Taken Home (Lone Star Burn) (7 page)

“And I’m what?”

“Angry. Bitter. Mason, you’re talking to someone who knows you. The past has a stranglehold on you, and as long as it does, you don’t have anything to give anyone.”

“Then it’s a wonder we’re friends.”

“I mean with women. I’m not a psychologist, but—”

“Then don’t try to be one. Listen, I called you because I respect our friendship enough to not want this to come between us. But I don’t need advice from someone who has always been as fucked up as I am.”

“I’m not like that anymore, Mason. I’ve made peace with the past. Can you say the same?”

Mason hung up instead of answering.

He turned his cell phone in his hand and thought about Chelle.
Maybe Charles is right and I have nothing to give her. This is about nothing more than getting her into my bed. A better man would call her and tell her not to come.

But I won’t.

Chapter Six

Friday was a day of firsts. First plane ride. First limo. First time out of Texas. Chelle smoothed her hands over the skirt of the dark-blue sundress Sarah had assured her would fit in anywhere. The limo driver spoke to one of the attendants, and her luggage was whisked away. A man in a dark suit walked up to her and introduced himself as the hotel manager.

“Welcome, Miss Landon. My name is Julian. It’ll be my pleasure to escort you to our presidential suite. If there is anything you need during your stay, do not hesitate to request me personally.”

Chelle shook his hand while taking in the elegance of the hotel and the expensive clothing on the people entering and exiting around them. It took her a moment to register what he’d said. “There is something. This has been a mistake. I didn’t request a suite. I’m only one person. And I’m not even that picky. Any room will do.”

The man referred to a paper in his hand. “The reservation was made in your name by Senator Thorne. We are at full capacity this weekend, or I would offer you another room. I’m sorry.” He turned and led her through a door that was held open for them by another man. “Follow me, please. I’m sure you’ll find the accommodations to your satisfaction.”

Once inside the elevator, Chelle said, “I’m paying for this room myself. Can I ask how much it is a night?”

Blandly, the man stated a sum that was a fourth of Chelle’s savings. She gasped and leaned back against one side of the elevator. “Oh. That’s not good.”

Sympathy warmed what had, until that moment, been a professionally blank expression on the man’s face. “Senator Thorne is a valued guest here. I am quite sure the bill will be added to his account.”

With her head still spinning from the amount they charged for the suite each night, Chelle said, “I can’t let him do that.”

“May I humbly suggest that you settle into the suite and ring Senator Thorne regarding your concerns? Refreshments are already waiting for you. Would you like someone to unpack your luggage?”

“No, thank you,” Chelle answered absently when the elevator opened right into an enormous, well-lit suite that was all glass and white furniture. Chelle heard her mother’s voice in her head telling her not to touch anything. She followed the hotel manager into the suite. There was a dining room, where small sandwiches and fruit had been set out for her. A double door opened to a huge bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed an extensive balcony with a swimming pool. She knew her jaw was hanging open, but she couldn’t help it. She knew such lavish places existed, but she never thought she’d stay in one.

Chelle dug through her purse and pulled out five dollars. She handed it to the manager. He looked as if he were momentarily torn between being offended or amused. Chelle shot him a pleading smile. “Thank you for your patience with me. This is my first trip—anywhere. I don’t know if I’m excited or terrified.”

The man graciously pocketed her tip and handed her a business card. “This is my main number. As I said, if you need anything at all, please call me first.”

Chelle looked out the window and saw the statehouse. “No wonder Mason stays here often—it’s so close to where he works. I thought he lived in Sacramento, though. Why would he need to sleep here?”

She looked to the manager for confirmation, but his expression had wiped itself clean. He asked her if she was all set. When she said she was, he excused himself.

Alone, Chelle walked from room to room, running her hand over the smooth white marble of the tables.
This place costs more than my car. I’m definitely not staying.
She threw open the balcony doors, stepped out onto the balcony, and smiled into the sunshine.
But there’s nothing wrong with taking a moment to enjoy it.
She let her imagination go, and the balcony was suddenly full of beautifully dressed couples. She adopted an English accent and a pretentious tone. “Welcome to the presidential suite. Have I stayed here before? I practically live here, darling.”

“Then you should feel right at home,” Mason said from behind her.

Chelle spun, tripped over her own feet, bounced off the edge of the door, and landed in a sprawl before him, half in and half out of the doorway. She scrambled to her feet and adjusted her dress, trying to look as if she hadn’t just wounded both her elbow and her pride. She waved a hand in the air. “I was joking with my guests.” When that sounded crazy even to her own ears, she added, “In my head. Imagining if I had some. But I don’t. And I know that.” She stopped and tucked her flying curls behind her ears. “So, hi. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She couldn’t tell if he had a huge smile on his face because he was genuinely happy to see her or because he was doubting her sanity and humoring her. “I meant to meet you at the airport, but a last-minute meeting called me in.” He stepped closer to her and touched her arm gently. “You’re bleeding.”

Chelle pulled her arm away from him, raised her elbow, and swore. She rushed past Mason in search of tissues, but couldn’t find any. What kind of hotel didn’t have a visible box? She located her makeup bag and applied a Band-Aid to her small cut. It was only then she noted the drops of blood that traced her path through the suite. “Oh no.”

Mason was beside her instantly. “Are you okay?”

Chelle shook her head sadly. “I was hoping to leave before they charged either one of us for the suite, but I don’t know if that can happen now. I’m sure the cleaning fee for a place like this is also insane.”

Mason tipped her chin up so she met his eyes. “They’ll simply add it to my account. Are you okay?”

Being so close to Mason made mundane topics like her throbbing elbow easy to forget. On the flight over, she’d wondered if she had imagined how beautiful he was. She hadn’t. Strong jaw, broad shoulders, eyes so blue they were mesmerizing.
No wonder I made a fool of myself over him at the wedding. Holy crap.
“I’m fine,” Chelle said in a husky tone. “I can’t stay here, Mason. I can’t afford this.”

He ran a thumb gently over her jaw. “I don’t expect you to. You’re here as my fiancée, remember?”

“Fake fiancée,” Chelle added. It was an important distinction to keep clear in her head, especially while she fought a strong desire to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her.

He lowered his head until his lips hovered above hers. “No one knows that but us.”

Chelle licked her bottom lip and fought back a panic. She wasn’t supposed to feel this strongly toward him. She was supposed to play things cool, possibly meet someone through him. Have fun. The all-consuming desire coursing through her scared her as much as it excited her.
A kiss to him is nothing more than a handshake. Don’t be an idiot and read anything more into this. This is supposed to be an adventure for me and helpful to him. Breathe.
“Do you really think people will believe that we’re engaged? It’s not like I have a ring.”

Mason dropped his hand from her face. A second later, he took her left hand in his and slid a stunning emerald-cut diamond solitaire onto her finger. “There wasn’t time to have one designed for you, but this should do, and it fits.”

Chelle held her shaking hand up, and the diamond mockingly sparkled at her. Panic rose within her. “I can’t wear this. What if I lose it?”

He smiled down at her. “You won’t.”

Chelle went to pull it off. “I couldn’t afford to replace it if something happened to it.”

He took her hands in his. “You worry too much.”

Chelle’s next protest dissolved before she spoke it. Melanie and Sarah described Mason as a shameless flirt, but there was an emotion in Mason’s eyes and a seriousness Chelle hadn’t expected when she’d agreed to the visit. She would have sworn on her life that in this moment, he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
I’ve been down this road before, and it ends with abrupt and painful disappointment. He doesn’t care about me. This is about the charity event. That’s why he asked me here. Don’t let those heavenly eyes fool you twice.
The ring was nothing more than a prop for that event. “I guess I can wear it for a day or two, just to prove we’re together.”

His gaze was unrelenting. “How is your elbow?”

“My elbow?”

“You hurt it,” he said in a tone laced with humor.

Chelle swallowed hard. “Oh. Yes. It’s fine. Just a little cut.”

“I’m glad.” He lowered his head again until his breath felt as soft as a caress across Chelle’s parted lips. “I want to take you out tonight, and people will expect us to be comfortable doing this.” His mouth claimed hers. His tongue slid teasingly between her lips. Just enough to have her part them in a gasp of wonder. It was a kiss unlike any she’d experienced before. He didn’t take; he invited. He didn’t plunder; he explored. He dug his hands into the hair on either side of her head and held her there gently while his tongue danced intimately with hers. When he raised his head, he was smiling. “We’ll be convincing.”

Convincing? Oh my God, I almost forgot why I’m here.
She pushed away from him and took several deep breaths. She looked down at the ring on her finger.
It’s a prop. I’m a prop. He’s an actor, and this is his stage.
She glanced around the suite again. What had felt like a dream a moment before was suddenly muddled. “Why do you have an account at a hotel next to where you work?” When Mason didn’t answer, Chelle met his eyes again. He gave her an odd look that birthed Chelle’s next question. “Do you bring women here? Like on a regular basis?”

He shrugged. “What do you want me to say, Chelle?”

“The truth.” Shaking her head, Chelle pointed to the bedroom. “Have you had sex with someone on that bed? The bed I was going to sleep in tonight?”

His answer was a slight incline of the head.

Chelle looked down at the couch beside her, and an image of him with a woman flew into her head. “And this couch? Did you christen that, too?”
I am so glad I didn’t sit down.

He raised and lowered one eyebrow in concession.

She glanced out the door at the pool she had adored only a short while earlier. “And the pool?”

He nodded.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss a spot? How about where I’m standing?”

A shameless smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was guilty as charged, and for some reason Chelle couldn’t remain irritated with him. She swore to herself in that moment she wouldn’t sleep with him, but she found herself smiling back at him. “I don’t feel so bad now about getting a little blood on the carpet. It sounds to me like this place is due for a little sanitizing.”

Mason looked around and conceded, “I probably should have chosen a different hotel.”

Chelle rolled her eyes. “You think? You don’t put your fiancée in the same hotel room where you slept with everyone else. Oh my God, I don’t want to know what the manager was thinking when he showed me around.” Chelle waved a finger at him. “This is so wrong. One day you’ll be grateful you test-drove being engaged with me, because any self-respecting woman who was actually with you would be on the first plane out of here.” She looked down at the couch and wrinkled her nose at it. “I’m not staying in this room.”

“I offered you a bedroom at my apartment. You said no.”

“Because I didn’t want to . . .”

“Sleep with me?” he asked with that sexy, coaxing tone that made her want to rip off her clothes and offer herself to him as an afternoon snack.

Friends. We’re friends. Don’t forget that.
Chelle folded her arms across her chest. “If you really want me to stay for the weekend, you have to stop doing that.”

The naughty smile was back. “Doing what?”

She waved at his smile and the expression on his face. “Constantly flirting with me. I didn’t come here to sleep with you, and you seem to have plenty on your plate as far as that is concerned anyway. When we’re in public, we can pretend to be together. But when we’re alone, tone it down a notch. Treat me like any of your other friends who are women.”

Mason scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I have sex with my female friends.”

Chelle rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.” It was almost funny. Almost. “There must be some woman in your life you spend time with and don’t bring here.”

“My secretary, Millie.”

“Okay, that’s promising.”

“She’s in her late sixties.”

Chelle burst out laughing. “You have a problem.”

Mason’s cheeks reddened. “Ouch. Criticism from a twenty-five-year-old virgin. We could discuss what defines a healthy sex life, but you’d have to have one to contribute.”

Chelle raised her hand to deliver a smack she wholeheartedly felt he deserved. He caught her hand midswing.

The air between them was instantly charged with a sexual tension so strong it had both of them breathing heavily. “You have quite a temper for someone people describe as the sweetest woman in Texas.”

“You bring out the worst in me,” Chelle answered.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly over hers, wiping the anger clean out of her. “I could say the same. I shouldn’t have made fun of your virginity. The more I think about the fact that you’ve never been with anyone else, the more I like the idea.”

Chelle panicked and tried to pull her hand away, but he held it firmly between them. “Let me go.”

“I don’t know that I can.” He brushed his mouth ever so lightly over her lips again. Chelle kissed him back, unable to fully resist the lure of their attraction.

A part of her held back, though. If she gave herself over to the temptation of his kiss, there was no doubt what would come next.
Tonight could be everything I wanted at the wedding. This weekend could be a wild sexual adventure with a dab of role-playing in public. No one would need to know. If I let myself go, I could step into his life. Roll onto that bed with him. Or onto that couch.

The couch he shared with countless other women.

No.

Chelle broke free and stepped away. “Coming here was a mistake.” She went to pull off the engagement ring.

“Wait,” he said firmly.

Chelle froze.