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“Done. Should I strip you here, or take you inside first?”
Unable to cross her arms without mashing Mrs. Karnowski’s mystery dressing into her tank top, she settled for rolling her eyes.
“Good thing you weren’t wearing the dynamite dress.”
The dress. The reason she’d flipped out. A hint of anger bubbled to the surface, only to be popped by his sexy smile and perfect…everything. She turned to survey the mess. “Oh…my ice cream…” The chocolatey mush was inching its way across the deck. A messanda waste of sugar therapy. “Dammit.”
“Guess I owe you dessert too. They’ll have lots at the party.”
“Great. Enjoy it.”
“I will, with you.”
Honestly, did he think she was that much of a pushover? Of course he did, because around him she was, or had been until now. “I’m not going.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that.”
“So why are you here? Again.”
“To restart our long weekend together…by taking you to the party.”
A glob of potato dropped from her boob onto her toe. Mason barely bit back a smile, the jerk. She cringed while crossing her arms over her chest. “You left.”
“I came back.”
She had to give him credit. He could’ve justified his exit by pointing out her hissy fit and door slamming, but he didn’t.
“And I brought you a present.”
“That salad is no present, it’s a ticking time bomb for unsuspecting intestines.” Oh lord, now her arms were flapping involuntarily. Not good.
“Not the potato salad, babe. These.” A box of rosebud-shaped chocolates emerged from his cargo pocket.
“Oh. Those are my favorite.” Damn him. She needed to be strong, resist the pull tugging at every cell in her body.
“I figured, since you have two jars of them in your house.”
“Three.” He didn’t know about the one in her desk drawer.
“I stand corrected.” He stepped closer, gently picked up her hand and placed the box in her palm.
The simple touch sparked a wave of electricity that shot to every inch of her Mason-addicted body. This didn’t bode well for her deteriorating resolve.
Bribery—nothing new there. Scott had used it all the time, but on a larger scale, and with more pre-meditation. The dollar-something box of her favorite chocolates was charming and sincere. Scott’s bribes had never been that, not even close.
“Come to the party with me.” The words were a statement, not a question, but there was a hint of sweetness in his voice that was irresistible.
In the past, she’d have ended up going wherever Scott wanted out of obligation. Miserably, and to his specifications. With Mason, she didn’t have to do anything. But she wanted to. That memo from her head to heart about doing what was best—mentally shoved through the shredder.
If she couldn’t stop this mistake from happening, maybe she could make him do it. She tipped her chin up at him. “I’ll go, but I’m not changing. If you or your family and friends don’t like what I’m wearing…that’s your problem.”
Mason’s eyebrows rose. “Okay. I’m sure Toby’ll love what you’re wearing, if nobody else does.”
Her jaw fell. She snapped it shut, only to feel it drop again. At least he was being honest.
“I’ll try to keep him away from you, but I can’t guarantee it’ll work. He’s strong for an old guy and when he wants something, there’s usually no stopping him.”
The possibilities made her shudder. “Is he your lecherous uncle or something?”
