Love and Chaos (22 page)

“Jen’s
back in town,” she said without any preamble.

Mason
dropped his pen onto the papers he was reading and gave her his attention. “Oh?
Did you kill her and weight the body down in the lake?”

“Nah,”
Emma responded, collapsing into one of Mason’s comfy office chairs and tossing
her legs over one arm. “I threw her body in the cement at that new construction
site downtown.”

“Oh,
good thinking. Water is unpredictable - cement is forever. You ok?” he asked.

She
shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Did
you lay into her?”

“A
bit. Not completely.”

“Why
not?”

“Felt
disloyal, believe it or not. If I’m too mad at her, it means that I’m hating
life with you. And that’s not exactly true. And even if it were, that’s between
you and me.”

Mason
nodded. “So what happened with her and this guy?”

“They
split up.”

“Oh.”

“Does
that bother you?” Emma asked, swinging her legs around and straightening up to
look at him.

“Should
it?”

“You
were going to marry her. This other guy came between you.”

Mason
leaned back in his chair and pinned her with his gaze. “Emma, if it hadn’t been
that guy, it would have been something else. Jen got cold feet. And not cold ‘I
don’t love him enough to marry him’ feet. Cold ‘I don’t want to tie myself down
for three years’ feet.”

“She’s
back though,” Emma reminded him. “Do you want...” she stopped, unable to really
articulate what she was asking him.

“Are
you asking me if I prefer Jen to you, Emma?”

“Not
exactly,” she said seriously, refusing to be embarrassed. “Look, she’s my
sister. She’s gorgeous. She’s a little commitment-phobic, but she’s sweet.”

Mason
stood up then and moved around to the front of his desk, leaning back on it
with his hands in his pants pockets.

“And?”
he asked.

“I’m
serious, Mason. If you want to get back together with her, I’m sure that we can
figure out a way to quietly make that happen.”

“Why
would I want that, Emma?” he asked, seeming to be genuinely puzzled.

“Were
you not listening to me? Gorgeous? Sweet?”

“I
like you,” he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. It threw her for a
moment before she gathered her thoughts enough to respond.

“Well,
that’s nice. But I’m not exactly in Jen’s league, and we both know it. But you
and I could still be friends, Mason.”

“Friends?”
Mason’s hands came out of his pockets, and he pushed himself away from the
desk, striding over to where Emma sat, perched stiffly on his chair. Standing
over her, he looked down at her as she looked back up at him cautiously.

“Friends?”
he asked again, incredulously.

“Yeah,
friends. What?” she asked, almost belligerently.

But
he was shaking his head in disbelief. “For such a smart woman, you really don’t
get it, do you?”

“Get
what?”

“Jen
is not sweet. She’s cold and cynical, like me.”

Emma
was appalled. “No, she’s not!”

“She
is. And that’s why she and I
can
be friends. But you and I? We’re not
friend material.”

Emma
felt stricken, and tried to hide her reaction, but Mason was nothing if not
perceptive. Reaching down, he grasped her by the arms and pulled her up beside
him. Holding herself stiff, she tried valiantly for nonchalant, but couldn’t
quite pull it off.

“Damnit,
Mason, what are you doing?” she said at last, her arms sandwiched between them
as he pulled her still closer to his long form.

“Showing
you why you and I
can’t
be friends.”

And
with that, he lowered his mouth to hers, one hand splayed across her back,
holding her tightly to him, while the other moved up to hold her head as he
simply took. His lips slanted across hers, moving fiercely, possessively, while
his tongue invaded her mouth. His kiss was one of passion, one of need, but
certainly not one of friendship. The hand around her back was equally
possessive, moving up under her shirt to find bare skin, and caressing it with
a sense of ownership.

Emma
realized that her own hands were clutching the front of his shirt, using it to
pull him closer, into the kiss that he was pressing on her. Their breathing was
audible, their movements more frenzied than sure.

It
was only when Mason's hands started to move around under her shirt that Emma
realized that she needed to put a stop to this. But God, it was hard. He was
making her feel things that she badly wanted to feel - just not with this man.
Not with a man who had ice in his veins. Only now, she had to admit, it felt
like fire.

“Mason,
wait,” she managed to breathe out as she pushed away from him at the same time.
He released her immediately, but didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned down and
asked softly, “Do you still think I should try to make a move on Jen?”

“Um.”
Emma couldn’t think straight, especially since Mason was not giving her any
space. He inched forward, until he was nearly touching her again.

“Or
that you and I can just be friends?” he added. “Because it won’t work, Emma. It
never would have been like that between us, but especially not now.”

Emma
backed up a step. “It would have been, Mason. There was nothing between us when
we met, and we should have kept it that way. Because this won’t work either.
We’re like two fighters circling each other in a ring. We go at it for a while,
then retreat and circle again.”

Mason
moved forward. Again. “Maybe we shouldn’t retreat.”

Emma
sighed, looking up at him resignedly. “Then we’d probably kill each other.”

“You’re
already killing me, sweetheart,” he said quietly.

“That
seems mutual, Mason,” she said, looking up at him seriously.

He
nodded, reaching out a hand to run his knuckles over her cheek. “We’re going to
need to deal with this at some point, Emma.”

But
Emma turned, moving away so that he was no longer touching her. She couldn’t
think straight when he was so gentle – it churned her up inside, and made her
want things she shouldn’t and couldn’t want. “I can’t, Mason. This is has to be
business, and nothing more. If we can’t have a friendship, then we need to keep
this professional. Because, honest to God, I can’t be your wife for three years
and then quit when the contract is up. I can’t. Don’t ask me to.”

“Then
what
are
you asking for, Emma?” he asked, turning to face her with his
hands back in his pockets.

She
looked at him closely, sure she’d see some sense of panic in his eyes at the
thought of anything resembling a relationship. But she saw nothing – just the
same thoughtful expression he’d worn for most of the evening. She sighed then,
and answered, “Nothing. Really, Mason, I’m not asking for a thing. I’m just trying
to put down a boundary or two.” She paused, then pulled her sweater tighter
around her middle. Smiling slightly, she added, “And I’m staying out of your
way for a while - I’m going to go get Chaos and go for a run. Good night,
Mason.” Backing out of his office, she headed for her room to change.

Mason
watched her go. Breathing deeply, he settled back down into the chair behind
his desk, and leaned forward resting his weight on his forearms. God he wanted
that woman. But he wanted her with no strings attached and with Emma, there
would be strings. With Jen, there would have been nothing – maybe not even sex,
he admitted, because despite her beauty, there was no attraction between them.
They would have signed a contract that enabled both of them to meet their needs
on the side, not one that forbade either of them to cheat. Whatever had
possessed him to agree to that? he wondered. Not that he wanted to go out and
bed the first woman that walked across his path, but to not have that option
for three years? No wonder he was cornering Emma every chance he got. Maybe he
needed to revisit the idea of changing their contract.

But
as soon as he thought that, his visceral reaction was one of absolute denial.
No, he couldn’t do that. He wanted Emma. And it was
Emma
he wanted, not
just any woman. It was Emma he had wanted since the day he’d opened his door to
find her on his stoop. It was Emma he’d wanted from the second he’d heard her
explanation as to why Jen wasn’t coming. He could have just let Jen go, sent
her a message through his lawyer that he expected repayment of the money he’d
given her up front, and decided that his uncle’s voting stock wasn’t worth the
hassle. To be honest, it may not have affected his business as much as he’d
been concerned about. Thus far, he’d had more than enough support from his
stockholders to have majority votes any time he wanted it. Sure, it was nice to
have the additional votes in his back pocket, but unless things changed
drastically in the future, it may not have hurt him to lose them.

But
when Emma had shown up, all sympathetic and feisty, he knew he had to have her.
And rather than ripping up the contract, he’d used it to rope her in. And he
hadn’t regretted it, not even when they were at each other’s throats. She made
him feel alive. Truth was, if Jen hadn’t left when she did, Mason would have
been thinking up ways to ditch her and grab Emma anyway, if his initial
reaction to her was any indication.

And
she wanted him. Physically, anyway, but it was a start. And he had three years.
Three years to break down her defenses. The question was, what would he do once
he broke them down? He knew what Emma would want - marriage, children, a home.
Could he give her that? Or would he just want her for a period of time, then
grow weary of her? He doubted it, though. Because she was still the same feisty
woman he’d met, and she challenged him. She wasn’t impressed by his wealth, she
wasn’t intimidated by his personality, and she wasn’t frightened of his mother,
by God. That took a special kind of woman. He’d never ever considered a
long-term relationship before. Could he consider it now? With Emma? She
appealed to him more than any woman ever had, but was that enough?

Recalling
his parents' marriage, Mason grimaced. There weren’t many happy days in that
household when he and Amanda were growing up, but Amanda had somehow come out
of their childhood with more optimism and more... normality than he had. In all
of his relationships, he looked for what the women wanted from him - money,
power, sex. His mother had taught him that, perhaps without even meaning to,
because that’s how his father had acted. But Amanda still looked for love. How
had she escaped the same household that he grew up in, looking at life so
differently? He knew that she had gone her own way after college, refusing to
bend to the iron will of their father and join the family business. But
business was all Mason had ever wanted to pursue - to show his father that he
was just as good at building and managing a company as the older man ever was.
But had Mason lost his humanity at the same time?

Shutting
down his computer, Mason stood up and looked down at the paperwork on his desk.
It would wait, he thought. He needed a break. Moving out to the kitchen, he
grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and then headed into the
family room. Football, he thought. That was exactly what he needed to take his
mind off Emma. He heard her come in right before halftime, climbing the stairs
with Chaos at her heels. In a different world, she’d join him. They’d sit and
talk, maybe share a bottle of wine or a few beers while watching the game. But
that would be a world that Mason didn’t inhabit and didn’t know how to get to.
Turning his attention back to the game, he sighed. Maybe he needed to spend
some time figuring that out.

Twelve

A
few weeks later, on a Saturday afternoon, Emma was in the kitchen making bread
when she heard a knock on the back door. She opened it to find Malcolm standing
there, holding something in his jacket. After Emma let him in, he opened up the
front of his coat, and Emma saw a little black and white furball looking up at
her with huge eyes.

“A
kitten! Oh, he’s so cute! Where did you get him, Mal?” Emma asked, hoping
against hope that his parents gave in and let him get an animal.

But
Malcolm’s answer made her heart sink. “I found him. He was hiding under a bush
in the front yard. Do you think he’s OK? He’s awfully little.”

“He
is. But I think he looks fine. Let’s take a look. Come on inside,” she invited,
motioning toward the kitchen.

Following
her in, but still clutching the kitten, Mal walked back to the kitchen with
Emma, looking down at the little bundle of fur in his arms adoringly.

“Do
you think we can keep him?” he asked.

“Let’s
look first to see if he has a tag,” Emma said, but she realized quickly that
the animal had no collar. She sat down on one of the stools and looked
seriously at the boy.