Love and Chaos (16 page)

“Why
are you so different from your sister?”

“More
truth serum questions? Don’t know. She’s always been the beautiful and kind of
wild one. I guess I needed to make up for her by being calm and responsible. My
parents could only cope with one of her.”

“Why
did you decide to become a lawyer?”

“I
like rules.” At the look of incredulity on Mason’s face, Emma laughed. “No,
seriously. I think we have rules for a reason, and people should follow them,
and if they don’t there should be consequences.”

“Do
you like to make the rules?”

“Not
particularly. I’m more of an enforcer, I think. Especially when it comes to
kids. When people break rules and kids get hurt….”

“I
can see that.” Picking up a half-empty bottle from the table near them, Mason
asked, “More wine?”

“Why?
What other questions are you planning to ask me?”

“I
haven’t decided.”

“Then
no more,” Emma stated firmly. “I’ve had enough, really. But thanks. This was a
fun evening, Mason. And I liked spending more time with Amanda. Are you sorry
your mom didn’t come?”

“She’ll
show up eventually,” Mason said with certainty. “She might be waiting to see
what others think of you before making up her own mind.”

“Well.”
Emma wasn’t sure how to take that. So she just thought about it for a moment,
and then decided that she really should head up to her room. Being a little
tipsy in the presence of a man that she was incredibly attracted to might not
be the best strategy for her future, she thought. Particularly since said
attractive man didn’t seem averse to following up on said attraction.

“Good
night, Mason,” she said as she turned toward the stairs. “See you in the
morning.”

“Good
night, Emma. Sweet dreams.”

Nine

Despite
her best efforts, Emma’s visits to her parents’ house were still strained. They
were still hurt at how quickly and privately Emma had married a man they had
never met, and she couldn’t really explain it to them without implicating her
sister for a really stupid move. And possibly a criminal one, given that she
had signed a contract, taken money, and then reneged on the deal. It wasn’t
that Emma felt the need to protect Jen from her parents, but more that when her
parents found out, and all hell broke loose, Jen should be there to explain
herself.

Occasionally,
Emma would take Chaos and go for a walk with her father, but their
conversations now focused on work, not on anything personal. Her talks with her
mother were loaded with unspoken meaning. And her grandmother just looked at
her, shook her head in disgust, and poured another martini. So it was with a
heavy heart one night that Emma sat in the sunroom of Mason’s home, looking out
at the beautiful view, and wondering if she’d ever be able to fit in to her old
life again. Chaos was resting his head on the seat next to her, and Emma was
gently scratching his head and rubbing his ears. He seemed to sense her
melancholy mood, and just sat quietly, looking worriedly up at her.

Her
day had not been improved by work today. One of the foster children that Emma
represented had run away from home, and Emma was trying to work with social
workers to determine if it was because of issues the child had, or issues that
existed in the foster home. Sometimes it was hard to separate them out.

“Emma?”

“Mason.
Hi. I didn’t expect you home tonight,” she said, sitting up and passing her
hands briefly over her eyes to make sure that he didn’t see any remnants of
tears.

“Are
you all right?” he asked gently.

“Yeah.
Just a hard day,” she admitted. “How was yours?”

“It
was fine.” He took a hard look at her, but didn’t pry. “I’m headed out of town
next week for a few days. I leave Monday, but I’ll be back by the weekend.”

Emma
nodded. “Anything you need me to do while you’re gone?”

He
shook his head. “No.”

“OK.
Thanks for letting me know.”

“Do
you want a glass of wine?” he offered.

“Thanks,
but I don’t think so. Not tonight. But there are leftovers in the fridge for
you – and they're fine to be microwaved,” she added.

Watching
him leave, Emma looked back out the window into the night. Sitting here wasn’t
helping her frame of mind, she thought. Maybe she’d go down to the kitchen
after all. She still didn’t really want to drink, since wine would probably
just make her sleepy on top of being sad, but she could keep him company while
he ate.

When
she walked into the kitchen, Mason was standing in front of the fridge with a
confused look on his face. She laughed. “It tastes a lot better than it looks,”
she assured him, as he gazed skeptically at the dish in his hand.

He
looked up at her with surprise. “What is it?” he asked.

“A
black bean sweet potato chili. It’s really yummy. There’s salad and cornbread
too,” she informed him, moving over to take a seat at the counter.

“OK.
I’ll try it. You haven’t made anything that I don’t like yet,” he added.

She
watched as he heated up a plate for dinner, then walked over to join her at the
island. His first bite of her food was always fun to watch, since he was always
doubtful about her dishes until he tried them. Tonight was no different. After
his first bite, he tore into the meal like a starving man.

“So
what made your day so trying?” he asked as he ate.

Emma
sighed. “I had a bad case at work. And then I went to go see my parents. They
still haven’t forgiven me for this,” she said, waving her hand back and forth
between them.

Mason
shrugged. “It’ll work out.”

But
Emma wasn’t so sanguine. “It might. It might not. Even when Jen comes home,
things might not ever get back to how they were.”

“Is
that a bad thing? If they don’t see you for who you are, as an adult able to
make your own decisions, why would you want to go back to that kind of a
relationship?”

“Because
they’re my family. And I love them. And I know that I hurt them.”

"Maybe,
but they hurt you too, by not giving you the benefit of the doubt. You don’t
need to run everything you do by a steering committee, Emma."

“No,
but this was marriage. I think a family can have a reasonable expectation of
being informed before their daughter goes off and marries someone.”

“Jen
appears to have gone off with some guy. They’re not worried about that?”

“Of
course they are. But that’s normal behavior for Jen.”

“Then
I don’t understand the problem here. I see a double standard – what’s good for
Jen is not acceptable for Emma.”

She
sighed. “You’re right, of course. But just because they aren’t applying the
same standards to me and my sister doesn’t mean that I didn’t hurt them, or
that they don’t have the right to feel left out of my life. We have always had
an open and fairly loving relationship, apart from a few months in high school
when I was running around with the local bad boy, but that’s another story.”

He
finished his dinner and pushed the plate away. “Is their love for you
conditional, then? You do what is expected and all is well, but you do
something contrary to that and they withdraw?”

“No.
I don’t think so. I think I always know that they love me. But they’re not
always happy with me. Just like you’re not always happy with me.”

“But
I’m not family.”

“Of
course you are. You’re my husband. You’re as close to family as you can get.”

“Not
exactly,” he said dryly. “Our relationship is based on a business arrangement,
not on anything else.”

“I’m
aware of that,” Emma returned. “But over the past few months, it seems that
we’ve at least approached the boundaries of a friendship.”

Mason
shrugged. “We’re not friends, Emma. We get along well, we’re compatible, and we
each play our roles well, but we’ve never strayed from the initial agreement in
our contract.”

Her
eyes narrowed. “Do you even know what a friend is?”

“I
have friends.”

“Yeah?
How do you know?”

“What
do you mean?”

“Do
you have the same definition for a friendship that you have for a relationship?
A mutual acknowledgment of what you can get from each other?”

“Emma...”

“Oh
never mind.” She stood up and grabbed Mason’s plate, putting it into the sink
and running water over it. “I’ve got a few more things to do before I go to
bed.”

He
stood as well. “Emma, you’re overreacting again.”

For
some reason, Mason’s words hit Emma hard. After a bad day and a difficult visit
with her family, this criticism of her own feelings was like throwing gasoline
on a fire. Her words exploded out of her in frustration.

“Overreacting?
Because we have different opinions on relationships, you assume that I'm the
one who is wrong?”

“Calm
down, Emma. This isn’t worth getting emotional about.”

“No?
Then what is, Mason? Are you ever emotional? Other than occasionally showing
some slight amount of anger or annoyance or frustration at me? Tell me
something, Mason. Do you feel
anything? Ever?
”

And
something in Mason seemed to snap in response. He moved faster than Emma had
ever seen. In seconds, he was next to her, his hands gripping her arms, his
entire body pushing her back until she was up against the kitchen wall. He
moved forward, slid his hands down her arms until they reached her wrists, then
deliberately raised them up above her head, moving still closer. His face was
inches from hers, his eyes burning down at her as he responded roughly, “Feel?
Do I
feel
anything? What do you think, Emma?”

She
gasped, her eyes flying up to meet his. “Mason, what...?”

But
he continued as if he hadn't heard her. “For months, I’ve watched you in my
house. Out with my friends. Talking with my sister, and even my mother. For
months, I’ve seen you in shorts, in dresses designed specifically to increase
my blood pressure to boiling point, even in your bathrobe. And you ask me if I
feel
anything?”

Still
holding her hands above her head with one hand, he moved the other down the
side of her face, to the side of her neck, causing waves of sensation to
radiate out from her core. She closed her eyes, moaning softly.

“What
about you, little Emma? What do you feel?” he asked softly, his voice husky
with need. He gently kissed the side of her neck, behind her ear, moving softly
around to her chin. She writhed against him. This man, this hard-hearted man,
was making her feel things she’d never felt before. He was expertly making her
want him. And that was the problem. He was completely in control. She was
completely at his mercy.

Turning
her head, she began to struggle against him. Without a word, he let her go,
stepping back. She fought for breath, cowered against the wall. He simply
straightened his tie.

“Don’t
do that again,” she said quietly, once she’d caught her breath.

“You
asked, little Emma. I was just responding,” he replied evenly.

“No.
You were making a different point entirely. And I get it,” she said with a
sigh.

But
Mason just pinned her with his gaze. The same predatory gaze that had caused
chills to run up Emma’s spine when she first met this man.

“I’m
not sure you do. I want you, Emma. True, that wasn’t part of the original deal,
and I’m not the kind of man who forces himself on others.”

“No.
I know that,” she acquiesced.

He
nodded, moving away from her toward the door. “Good night, then.”

Emma
couldn’t sleep. She was sitting in the comfortable chair in her room, legs
curled under her, staring out the patio doors into the night. Despite the cool
air, she had the doors open, so a breeze blew in through the screen. But every
time she thought about what had happened downstairs, in the kitchen, a wave of
heat rushed over her – the cool air helped to beat that back down.

She
knew that Mason was delivering a message – that any closeness she felt from him
was sexual. That he would be happy to have her join him in his bed, but that
was the extent of his emotional engagement. They weren’t friends. They weren’t
anything more than friends. They were two people who were shackled together via
a business arrangement. And if they got additional ‘benefits’ out of that, it
would be fine with him. But if she was looking for white picket fences,
children, a playmate for Chaos… she was barking up the wrong tree.

And
intellectually, Emma understood. She had known from the start that Mason was
unreachable. That he tucked his emotions in so deeply that it would take a
warehouse of dynamite to break through the walls he’d built. She had accepted
that, even welcomed it, since it meant that there would be no real strings
between them. After three years, she would be done.