opened his mouth, ready to interrupt with a smart-ass answer, when a woman appeared at EvaMarie’s side.
“Oh, EvaMarie, you simply must introduce me to your handsome friend.”
“Must I?”
EvaMarie’s disgruntled attitude made him smile and hold out his hand to the smiling blonde. “Mason Harrington.”
“Liza Young,” she said with a well-manicured hand laid strategically over her chest. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you—I would most certainly remember.”
The woman’s overt interest wasn’t something Mason was comfortable with—he preferred women more natural than Liza—but rubbing EvaMarie the wrong way was worth encouraging it. Besides, he and his brother were gonna need contacts. Liza’s expensive jewelry spoke to money, her confident demeanor to upper class breeding. “I’m new to the area.” He glanced across the table so he could see EvaMarie’s face. “Or rather, returning after a long absence.”
“Oh? And what brings you here?” So far she had completely ignored EvaMarie beside her, but now she cast a quick glance down. “Surely not little EvaMarie Homebody.”
Okay, this wasn’t as fun. Mason narrowed his gaze but kept his smile in place. For some reason, it was perfectly acceptable for him to pick on EvaMarie—after all, Mason justified that he had a reason for his little barbs—but this woman’s comment seemed uncalled for.
“The area’s rich in racing history,” he explained. “My brother and I are setting up our own stables.”
“Oh, there’s two of you?”
No substance, all flirt. Mason was getting bored. “Lovely to meet you, but if you’ll excuse us, we were discussing business.”
“Business?” She threw a sideways glance at EvaMarie, who looked a little surprised herself. “Well, that makes more sense.”
Liza giggled, leaning forward in such a way to give Mason a good look into her not-so-modest cleavage. He couldn’t help but compare the in-your-face sexuality and lack of subtlety in a woman he had just met with the image of soft womanhood sitting beside her. EvaMarie was smartly dressed, and yes, he detected a hint of cleavage, but she hadn’t flashed it in his face in order to get what she wanted. Of course, that thought reminded him of just how much of her cleavage he’d seen...and how much he’d like to see it again. Sort of a compare-and-contrast thing. He remembered her as eager to learn anything he’d been willing to teach her—did she still need a teacher?
Mason quickly reined himself in. There was no point in going there, since he had no plans to revisit that old territory. No matter how tempting it might be. Besides, EvaMarie was looking stoic again. Maybe he should relent—a little.
He stood, then pulled a business card out of his inner jacket pocket. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Liza,” he said, handing the card over. “I hope I’ll get to see you again soon.”
Liza grinned, then reached into the clutch at her side for a pen, wrote on the card and handed it back. “So do I,” she said, then flounced back to a table across the floor where several other women were waiting.
EvaMarie had turned to watch her go, then groaned as she caught sight of the other women seated at Liza’s table, all of whom were craning their necks to get a good look. “Well, I hope you’re ready to announce your presence, because it’s gonna be all over town in about two hours.”
“That’s the plan,” Mason murmured. A glance at the card revealed Liza’s cell phone number. With a grin because he knew how much it would annoy EvaMarie, he slipped the card back into his pocket. “Now, where were we?”
The pained look that slipped over her face as she opened her mouth, probably to start from the beginning, made him feel like a jerk. So he broke in before she could speak.
“Let me see what I can do,” he said. Not a concrete answer, but he needed time to think. And a few more days of worry wouldn’t hurt her.
* * *
Dang it!
How come Mason Harrington had to show up every time she looked like a dusty mess? Here she was desperately trying to pack like a madwoman with only five days to move, and he was interrupting with his loud, insistent knocking.
She seriously considered leaving him there on the doorstep, especially since it was raining. Her nerves were strained from the physical labor, emotional stress and learning everything she needed to navigate while losing their home, but a lifetime of training had her opening the door.
But she only forced herself to produce a strained smile. After all, she was exhausted.
“Mason, what can I do for you?”
His lazy smile was way too tempting. “That’s not very welcoming.”
It wasn’t meant to be. And she refused to be lured in by his teasing—a long time ago it had been a surefire way to shake her out of a bad mood. Instead of saying what she thought, she simply focused on keeping her smile in place. But she didn’t move.
He didn’t own the place yet.
“Come on, EvaMarie. Let me in,” he added, a playful pleading look to his grin. “I have an offer that will make it worth your while.”
She hesitated, then stepped back, because continuing to keep him out was bad manners. That was the only reason. Not that she should care, but a lifetime of parental admonishments kept her in check.
Mason took a good look around the high-ceilinged foyer with its slim crystal chandelier, then walked farther down to peek into a few other rooms on either side.
“Wow. You’ve made progress.” His voice echoed in the now empty spaces.
That’s because I’m working my tail off. But again, that was impolite to say, so she held her tongue. She didn’t bite it, because she had enough pain right now. Though she’d taken on a large amount of the physical work around the estate, it had not prepared her for all the lifting, dragging and pulling of packing up her childhood home. Her muscles cried out every night for a soak in her mother’s deep tub, but even that didn’t relieve the now constant ache in her arms, thighs and back. Definitely hard on her back but great for weight loss.
He glanced down the hallway toward the back of the house. “Is your father here?”
She shook her head. “Why? Worried?”
“Nope.” Again with the cute grin, which was making her suspicious. Why was he being so nice? “Just didn’t figure it was good for him to get all riled up.”
For some reason, she felt the need to defend her parent, even though Mason was right. “He hardly ever does anymore. Not like he used to. He had a heart episode about six years back that forcibly taught him the consequences of not controlling his temper.” She gave him a saccharine smile. “I guess you’re just special.” Or inspired a special kind of hatred maybe.
“Always have been,” he said. If he’d caught the insult, he let it roll off him.
His nonchalant handling of everything she said made her even angrier. Luckily, she was used to holding her emotions
