she said. “Give me a minute and I’ll meet you outside.”
Mason nodded and took his leave.
Drea shut the door and leaned against it, her pulse pounding in her ears.
Memories flashed through her mind, but she halted them in their tracks. She had a job to do. She was vying for a vice president position at Solutions Inc. A lot was riding on her communication and marketing skills with this fund-raiser.
And she couldn’t allow Mason Boone to get in her way.
* * *
The screen door opened and Drea stepped outside. Mason shot up from his seat the second he glimpsed her. Her boots clicked on the deck as she approached. She was wearing jeans and a pretty pink blouse underneath a black leather jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with a few wavy strands falling loose, caressing her cheeks. She looked soft and pretty, so different than the uptight, buttoned-to-the-neck woman he’d met in the committee room yesterday.
Years ago, he’d been attracted to her for a short time, until rational sense had kicked in and he’d backed off from the hell storm it would create. At seventeen, Andrea MacDonald had looked at him with adoring eyes and his ego had taken flight. But she was Drew’s daughter, a mixed-up girl yearning for affection. Affection that couldn’t come from Mason. He’d been twenty-three, six years older than her, and supposedly wiser. He would’ve only screwed her up more.
Now, he wanted to tell her she had nothing to fear from him, that he was dead inside and had been for a couple years, ever since Larissa died. But that was assuming too much. Maybe her coolness wasn’t necessarily aimed at him. Maybe she’d changed from that sweet, caring, innocent girl she’d been to someone he didn’t know, didn’t recognize. Lord knew, he’d changed over the years as well, and he was simply here to work alongside her. The past was the past and maybe it was better to let it alone.
“Brought you some coffee,” he said, grabbing for the cup on the wicker table beside him.
She smiled, apparently surprised at the gesture. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t know how you like it.”
“Black is fine.”
He handed it to her, their fingers brushing in the transfer, and he gazed into her pretty eyes. She lowered her lids and looked away. Those sage-green eyes were the same as Drew’s, and her long, lustrous dark hair and olive skin were all her mother, Maria. Drea was a striking mix of Irish and Latina.
“You want to have a seat?” He gestured toward the bench he’d been sitting on. He could feel her reluctance, sensing she’d rather have a root canal than sit with him, but she finally perched on one end. He sat as far away from her as possible, which was all of twenty-four inches, if that.
“So, you still resent all the Boones?” he asked on impulse. The question had been bugging him since he’d laid eyes on her yesterday.
Her head snapped up and coffee sloshed in her cup. Luckily, it didn’t spill onto her hand. He would’ve never forgiven himself for that.
“Some more than others.” Her eyes narrowed on him and suddenly she wasn’t looking quite so pretty anymore.
“We tried to help your father, Drea. He was in desperate need and—”
“I know the story your family tells. I don’t need to hear it from you.”
“Maybe you do. Maybe that’s the only way this is going to work between me and you.”
“So, I’m supposed to forget all about the fact that when my father came to yours, asking for help with Thundering Hills, asking for a loan to tide us over for a few months, he was flat-out refused. Our families had been friends for years. And then, the next thing I know our land was bought out from under us and all we got were crumbs. Dad had to swallow his pride and take a job on Rising Springs. I had to move off our land to come live in this little cottage. We lost everything.”
“That’s not the way it happened, Drea.”
“That’s the way I see it, Mason. Total betrayal.”
“Your dad...”
“What? What about my dad? He took to drinking heavily after mom died and...he’s never been the same.”
Mason didn’t have the heart to tell Drea the truth. If Drew hadn’t after all these years, then it wasn’t his place to tell her that her little girl’s perception of what happened had been all wrong. Drew had made Mason’s father promise not to reveal details of the deal. Since both of Mason’s folks were gone now, victims of a small plane crash years ago, he felt it was up to him to see that vow was upheld. If Drew wasn’t willing to set his daughter straight, Mason surely wasn’t going to do it.
“Drew’s doing real good now.” It was all he would say on the matter.
“So everyone in Boone Springs is telling me.”
Mason didn’t understand her. He was just barely coming out of his own grief, and related to how Drew MacDonald had been in the same situation, losing his wife the way he had, so unexpectedly. Mason hadn’t taken to drinking the way Drew had, but everyone coped with heartache differently. He wasn’t excusing Drew’s bad behavior, but he knew what the man had been feeling.
Mason shook his head. “Aren’t you glad he’s getting better?”
“Of course I am. If it’s the real thing this time.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ve been disappointed before.”
Mason ran his hand down his face. “I know it wasn’t easy on you, Drea.”
She shook her head, and he took in how her long hair flowed in natural waves down her back. “You know nothing about me, Mason.”
He met her sad green eyes and something shifted in his heart. She tried to talk tough, but she wore her pain on her sleeve and her vulnerability grabbed him. “I know more than you think.”
“That’s a Boone for you, claiming to know every—”
He pressed two fingers to her lips, quieting her tirade. “Shh, Drea.”
Her eyes snapped to his.
He couldn’t believe he’d done it, touched her this way. But grazing her soft lips, looking into those defiant eyes was like a live wire sparking and jolting inside the dead parts of him. He felt alive for the first time in years. It was heady and he wanted more. He wanted to hold on to that spark that told him he was a living, breathing man.
Sliding his fingers off her mouth, he cradled her face, his thumb circling her cheek, strands of her hair caressing the back of his hand.
“Mason, are you crazy?” she whispered, yet the look in her eyes told him she was thinking something different.
“Maybe.”
“You’re not going to—”
“Yes, I think I am.”
He put his mouth to hers and tasted her sweetness, the plump ripe lips
