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Nothing killed a blissful mood like interacting with Scott. Andie made her way to the kitchen, reaching it in time to see Mason—still naked, of course—scooping today’s breakfast concoction onto two plates. Beautiful sunshine filled the room. Mason was whistling to some song in his head. He spotted her standing in the doorway and quit making music to give her one of his sexiest smiles. A little bit of the bliss squeaked its way back into the day.
“You’ve got cold feet already?”
“What…no, not at all. I just wish we had the full week to ourselves before you meet Dylan and we test drive our real-life relationship. God, I feel like the most selfish, worst mother in the world for saying that.”
“Uh…” Mason’s looked from her face to her feet. “I meant, you’re wearing the sheepskin slippers…in July.”
“Oh. Yes.”Thatkind of cold feet. “I really like them, that’s all.”
“Good. I like seeing you wear them around here.” He signaled her to the chair he’d pulled out. Poured their coffee, kissed the side of her neck, then sat next to her. “Now what the hell were you talking about?”
“Scott called. He’s cutting this cottage trip short under the guise of work, but it’s really his way of being pissy about the email.”
“He doesn’t want you getting some with another man.”
“He didn’t want me getting some when I was with him.”
Mason nearly choked on his mouthful of food. “I can’t wait to meet your ex.”
“You can’t say anything…”
A big, warm hand landed on top of her fidgety one. “I won’t have to. It’s a given. People talk shit about their exes.”
“You don’t.” Aside from explaining his trust issues by telling her that his ex-fiancée lied about getting an abortion, Mason hadn’t said two words about the woman, good or bad.
He shrugged. “Neither do you, not really. But, the right expression on my face and he’llthinkI know every complaint you ever had about him.”
“Tempting, but not a good idea. He might…retaliate…and involve Dylan.”
“Babe, don’t worry.” Strong fingers brushed her cheek softly. “Doctors can do blank faces as well as lawyers do.”
“Thank you.” If Scott thought Mason—or anybody—knew the intimate details of their marriage, he’d be infuriated. Maybe enough to become a jerk about Dylan. He could pull a few legal strings and take over primary custody…simply because he was embarrassed. A chance she couldn’t take.
“You gonna eat those eggs, or just organize them into rows of bite-sized piles and drive your fork around them?”Hisplate was empty. The man was a bottomless pit, but she’d bet he wasn’t really after her breakfast. Not by the tender smile that went all the way to his eyes.
Sure enough, she’d readied the food for easy feeding. An old habit brought to life by the recent rash of baby thoughts, most likely. “It’s been years, but let’s see if I’ve still got the knack.” She loaded one pile onto her fork and steered it toward Mason’s mouth. “Here it comes…open up for some nom-noms.” Like a good baby, he took the offering. “Yup. Works every time.”
He barely chewed before swallowing. Waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “Yeah? Then I’m using that line on you later.”
“It only works if you use a cutsie-wootsie voice.”
“No problem.”
The trouble with issuing that challenge was the images it conjured up. Mason, engaged in a one-sided conversation with an adorable infant. The deep, leathery voice that made her tingle all over would work soothing magic on a baby. One with blue eyes, like both parents had. Bad train of thought, bad. Her ovaries were humming just thinking about it.
“Later, when you use that line…” She shook her head to clear the fantasy away. “Skip the baby talk part.”
“You think I can’t do it? I’m good with babies. Kids love me.”
Oh god. So not helping with her ovary issue. They’d better double up on the condoms later. At this moment, her eggs were probably lying in wait, microscopic whips and handcuffs at the ready. Any escapee sperm didn’t stand a chance.
“You’ll see when we go to that birthday party next weekend,” he said, clearly oblivious to the loud ticking coming from her biological clock.
She hugged herself below the waist, but it was pointless. Every cell in her reproductive system was on alert. National security had its code red. Baby lust came in code pink and blue.
“You okay?” He leaned closer and touched her face so, so sweetly.
“Yes.” No. Make that a big, fat no. More accurately, a big, she-wished-she-was-fat-because-she-was-pregnant fat, with dill pickles dipped in Cheez Whiz, no. “I’m fine.”
