Misunderstanding Mason (13 page)

She rubbed
his thigh, drawing his attention away from Don. Icy blue eyes locked with hers.
Affection burned bright, fringed with a lingering touch of unrequited desire.
Kirstin’s heart swelled.

I love you.

Though she
kept the confession to herself, she willed him to hear the trumpet of her heart
in the gentle squeeze of her hand.

Mason leaned
sideways and kissed her cheek.

Edging them
apart, the waiter returned with their order. He reached between their
near-touching shoulders to present their desserts and fill their glasses.
Bubbles burst over the rim of the fine crystal. “Would you care for anything
else?”

“No, thank
you,” Mason answered for them both.

Kirstin
sipped as she tuned back in to Don.

“On this, the
tenth anniversary of Gamesquare’s establishment, the Board and I decided to
take you all through a journey.” The lights dimmed. A projector flashed to life
on the screen behind Don’s head. “Some of you, who’ve been with us from the
beginning, will recognize the place where it all started. For the rest of you,
I’d like to show you just how far we’ve come from a four-desk office in the
basement of my house.”

With a press
of a button, a dingy, one-room, rectangular cellar appeared, nothing like the
finished, six-room basement monstrosity Don and Marie now owned. Squashed end
to end, four rickety metal desks lined one wall. The other held giant computers
that were dinosaurs to their modern counterparts.

A hand fell
onto Kirstin’s left shoulder. Startled, she twisted around as Steve Whitmore
hunkered down at her side. Blond hair drooped over one eye, and the smile he
flashed was blinding white. “While Don’s embarking down memory lane, do you
want to step outside and discuss a few things?”

Shit. Not
now. Not after the intense closeness she’d established with Mason on the dance
floor. Not after Mason had excused himself from
Don.

“Ah,” she
fumbled as she grabbed for an excuse. “I don’t want to be rude while Don’s
giving a presentation.”

Steve
scoffed. “Come on, Miss Manners.” He took hold of her elbow. “No one’s paying
attention anyway. He won’t notice, he’s too busy entertaining himself.”

Before
Kirstin could protest, Steve levered her out of her chair. She tugged on her
arm, but he held fast, making it impossible to argue without creating a scene.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t just walk out of the room without at least one more
try. “Mason’s presenting
Rise of
Orchomenus
in a
few minutes, Steve. I don’t want to miss it.”

She
didn’t dare be gone for that. Mason might grumble if she left Don’s pictorial
history, but he’d flat out strangle her if she left him to give his speech
alone.

“We’ll
be back by then. This won’t take but a few minutes.”

As
Steve pulled on her arm, she tossed Mason an apologetic glance. His gaze
narrowed infinitesimally, but the dip of his head accepted her departure. With
nothing left to do but follow, Kirstin allowed Steve to lead her out of the
ballroom, down the corridor, and to the lounge at the far end of the hall. He
took a seat on the settee, gestured at the chair across the knee-high table.
When Kirstin settled into the mint green cushion, Steve reached into his lapel
pocket and withdrew several folded sheets of paper.

Meticulously,
he smoothed the creases and laid the pages side by side. “I was thinking, since
Edge Skateboards markets to the active teenage boy, we’d go with an interactive
game. And what fits skateboards best? A skatepark.” He tapped the black and
white hand-sketch of a miniature landscape complete with ramp, obstacles, and
little humps Kirstin couldn’t define.

She
leaned her elbows on the table and squinted at the design. This looked ten
times more complicated than Mason’s simple design.

“Each
activity, as we’ll call it, will take the user through a three-second module
that will lead them into the options to view products related to that activity,
or to go straight to the gaming component.” One by one, he tapped the different
areas on his mini-map. Returning to the first item, the concave ramp, he held
his index finger on it. “For instance, here, a tap of the finger will activate
a skater turning tricks on the ramp, and then we’ll lead them to protective
wear—helmets, guards, pads, and so forth.”

Whoo-boy.
If he intended to walk her through all five objects on the tiny map, this would
take a while. She lifted her gaze to give him a polite smile. “I don’t really
need all the details tonight. Why don’t you just tell me how you see my work
fitting in?”

Steve
tapped the paper again. “I’m getting there.”

****

For
the dozenth time in as many minutes, Mason’s gaze strayed to the firmly shut
banquet room doors. Where the hell was Kirstin?

That
she’d done the one thing she’d made him promise not to burned, but it didn’t
sting as much as the fact that she’d been gone twenty minutes now at least, and
Don was wrapping up his presentation. Which meant he would have to speak next.

Mason
took his script from his pocket and unfolded it atop the tablecloth. As nerves
settled into his belly, threatening to upend his stomach, he scanned the words.
Beyond the fact he needed Kirstin to get through the monstrous ordeal, he
wanted her to hear this speech.
She
needed to hear it.

Instead,
she was gallivanting with a jerk who intended to steal her project away from
Mason. Not that Mason particularly gave a rat’s ass about Lisa Bennet’s app,
but he cared a hell of a lot about losing the one link holding him and Kirstin
together.

His
skin crawled as he considered the lengths Steve Whitmore would go to just to
convince Kirstin into signing on with him. He could see the man touching her.
Running those slimy fingers down her arm, over the back of her hand. Doing his
damndest to flirt with her, seducing her into allying with him.

Mason
trusted Kirstin, but Steve he wouldn’t trust to give a drowning man a
lifejacket.

He
shifted in his chair, tried to steer his attention back on Don. No matter how
he ordered his thoughts away from Kirstin, however, his brain refused to obey.
Damn it all, they’d made progress tonight. They might not have reached a
resolution, might still have mountains to cross, but they were closer than
they’d ever been to reconciliation.

The
last thing he needed was for Kirstin to remember all the reasons they shouldn’t
be together. Correction—all the reasons
she believed
they shouldn’t be
together.

Fuck,
where was she? She knew he found safety in her smile. With her seated in the
audience, he could talk to Kirstin, not the hundreds of other faces that stared
him down. He didn’t know how to do this without her.

The
ballroom lights brightened. Don turned a wide smile on Mason. “And now, I’d
like to turn things over to the man who’s responsible for our newest product,
the critically acclaimed
Rise of
Orchomenus.
Please
welcome Gamesquare’s lead designer, and former SIGGRAPH recipient of honor in
computer animation, Mr. Mason Montgomery.”

Mason’s
stomach pitched to his toes. His throat went dry, and as he reached for his
script, his hand shook. He didn’t dare smile. If he tried, the champagne
bubbles would bring up bile.

Kirstin,
where are you?

He
stole another pleading glance at the barred entry, before reluctantly pushing
his chair away from the table and rising on wobbly legs. As far as nightmares
went, this one promised to stop his heart.

Wanting
nothing more than to turn and run, Mason climbed the three short stairs to the
podium and faced the applause. He took his time laying his speech out on the
polished wood. Did his best to pretend he was locked away in some private
soundproof room where he would be speaking to only himself.

A
rehearsal—shit, why hadn’t he taken the time to practice what he wanted to say?

As
the sound of clapping died off, Mason stared at the doors. Someone ought to
just shoot him now. That would at least be sudden death, not agonizing torture.

Silence
descended. Anticipatory faces stared him down.

Mason
cleared his throat. “G-good evening. That’s some…champagne, isn’t it?”

The
audience failed to laugh at his poor, unscripted, attempt at humor. Good God,
this was going to kill him. Dead. Cold as stone. Worthy fodder for the
buzzards.

Kirstin,
please.

****

“We’ll
set it up so they can earn points, or rewards, which they can redeem online.”
Steve reached across the table for the umpteenth time and ran his finger down
the back of her hand. “Those layouts are all yours too.”

Kirstin
pulled her hand away like he’d touched her with a match. She glanced nervously
down the wide corridor. How long had they been here? Don’s presentation was
surely coming close to an end. Mason would never forgive her if she wasn’t in
her chair when he took the stage.

Aside
from that very logical reason, she couldn’t tolerate another moment in this
man’s company. He knew no boundaries, had touched her whenever he thought she
wasn’t paying attention. If this was any indication of how a working
relationship would play out, she didn’t want any part of it.

And
his plan sucked. Plain and simple, Mason’s was not only more succinct and
efficient, it was direct and to the point. Mildly entertaining, serviceably
engaging, designed to push the product, not provide hours of entertainment.
She’d been trying to escape for the last ten minutes to no avail.

Determined
to wrap this up whether she came off as rude or not, she rose to her feet.
“That’s great, Steve, but really, I’ve got to get back to the banquet. I want
to hear Mason’s presentation. We’ll have to talk about this another time.” Like
when dinosaurs returned. No way would she pull this job from Mason, even if it
meant jeopardizing her career.

Cool
green eyes regarded her thoughtfully. “For two people who split up, you two
were awfully chummy on the dance floor.”

She
did a double take, the underlying hostility in his voice completely uncalled
for. “I don’t think that’s really any of your business.” Forcing herself to
smile, she extended her hand to shake his. “Thank you for presenting your
ideas. I’ve really got to go now.”

Steve
took her hand, but he didn’t shake. Instead, he stood, and with one step
forward, invaded her personal space. Too-soft fingers stroked the inside of her
wrist. “You really don’t want to devote yourself to someone who cares so little
for you, do you? Wouldn’t you rather have someone who can treat you right? Who
will introduce you to the right people?” His fingertip slithered to the underside
of her elbow. “Who knows how to say no to Lisa and wouldn’t dream of being
unfaithful?”

Kirstin
jerked her arm away from his creepy touch. “What are you talking about?”

“Mason.”
Steve inclined his head toward the hall. “Lisa let me in on a little secret.
Evidently the both of them had a little after-hours fun while you were busting
tail on her project.”

Struck
dumb by the idea she’d believe his crap, Kirstin gasped. What the hell was
going on? Mason wouldn’t cheat—did Steve think she was that insecure?

“If
you want to know the truth,” Steve murmured as he slid his palm over her bare
shoulder. “I can’t stand that stupid bitch. That she’d take advantage of
you—Kirstin you deserve better than that.”

Squirming
away from his wandering hand, she stepped out of arms’ reach. “Take advantage
of me how? She hired me to work.”

Cocking
his head to the side, he grinned. “You really are adorably naive—that’s one
thing I won’t argue with her. It’s rather refreshing to see such innocence.”

Kirstin
ground her teeth together. She was not naive, and she was by no means innocent.
Taking a breath to temper her building fury, she narrowed her gaze. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about, and I don’t care to hear anymore.”

“She
hired you to get to Mason, Kirstin.” Lifting his eyebrows, he nodded at the
opening ballroom doors. “And she did. You deserve better than
the esteemed
Mr. Montgomery.”

Amplified
by the microphone, Mason’s voice drifted into the hall. “It’s a convection…er
collection, of individual renderings.” Something thumped, like he’d just hit
the microphone with his elbow or his hand. “S-sorry. As I was saying, the
characters are imposed through scanline rendering. Then I used ray casting
which calculates on the basic laws of reflection intensity to bring us into the
user’s point of view. This allows for modification of the color value by an
illumination factor.”

Steve
laughed. “Someone’s taking himself too seriously.”

Kirstin’s
heart sank. No, he wasn’t. He was terrified.

“I’m
not working with you.” Lifting the hem of her skirt, she jogged down the hall
and slid inside the ballroom doors before they closed.

Standing
on the podium, Mason stared at the paper in his hands. His voice rang out flat,
the shift in his approach obvious. Before, he’d been speaking from his head,
reciting the technical terms that made sense in his over-qualified brain. Now,
he read the speech like a page from a book.