Emma
got home late. She was amazed when she’d looked at her watch in the restaurant
and realized that it was nearly midnight. It had been a fun night, she thought.
Old friends were the best - they caught up on each other's lives, laughed about
old times, and just comfortably bantered over a couple of pitchers of
margaritas. They switched to coffee or diet coke by 10:00, since all of them
needed to drive, and enjoyed sharing a few decadent desserts. Emma nearly told
them about Mason, but couldn't bring herself to do so. After spilling
everything to her grandmother earlier that day, she found that she was
surprisingly at peace with where she was, and where she was was in a business
arrangement.
After
waving goodbye and promising to get together again soon, Emma settled into her
car and headed home. The drive was a pleasant one, and Emma just listened to
music and let her mind drift around. To work, to her family, to Mason. She
sighed. She’d figure it out, she thought. And for now, she was one day closer
to his business trip, so she may not even need to see him again before he left.
Pulling
into the garage, Emma collected her purse from the passenger seat and lowered
the garage door before getting out of the car. Quietly opening the door to the
kitchen, she let herself in. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and
was just starting to head for the stairs when she realized that a light was on
in the living room. Mason was sitting there, nursing a scotch, and from the
looks of it, he’d been there a while.
“Where
have you been?” he asked quietly, almost menacingly. It rubbed Emma the wrong
way.
“Out,”
she responded simply. “Why do you ask?”
“Out
where?”
But
Emma shook her head. “Mason, I’ve never had to account for my whereabouts to
you before. Has something changed?”
He
looked pointedly at his watch. “You’ve never been this late before.”
“Good
point. I need to go let Chaos out. Excuse me.”
“I
let him out about an hour ago. He’s fine. He’s back in his crate, asleep.”
Mason stood up then, approaching where Emma was standing. “Where were you,
Emma?” he asked again.
“What’s
the issue, Mason?” she persisted.
“Were
you with someone?”
She
rolled her eyes. “Of course I was. Do you honestly think I’d stay out until
1:00 in the morning alone?”
But
Mason wasn’t letting up. “Who were you with?” he asked.
Emma
sighed. “Mason, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m home safely, and I didn’t do anything
to embarrass you tonight. Good night,” she added softly as she turned toward
the stairs.
His
hand on her arm stopped her. When she turned to look down at his grip, and then
up into his eyes, she was shocked at the raw anger she saw there. It froze her
in place, and sent a quick frisson of trepidation down her spine.
“You’re
my wife,” he said evenly. “Were you with a man tonight, Emma?”
“Of
course not,” she responded softly, instinctively speaking quietly in an attempt
to calm his anger.
He
ran his eyes over her slim form. “That’s not a coffee and movies outfit,” he
pointed out, his eyes roaming over the lower-cut-than-usual black shirt she was
wearing over a red camisole, down to the short black plaid skirt with a touch
of red, and on past her black hose to her two-inch heels. Emma looked down at
her outfit again, as if reminding herself what she had on. When she looked back
up, she met his eyes. The anger was still there, but it was joined by solid
need.
Shaking
slightly, Emma quietly responded. “No. It’s a girls’-night-out outfit. We went
to a restaurant. We had a few drinks. We had a few appetizers. We drank coffee
and ate chocolate desserts. We talked and we laughed.”
“Where’s
your wedding ring?” he asked, his eye zoning in on her bare finger.
Emma’s
eyes flew up to his. “Upstairs on my dresser,” she admitted.
There
was silence for a moment. Emma was fascinated by the tick that appeared on his
jaw line.
“So
let me get this straight. You went out to a bar with a bunch of women, drank,
and passed yourself off as a single woman. Did you pick anyone up while you
were at it?”
Emma
would have laughed if she weren’t so aware of his fury. “Oh for heaven’s sake,
Mason. I’m not exactly the kind of woman who picks men up in bars. I’m kind of
a straight arrow, in case you hadn’t noticed. And I don’t cheat. Even on my
in-name-only husband. Now can I please go to sleep? It’s late.”
But
Mason had latched on to her straight arrow allegory, looking her in the eye
with an intensity that stirred her. “Are you a virgin, little Emma?” he asked
softly, his hand slowly reaching up to caress her cheek with his knuckles.
She
flushed bright red and pulled back from his touch. “That's a rather personal
question.”
“Are
you?” he persisted, stepping closer to her as he asked the question.
“No,”
Emma said, taking a step back.
“So
you know about sexual need. And pleasure,” he stated, his eyes dropping to her
mouth.
“Where
are you going with this, Mason?” Emma asked, trying to speak firmly.
His
look was intense, and it was doing all sorts of things to Emma’s composure.
Slowly reaching out his hand, he gripped the back of her neck with his fingers,
reminding Emma of his strength and his authority. As he pulled her toward him,
she thought of all the reasons this was a bad idea. She remembered what her
grandmother had said about the next time he had her in his arms, and she
remembered her own assessment of their relationship. None of it was enough. She
let herself be pulled slowly into his embrace.
The
hand at her neck slowly tipped her face until she was looking directly at him.
His eyes stayed locked on hers, the heat from his body reached out and
encircled her, causing any thoughts of pushing back to melt away.
As
he lowered his mouth to hers, he whispered quietly, “If you want a man, you
come to me, Emma. Is that understood?”
She
tried one last time to employ reason. “Mason...”
And
then he kissed her. And her entire world exploded. Because Mason Parker, cold
and stoic man that he was, had a passion burning inside of him that reached
into her soul, and send flames of desire burning through her veins.
Where
Emma had thought there would be control, there was a decided lack of restraint.
Where she had expected cold expertise, there was hot abandon. And she was lost.
She opened her mouth to him, pulling him closer.
But
as suddenly as Mason had pulled her to him, he just as quickly thrust her away.
Holding her arms to keep her steady while she caught her breath, he watched her
as she slowly came back to reality, looking up at him with a combination of
wonder and unease.
“Are
you OK?” he asked gently when her breathing had returned to some semblance of
normal.
“I’m
fine,” she responded, pulling carefully away.
“I
apologize. That was...”
“It’s
OK, Mason. It’s late.” She averted her eyes. “Good night.”
She
was moving away when she felt his hand reach out and capture her left hand. He
fingered her ring finger.
“Why
did you leave your ring here?” he asked quietly.
She
answered him honestly. “Because I met some old friends who live a few towns
over. And I wanted a night where I didn’t need to explain for the hundred and
fifth time why I married a man I just met.”
The
anger had left his eyes, but the tick was still present in his jaw.
“I
was worried about you, Emma.”
“There’s
no need,” she assured him quietly. “I’ve taken care of myself for years.”
He
ignored her response. “Next time you’re out so late, let me know where you’ll
be. I didn’t know whether to call your office, the police, the hospitals, your
parents...”
“My
cell phone?” she suggested.
“You
didn’t answer.”
“Oh.
I’m sorry, Mason. It was loud there.”
“Good
night, Emma,” he said, releasing her hand.
She
nodded, then headed for the stairs. For the second night in a row, she needed
her own space. And she probably wouldn't be getting a lot of sleep tonight,
either.
The
next morning, Emma was out in the yard, tossing a ball for Chaos, when she
caught a glimpse of movement through one of the slats in the fence. Looking
over, she thought she saw a pair of eyes peering through at them. She tossed
the ball, and moved closer to the fence as Chaos brought it back. Yup. Definitely
eyes. And from their height, they probably belonged to a little kid.
She
slowly worked her way over to the fence, until she was a few feet away.
Throwing the ball again, she glanced over to see if the eyes were still there.
They were.
“What’s
your name?” she asked casually, throwing the ball again.
At
first, she didn't think the kid would answer. But then she heard a response.
“Malcolm.”
She
tossed the ball again. “That’s a lot of name for a kid. What do your friends
call you?”
Again
a pause, then, “Malcolm.”
At
that, she turned to look at the fence, her hands on her hips. “Seriously?” she
asked.
“Yeah.
It’s a hard name to shorten.”
Emma
stifled a laugh, still watching the fence. “OK. Can I call you Mal?” she asked.
“Doesn’t
that mean ‘bad’ in Spanish?”
“Yeah.
If you pronounce it ‘mahl’. I’ll pronounce it like Mel. Besides, don’t you sort
of want to be a badass kid?”
She
heard a hoot of laughter from over the fence. “Yeah. I guess. OK. You can call
me Mal. But no one else.”
“Can
Chaos call you Mal?”
“Chaos?”
“Chaos
is my dog.”
“Dogs
can’t talk.”
“Mine
sort of can. I channel him.”
“You
what?”
“Talk
for him. You know, translate dog to English.”
“You
can do that?”
“I
can.”
“How
come you can have a dog in this neighborhood and I can’t?” the child asked
suspiciously.
Emma
rolled her eyes. The boy’s parents probably told him that the neighborhood
didn’t allow dogs. Oh well. It wasn’t her job to perpetuate a lie, she thought.
“Because I don’t have to live with parents who tell me not to,” Emma admitted.
“But you can share Chaos with me if you’d like.”
“OK.
I’d like that. I like dogs.”
“Me
too.”
“I
didn’t think that Mr. Parker liked dogs,” the boy said.
Emma
grinned at him. “He doesn’t. But Chaos is growing on him.”
“Oh.”
“So
do you want to come over and toss the ball for him sometime?” Emma asked.
“Can
I really?”
“Sure.
You’ll need to ask your mom and dad if it’s OK, but anytime you see me out in
the yard with him, you’re welcome to come over.”
“They’re
in Europe. But I’ll ask Michelle if I can come over.”
“Who
is Michelle?”
“My
nanny.”
“Well
OK. You ask Michelle, and I’ll see you over here sometime.”
“OK.
What’s your name?” the boy thought to ask before he headed back inside.
“Emma.”
“Can
I call you Em?” Malcolm asked mischievously.
“Oh
sure,” she agreed. “But only you. No one else.”
The
boy laughed, then waved at her. Chaos poked his nose into her hand, wondering
why the ball-throwing had stopped. But Emma was watching Malcolm as he headed
back inside the huge house next door. It seemed miles away to Emma, since each
house had a huge amount of property associated with it, but she just felt sad
watching Mal run. He seemed like a poor little rich boy, she thought. She hoped
there were other kids in the neighborhood for him to play with, but she realized
that she never heard kids’ voices. Ever. Never saw kids. And never saw any
other animals. What a place, she thought.
From
that day on, Mal came over frequently when Emma was out in the yard with Chaos.
Some evenings, he even joined Emma on her walk with the dog, after Emma made
sure to introduce herself to his nanny. Michelle seemed fine with having Emma
take over some of the child-care responsibilities for Malcolm, which just made
Emma even sadder for the boy. But Mal seemed happy enough, and happier still
when he was walking Chaos with Emma. A few times, Emma even took him to the dog
park with her, and the boy was absolutely in his element. He loved animals. He
even talked to Emma about becoming a veterinarian some day.