Game Plan (15 page)

She reached across the empty half of the bed, smiling as she grabbed for the clock. He’d flipped the face away when she pointed out that at half past twelve his birthday privileges had expired. They both knew the calendar date had nothing to do with her willingness.

Her arm brushed over a piece of paper, a note tucked under the edge of his pillow. A note with her name on it. She already knew he was at the clinic. They hadn’t given in to exhaustion until close to two, and he’d chosen
then
to tell her he had to be at work at seven. To tend to patients and boarders, a job his tech usually did. But being the incredible person that he was, he’d offered to fill in so she could go away for the long weekend. Even though it was his birthday.

Andie righted the clock and groaned. Quarter after eight. She glared at the uncovered window and the shafts of sunlight hitting the bed. Bare naked, he didn’t even have a curtain rod mounted. There had to be time in her schedule to make Mason some bedroom curtains. Whoa…that tangent needed reining in. The man was a morning person. He got up early and didn’t require window coverings. Staying over once did not mean redecorating. Hell, she could sleep over every night for the next two weeks and it still wasn’t her place to make changes to Mason’s house. Because fourteen days from now she’d be gone. Back to her regularly scheduled life as a responsible, single mother. Sleeping in her own bed in a properly darkened room—alone.

She pushed the crappy thought away. Goose bumps rose as she dragged the edge of the note across her breasts, enjoying the scrape and tickle of the thick, stiff paper. Two words that also described Mason’s cock quite nicely. Every muscle ached, but it didn’t stop her needy parts from humming while thinking about him. Mason had mentioned spending a lazy Sunday together. By lazy she hoped he meant lying on his back while she rode him three different ways. There were still plenty of things she wanted to try. She unfolded the note—maybe it’d tell her what time he’d be back, so they could get to work on that list.

Good Morning, Beautiful.

Leaving you alone in a bed is a tragedy.

XXO

(Is there a symbol for fucking? If not, there should be, so I can add it to every note I’m going to write you.)

“Oh god.” She pressed the paper to her chest, then read it again. And six more times before having a squealing fit between Mason’s sheets that sent Hugo running. Call her a hopelessly romantic sixteen-year-old…this note was going in her keeper box.

Chapter Nine

Andie opened the door expecting to find Katie on the other side. Alone, or maybe with a bridesmaid or two in tow. Instead she got Katie and Mary—and the urge to sneak a shot of Frangelico into her coffee.

“Please, come on in.” She ushered them through the house to the basement, where her dressmaking shop lived. The route bypassed most of the main-floor rooms, but she didn’t miss the way Mary gaped at the parts she could see. Including the lower level as they made their way down. Scott had insisted that every inch of the house be top-notch. Appropriate for a family of their standing. Gag.

Andie had two rooms in the walkout basement—one for client meetings and one for sewing. Both had large windows overlooking the professionally landscaped yard. The place was impressive, embarrassingly so.

The client area had a small sofa and a couple of chairs. Her visitors sat together, one relaxed and the other stiff. No big surprise there. Katie had stopped by Mason’s last Sunday afternoon, embarrassed and apologizing for her mother’s drunken behavior. When questioned by her big brother, she’d admitted that the sorry didn’t come from her mother. In the four days since, Mary hadn’t attempted to contact Andie. In a way, Andie respected that. An insincere apology was worse than no apology.

But today’s visit was business.
Andie
’
s
business, and she excelled at it. For the time being they were prospective customers, nothing more. She set a few albums on the table and pulled a chair across from them. Flipped open the first book and starting the walk-through, beginning with her most impressive jobs. She had Katie hooked after the first page. Mary appeared to be on board by the second set of shots. They discussed styles and fabrics. Looked at swatches, pattern catalogues and bridal magazines. Andie sketched a couple of details from her head as the creative buzz took over. The gowns Katie wanted would be stunning once Andie had finished with them.

“You’ve come a long way from hemming pants in that single, tiny room.” Mary surveyed the upscale furniture and plush carpeting, her eyes landing on Andie’s desk and the framed photos there.

Back to that again, were they? “You’re right. It took a lot of hard work and commitment to get to this point.”

“And a wealthy husband.”

“Mom.” Katie leapt from the couch. “Stop being a bitch. Andie’s been nothing but nice to you. I like her. Mason really likes her. What’s your problem?”

Mary’s mouth tightened to a thin line. The gesture added years to her appearance. Andie made a mental note never to allow that expression to cross her face, especially ten to fifteen years from now, when she’d be Mary’s age.

“Katie, go easy on your mom. She’s upset because I’m not the ideal woman for Mason. I understand her concern.” She scooped the photo albums into her arms like a security blanket. “But Mary, you’re worried over nothing. I’m only dating him. It’s casual, not permanent.”

“So you’re using him.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Which didn’t make it any less true. She needed a new tactic. One that didn’t focus on
her
. “He likes me, yes, and I like him. We’re enjoying each other’s company right now, but I have no long-term expectations. I’m mature enough to know he’s not about to fall in love with me or get down on one knee.” She finished with a light laugh that neither woman returned.

“You don’t know him very well,” Mary said.

Andie moved about, straightening the books and samples. Anything to avoid Mary’s eyes. “No, I don’t. As I said, we’re not serious.”

“Meaning,
you’re
not serious. Don’t assume on my son’s behalf. Katie, tell her I’m right.”

“Mom. Whatever happens between Mason and Andie, it’s none of our business.”

Mary tsked, waving her daughter’s comment away. “He wants to settle down, have a family. Do you want that…is it a possibility, or have you had your tubes tied?”

Katie grabbed her mom by the back of the shoulders and directed her toward the door. “Holy shit, Mom. I can’t believe I have to send you out to the car. I’ll be right back, Andie.”

Andie fell into her desk chair. She needed a drink, a double at least. She reached for a photo of Dylan and traced her finger over his face. Her baby boy. Would she be as aggressive as Mary if he dated somebody Andie didn’t deem good enough? God, she hoped not. She replaced the picture and sighed. Probably she’d be worse.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Katie said as she re-entered the room. “She’s really great most of the time.”

“I believe you. I know what it’s like to be a lioness with a cub. Sometimes the claws come out. But honestly, I doubt Mason would appreciate his mother rushing him toward fathering my children.”

Katie dropped into the chair opposite Andie. “Well,
her
cub is a thirty-year-old man. It’s time she retires the claws, even if she is right.”

What the huh…not Katie too. “You agree with her—you think I’m using Mason?”

“No, no, no. Anybody with eyes can see that you care about him. But she’s right about you not knowing him very well and…” Katie picked up the small snow globe from Andie’s desktop, shook it and watched the snow settle before setting it back down. “Can I ask a question?”

“Okay.”

“Has he let you sleep over at his house? Has he spent the whole night here?”

“That’s a pretty personal question.”

Katie shrugged. “I already know that you’ve stayed there, and him at your house.”

True, they’d spent every night together since Saturday, some in her bed, the others in his. They’d shared meals. Phone calls, emails, texts. Every free minute they’d had, each one incredible. “Then I’ll answer yes, since you’re already in the loop.”

“Mason and I are more than siblings, we’re friends too. He’s very open with me.”

Andie doubted the extent of that openness. She couldn’t picture Mason in a tête-à-tête with his little sister, sharing detailed stories about his sex life.

“My brother’s not a player, but he’s had his fair share of dates and hook-ups—I hope it doesn’t bother you to hear that.”

“Of course not,” Andie cut in, casually rifling through papers that all looked green at the moment. If Katie bought that load of bullshit, Andie should go into politics.

“Sure. So, those women, they never spent the night, or vice-versa. Mason always called it a night before they got too comfy. He doesn’t do sleepovers.”

This was more information than Andie cared to have. “Just because Mason is changing his game doesn’t mean I’m special.” There was nothing left to fiddle with. She turned on the monitor and opened a blank Excel file. “It’s going to take me a while to work up your quote, but I think I have all the details I need. I’ll email it to you later, if that’s all right.”

“You’re kicking a customer out the door?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“And you’re going to claim it’s because you have work to do.”

“Probably.”

“That’s not your real reason for booting me.”

“Nope.”

“You want me to shut up about Mason.”

“Well, as enlightening as it’s been…” Andie walked to the doorway and made an exaggerated, sweeping arm gesture. “I don’t think my ears can take much more.”

Katie laughed and grabbed her purse. “In that case, I’m talking all the way to your front door.”

“Oh, goodie.”

“You’re not afraid to say what’s on your mind, that’s cool. I can see why Mason’s so smitten.”

Andie snorted at that one. Mason, smitten with her? Ha. “Mason and I have great chemistry. Lots of it.
That’s
why I got to be his first sleepover friend. No other reason.” A few more steps and she could file this conversation under the never-to-be-replayed heading.

Katie paused with her hand on the knob. “Oh, you’re not the first woman to sleep over, just the first since he split with his fiancée, after the shitty episode involving the baby.” She opened the door and looked out at her mother standing next to the passenger door, arms crossed and blowing smoke from her ears. “Guess I should’ve given her the keys,” she said with a snicker.

Andie’s head was reeling from the fiancée and baby comments. Mary looking royally pissed off on her driveway amplified the effect. God, if that woman marched back to the house, Andie would lose it for sure. As soon as she put a closed door between Katie and herself, she was calling Lasha for drinks. The big, slushy kind with several shots of alcohol, a plastic sword and a bartender named Juan serving them. So what if it was barely noon?

Katie gave her mom the one-minute sign. Andie’s jaw dropped. What more could Katie have to say after those bombshells?

“Okay, roundup time. You guys are having a ton of sex and according to you, that’s the extent of your relationship. I say you’re wrong, at least on Mason’s side of the equation.”

Andie choked on air. This girl knew no boundaries. “Did you even see the line before you crossed it?”

Katie flapped her hand. “Put our theories to the test. Next time you get together, tell him your monthly friend showed up, or that you have a yeast infection—whatever—but take sex off the menu. Then encourage him to go and do his own thing.” Two steps down the walk she turned around. “And no blowjobs, etcetera, either!” This, at top volume, in front of her mother and the world.

Andie waved at Mr. Karnowski, her retiree neighbor, whose attention they’d caught. Please let this be a day when he’d opted not to wear his hearing aids. She slinked inside and slid down the closed door. Working for Katie Lang would be a loud, in-your-face experience. Or not—it wasn’t too late to pad the estimate.

* * * * *

The doorbell made Andie jump off the couch. Not a good thing. Her brain thumped against the inside of her skull, initiating a monster headache. Since an excessive amount of alcohol was at the root, she ought to go ahead and call it what it really was—a hangover. At seven in the evening. The sun had two hours of life left, a hot man was knocking on her door and she was a wreck from her unintentional afternoon bender. Those Long Island iced teas had gone down a little too easily.

“Whoa. You okay?” Mason asked when he walked through the door.

So she looked as shitty as she felt. Awesome. “I fell asleep on the couch. Rough afternoon.”

“Are you sick?” He did the palm on the forehead thing.

“As a mom, I can tell you—that’s not an effective way to check for fever.” But it was sweet that he tried.

“As a doctor, I can
show
you the most accurate method of checking for a fever.” His eyebrows went up and down. The grin came out full force. “My emergency bag is in the truck.”

“Oh, no. You are not sticking a thermometer up my ass.”

“How about something else?”

“That’ll raise my temperature, not measure it.”

With his fingers hooked in her belt loops, he walked her backward until she hit the wall, pinning her there. “The endorphin release it’ll give you will fix whatever’s wrong.”

“Is that your professional, medical opinion?”

“Nah, strictly personal.”

She splayed her hands over his chest. Solid, warm. She ventured lower, over the flat plane of his stomach. God, she couldn’t help herself. Whenever he touched her, especially from a dominant position, her libido revved higher than high.

Her hand stopped at his waist. More than anything, she wanted to pop the button, push his shorts down. Beg him to release her so she could drop to her knees and suck him until he verged on climaxing, then bend over and let him give her that endorphin rush. Heat swirled between her legs. How could she be so desperate for him again? He’d made her come three times yesterday. They’d had more sex—all of it fantastic—in this one week than she’d had in her life. And she had eleven more days to enjoy him thoroughly, except…