Love and Chaos (27 page)

But
Emma refused. “No.”

“Why
not?”

She
shrugged. “Doesn’t feel right. I have the money. If it gets out of control,
I’ll let you know.”

“Emma....”

“I’ll
be ready on Saturday night, Mason. What time?”

Mason
gave her a long look, before replying evenly, “7:00.”

“Good
night,” she said softly, shutting her bedroom door and leaning against it.
Damn, he made her want him. Just seeing him standing in her doorway, his long
lean body lovingly clothed in a suit that was tailored for him, made her want
to rush into his arms and demand that he make love to her. For as long as he
was interested, even if it killed her when he eventually left. She had more
pride than that, but she stayed for a long time with her back to the door,
knowing that if she moved, she might go in the wrong direction.

On
Saturday night, Emma was ready at 7:00. She’d fed and crated Chaos, left out
kitty food for Max, and dressed in a new bright magenta side-drape sheath dress
that she’d found on sale. It fit her curves lovingly, and she paired it with
silver sandals and a matching shawl, in case it got chilly. With her brown
curls carefully swept up into a loose chignon, she looked, she thought, as good
as she was going to.

When
she stepped down the stairs at exactly 7:00, Mason was standing in the foyer,
checking messages on his smartphone. He looked up when he heard her on the
stairway, and did a double take. This was Emma? She looked absolutely
beautiful, he thought. She always looked lovely, but this color brought out the
rosiness of her cheeks, the soft highlights in her hair, and accented the
curves of her body in a way that caused his heart to skip a beat. He nearly
dropped his phone as he waited for her to join him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Mason?”
She looked uncertain. He was looking at her very strangely, she thought.
“What’s wrong? Do I have fur somewhere I shouldn’t? I thought I’d done a good
job with the lint roller,” she added, trying to stretch to see her backside, in
case she’d missed anything. As she curled around, Mason thought his heart might
be going into palpitations.

“No.
No fur,” he managed to say. “You look amazing, Emma. Beautiful.”

She
smiled up at him. “Thank you. That’s sweet. You look amazing yourself,” she
added. And he did. There was something about seeing this man in a suit. A black
suit. A black suit with a crisp white shirt and a brightly striped tie. He
looked... Predatory, she thought. It was a look she hadn't seen for a while,
but it was back. He was looking at her with eyes that seemed to see into her
soul.

“Mason?”
she asked tentatively.

“There
will not be a man there tonight who won’t be wishing he were me,” Mason said,
his voice gravelly.

“They
always wish that,” Emma pointed out lightly. “You’re handsome, rich, and
incredibly sexy. Who wouldn’t want to be you?”

“None
of that will matter, Emma. It will be about you tonight.” Reaching out, he
gently ran a hand over her cheek, then reached down to take her hand. “Ready to
go, sweetheart?”

His
tenderness was nearly her undoing. She wanted so badly for this to be real. For
him to mean it when he called her sweetheart. For him to take her hand because
he loved her. Fighting back a sudden wetness that seemed to be gathering in her
eyes, she blinked hard and nodded. “I’m ready.”

Once
they arrived at the country club, Mason disappeared to go in search of drinks
and Emma mingled around the room a bit, waiting for his return. She was
uncomfortably aware that people were watching her, and she wondered why. She’d
been to events with him before, and she’d been dressed to the nines before. She
had no idea why she was undergoing such scrutiny tonight.

When
Mason appeared back at her side with a glass of red wine for her, she breathed
a sigh of relief.

“What’s
wrong?”

She
shook her head. “Nothing. Just feel conspicuously on display tonight. I know my
dress is bright, but it’s more than that. Any idea what’s going on?”

Mason
just looked down at her incredulously. The woman really had no idea how
gorgeous she was. Many of the women he’d dated in the past had known they were
beautiful, and fished for compliments shamelessly. But Emma honestly didn't
seem to have an arrogant bone in her body.

“What?”
she asked, when he didn’t say anything. “Did I split a seam or something?” she
asked, trying to cautiously feel along her sides to ensure that her dress was
still in place, while balancing her wine glass in the other hand.

Mason
just laughed, then reached out and caught her hand in his. “No, no split seam.
And nothing is going on. You just look beautiful, and people are noticing.
That’s all.”

Emma’s
face turned nearly as magenta as her dress. “No, Mason, that’s sweet to say,
but that can’t be.”

“Of
course it can. Come on. Let’s go and find you some olives and nuts, so that
wine doesn't go straight to your head.”

“You
know me well. What kind of wine did you get me?”

“It’s
a California Pinot Noir. Their selection was limited, especially for such a
wine snob as yourself,” Mason teased her.

“Ah
yes. Once you’ve tasted from Mason Parker’s wine cellar, nothing else seems to
do,” she laughed.

They
were headed toward the small tables of finger food when Mason got waylaid by a
business associate. Holding up one finger to Emma to let her know that he’d
just be a second, Mason bent his head to listen to the question his colleague
was asking. Emma wandered off a ways, wanting to give him privacy to talk. She
hadn’t gone far when Mason’s mother appeared at her side.

“Hi,
Mrs. Parker. Nice to see you again,” Emma greeted her with a smile.

“Emma,”
the other woman acknowledged. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

Shrugging
and taking a sip from her wine glass, Emma responded, “I guess not.” Noting
that the woman was dressed beautifully tonight in a turquoise dress with a
matching jacket, Emma added, “You’re looking well.”

Mrs.
Parker turned and looked over at her shrewdly. “Don’t kiss up to me, young
lady,” was her stern response.

Emma
rolled her eyes. “Oh for Pete’s sake. I like your dress and I like that color
on you. Can’t I say that?”

The
woman looked at her with a half smile. “Certainly. I like that way of saying it
better than the polite ‘you’re looking well’ comment.”

“Point
taken,” Emma grinned back at her.

“Who
are you wearing?” Mrs. Parker asked, looking Emma over as she asked.

“Ann
Taylor. On sale, even.”

The
woman out and out laughed. It stunned Emma. “Emma, I think I like you. No. I do
like you. Amanda keeps telling me that I’ve misjudged you, and I think perhaps
I have.”

Emma
just stared at her. And blinked. “Because I shop at Ann Taylor?”

“Because
you’re not afraid to say so. Here. To me. You didn’t marry my son for his
money, did you?”

“Hell
no,” Emma said with assurance.

“Emma,”
the older woman admonished her quietly.

“Sorry.
Heck
no. No. I didn’t.”

“So
why did you marry him? And don’t tell me true love. I know my son. Nobody falls
in love with him that fast.”

“It
was more of a gradual thing?”

“Truth
time, Emma.”

Emma
sighed. “He’s a good man, Mrs. Parker.”

“Dorothy.
You can call me Dorothy. As long as you tell me the truth.”

But
Emma shook her head. “I can’t quite do that. You need to ask your son that
question. But the most important thing to know is that we both went into it
with good reasons.”

The
older woman looked piercingly at Emma, then shook her own head. “I don’t
believe I'll ask him,” she said at last. “I want to see how this plays out.
You’re good for him. I’m staying out of it.”

Emma
shrugged and took a sip of wine. “Suit yourself. But come over for dinner
sometime. Seriously. You and Amanda. I’ve wanted it for months, and since he’s
not going to ever ask, I’m going to. I’ll even cook.”

“Doesn’t
Mason have caterers?”

“For
parties, yes. But not for everyday dinners. I love to cook. Will you come?”

Again,
the woman looked her up and down. “I do believe I will,” she said decisively.

“Good.
I’ll find Amanda and ask her too. Next weekend?”

“I’m
out of town, unfortunately. Perhaps the following weekend?”

“Perfect.
I’ll let Mason know.”

“You
asked my mother for dinner?” Mason looked at her incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“And
you told her you’d cook?”

“Yes
again.”

“You
realize that she’s used to haute cuisine,” Mason pointed out.

Emma
looked up at him with a perturbed expression. “What, my cuisine isn’t haute
enough for you?”

Mason
just smiled. “I love your cuisine. My mother may be critical.”

But
Emma shook her head. “Nah. It’ll be fine.”

“I
can get the caterers,” Mason offered.

“Nope.”

“You’re
stubborn.”

Emma
grinned at last. “Yeah. So are you.”

“So
when is this major event?”

“Not
next weekend, but the following.”

“Amanda
is coming too?”

“Yes.
And I told her to feel free to bring the man she’s been dating.”

“You
what?”

Emma
just shrugged. “Mason, they’ve been dating for longer than you and I have known
each other. It’s about time you and your mother met him, and this way, Amanda
gets a buffer. Besides, why should all the attention be on us?” she laughed.

As
Emma prepared for entertaining her mother-in-law, she realized that she hadn’t
yet invited her family over to Mason's home - not for dinner, not for drinks,
not even for a game of Yahtzee. It was an oversight that she badly needed to
address, particularly if she wanted to keep the hard-earned peace that seemed
to have settled over them since they met Mason earlier that month. Plus, Gran
was angling for an invite - she wanted to meet Max, see where her granddaughter
was living, and assess the overall possibilities for lawn bocce later in the
year. Her own yard wasn’t big enough for a good game.

So
Emma made a mental note to call her parents later that weekend and ask them
about their schedule. And in the meantime, she carefully scoured her recipe
collection for food she felt sure that Dorothy would like. And she then
whittled those down to those that required most preparation in advance so that
she could spend time with her guests, and not in the kitchen. By the time
Saturday night rolled around, Emma only had a few things left to do, so was
looking forward to a glass of wine, and some good conversation with Mason’s
family.

Mason
had spent most of the day in his office, working on a legal issue that had kept
him tied up for most of the week. Emma let him be, taking Chaos for a long run
in the afternoon to wear him out a bit, and then tending to things in the
kitchen. She pondered the table for some time, finally deciding on a dark brown
tablecloth, ivory dishes, and a centerpiece of sage green candles in a glass
bowl. It was simple, but lovely, and she felt sure that it would please
Dorothy.

At
around 6:00, Emma heard Mason leave his office and head to his room to get
ready for the evening. She realized that she needed to do the same, and climbed
the stairs to her own room, taking Chaos with her. After a quick shower, she
dressed carefully in a pair of black trousers, a red embroidered tank top, and
a matching red flowing sweater. She was looking for casual but elegant, and
felt like she’d chosen the right mix of color and texture, particularly when
she added black pearl earrings and a pair of soft black leather flats.

Heading
back down the stairs, she checked on dinner and began assembling the appetizers
she would put out for her guests. Olives and nuts, she grinned to herself, but
also a delicious eggplant appetizer, served warm with crusty bread that she'd
made earlier that day. All she needed was a decent wine to go with everything,
but she would leave that up to Mason.

As
if on cue, the man appeared in the kitchen doorway, and Emma nearly dropped the
knife she was using to cut the bread. He was dressed in a pair of dark trousers
that fitted him perfectly, and had a black turtleneck sweater under a dark grey
jacket. He was dressed far more casually than Emma was used to seeing him, but
he looked gorgeous. Sexy. Amazing. Emma forgot to close her mouth as she stared
at her husband.

But
he was staring too. Emma was normally a very pretty woman, and when she was
dressed in her cocktail finery, she was gorgeous. But she too was dressed in
much more casual clothes than usual, and the red suited her. Oh hell, it didn’t
just suit her, it was like the color was made for her. With her dark hair and
her creamy complexion, the red brought out the color in her cheeks in a
flattering way. She was beautiful, he thought. Absolutely beautiful. And if his
mother wasn’t due to arrive any second, he had no doubt that he would be
hard-pressed to keep his hands off her.