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No, I’m not thinking straight. He made his intentions clear. But damn it, when he’s soaked in champagne and sweat, with that race suit stuck to his body? I can’t think.
And what is it about Mason when he drops his voice that extra little notch that makes it so damn hot? Because oh, it is SO hot.
“Not at all.”
I wonder how many lies I’ll be able to tell right now. If I can keep the number under ten, that would be a miracle at this point.
His expression remains serious. I avert my gaze, looking back to where Caleb is talking to JP and Isla, but I can feel him watching me. I turn back to him. “Anyway, yes, dinner is fine.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “I’ll book a table and pick you up.”
“No, you don’t have to, I can meet you there.”
He shakes his head. “No. I asked you, so I’ll pick you up. You can text me your address when I send you the details.”
“Okay.”
He nods. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”
Mason turns and walks off, and I exhale. I need to get myself grounded in reality and not read things into his invitation that are not there.
Or see things in his eyes that I wish I could see.
Besides, what is the point? I’m a Collings, and he works for my family.
End. Of. Story.
I have better odds of meeting Santa on Christmas Eve than going out with Mason Clark on a romantic date.
I don’t know whether to laugh or be depressed.
Maybe a bit of both is in order, I muse.
I make my way back to the garage. Well, I’m definitely not a romantic interest, but I’m still having dinner with him tonight. I draw my lip between my teeth as I think about it. I’m going to have to be more guarded around him. He hit on the truth—my disappointment about his motive—within seconds. I have to keep all those emotions off my face. My stupid crush needs to be locked up and buried so he never has a reason to suspect anything.
But that’s going to be much, much harder than it should be.
Especially tonight.
* * *
I flick through my wardrobe at my family home in Monaco. The house is quiet because Mum and Dad are in London, and our housekeeper only works on Monday and Thursday when it’s just me at home. So I’m the only one here right now, and I’m glad, because I won’t have to answer any questions about what I’m doing this evening.
Selecting my outfit tonight is a delicate situation. Mason says he has a place in mind but wants to surprise me with it. Oh, and whatever I want to wear would be “perfect.” I swear I got butterflies from his text.
I love being surprised on a date. But this is NOT a date. Mason is my friend. Friend, friend, friend.
If that’s not enough, I can add this note to self: Family employee, employee, employee.
It’s a perfect reminder. And a miserable one at the same time.
I tell my brain to shut up and head to the dress section of my wardrobe. Do I go dressy? It could be some bistro that is more casual.
Of course, the whole vibe of going out in Monaco is kind of fancy. If I’m going out with Mason here, I’m one hundred percent going to dress up. Not that I need an invitation to do that. I love fashion. I love slinky dresses and high heels, and more than anything, I love being out of my Collings Motors polo shirt.
Suddenly, I spy something I bought but haven’t worn yet. A pair of black wool-blend tuxedo shorts with satin trim on the waistband and sides of the legs.
DO I DARE?
