Untouched: 2 (Rough Boys) (2 page)

She spun, chair whizzing, hair floating around her shoulders. Her dark eyes blurred with confusion. “What?”

“I mean, what’s stopping you?”

She ducked her head and picked at the invisible hangnail again. “I’m not sure I want to…”

“I’m not sure I want to either. Parties aren’t really my thing. But he’s a good friend and deserves the honor. Having both of us there will mean something to him. And the polenta and chicken tartlets are his favorite.” Mason grinned.

“That’s true.”

“I’m taking the question out of your hands. We’re going. We’ll go to the beer distributor first, and then the market to pick up the items you need to make the dish. You can take the afternoon off to bake them and get ready. Then I’ll meet you there at seven sharp.”

A dark current ran behind her eyes. Worry? Fear? What did she have to be afraid of? Mason’s chest filled with protectiveness. He had to get her to agree, if only to erase that expression in her eyes.

“Come on. You can’t turn me down. I’m your boss. Besides, if I’m spending good cash on supplies to make polenta and chicken tartlets, I’m not going to make them.”

Her spine straightened and she abandoned her interest in her fingernail. “All right, Mason. It’s a deal.”

“Shake on it.” He didn’t know what possessed him to say that. But he found himself crossing the space to her and extending his hand. He just had to feel her fingers against his, even for a split second.

She laughed again and took his hand, curling her delicate fingers around his. And he found out that they were indeed warm.

* * * * *

The December wind whipped Eva’s hair up and away from her face and sent tendrils of cold air down the collar of her winter coat. She huddled in the depths, trying to find a bit of warmth until she climbed into Mason’s big pickup truck.

He’d cleared the sidewalk for her, as the snow had fallen steadily since lunchtime. She followed his big footprints, unable to lengthen her strides to match his. When she did fit her foot into the imprint of his steel-toed boot, she marveled at how big it was.

Everything about him was big. He was at least six foot two with shoulders built for cleaving a hundred-year-old oak in half. She’d seen him wield a saw and axe more than once, and it thrilled her to the tips of her toes. The way his muscles bulged and flexed incited her.

She’d been alone far too long. A woman could only take care of herself in so many ways before she craved the feeling of a man on top of her—inside her. And Mason Dorsey was a man she’d love to take a chance on.

A blush crawled up her face as she thought this. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t risk taking him for a spin. She needed her job too much. She was hardly making ends meet as it was.

Relief still surged in her at the fact that Mason was footing the bill for the baking supplies. She didn’t have fifty cents to her name. Her bank account was dry until tomorrow’s paycheck was deposited, and the babysitter hadn’t been paid in three weeks. Eva was damn lucky the woman didn’t just stop showing up to babysit her four-year-old son.

The snow crunched beneath her boots. Mason had already reached the truck and had the passenger door open for her. Snowflakes dusted his short, chestnut-colored hair and he wore a smile that set her heart thumping. Fuck, why did she have to work for such a handsome man?

She brushed past him to climb into the silver truck, aware of the width of his chest in his woolen, red buffalo-plaid coat. The scents of musk and wet wool reached her, dizzying her momentarily.

Get a hold of yourself.

She vaulted into the cab of the pickup and tucked her legs inside. Mason flashed her a smile before shutting the door. She followed his journey around the front of the truck. She hated to admit it but her insides were mush when he was around. Working in such close proximity had been torture for many months. The minute she’d heard he was returning from the city for his father’s funeral with intentions of running the logging business, she’d practically swooned.

The
Mason Dorsey? Coming back to Salzburg Springs? When she’d set eyes on him after all these years, she’d barely been able to draw a breath. She still couldn’t breathe deeply around him.

All the women she’d gone to school with had flocked to the funeral to see the son who’d fled right after graduation. Yes, she saw the same things the immature women did—Mason was tall, rugged and sexy as hell. But she also saw the deep sorrow in the man’s eyes at the loss of a father he hadn’t visited in too long.

Did he have remorse over that?

He jumped into the truck and shut the door. The heat was already blasting and he turned it down a notch so they could hold a conversation. He pierced her with his dark-gray gaze. She clenched her fingers into fists. A small shiver snaked down her spine. God, she loved his eyes—tender and sparkling, filled with humor and intelligence.

“Warm enough?”

“Yes.” She wanted to tear her gaze from his but he held it a beat too long. Her heart tripped and sped out of control. This was the first time they’d been in a vehicle together. Working in the same office had felt stifling, but this was impossibly intimate.

Had she ever noticed how big his hands were? They could span her waist easily. And the best parts of him were quite visible in the glare of light—the small laugh lines around his eyes and the salt and pepper at his temples. These additions to Mason Dorsey’s person only made her attraction to him grow. In high school he’d been handsome, but age had given him a rough masculinity that heated her core.

Besides, she was older too. She didn’t want a boy.

I can’t have either, so I should stop thinking about it.

Ripping her gaze from his, she looked out the window at the snow-covered world. Time to turn her thoughts to practical—and rational—ones. She had a four-year-old at home with a babysitter who was going to demand payment. She had no milk and fifty cents to her name. And she’d promised to make and deliver a special Italian hors d’oeuvres to a retirement party when she didn’t know if the slighted babysitter would be willing to stay with her child.

Fuck, why had the world gotten so difficult these past years?
It started with Bill.

Mason backed up and headed down the long drive to the main highway. A silence settled between them that wasn’t uncomfortable but was electrically charged.

She tried to remind herself that he wasn’t feeling this—it was all in her head. Her romantic mind was starved for an emotional link, and Mason was the only man she spent time with.

Because he’s my boss.

He drove slowly down the driveway so he could scour his property for deer and turkeys. His house overlooked a flooded cornfield—a wetland that was stunning in its beauty. Ice crystals and thick snow clung to each stalk. The waters glistened with ice and snow.

She sighed happily.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? This was one of the things that drew me back here.” Mason stopped the truck at a particularly beautiful vantage point overlooking the old farmhouse and the wetland. “My memories of sitting over that flooded corn with my father, guns in hand, waiting for a duck to glide in and set down spurred me to stay on after his funeral.”

The gritty tone of his voice did things to her insides she didn’t want to contemplate. Beneath her blouse, her nipples pinched up tight. She was thankful for her thick coat and her scarf to hide her blush in.

“I love the birdhouses in particular,” she said. Earl Dorsey had crafted several big birdhouses and erected them in the fields during the summer when the corn was in. At all times, birds could be seen flitting from one to the next. Even when the field was drained in the spring, the birds called this area home.

“Me too,” Mason said. “Seeing the field rimed with ice makes me want to get out there and hunt ducks and geese.”

She smiled. “You could skip working Saturday and hunt instead.”

He’d worked every Saturday since his return. Though she didn’t work Saturday, she’d received more than one phone call from him, asking where a file was or if she knew a phone number. All too easily she pictured him in the office, poring through the finances.

Her heart gave a sputter and fear tingled to her fingertips. She knotted her hands and turned her face to the window to avoid his gaze. So far she’d been lucky. Mason hadn’t found out what she’d been doing at the bank. But it was only a matter of time before he actually looked at the records and found that for the past two years, she’d been dumping over half of her paycheck from Dorsey Forestry back into the company.

Bill, her late husband, had stolen tens of thousands of dollars from Mason’s family logging business after Earl had allowed her husband access to his checking accounts to buy parts to repair the equipment.

When Eva found out that the extra money padding her life wasn’t from her husband’s overtime pay, she’d gone crazy. Fury lifted in her even now. After she confronted Bill, they had been on the outs. And then the accident had taken him from her life forever.

Mason put a hand on her forearm. Heat seemed to scorch through the fabric of her coat. She tensed her thigh muscles to stop the sudden throbbing between them.

Turning to look at Mason, she found him staring past her intently. “Look at that.”

She followed his gaze. A pair of mallard ducks sailed over the wetlands, wings cupped and feet set to land. The male’s brilliant green feathers flashed in the sunlight. The pair angled themselves at precisely the same moment to set down.

Completely in sync with each other. How would that feel?

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face at the sight of the wildlife. “Like you said—beautiful.”

“Beautiful.” He squeezed her arm lightly. His gaze was locked on her, the silvery depths twinkling with something she didn’t understand but stole her breath.

A heartbeat ebbed between them. She shouldn’t be looking at the damn creases around his eyes or the fullness of his lips. He was her boss and she had to keep this job until she was able to pay back the money Bill had stolen.

Besides, Mason Dorsey couldn’t possibly be interested in her.

A formation of geese flew over, honking loudly, and the fine thread between her and Mason was snapped. He released her arm and shifted the truck into gear once more.

God, if Eva bent over one more time and wiggled that round little ass of hers, Mason was going to tip her over the shopping cart and take her. He passed his hand over his face for the tenth time, struggling to find control. At least his longer coat covered his evident arousal. Fuck, this woman was pure torture in one five-foot-three-inch frame.

She wended through the aisles of the market, selecting ingredients for the tartlets. She said there weren’t many ingredients but she sure as hell was taking her time choosing them. Scanning the prices and always selecting the one with the lowest cost. He could appreciate a frugal woman, but damn, did she have to keep presenting her lush ass to him?

His cock throbbed and his balls were as blue as a snow goose’s feathers.

Eva added a small jug of cream to the shopping cart and smiled at Mason. Need spiked in him at the sight of her moist lips. Had she just licked them?

Just then he heard her groan softly. Knitting his brows together, he studied her, trying to discern why she’d make that sound.

At that moment, he saw the reason—one irritating female named Amber Pratt. In high school she’d been the biggest gossip and, as far as he could see, she’d never changed. At his dad’s funeral, she’d clung to Mason, asking annoying questions that no one had any right to know. Personal was personal, in his book.

No wonder Eva had groaned.

As Amber approached, Eva stepped up to Mason’s side. That protectiveness lifted in him once more—an unusual feeling that he could learn to like too much. He’d touched her twice in the past few hours. Could he risk a third? To do so might risk his heart.

Biting down on that thought, he turned his attention to Amber’s overly excited greeting. She hopped up and down a little on her very high heels and made a show of embracing first Eva, then him.

He almost choked on the perfume clogging the air and her hair, stiff with hairspray, scraped his cheek. Stepping away as quickly as possible, he and Eva stood shoulder to shoulder, suddenly united against this person.

“It’s sooo good to see you both. And right before the holidays! There are so many parties. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you at any.” Amber raked her gaze over Eva.

Eva shrank back until she was flush against his side. He ached to slip an arm around her waist and anchor her to him. Why not? He’d get rid of Amber in a hurry, since she’d realize he wasn’t an eligible bachelor—something she’d called him at his dad’s funeral.

I’m just looking for any excuse to touch Eva again.

Resisting the urge, he tucked his hand into his coat pocket instead. Heat emanated from her little body. She was the perfect size to tuck against his chest.

“Are you coming to Mindy’s party tonight? It’s going to be great, just like old times. Except now we’re old enough to drink!” Amber rattled on, flipping her bleached hair with her fake nails. While she spoke as if she were best friends with him and Eva, her gaze heralded her disdain for Eva. She stared at Eva’s coat and shoes. Up close these things looked worn. Well-loved. He felt the need to shield her from Amber’s gaze.