’t tell her, she’d continue to poke him, verbally and physically, until he kicked her out, then she’d call and text incessantly. He didn’t stand a chance.

“One of the things I liked about Andie was her openness. Honesty, no bullshit.”

“Uh-oh. You said
liked
and
was
, as in, past tense.”

“This’ll sound low, but I didn’t expect a woman her age to play games or fuck with my head.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah. She called it a stupid little test, but a lie is a lie, and I’m not going there again.” It was a rare day when Katie sat still. Or shut up instead of pumping him for information. Both at once—major red flag territory.

“Um, if the stupid little test happened yesterday, it’s probably my fault.”

“Your fault?” He checked his watch. Five minutes ’til Mrs. Cleary got here. Fuck. “Talk fast, bullet-point form is good.”

“We went to her house for a consult. Mom was a bitch. Andie tried to reassure her by insisting the thing between you is a casual, short-term fling. Both Mom and I interpreted it to mean fuck-buddies. After kicking Mom out, I disagreed and suggested Andie test our two theories. Take sex off the table.”

“You disagreed. And how the hell would you know what our relationship is really like?”

“Because you totally gushed.” Katie jumped off the desk before he could get her. “And you keep calling it a relationship. Not seeing each other, not dating. A
relationship
.
”

Shit, two minutes left. “So you advised the woman you think I’m
gushy
about to lie to me and trick me, because it’s worked so well for me in the past.” Katie turned a shade of red she didn’t sport very often. Yeah, she hadn’t thought about his experience with Stacey when she came up with that stupid suggestion for Andie.

“Don’t blame Andie,” Katie said as she slunk toward his office door. “She went through with the test, that means she cares about you.”

Psycho woman logic if he ever heard it. He shooed her out and prepared himself mentally for Mrs. Cleary and her pug. Poor, tormented dog had to be sick and tired of Mason shoving a thermometer up his ass during their totally unnecessary weekly visits. With any luck, that’s all he’d be sticking up there today.

He pasted on a smile as he reached the exam room door. First thing he saw…Mrs. Cleary holding up a plastic baggie of shit. So much for his luck—and the pug’s.

* * * * *

“And you told me fucking my boss was a bad idea,” Lasha said by way of greeting when Andie answered the front door. “It allows me the freedom to ditch work when you have a love-life crisis—two days in a row. So, lay it on me, sista.”

“I took Katie’s advice and faked my period.”

“I bet that was a lot less messy than the real thing.” Lasha helped herself to a beer from the fridge and hoisted her butt onto the counter. “I’m all ears, did he pass the stupid-ass test?”

“He was great. He—” Andie started to tell her the details, but suddenly what happened between her and Mason seemed too intimate to share. “He got an A-plus.” And several bonus pluses for what went down in her bedroom afterward. “I told him the truth, but I thought he was too far asleep to hear it, except…when I woke up, he was gone. He usually stays for breakfast. And when he can’t, he leaves a note. He, um, didn’t this time.” This newsflash didn’t move her best friend. Lasha would gag if a guy she’d taken to bed left a cute, sappy note like the ones Mason had been leaving her all week. Knowing Lasha, she’d prefer gift cards.

“Shame he didn’t last your full two weeks of kidlessness.” She shrugged. “We’ll hit the strip later and find you a new bed-warmer. Now that you’re back in the game, men will be lining up to be on your team.” Lasha took another long drink before hopping off the counter. “Pick you up around seven-thirty? We’ll grab some dinner and drinks before hitting the dance floor.”

For years, Andie had envied Lasha’s free-spirited lifestyle. The conveyor belt of men passing through her bedroom. All the stories about hot, wild sex—Andie had believed the thrill came from the variety of partners. And maybe for Lasha, it did.

Sex with Mason got better every day. Same or different, wild or tame, all of it rocked her world. Even when they weren’t naked, or on their way to being naked, he excited her. On the skin and all the way through. She’d rather keep him than trade him, if she had the option.

“I’m supposed to be going to Mason’s baseball game tonight. At minimum, I want to talk to him before I run off for a night of slutting around.” The idea of which gave her a nauseated twinge. “I’m not sure where things stand.”

“Honey, I can see the hearts and stars in your eyes from ten feet away. Remember your game plan for after the divorce? Freedom, fun and fucking. This little crush on rebound boy will fade as soon as there’s a fresh, hot body to rub against. Trust me.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said, feeling her nose grow about three inches. “But I don’t like loose ends.”

“Do what you need to do.” Lasha sounded bored as she stopped at the mirror to refresh her lipstick and pop a breath mint. “Text me when you’re done. Oh, and wear those red fuck-me shoes you got online. Every guy with a working cock will be yours for the choosing.”

* * * * *

Mason’s game started in twenty minutes. The diamond his team was scheduled on tonight was a fifteen-minute drive from her house. From experience, Andie knew he liked to arrive early for some warm-up throws. Easy math, this. No calls, no texts, no show, plus no breakfast together and no note. The sum of those things was one blow-off breakup. She
should
cut her losses and go out dancing with her man-magnet best friend. Perhaps find a hard man to get slippery with. But no, she was going to crash a Friday night rec-league ball game. Wearing the red fuck-me shoes. Such was the extent of her plan.

The game was underway and his team was in the field when she arrived. Small blessing, since it meant she didn’t have to walk right up and get communicative. She found a spot on the end of a bleacher, close to the backstop, putting the first move in his hands. He could easily come talk to her, wave, nod, etcetera. And if he chose option D, to ignore her, she could escape without leaving too much of her dignity in foul territory.

She knew immediately that he’d seen her. Okay, so she was hard to miss in this particular red t-shirt, skintight black capris and
the shoes
. More than that, though, she’d caught the jerk of his head as soon as her heels had hit the grassy area beside the fence, sensed the heat of his eyes as they followed her to her seat. But when she looked back at him, standing tall and strong at first base, his focus returned to home plate. As for everyone else assembled to watch the game…she had their full attention.

His opponents couldn’t buy their way on base, and Mason’s team soon came in from the field. Minus Mason, who had the first at-bat. His line drive into the gap for a double was powerful and exciting. Like him. He stole third, then tagged up on a deep fly ball. She cheered for him openly with each play. If he had a problem with that, he’d have to come over here and tell her so. Only he didn’t. After slapping a few hands—hers
not
included—he took over as third-base coach.

A woman bouncing a baby on her knee slid across the bench. “Don’t take this as terribly catty, but I think he’s avoiding you.”