The Millionaire's Forever (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Mason didn’t like the horrified expression on her face. What she thought about him or his plans shouldn’t matter to him, and he didn’t like that it did. That he was unable to define why what she thought mattered troubled him even more.

“But…there are people who work at the facility. Are they still the same ones who worked there when you were there? And even if I do agree to give you the land, getting it doesn’t guarantee you the building.”

“Some of the same guards are still there. The lease is up on the building. Once I own the land, it will not be renewed. The building will become worthless.”

The expression on her face changed to one of astonishment. “I know that you have a need to see justice for what happened to you at the facility. But what about the people who work there who didn’t have anything to do with what happened? Some of them have families to take care of.”

“I’m sure they do.” He didn’t bother to tell her he’d already set plans in motion to provide for the families of the workers who hadn’t been involved. She thought of him as a heartless bastard. Let her continue to think the worst of him.

The timer for the microwave went off and she didn’t turn. She moved into the room with him and clutched the front of his shirt. “I have friends who work there. Jobs aren’t exactly plentiful here. They’ll lose everything if you destroy the building.”

“Then they’ll know exactly how I felt.”

“Mason…I don’t want to see you do this.”

“Then you might not want to watch.”

“I refuse to believe that you’re so bent on revenge that nothing else matters.”

“Stick around and I’ll make a believer out of you.”

The fullness of her lips tightened at his statement. Mason fought the urge to lean down and capture those lips under his, to explore her body with his hands. He wanted her with a desire that haunted him. The need to lose himself from the memories was stronger tonight than it had been in a while.

“You know I can’t let you do this,” she said with a tilt of her chin.

His eyes traveled the length of her curvy body and came back up to meet the determination in her eyes. “You think you can stop me?”

“I do.” She considered it for a moment. “It makes me more determined than ever that I won’t sell you the land.”

“I’ve faced off against tougher opponents,” he said.

“I’m sure you have, but none of them were me.”

He laughed at the confidence in her tone. “If you feel froggy, sweetheart, go ahead and jump.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Is that an invitation to do my best?”

“Open-ended, too.”

The microwave sent out a reminder beep and Olivia disappeared into the kitchen.

Mason followed her and watched as she dumped the bag of popcorn into a bowl. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Want one? It’s decaf,” she offered.

Though she wasn’t pushing the issue, he knew he hadn’t heard the last of her thoughts on what he intended to do. “Sure.”

She poured a cup for him and turned to pass it to him, but lost her grip and the coffee spilled on the front of her shirt as she tried to rescue it. Gasping, she yanked the material away from her body and ran to the sink to wet the front of her shirt and cool her skin. She peeked down into the neck of her shirt. “Ouch—that stings. Be right back, I need to go change.”

“If you need help, you only have to ask.”

“I think I can manage,” she said.

Mason hated how disappointed he felt.

…

She could manage, but she could also imagine what it would be like if Mason did help her. Olivia sighed. Her mind had trouble reconciling the two sides of Mason she knew. On the one hand, he was kind, gave freely of his wealth, and went out of his way to help others.

But on the other hand, he was arrogant, closed off, and determined to have his way regardless of what it cost her or anyone else. Which one was the real Mason Parker? Could it be possible that he’d stayed on the path of revenge for so long that he’d lost sight of any other way of life?

What he’d told her about the death of Adam bothered her. Countless newspaper articles had covered the death at the time, each one saying the same thing. The coroner found no evidence of foul play. The death had been ruled a natural one. Was it possible a crime was committed, then covered up, and her father was involved? The coroner was a friend of her father’s, and she’d known him for years. While she didn’t exactly like the man, she couldn’t say that she knew him to be dishonest. Olivia hated the idea that Mason might have been wronged by her father’s hand. She also didn’t like that she was still missing pieces of the puzzle. Whatever it took, she would find out the truth about what went on that night.

As soon as she switched her shirt, she reentered the living room. Surrounded by the wide orange-and-green-striped pillows on her sofa, Mason had his head back, his feet up on her coffee table and his eyes closed. He’d taken off his tie and unbuttoned a couple more buttons of his shirt.

Crossing to the coffee table she’d purchased from an Amish furniture maker, she picked up the ceramic elephant Beth had given her and moved it to one of the side tables with the other elephants she’d collected.

Among the collections of her life, her stack of to-be-read books sitting on a pile beside the sofa, the two paintings done by local artists that she’d yet to hang, Mason looked at home. Amazing how well he fit. Like he was meant to be.

Olivia shook off the wild thought. She and Mason were simply two people whose lives had crossed a long time ago and who had met up again because of her lie. Debating for a second on whether or not to wake him, she decided against it. He looked peaceful and unburdened while he was asleep. The colorful green-and-orange lap quilt she’d found on her vacation to Louisiana was light enough to keep him comfortable if the air-conditioning dropped the temperature low in the house at night like it was prone to do.

Pulling on the material, she dragged it across him. His hands shot out to grab her and the next thing Olivia knew, she was in his lap.

He released his grip immediately. “Sorry. I was dreaming.”

“About what?”

“You.”

His words made her breathing quicken. “This is a bad idea.” She wiggled around, trying to stand, needing to move away from his warmth. She felt pulled toward him, wanting to kiss him, to hold him until his heart stopped hurting from the past. Foolish thoughts.

“Olivia, stop that. Please.” His voice was a tortured whisper.

“Sorry.” She finally managed to get to her feet, though she wanted to stay right where she was.

The doorbell rang and Olivia scrambled up to answer it, hoping her face cooled down quickly. She checked the peephole. Beth. Yanking open the door, she greeted her friend. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, are you okay? I went by the shop and saw the cracked glass and oh—” Beth’s gaze darted to Mason and her eyebrows arched. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Since her friend had phrased her words like a question, Olivia rushed to say, “You didn’t interrupt anything, did she, Mason?”

Damn him, he didn’t answer right away. He straightened his shirt, gave Beth that sexy smile of his and said, “You didn’t.” He said it in such a way that it was clear that Beth had.

Olivia shot him a warning look and turned back to her friend. “As you can see I’m fine. Do you want to come in?”

“No. I’ll let the two of you go back to…whatever I didn’t interrupt.”

Mason walked up behind Olivia, his body brushing hers. “Then we’ll see you at the airport tomorrow. Do you need a lift?”

“Uh…no. I’ll catch you later.” She gave Olivia a wide-eyed look and hurried back down the walkway.

Shutting the door harder than normal, Olivia said, “Beth already knows about the deal. You don’t have to let her think you and I are having sex.”

“Is that what I did?”

Why did he have to be the pied piper of desire? Like little lemmings bound for destruction over a cliff, her hormones kept urging her to get closer and closer to Mason. She was an intelligent, capable woman and she should certainly be able to handle Mason.
I’d love to handle him
. Which is exactly what would happen if she didn’t remove herself from him. Stretching out her arms, she faked a yawn. “I think it’s past time I went to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you going to kiss me good-night? Tuck me in? I am a guest, after all.”

He was taunting her. Olivia started to tell him no, then stopped. Giving him an innocent look, she said, “Of course. Where are my manners? I do want to make sure any guest of mine is accommodated.” She hid a smile when she saw him swallow hard. “Right this way.” Walking ahead of him, she kept up a running spiel about the decor of the bedroom, how the beach theme had been inspired by a conversation she’d had with her mom.

Inside the bedroom, Olivia pulled back the quilt. “There are fresh towels in the guest bathroom and extra toiletries. Now, let’s see…tuck you in first or the kiss first?”

“The kiss, and then you may not need to tuck me in.” He crossed his arms, waiting.

Olivia planned to press a kiss to his cheek since technically he hadn’t specified where the good-night kiss should go. Then she remembered how he’d teased her. Softly, she touched his chest, feeling the solid wall of strength through his shirt. She let her fingers splay out and gently ran them back and forth across the material. The kiss she intended to give Mason would be a sweet meeting of the lips and nothing more.

What happened instead was a ferocity she was unable to hold back.

His arms went around her waist and he steered her toward him, not stopping the pull until every inch of their bodies aligned. The feeling that swept over her took her aback. Her heart was slowly inching its way toward him and she couldn’t find the brakes. She wanted him because she was starting to care despite her struggle not to.

The rock hardness of his body pushed against the softness of hers as Mason poured a taste of his experience into the embrace. His lips coaxed hers into allowing an exploration far more sensual than she could have imagined possible.

Sliding upward, his hand came to a rest just below her breast, his palm taking on the weight of it. His thumb stroked across the center of her bra, finding her nipple. Even though their bodies were plastered together, Olivia wanted more. She pressed further into him, taking his tongue into her mouth, sucking and lightly biting.

The obviousness of his body’s response would not give against her flesh, but Olivia didn’t mind the pressure. She would—she gasped for breath when Mason tore his mouth from hers and battled to slow his own breathing down. She was glad he’d pulled away, she told herself.

Aware that his hand was still touching her breast, Olivia pushed it away, unable to stop staring at his lips, at his face. She wanted to feel the weight of his body on hers, but somehow, she had to find the will to walk out of the room and go her own bed. Though her mind gave the order, her body remained rooted in front of Mason. Quivering. Hoping.

“Make up your mind.” Raising his hand, he threaded it through her hair. “When you and I do make love, it’s going to unleash a hunger I don’t think either of us will be able to quench.”

…

She made up her mind and went to bed alone. Crossing the line with Mason would lead in an unknown direction. Their lives were too different. It was just lust he felt, but she was afraid that it was beginning to be more than that for her. He’d made it clear that he wouldn’t fall for her, that he just wanted her land and sex. She’d end up getting hurt, and from her point of view, her heart had been hurt enough. But what if she was wrong? What if she took a chance and didn’t get hurt? What if it all ended well instead?

Tired of warring with herself and wanting something to help her sleep, Olivia decided to warm up some milk. She walked into the kitchen and reached for the light.

Mason was at the table with a glass of water in front of him.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” She took the milk out of the refrigerator.

Mason said, “We never talked about the childhood memory that makes me laugh.”

Olivia set the milk to warm and sat down across from him. “No, we didn’t.”

“Valentine’s Day when I was six years old, I wanted to give every girl in the class something but we didn’t have any money, so I went out with Cole and we caught eleven garden snakes. One for each girl in my class.”

“Oh no, you didn’t.” Olivia cupped her hand over her mouth.

“I decorated some empty shoe boxes, plopped a snake down in each one of them and passed them out. I was awarded in-school suspension.”

“That’s the memory that makes you laugh?”

“Because I never saw a teacher move from standing on the floor to standing on her desk so fast. Those poor snakes just wanted to get away from all that screaming.”

Olivia laughed and moved away from the table to grab the cup. She blew softly on the warmed liquid and regarded him over the rim of the cup. “Is that still your idea of a Valentine’s Day gift?”

He stood to empty the glass and set it in the sink. “Not for you. For you, I’d show you the Seven Wonders of the World.”

“Why choose that?”

“Because I’ve never done it and because I’d want it to be with you. I’d want to be with you just to watch the way that your eyes widen with amazement.”

“Mason…” She set the cup down and took a step toward him. “I don’t know what to think when it comes to you.”

“Then don’t think.”

She took another step, then another until she was close enough to touch his chest. Tentatively, she reached for him.

He inhaled swiftly. “This isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”

“No, it’s not. But some things are worth the difficulty.” She raised her head as he lowered his.

He stroked her back, urging her against him. Olivia could barely stand the onslaught, the gamut of emotions and desire that raced through her. He moved his lips to her neck and kissed her there. The tingle spread through Olivia’s body and she gasped when he reached for her shirt, sliding it up. His hands closed around her bare waist and he drew her closer. His touch sent sensations racing through her body as if she’d received a thousand electrical shocks. Olivia’s breasts ached for him.