She’d called this a meeting, and even though he’d corrected her to date, he wasn’t sure she’d agreed. Her outfit definitely said date. The skirt showed lots of shapely leg and the sleeveless shirt hinted at some fine cleavage. Very sexy, top to bottom. The last time a woman had appealed to him this much was…never. Not Stacey, his ex-fiancée, and nobody since, either. He stopped short. Took a breath and let the hit to his system settle. Damn.
She noticed him then. Her face lit up, putting the dozens of strings of white lights decorating the Square to shame. If he previously owned an ounce of cool, it vaporized into the early summer night. He didn’t need a mirror to know his smile went ear to ear.
“You look—” What words could he use without scaring her off? “You look beautiful. And incredibly sexy, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He offered his hand and she took it, letting him pull her to a stand in front of him. The heat of their connection zinged through him. Some long-lost reserve of control sprang up to save him from yanking her body to his and kissing her breathless. He’d have to do it before the night ended. That much he knew.
“Where can I take you?” He kept her hand, adjusting their fingers to link together. “What would you like to do, other than dance?”
Andie’s mouth parted and closed. She shook her head but, to his relief, with a smile on her lips.
“It wasn’t a yes or no question, and if I ask you one of those, I really hope you’ll be nodding, not shaking your head.”
“That’s a safe bet, unless you’re asking if I’m ready to go home.” Her face went pink, an indication of what it cost her to make the statement.
The blush only made him want to kiss her more, but he pushed the greedy thought aside. “No chance of that question happening.” He motioned with their joined hands and they began walking. “Unless I’m asking to go with you.”
Well, now. Fantasizing about sexing it up with Mason was one thing. Knowing that it might become reality before they said goodnight was a whole other ball game. One Andie hadn’t played in years. Even before the separation and divorce, sex had been infrequent—to the extreme—and lackluster. And yes, she blamed that on Scott.
But what if it wasn’t all Scott’s fault? She might be horrible in bed and not know it. Because, let’s face it, being a pro at getting yourself off didn’t guarantee pornographic results with a partner. Especially with a younger man. The whole prospect made her suddenly weak in the knees. She stumbled slightly and turned on her swollen ankle, prompting Mason to wrap his arm around her waist. Totally worth the stab of pain in her leg.
“Sorry about the ankle.”
“The smile on your face makes that hard to believe.”
“I wish I hadn’t hurt you, but I’d be lying if I said I’m sorry that it got you here.”
Even with the wedge-heeled sandals that were killing her ankle, she only reached his chin. She’d been eye-to-eye with Scott. Looking up at a man was kind of sexy. Oh, who was she kidding—it was ten kinds of sexy. So was his firm grip on her waistline.
“You’re putting too much weight on that foot. If you put your arm around me, I could support you better.”
“What are you, a doctor?” Sarcasm or not, she took him up on the suggestion. Her hand slid across his lower back and hooked into a belt loop. The ass that had looked so fine in baseball pants lay a mere hand’s width lower. Itching to grab it as she was, she restrained herself. She was forty, after all, not fourteen.
Mason steered her toward a small restaurant. “How about here?”
“It looks busy.” And by busy, she meant bright. Outside, with moonlight and intermittent streetlights, she was relatively comfortable. But once they were across from each other, under the unforgiving glare of hanging pendant lamps, there’d be no escaping the obvious—their age difference. “Plus, it’s nice out. Maybe some place with a patio instead.”
They’d stopped on the sidewalk. The set of his body indicated they weren’t going any farther. Neither would her fantasy date after a few minutes at a table. At least she didn’t have to worry about her bedroom skills anymore.
“Patio next time. Let’s go in and get one of those tables at the back.” He squeezed her waist. “I don’t want to share you with everyone on Dundas Street. I want you to myself tonight.”
The promise in his voice made her tingle. Mistake or not, she let him lead her to the door. Well, there were worse places to be humiliated than a quiet bistro with semi-private seating.
A cute little thing of about twenty-five led them to the booth Mason requested. Sashayed in front of them better described her action. Mason’s hand stayed on the small of Andie’s back, and when she peeked over her shoulder, his eyes were on her, not the perky butt in front of them. Go figure. Andie eased onto the maroon upholstery, giving the hostess a smug smile when she caught her openly gawking. Mason’s preference had the younger woman stumped too.
Theirs was one of those curved booths able to seat an entire family, yet perfect for cuddling. He slid in close beside her and put one arm over the back of the bench. Voila, instant twosome moment. The twirpette grudgingly took their drink orders and huffed away. Once she was alone with Mason, his eyes surveying her face, her nervous dread returned.
“I’m older than you,” she blurted.
“I’m taller than you.”
“I have a twelve-year-old son.”
“I have a one-eyed cat.”
“You’re just making fun of me now. Your cat has nothing to do with this,” she said, motioning between them.
His fingers dropped to the back of her neck and trailed along her shoulder. “Neither do the other things. None of them affect how well we’ll match up.”
Chapter Two
Mason’s comment, his fingers on her skin and the lure of his incredible eyes, left her speechless. A waitress arrived with their drinks. Not the hostess, but equally young and cute. Great. In acknowledging the new girl, Mason broke their connection. Briefly, but long enough for Andie to regroup.
She clinked her glass against his beer. “To matching up.”
He laughed and took a long pull from the bottle. Over the edge of her drink, Andie watched his lips on the rim and the slide of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Her eyes followed the line of his throat lower, into the unbuttoned zone of his white shirt. Geez, the man was hot. She tipped her glass, all but draining it. The vodka in the screwdriver worked its magic immediately, and that warm, easy feeling washed over her. Maybe it relaxed her a bit too much, since orange juice was dribbling from her chin. Not quite as smooth as his drinking method.
He caught the drops with his index finger. “Got it.”
She giggled. Like a schoolgirl, for crying out loud. Blame it on the alcohol. His featherlight touch rounded the cap of her shoulder, teased the lower edge of her collarbone, then returned to her neck. Thank god she’d chosen the cowl-neck top. At least her bullet-hard nipples wouldn’t show. She needed to make conversation, and fast. Before she did something stupid like climb onto his lap.
“Do you really have a cat with one eye?” Ugh, that was the best she could come up with?
“I do. Somebody found him in their backyard, pretty banged up, more than the eye, and brought into an animal shelter. I…” He paused, obviously deciding on what to say next. “I adopted him after he’d recuperated and nobody claimed him. He’s a cool cat, thinks he rules the roost.”
A ballplayer with a soft spot for animals and eyes that a woman could drown in—she was in so much trouble here.
“What about you, any pets?” he asked, and she cringed. “Not a good question, I guess.”
“Touchy subject, that’s all. My ex took our dog when I asked for a divorce.” An unladylike snort escaped. “She was my dog, but her registration papers were in his name. She’s still my dog, even though she’s no longer mine.” She shrugged. “I can’t bring myself to get another pet…I know that probably sounds stupid.”
His face was intent but undecipherable. “How long has it been?”
“Two years.”
“Do you have visitation rights?”
Was he mocking her, or serious—Andie couldn’t tell. He was getting an honest answer, regardless. Let him think whatever he wanted. “I tried that in the beginning. It tore me up, giving her back after a few hours together, or a weekend. And then I got a call from the vet, accidentally, because they still had my number on file. Apparently, Scott had dropped her off for tests because she’d quit eating and become very lethargic. Everything came back normal, thank god. Turns out it was stress. Doggie depression, because of me. So I gave up the visits altogether for her sake.” Oh great. Her voice had gone all shaky and tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. “You probably think I’m totally ridiculous. Most people do. I got all this
stuff
in the agreement, yet I get blubbery about a dog he won’t let me have.”
Mason covered her nervous hand with his big, warm one. “I think you’re great. Not even a little bit ridiculous.”
Being married to a lawyer had taught Andie a thing or two about phoniness. Mason’s smile seemed understanding and sincere. Here she sat, telling a stranger—who happened to be her smoking-hot date—about her divorce, without instantly regretting having opened her mouth. There was just something about this guy.
“He’s keeping her to spite you.”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s a dick move.”
“I’ve always thought so. Let’s talk about something else. Anything, you pick.”
He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Dangerous thing to do, leaving the field wide open. What if I choose…sports?”
Was that really what he wanted to say? Hmm. “Baseball, I’ll participate. Everything else, I’ll nod in all the right places while thinking about how attractive you are.”
He laughed, the sexy sound drawing the attention of every female within earshot. “So if I talk about baseball, you won’t be thinking about how I look?”
“I happen to be a great multitasker. I promise to be mentally undressing you while we discuss the ins and outs of the game.”
“Andie, I’m kissing you now. I know I should wait ’til later, but I can’t.”
“Me either.” She put her hand to her lips—they were a bit too loose around Mason.
He angled his body toward her. Gently removed her hand, pulling it into his lap. He abandoned it there and reached for her face. His fingers brushed her cheek, down the side of her neck. Her heart raced as though this was her first kiss. In a way, it was. She hadn’t kissed any man other than Scott in seventeen years, and the last ten of those had been sporadic at best. God, what if he could tell how rusty she was? What if she…
“Stop thinking,” he said, close enough that his lips nearly touched hers.
“Okay.” Before she could internally club herself for the dumb answer, he kissed her. His mouth was soft and warm with the perfect amount of pressure. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside. She tasted beer, a hint of cinnamon and a boatload of endorphins.
Next thing she knew, her arms were wrapped around his neck. Oh god, his hand was on her bare leg, just shy of her hemline. If her thighs didn’t burst into flame, it’d be a miracle.
She parted, granting him access. Sweet heaven, he took the invitation, advancing until his wrist bumped the fabric of her skirt. Then he stopped. Sort of. Forward motion might have ended, but his fingers continued moving in a random, swirling pattern in very close proximity to her panties. Her very wet panties.
She moaned into his mouth, a sound that was unmistakably erotic in origin. To her ears, anyway.
He broke the kiss, but didn’t move away. “Are you hungry? They have great bruschetta here.”
He was asking her about bread while caressing her inner thigh. After making out with her in a public place. Maybe the kissing hadn’t affected him the way it did her. She wanted to straddle him right then and there—not order appetizers and talk baseball. Instead, she let her arms fall away from the softness of his hair. She eased back a bit and waited for her head to clear.
“Um no. My stomach is still full from the takeout I grabbed earlier.” And the butterflies he’d unleashed while making love to her mouth.
“If you’d called me sooner, we could have had dinner together. I had the Chinese-for-one special, also known as the dateless-loser meal.”
“I can’t believe someone like you ever needs to go solo.” Let him read whatever he liked into that one. Her nipples tightened at his chuckle, straining against the lacy bra. He followed up the laugh by reaching for his beer. As in, removed his hand from her leg. She hid her disappointment by dusting off the remains of her screwdriver.
“Want another?” he asked after emptying his bottle. He raised a hand and made the number two at the waitress while pointing to their table.
“That move would never work for me. I’d be waiting fifteen minutes for somebody to notice I wanted something.”
His gaze swept over her, covering every visible inch, right down to the pushed-up skirt on the bench seat. “Not if the servers were guys.”
Andie surveyed the restaurant. “I can’t disprove your theory because there’s not one male employee on the floor.” No wonder he’d chosen this place. All the pretty young things made for nice scenery. Age-appropriate scenery. Unlike her. She tugged at her too-short skirt. Adjusted the neckline of her top that showed a bit too much boob for a woman her age.
“You’re wrong.” Mason didn’t look at the waitress when she dropped off their drinks. His eyes stayed on Andie.
“Kind of hard to be wrong when I didn’t say anything.”
Mason saw through her forced smile. Totally self-protective. Ditto her body language. He could guess the reason. But she couldn’t be further off base.
“I’m not looking at anybody but you, Andie. Why would I, when you’re the most gorgeous woman here?” He reached for her hand and dove in. It had to be said. Directly, so they could be done with it. “At the ballpark earlier, I threw the ball your way intentionally. You’re hot and I wanted to meet you. Yeah, you’re older than me. Who cares? I’m attracted to you in a very big way. And that kiss…I’m still trying to recover.” He’d had to force his hand from her leg, because he was
this close
to stroking her right here in the restaurant. He got the feeling she would’ve let him. And that had him ready to burst.