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Mason expected Andie’s designer kitchen to have a high-tech, fancy coffeemaker. Gourmet beans from some obscure mountaintop plantation. Instead he found a plain, stainless-steel kettle—the old school, stovetop kind that whistles—and a jar of instant. Her house oozed pretentiousness. She didn’t seem to have an ounce.
They’d stayed up past two, alternating between fucking and talking. He’d woken at seven with Andie’s face on his chest, her leg draped over him and her hand curled around his cock. She’d looked beautiful, peaceful and unbelievably sexy. And, unfortunately, not nearly as alert as the part of his anatomy in her grip. So he’d snuck out rather than disturb her. She needed the rest. He had plans for her today. Big ones.
He whisked eggs, chopped red pepper and grated cheese. Found spices in one of the million cupboards and put a large skillet on to preheat. His cell vibrated on the counter as he poured the ingredients into the pan. A quick glance at the screen told him it was the after-hours service, meaning he had a possible emergency to deal with. Maybe he’d get lucky and it’d be as simple as calling a worried client.
He stirred the eggs while he called for the details. Damn. A legit emergency, one he had to go in for—now. So much for surprising Andie with breakfast in bed.
He turned off the burner and charged up the stairs, laid a quick kiss on sleeping beauty to get her attention. Pulled on clothes as he explained about the Great Dane with possible gastric torsion, a life-threatening condition that even surgery couldn’t always resolve.
“Oh, no. Can I do anything?”
“Cross your fingers it’s something less severe and be ready for me when I get back.” He leaned over the bed and gave her a deeper kiss than he had time for, given the circumstances. “I made breakfast. I wanted to feed you in bed, but I’ll have to do that next time. Go grab it while it’s hot.”
Her whole face lit up. Damn, he’d love to slide back into bed with her. Push the covers off and settle his mouth between her legs while watching sunlight dance on her skin and pleasure play across her face. He gave his head a shake and pushed to a stand.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said from the doorway. She didn’t answer. Just smiled and waved her fingertips. For the first time in years, he couldn’t wait to get back to a woman, instead of putting distance between them.
* * *
ANDIE
Sunday morning dragged into afternoon. No Mason on her doorstep. No call or text. Disappointment set in, despite her best attempts to ward it off.
Last night had been the most incredible night of her life. Fun and passion with a ridiculously hot man who’d even made her a gourmet-style breakfast. She had no business expecting anything more to come of it. And yet here she was, foolishly staring at the phone for hours on end.
She jumped when it finally rang, then dropped the handset on the floor. Twice. One more ring and it’d go to the machine. “Shit!” Damn klutz gene was going to make her miss the call. She quickly jabbed the talk button and attempted a sexy yet casual hello.
“I assume that extra-friendly tone was meant for one of your gentleman callers, not me.” Scott seldom let emotion color his voice, but his agitation was obvious.
“Excuse me?”
“I received an email from Judy Fenwick, detailing your run-in last night at the bowling alley. She said you were draped all over some man, and when she came over to catch up with you, you were offensive and raunchy.”
Nasty bitch. “Only by Judy’s standards.”
“And mine, from the account I received.”
“Judy was her usual, obnoxious self. She was rude to me…and my date.” There. Maybe Lasha was right, and he’d put the idea of reconciliation aside now that she’d publicly moved on.
“Irrelevant. I have a reputation to uphold. Your behavior and activities reflect on me, despite the fact that we aren’t married at the present time. I can’t have you talking and acting like a loose woman. You need to be more—discerning.”
The floor probably had a dent from her jaw, it’d dropped so hard and fast. “You make it sound as though I’m running around town with anopen for visitorssign slung over my hips.”
“Remember the terms of our separation agreement. None of yourvisitorsare permitted near Dylan without my consent.”
The lid blew off her barely contained control. “I’ve been out a couple of times with one man. I’m not signing anybody up for stepdad duty, nor am I whoring my way through the city’s bachelor population. There’s nobody Dylan needs to meet.” At first, she took Scott’s silence as a small victory. As the seconds ticked away, she realized the opposite was true. The rat-bastard had gotten to her. She’d told him everything he wanted to know. Worse, she’d fueled his damn hope.
“For the sake of the family and our future, please be more discreet while you’re working through this midlife crisis.”
How could such an intelligent man be so dense? “We don’t have a future. You need to accept that.” The jerk, he actually had the audacity to cluck. “I honestly don’t know what’s worse, Scott. The way you belittled me while I was your wife, or how you think you’re entitled to keep doing it now that I’m not.”
* * *
MASON
The telephone diagnosis had been right. Unfortunately. The Dane’s stomach was in bad shape and Mason had spent two hours doing everything in his power to correct it. In the end, the dog had needed to go to the veterinary hospital at the U of Guelph, where a team of doctors had saved the gentle giant. But it’d eaten up his entire day, because he’d driven the patient and the distraught owner to the clinic. Mrs. Anderson didn’t have a vehicle or a license, and the cab fare would’ve been one hundred and ninety-seven dollars. Each fucking way. Not a chance he’d have let them go that route.
By the time he’d gotten home last night, it’d been too late to head back to Andie’s. So he’d missed out on seeing her again. But their texting, especially the late-night parts that had included a few photos, had given him plenty to smile about.
