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Yeah, no need for the staff to worry...only her family worried about living on the street... She ignored the implication that the property would need a lot of work to whip it into shape. She’d done the best she could. “That’s very generous of you,” she said, struggling not to choke on the words and the sentiment. “Currently we only have one employee. Jim handles the stables.”
Mason stared at her, wide-eyed. “And the rest?”
“Handled by me.”
“Cooking? Cleaning?”
EvaMarie simply stared, not liking where this was headed. Sure enough...
“Well, someone has definitely grown up, haven’t they? I can remember days of you being waited on and pampered...”
Unbidden, she flushed. “If that’s a backhanded compliment, thank you.” She turned away, breathing through her anger as she stepped over into an open area that branched off into hallways to the various rooms. “The rest of this floor is bedrooms and baths, except for this sitting area.”
“Your parents occupy the master suite?” he asked, his voice calm and collected.
Of course it was. After all, he wasn’t the one being typecast.
“No. The stairs are too much for my father anymore. There’s a set of rooms behind the kitchen. They sleep there.” They were originally staff quarters, but she left that unspoken.
“I’ll see the master suite, then.”
She gave a slow nod, then turned to the short hallway on the left.
“Your father’s illness?” he asked, for the first time using a gentle tone she didn’t trust at all.
“Multiple sclerosis, though he prefers not to speak of it,” she said, keeping her explanation as matter-of-fact as possible. No point in exhibiting the grief and frustration that came with becoming a caretaker for an ill parent. “We’ve managed as well as we could, but the last two years he’s steadily lost his mobility and physical stability.”
Her mother had declined also, though hers was from losing the stimulation, social gaiety and status that she had fed off for most of her life.
The grandeur of the master suite swept over EvaMarie, just as it always did when she entered. It was actually two large rooms, joined into one. Both were lined and lightened by hand-carved, floor-to-ceiling white wooden panels strategically accented in silver-leafing, the same accent that was used throughout the house.
With thick crown molding and a crystal chandelier in each area, the space left an indelible impression. Even empty as it was now.
She stepped fully inside as Mason strolled the cavernous space, his boots announcing his progress on the wood flooring. “There are his-and-hers dressing areas and bathrooms on each end of the suite,” she explained. “Though the baths haven’t been updated in some time.”
“I’m sure we will take care of that,” he said, pausing to turn full circle in the middle of the sleeping area. One wall was dominated by an elaborate fireplace that EvaMarie could remember enjoying from her parents’ bed as she and her mother savored hot chocolate on snowy days.
She thought of the ivory marble bathtub in her mother’s bathroom, deep enough that EvaMarie had been able to swim in it when she was little. It didn’t have jets in it like the latest and greatest, but it was a gorgeous piece that would probably be scrapped, if the latest and greatest was what Mason was looking to put in.
Unable to handle any more of memory lane, she turned back toward the door to the hallway.
“And your room?” Mason asked from far too close behind her.
“Still on... On the other side of the floor.” She held her breath, waiting on him to insist on seeing her room. Between them was Chris’s room—please, no more. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold herself together.
In an attempt to distract them both, she went on. “The third floor has been empty for years. There’re two baths up there. A couple of the bigger rooms have fireplaces. Oh, and the library, of course.”
His pause was significant enough to catch her eye.
Did he remember the one time that she’d snuck him in to show him her favorite place in the house? Long ago, she could have spent entire days in the library, only emerging when her mother made her come to the table. Maybe Mason did remember, because he turned away, back to the stairs.
“Another day, perhaps,” she murmured.
As they hurried down the stairs, he didn’t look back until he reached the side entrance, his hand wrapped around the Swarovski crystal handle.
“If there are any problems, I’ll have my lawyer contact you.”
She let her head incline just a touch, feeling a deep crack in her tightly held veneer. “I’m sure.”
“It was good to see you again.” His sly grin told her why it had been—because it had served his purpose.
She wished she could say the same.
Three (#ulink_b4bd3eba-a905-5d88-894d-690caec69e65)
“The signing date is set. The property is almost ours.” Mason grinned at his brother, then turned back to the lawyer. “You’ve been great. We really appreciate it.”
James Covey grinned back, looking almost as young as them, though Mason knew he was a contemporary of their father. “It’s been my pleasure. I’m thrilled to be able to help y’all like this.”
His smile dimmed a little, and Mason knew what he was thinking...what they were all thinking. That they wished their father hadn’t had to die for this to happen. Kane’s hand landed with heavy pressure on Mason’s shoulder, and they shared a look.
It wasn’t all a bed of roses, but they would honor their father’s memory by establishing the best stables money could buy and talent could attain, using everything he’d ever taught them.
It was what he would have wanted.
“So are we going to be running into the Hyatts every time we turn around in this town?” Kane asked as they exited the lawyer’s stylish brownstone in the upscale part of downtown that had been renovated several years back. Slowly they made their way down the steps.
Kane had been gone for a week and a half, starting the process of training their new ranch manager to take over their Tennessee stables. They weren’t leaving behind their original property, though it wouldn’t be their main residence any longer.
“I don’t think so,” Mason said.
“Good, because that would be awkward.”
Mason rather thought he would enjoy rubbing their newfound success in Daulton Hyatt’s face, but he preferred not to confirm his own suspicions that he was a bad person. “I’m not even sure what’s going on out there,” he said. “When I went to tour the stables, no one was there except the guy we’re taking on, um, Jim. I haven’t seen the Hyatts...or EvaMarie...around town.”
“Well, don’t look now.”
Mason looked in the same direction as his brother, spotting EvaMarie immediately as she strolled up the wide sidewalk headed their way. The smart, sophisticated dress and heeled boots she wore were a definite step up from the sweatpants he’d seen her in, yet he almost got the feeling that she’d put on armor against him.
He wasn’t that bad, was he? Okay, maybe he was...
She paused at the bottom of the steep concrete stairs, her dark hair falling away from her shoulders as she looked up at them. “The landlady told me where to find you.”
“Um, why were you looking?” Mason asked, ignoring Kane’s chuckle under the cover of his palm. He also tried to ignore the way his body perked up with just the sound of her husky voice.
EvaMarie ignored his question and nodded toward the office behind them. “He’s good.”
“I know.” So there’s no getting out of the deal.
EvaMarie was obviously not daunted by Mason’s refusal to relent. She extended her hand in his brother’s direction. “You must be Kane?”
His traitor brother went to the bottom of the stairs to shake her hand and properly introduce himself, then he glanced at Mason over his shoulder. “Gotta go. I’ll see you back at the town house tonight.”
What a wimp! Though Mason knew Kane wasn’t running; he was simply leaving Mason to deal with the awkward situation of his own creation. The odds of EvaMarie simply happening by here were quite small, even though the town was only moderately sized with a large population of stable owners in the area.
Sure enough, she waited only long enough for Kane to disappear around the corner before turning back to him. “Could I speak with you, please? There’s a café nearby.”
A tingling sense told him he was about to be asked for a favor. Not that the Hyatts deserved one. After all, Daulton had shown no mercy when he’d had Mason’s father fired from his job and blacklisted at the other stables in the area. He hadn’t cared at all that his father was the sole support of two children. He’d only wanted revenge on Mason for daring to touch his daughter.
Mason would do well to remember that, regardless of how sexy EvaMarie might look all grown up.
The café just down the street was locally owned, with a cool literary ambience that was obviously popular from the crowd gathered inside. Bookshelves lined a couple of walls, containing old books interspersed with teapots and mugs. Tables and ladder-back chairs shared the space with oversize, high-backed chairs covered in leather. He glanced at EvaMarie, only to see her gaze sweeping over the crowd in a kind of anxious scan.
Though he refused to admit it, seeing her do that gave him a little pang. It seemed as though things hadn’t changed too much after all. She still couldn’t stand to be seen with him in public.
Struggling to stuff down his fifteen-year-old resentments, Mason was a touch short when he snapped, “Grab a table. I’ll order the coffee.”
“Oh.” She glanced his way, her smile tentative. “Could I just get an apple cider please?”
Apparently she hadn’t chosen the place for the coffee. As he took his place in line, he couldn’t help but think how strange this was. EvaMarie wasn’t someone he’d had a typical relationship with—though she’d been the only woman he’d had more than just sex with. That was a first—and definitely a last.
But they’d never been on a real date, just his graduation party with his high-school friends. Never really out in public. Mostly they had gone on trail rides together, holed up in the old barn loft and talked, sneaking stolen moments here and there when no one was looking.
Once he returned with their drinks, she fiddled with the protective sleeve on the cup, moving it up and down as if she couldn’t decide if she wanted to try the drink or not. But she’d requested this meeting, not him, so he waited her out in silence.
Which only made the fidgeting worse. Why did he have to feel such satisfaction over that?
“I found a place for my parents,” she finally said. “They’ll be moving tomorrow.”
“That’s nice—is something wrong?”
Just as he’d known it would, his question only made her more nervous. She started to slowly strip the outer layer off the corrugated paper sleeve.
“No,” she said, then took a big swallow that was probably still very hot, considering the way she winced. “I’m fine. I just...well, I didn’t realize there would be so many people here at this time of day.”
“Still embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked. Then wondered why in the hell those words came out of his mouth.
She must have wondered too, because her eyes widened, her gaze darting between her drink and his. “No, I mean, that isn’t the issue at all.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He wasn’t buying it. Especially not with too many bad memories to back up his beliefs.
“And my father’s reaction didn’t teach you any differently?”
That gave him pause, almost coloring those memories with a new hue. But he refused to accept any excuses, so he shrugged.
“Anyway—” she drew in a deep breath “—they chose to move into a senior living facility so my mother would have help with my dad. The cost of getting them settled is more than I anticipated. I wondered about an extension on the house?”
“Nope.”
He caught just a glimpse of frustration before her calm mask slid back into place. “Mason, I can’t afford first and last month’s rent on a place to live and to pay someone to move all of our stuff.”
“Don’t you have friends? You know, the old standby—have a nice pizza party and pickup trucks? That’s how normal people do it. Oh, right, you aren’t familiar with normal people—just the high life.”
She looked away. He could swear he saw a flush creep over her cheeks, but he certainly saw her lips tighten. That guilty satisfaction of getting under her skin flowed through him.
She turned back with a tight smile. Boy, she was certainly pushing to keep that classy demeanor, wasn’t she? “Honestly, I’ve spent the last two years taking full-time care of my father. I don’t have any—many close friends. And while I’d like to think of myself as capable, even I can’t move the bed or couch on my own. I just need—”
He 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.
* * *
