Game Plan (6 page)

He caught the bartender’s eye and motioned at Andie’s drink. “And a Sleeman, in a bottle.” Mason pushed the full glass of red wine her way, finally winning her attention. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

Damn, that voice. Soft and feminine without being weak. She could read the back of a cereal box and he’d get hard. He should’ve called her today. “I have a list. Very detailed.” He took a long draw from his beer, enjoying the pink sweeping her face. “But right now I meant it as thanks for improving my evening.”

Her eyes flitted around the bar area before returning to his face. “Where are your buddies tonight? Not here, obviously.”

“Hard to say. Home with their girlfriends, wives and kids, most likely. Except for one jerk who’s probably busy fucking an empty Pringles can because no living human would want him.”

“Ouch, harsh.”

“Harsh but true.” He shrugged. “My baby sister had her engagement dinner here earlier, otherwise I’d be home too.”

“With your girlfriend or wife and kids?”

“With my cat.” Mason crossed his arms on the bar, keeping his eyes locked with hers as he leaned into her space. “That’s the only pussy waiting for me at home. Or anywhere.”

“That’s unfortunate.” She picked up her wine, obviously trying to hide her smile behind the glass.

“I agree.”

“It’s early. You may get lucky yet.”

He angled on his stool and slid closer. “Tell me this is inside information, not a random pep talk.” No answer from Andie, who kept sipping her drink. But she’d definitely relaxed. She didn’t seem pissed at him anymore, either. He’d take it. Take it and run with it. “You look beautiful tonight. Again.”

“It’s nice to know some men have low standards.”

“Some do. I don’t.”

“I’m not dressed to impress.” She fidgeted on her stool, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her clothes before moving on to tuck a wisp of loose hair behind her ear. “And this stupid clip thingy is barely holding my hair up.” Her long, delicate fingers touched her mouth. “I don’t even have lipstick on.”

Some women said things like that to encourage compliments. He didn’t get that vibe from Andie—the way she downplayed her attributes seemed legit. Not like she lacked self-confidence, that wasn’t it. She simply didn’t realize how fucking gorgeous and sexy she was without all the prep and plasticity of other women. An effortless beauty.

“Babe, your naked lips remind me of last night, and that t-shirt is lethal sexy. As for your hair…” He fingered some of the escaped strands at the back of her neck. She shivered, and he smiled. “I like it this way, up, off your neck, with these wavy bits hanging down. I also like how easy it would be for me to grab that clip and let your hair loose, so I could feel it wrapped around my fingers.”

The tip of her talented tongue slid across her bottom lip, making his cock twitch. She jumped when her phone vibrated on the bar, scooped it up, read the text and scowled while combing the crowd. So much for their promising moment.

“Problem?”

“I just got stood up.”

Well, fuck him. He’d been warming her up for somebody else. No wonder she’d avoided making eye contact until forced.

“This is your fault,” she said while clicking a message into her phone.

“Consider this my apology.” He slapped cash on the bar, stood and walked out. No looking back.

Andie’s head snapped up at Mason’s abrupt departure. He weaved through the tables without a backward glance, disappearing through the front doors. That left her alone, confused, and more than a little worked up.

“You shut him down good,” a male voice said from behind her. Its owner took over Mason’s stool and gave her a thorough look-over. “His loss is my opportunity.”

Gross. Not a lot of men successfully pulled off lines like that. Mason could—this guy, not so much. Around her age, nicely dressed and not altogether unattractive, he did zero for her. Clearly, he had no clue. He kept smiling, or rather leering, his eyes working a circuit between her mouth and her boobs. Mason’s comment about her t-shirt echoed in her head. Too bad she hadn’t brought a sweater.

“What’s your name, baby?”

“Ida.” She gave one of her coldest faces. “Ida rather have a root canal than tell you my name.
Baby.
” Juvenile, yes, but it had the desired effect.

“Bitch.” He slid off the seat and slunk away.

The bartender laughed as he wiped the bar in front of her. “Nice. That jerk’s here every weekend, harassing the pretty ladies. Nobody ever gets rid of him that easily.”

“I’d say thanks, but that makes me sound like a bigger bitch. Which I’m really not.” Why did she feel the need to explain herself to a total stranger? Because she was a wound-up, messed-up wreck, that’s why. “Him, I meant to get rid of. The first guy I scared off was unintentional.”

“You mean your boyfriend? Ah, he’s just jealous. I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

Andie stopped toying with her drink and stared at the dark-haired server. He thought Mason was her boyfriend. Huh. “What makes you think he’s jealous?” The bartender averted his eyes, toweling an already-dry glass for all he was worth. Definitely spot free by now. “Come on, tell me. Please.”

He hung the glass in an overhead rack. “Giving advice is murder on my tip jar, but how can I say no to such a pretty face?” He placed his palms on the bar in front of her. “Whatever you said when you looked at your phone pissed him off. Possessive-like. Not a generally annoyed look, like a guy gets after waiting an hour for a woman to choose an outfit, or listening to her complain about not getting enough cuddling.”

“God, women are the worst.” She loaded on the sarcasm, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Women are the best thing on earth,” he said with a big smile. “But you drive us nuts, especially if we’re really into you, which your man clearly is.”

Andie freed him with a thank you. Despite her feelings at the end of last night, she hoped the bartender had it right. She swallowed the last mouthful of wine and hit mental rewind. Then smacked herself upside the head.

The bartender removed her empty glass. “Guess you figured it out.”

“Too late, but yes.”

“I’d say you’ve got time to save this one.” He nodded toward the front of the restaurant.

She swiveled, scanned the room and came up blank.

“Outside,” he said from behind her.

Through the oversize front windows, she located Mason. He sat in a corner patio chair, long legs stretched and hooked at the ankles, nicely muscled arms crossed over his chest. Eyes fixed on the door. No beer on his table. Totally unapproachable looking. She fished a five from her purse and placed it on the bar. A decent tip, considering she’d already given twenty percent when she paid. The bartender gave her a wink and a nod. Here’s hoping his advice was on the money.

The closer she got to the door, the tighter her stomach clenched. She stepped out into the summer night and connected with Mason’s eyes immediately. His expression stayed cool, borderline angry. She made a straight line toward him, cell tucked in her palm, ready to go. The breeze chose this less-than-convenient moment to blow an errant lock of hair in her face. Stupid, good-for-nothing hair clip. She puffed at the strand—repeatedly—rather than use her hand, since she wanted to hide the phone from Mason’s view. A very anti-dramatic effect. But good for breaking the tension a bit, if she read his face correctly.

“This is the person who ditched me tonight,” she said when she’d reached his feet. She thrust the phone in his face before he could protest. Grudgingly, he looked at Lasha’s picture on the screen. Recognition registered in his features. Still didn’t look convinced, though. She switched applications and pulled up the text conversation. For extra sass, she pried one of his hands from his chest and slapped the phone in his palm. Let him look all righteous and smug after reading those snippets.

She shifted foot to foot while he read. For only a couple of texts, there was significant R-rated content. Lasha had made explicit comments about Mason’s body—all true, Andie could vouch for those—along with referencing Andie and Mason’s sexy evening. Because yes, she’d spilled
some
of the details. How could she not? Lasha’s final text contained a suggestion for what Andie could get up to tonight, both to and courtesy of the gorgeous man reading her iPhone. The smile on his face must mean he liked the idea.

Mason offered the phone, catching Andie’s hand when she reached for it. “This is where I apologize for being a Neanderthal.” He opened his legs and pulled her between them. “Which explains why I’m alone, but why are you?”

“Um, because my friend took off when she saw us getting ready to make out at the bar.”

“Not just tonight.” He drew her close enough that her knees brushed his fly. His hands cupped the back of her legs, climbing the hamstrings and stopping at the bottom curve of her ass. He squeezed, his fingers curling between her legs. Her skin practically caught fire as his gaze slowly moved up her body. Cool blue eyes never looked so hot.

“Do you need to get home for your son?”

She shook her head. “He spends weekends with his dad. I’m free until tomorrow night.” Too much information…it probably seemed as if she were begging for an invitation to spend more time together.

“Meaning I have a chance to fix my mistakes, starting with the one from last night.” He grinned, one part sexy mixed with two parts sheepish. The effect was one hundred percent charming. “Only I haven’t figured out exactly what it was.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got all night.”

Chapter Four

These had to be the same hard-ass plastic benches from his kid days of bumper bowling. In fact, he’d bet nothing had changed at B&D Lanes in decades. Except his opponent. Andie lit up this dreary place. She even made the clown-like rental shoes sexy. But bowling, for chrissake. He still couldn’t believe he’d brought Andie here instead of taking her straight home to his bed. After an hour of watching her cute ass sway as she lined up her shot in the lane directly in front of him, his reasoning didn’t feel so reasonable.

She’d given no hint why their date died on the pavement last night. He’d said or done something, that much was obvious. He could’ve straight out asked, but no, he’d chosen this method. Hopefully a nice, light evening would wipe the slate clean. Show her that he wanted to spend time with her, get to know her, not just take her home and fuck her long and hard.

They’d spent the past hour swapping random details. Education, career choices, favorite foods and movies—basic date conversation. She’d been offered an assistant designer’s position at some fancy fashion place in Toronto after college, but had come back to her hometown and set up a dressmaking shop instead. Big-city living didn’t appeal to her—another thing they had in common. Once she’d learned he was a veterinarian, she’d bombarded him with questions. Not the usual kind. Really detailed stuff only a true animal lover would want to know. He liked that. He liked everything about her so far. Her interests and core values. Her quick and dirty sense of humor. Hanging out with her was fun and interesting. But holy hell, let them get to the getting-naked stuff soon.

“Strike!” She did a little jump and wiggle thing, then cruised back to him. “That turkey makes it game. You want another rematch?”

“Hell no.” He yanked her onto his lap. Thrust up against her ass while brushing his lips along her jaw. “It’s hard to bowl in this condition.”

“Oh?” She gave a little grind. “
Oh.
I guess that might be a problem if you use a standard approach. You could assume the straddle position and roll the ball through your legs.”

“Rearrange that last sentence a bit and I’m all over it.” A simple tug on her waist had her pressed up tight to his chest. Close enough to kiss, something he’d wanted to do all night. Her lips opened the tiniest bit. Soft, pink and moist from her tongue. His cock jerked in its denim prison, desperate to get inside her—anywhere, everywhere—and find release. One kiss suitable for a public audience wasn’t going to cut it.

“Andrea Finch, I knew it was you.” The voice came from a woman beating a path toward them, a reluctant male in tow. “Didn’t I tell you, John? I said, ‘that woman over there looks like Scott Finch’s wife’.”

Mason cocked an eyebrow at the beauty he wasn’t going to get to kiss. “Andrea?”

“Don’t you
ever
call me that,” she whispered, and extricated herself from his lap.

He’d be a gentleman and stand beside her—in a couple of minutes. Whoever these people were, they probably wouldn’t appreciate looking at bulging proof of his affection toward Andie. Plus, she’d put herself in front of him, her ass in his direct sightline. A winning view for him.

Andie shook the man’s hand, then stuffed hers in her jeans’ pockets. No handshake for the woman, whose face said she got that message, loud and clear.

“It’s ex-wife, Judy. And I go by Andie, I always have.” She turned her attention to Judy’s husband. “How’re you, John? Busy with lots of cases?”

Another burn for Judy. Mason faked a cough to hide his smile. He and Andie wouldn’t be doubling with John and Judy anytime soon. Fine by him. They looked about as much fun as a trip to the accountant. From the conversation, John practiced law. So did Andie’s ex, though not at the same firm. More good-to-know details.

“You haven’t introduced us to your friend,
Andie
.” Judy didn’t seem to care that she’d cut her husband off midsentence. “Apparently Scott got all the manners in your divorce settlement.”

What a nasty bitch. Mason rose from the chair to stand close behind Andie. Nobody got to shit on her while he was around.

“That’s right. Scott got the book of etiquette. I got the sex toys. And your poor husband probably got arthritis inputting
that list
in the divorce papers.”

“I’m not sure it was the typing, but my wrist did get plenty tired,” John said with a grin. Judy turned fire-engine red and practically spit flames. It was fucking priceless. Andie didn’t need a protector—she did just fine on her own. Soft
and
feisty. Fuck, that was hot.