Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men, #1)(64)

I shivered from revulsion as I saw a predatory gleam enter her expression, as if she truly believed she owned him.

A fissure of fear worked up my spine. When she’d introduced Ted to us, I’d been so sure that meant she was done with Mason. But the way she watched him now, I knew she wasn’t.

“Nice…nose ring,” she said, her eyes still on him.

I cleared my throat and played along. “Thanks. My cousin talked me into getting it.” Totally pissed that she wouldn’t release him from her gaze, I added, “You know, you have the perfect shape of nose to get one too.”

Finally, she glanced askance at me and laughed. “Oh, sweetie. I’m way too old to be getting something like that.”

I think she was trying to cut me down and make me feel immature, but…I didn’t fall for her intimidation tactics so easily. Besides, I loved and embraced my immaturity.

I cocked my head to the side and gave her an innocent smile. “Really?” Sounding intrigued, I played with a piece of my hair that was so much younger and healthier than her frizzy, old mess full of split ends. Okay, fine. I didn’t see any frizz or split ends on her, but she totally deserved both. “I didn’t take you for the type to let a little thing like age bother you.”

Directing my gaze to Mason, I made my meaning obvious. When I turned back to her, she went still and her face drained of color. A muscle in her jaw twitched and her eyes narrowed and hardened.

Ooh, the bitch didn’t like me knowing her little secret.

Score one for Reese-meister, the contender. Boo-yah.

“Hmm.” Turning on her heel, she strolled back down the hall to the front room, where the rest of the older adults still were.

Ending his dance with a kiss to Sarah’s cheek, Mason stepped backward to stand beside me.

“I don’t know what you said to scare her off,” he said from the side of his mouth, “but I think I love you for it.” His eyes glinted a warm pewter as he grinned at me. Then he flashed forward to dance with Leann.

I stared after him, too affected to respond. I knew he’d been teasing. But the l-word coming from him sounded so darn amazing. It made me tingle from head to toe.

I was still glowing like a love-struck idiot when his pants rang.

He let go of Leann to dig his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. When he read the ID on his screen, he sliced me an awkward look. Swiftly turning away, he murmured, “Excuse me,” and hurried into the back bathroom before he answered.

Acid swirled through my veins. There could be only one reason he wouldn’t want anyone to hear his conversation.

He was speaking to a client.

I tried to shrug it off—honest—but I couldn’t.

What he’d said to Dr. Janison in the library on Thursday must’ve been a complete lie, because he hadn’t stopped scheduling clients at all. He was setting up a meeting with one right now. And he’d almost gotten caught by a husband last night.

Heartache cramped my chest. My throat went dry and my eyes moist.

Why I kept doing this to myself, letting the hope grow up like weeds around me and choke out all my common sense, I didn’t know. I could never be anything more than just a friend to Mason Lowe.

Since it was beginning to get dark outside, and I’d been freaked out since my mom’s phone call the night before, I took this as my cue to leave. I wanted to be home before the sun set with all my doors and windows locked and my Taser and mace strapped to both of my hands.

Besides, Eva might still be waiting for me. She needed me. Mason obviously did not.

I didn’t wait for him to get off the phone. I hugged and kissed Sarah goodbye, waved a friendly farewell to her friends, and slipped out the back door, hurrying to my car before anyone could stop me.





CHAPTER TWENTY




I hated homework. Always had.

Before I had started kindergarten, my older sister, Becca, had told me my teacher would give me a homework assignment if she thought I was dumb. And sure enough, at the end of my very first day of school, my teacher, Miss Zeigler, had clasped her hands together cheerfully.

“For homework, I want all of you to go home and practice writing the letter A.”

I’d promptly stuck out my bottom lip and burst into tears, thinking I was the ultimate epitome of stupid.

Through the years, I’d slowly overcome homework apprehension and had yet to bawl over another class assignment. However, the urge to sob like my old kindergarten self bubbled to the surface the next Tuesday morning when my General Virology professor gleefully doled out eight pages of research questions and then announced we’d go over the answers the next time class met.

That gave me forty-eight hours to look up and find fifty responses that were in no way easy or simple to uncover.

That evening, I had two textbooks flipped open and three handouts spread across the table in front of me. Around me, the college library stayed fairly quiet, yet every scrape of a chair, shuffle of paper, or cough from a passing patron distracted me.

The guy sitting next to me, leisurely rubbing the toe of his shoe up and down my shin, didn’t help matters either. I wanted to tell Bradley to scram, but he was a part of my Tuesday evening study group, though I wasn’t too sure why he was a member. He didn’t seem too interested in the whole concept of actually doing homework. I figured he must’ve joined hoping to get the answers solved for him.