Heartbreaker Page 6

  He snorted. “And miss the chance for you to show me more of your party tricks? No way. Besides, at some point I’m going to have to take him back out by myself. Probably best that I learn how to do that without him eating a smaller dog for lunch.”

  They reached the ground floor and headed outside. The street was quiet, a rare treat in this normally bustling area of town. They stood outside the enormous glass doors, Wick waiting patiently while she showed Mason how to use the new leash. “The big difference with this leash is that loop that runs from his muzzle to his chest. When I pull—or he does—it actually turns his head to the side, which makes it difficult for him to move forward. He’ll go sideways instead.”

  She demonstrated by pulling gently on the lead. Wick’s head followed to the side. “The other thing I’d advise is to bring a pocketful of treats for him wherever you go. He’s pretty food-oriented, which is helpful. Not all dogs are. Once I’ve got him better trained, I’ll switch him out to a more traditional leash. He was pretty easy to train to lie down, which tells me he wants to please. We’ll work inside on other commands for a while before I start working him outside. There’s so many distractions outside it can be hard for a dog to focus.”

  She was starting to run at the mouth, but that was because he was standing even closer to her now than he had before, and his gaze kept flicking from her eyes to her lips, and the heat rolling off him was making her head spin. Or was that just the heat rolling off her own sex-starved body? She had no idea.

  “Or a human, sometimes.”

  Was he staring at her mouth? Her knees actually trembled.

  This man was dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

  They started to walk, Wick ambling along at what she now knew was his “fast” pace—which meant he didn’t stop periodically to lick his foot, lie down, or sniff the sidewalk. She had just managed to get her breathing back in check when he spoke.

  “So what’s the organic chemistry all about? Are you teaching, or learning?”

  “Teaching?” She had to laugh at that. “No.”

  He paused, gazing expectantly while he waited for her to fill in her response. She stopped at the end of the block, made a motion for Wick to sit, and then made a show of praising him and giving him a treat. She had no intention of discussing her college classes with him. What would that conversation even look like? Yeah, I dropped out of high school when I was seventeen and didn’t even get my GED until I was twenty-four. And now I’m taking online classes from San Jose State. Kind of similar to your degrees from MIT and Harvard…

  He gestured for her to continue. The guy was dogged. She shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Then she forced herself to laugh, as though it were just something she was doing as a lark. “Who knew you could spend so much time studying carboxylic acids?”

  “Anyone who’s ever taken organic chemistry?”

  “Right, probably.” She hastily changed the subject. “So what’s the story with Wick again? Didn’t you say he’s your sister’s dog?”

  He gave her a sideways glance, followed by a tiny shrug. That small movement was somehow more discomforting than it would have been if he’d pressed her. You’ll tell me everything eventually, that shrug seemed to say. No sense pushing you now.

  “Yeah, I was the only one in the family who was a big enough sucker to take him in. My parents probably would have done it, but they’re out of the country on some crazy second honeymoon.”

  “Where do your parents live?

  “Supposedly, they still live in Yuba City, but the truth is that ever since my dad retired, they’ve been traveling more than staying home.”

  “Is that where you grew up?”

  He nodded. “Sutter High Huskies all the way, baby.”

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  “Two sisters and two brothers,” he said. “Alli and Gillian are younger, John and Ken are older. They used to call me Mason in the Middle, except I was never that smart.”

  The warmth in his voice was unmistakable, and Tess fought a surge of jealousy. What would it have been like to grow up with a big, close family? With a mom and dad that actually liked each other enough to stay together all that time—and even travel together afterward?

  “What about you?” he asked. “Brothers or sisters?”

  She shook her head. “Just me.”

  They headed down the sidewalk, past the open pit of yet another high-rise to be, and then crossed the Embarcadero to the edge of Rincon Park. When he touched the bare ground at the edge of the park, Wick sighed with pleasure. Mason stared with obvious disgust when he squatted instead of lifting his leg to pee. “What kind of a man are you?” he said to the dog.

  “A man with a sore knee,” she said with a snort. “Or a guy who doesn’t mind squatting. Not every male has something to prove, you know.”

  They walked through the quiet park on the edge of the water, past the giant, multistoried half-buried bow and arrow that always made Tess grin. Mason let Wick smell every plant, bench, and spot of sidewalk that had probably been peed upon by countless other dogs. He asked a few more questions about her family, but when Tess determinedly dodged them all, he shifted gears, and they chatted more amiably about the weather and traffic, and then music and the latest movies. He had an uncanny knack for asking seemingly innocuous questions that were both harmless and personal, eliciting information she had never meant to share. Before she knew was happening, she was telling him about her weakness for fluffy little dogs, pickles, and telenovelas, the Latin American soap operas that her neighbor Gracie insisted they watch together. Tess didn’t speak Spanish fluently, but she knew enough to follow the melodramas, and while they watched, Gracie fed her homemade posole, the rich soup that she made with chicken, hominy, and tomatillos.

  Somehow, she’d also somehow managed to tell him that she didn’t have a boyfriend and wasn’t dating anyone.

  This was not how things were supposed to go. She was supposed to be tight-lipped and private. Instead, by the time they got back to the apartment, she was chatting away like they were old friends. And while she was talking, he’d started moving in physically, too.

  He brushed his hand against hers when they switched who was holding Wick’s leash, touched her shoulder to point out a root in her path, even slid his palm across the small of her back to guide her into the elevator on their way back to the apartment, and then left it there, gently warming her skin right through her clothes with its proximity.

  And she hadn’t even considered pushing him away. She’d gone with it, like it was natural for him to touch her. Like it only made sense for him to flirt with her, to make her smile and blush at his attention.

  After all, she was going to sleep with him, wasn’t she?

  And wouldn’t she be happy for the couple of nights of his attention that she’d get before he moved on? He was unbelievably gorgeous, not to mention rich, attentive, and funny.

  By the time she realized the path of her own thoughts, they were in the elevator heading back to his apartment, and the shock at her own lack of anything resembling willpower hit her like a bucket of cold water.

  For pity’s sake he was seducing her. And she hadn’t even noticed! He’d turned that charm and beauty on her, and she’d reacted like all of those women she’d Googled earlier that evening. In less than an hour, she’d turned right back into the teenage girl she’d been working for more than a decade not to be.

  It was infuriating. She’d let the job she took seriously turn into some kind of Tinder hookup.

  He leaned forward, gesturing toward the door. “After you.”

  Even now that she’d figured it out, her legs actually felt wobbly at the private smile.

  Damn, he was good. He wasn’t hitting on her like some guy in a bar feeding her a bad line and slipping her his phone number. No, he had some kind of magic that made her want to hit on him. If he didn’t already have it, she’d be giving him her number. And probably putting a little smiley face after it. O
r a heart.

  What was wrong with her?

  After he unlocked the door, she stopped to take off Wick’s leash, and he leaned past her to set his keys in a small dish by the door. He was so close that she could feel his warmth and discovered that he smelled like spice and man, and when he took the leash from her hands, she almost fell into his arms.

  But she didn’t. Her sixteen-year-old self, desperate for love and affection no matter the source, definitely would have. But her twenty-six-year-old self, who worked three jobs and was absolutely determined to get her damn degree and pay her bills even if it killed her, had more important things to worry about. Sweet nothings and romantic moves were nice if you had the time. She didn’t. Especially for a guy who clearly had no intention of being around for the morning after.

  It wasn’t Mason’s fault. He was just acting on instinct. But anyone with half a brain in their head could see he was a player, and Tess knew better than to fool around with guys who lived for the chase.

  As her body and mind slowly, reluctantly, came to the same conclusion, Mason smiled, waiting for her to respond to something he’d said. She didn’t even remember what he’d asked her. Whether she liked chocolate, probably. Or maybe her favorite flower.

  He would send her a dozen roses after they slept together. No, roses would be too obvious. He’d take note of her favorite flower—daisy, to be exact—and then scour the city for them. Or get his assistant to do it. He’d have them flown in from wherever in the world they were blooming just so she’d feel special.

  And then he’d move on to the next poor sap.

  It was actually funny, the more that she thought about it. She might have mad dog-walking skills, but Mason was the Michelangelo of seduction. And she was getting to witness firsthand how it all went down.

  He watched attentively while she packed up her laptop. “You’re sure you don’t want to spend the night?” he asked, with just the tiniest hint of suggestion. “I hate to think of you doing all that driving.”

  “I’m sure you do,” she said sweetly.

  “You are welcome to stay, of course.”

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes and threw her bag over her shoulder. “Of course I am.”

  He cocked his head, having clearly picked up on her skepticism. “What?”

  Tess finally laughed out loud. “Mason Coleman, I appreciate the effort, but I’m going home.”

  He drew back, brow furrowed. “Effort? What effort?”

  He looked so deliciously surprised—and so damn gorgeous—that she had to steel herself. It was sort of like walking past the gelato place on Harrison. You knew you had to do it, but damn it, it looked so delicious…

  “The gentle touch in the elevator was masterful,” she said sadly, picturing a waffle cone filled with hazelnut and coffee deliciousness. “You’re quite good at what you do. And I should be flattered, I suppose.” She put a hand to her perpetually disastrous ponytail. “After all, I’m me, and you’re…” She gestured toward him. “You.”

  He squinted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m saying you seem like a really nice guy, but just so there’s no confusion, I don’t get involved with my clients.”

  He drew back in surprise. “Is that what you thought? That I was hitting on you?”

  “Oh no, definitely not.” Seducing me, not hitting on me. “I just want to make sure you know where I’m coming from. Even if you are the—what do they call you? The Bad Angel?” When a hint of embarrassment crossed his face, her smile widened. “That’s right, the Bad Angel. Even if you are all that, it’s not a good idea. ”

  He shook his head and gave her the perfect, self-deprecating smile. “The nickname is ridiculous, I know. But I had nothing to do with that.”

  “I’m not saying you did. And to be clear, I did have a nice time tonight. Thanks for the walk.” She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  He followed her toward the door. “Wait. You can’t start a conversation like that and then expect me to ignore it. You think I’m some kind of player, is that it?”

  She turned slowly, kicking herself for her inability to keep her mouth shut. “Since you apparently don’t like the suggestion, absolutely not. Now, is there any chance we can forget I ever brought it up?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Not until you tell me what drew you to this conclusion. Besides that awful nickname.”

  She spread her hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just…well, you know…”

  “No.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “No I don’t.”

  “It’s hard to put into words, exactly,” she hedged. “It’s more of a feeling than anything else. You do show up a lot online. With a different woman every time.”

  “Maybe I just haven’t found the right woman yet. Maybe I’m really lonely and searching for my heart’s companion.”

  A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, and Tess relaxed a little. He might not like the label, but she had a feeling he knew it was true. “Ready to go on The Bachelor, are you?”

  He couldn’t repress his shudder. “Perhaps not quite that desperate.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You’re pretty comfortable with snap judgments, then?”

  The rebellious part of her that never quite knew when to shut up took over. “I bet I can prove your status in about two minutes.”

  “Based on my apartment?” He raised a single, curious brow. “That’s impressive. Please, be my guest.”

  Tess set down her computer. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Do I have permission to move around?”

  “Of course.” He gestured toward the hallway. “Bedroom is that way, if you’re interested.”

  “Perfect.” She headed in the direction he’d indicated was his bedroom, which she had refused to explore when she’d been alone in the house all day. He followed a few steps behind. It was everything she’d imagined—enormous king-size bed, masculine yet comfortable pillows. Perfectly made, presumably not by him. A startlingly beautiful view of the Bay Bridge, now lit in an obscenely beautiful display of twinkling lights, dominated the room.

  “Okay, let’s start with the bedside table. You’ve got a healthy stash of condoms over there, I assume, probably ribbed for her pleasure.”

  He lingered in the doorway, leaning against the wall in a casually elegant slouch, arms crossed over his impressive chest in a way that set off his perfect biceps. “You’d prefer to go without?”

  She swept on to the master bathroom, pointing to the spotless interior and the towels neatly hanging on racks. “Extra set of towels and a toothbrush for unexpected guests?”

  “My mother always said hospitality was important.”

  “If you have an extra bathrobe, my case is made.” She opened a small closet in the corner of the bathroom. Two matching cotton robes hung inside. She laughed out loud. “I can’t say I’ve ever known anyone who actually has two bathrobes before.”

  “I’m not sure you’ve proven your point,” he said. “I have been known to entertain friends here. Some of them stay overnight. So what?”

  “Mason, I’m not saying you’re a bad person. But let’s be honest. You’re not looking for your heart’s companion. And I’m here to do a job. I’m going to come to your apartment every morning, walk your dog, and leave at night with my panties still in place. Understand? No funny stuff. No sweet walks in the park, no gentle touches or soft glances at my lips. Nothing.”

  He held up his hand. “I solemnly swear to leave your panties in place.” He slid her a wicked half smile. “If that’s what you want.”

  So now it was on the table. Tess thought about the drawer full of condoms, the matching bathrobes, and the flowers she wouldn’t receive.

  And hesitated for just a second.

  No, she scolded herself. No hesitation. “I do.”

  “Then I guess we’ll do it your way.” He lounged again
st the doorway and smiled, relaxed and utterly sure of himself.

  Despite everything that had just been said, somehow, the temperature in the room rose a few degrees. For her own sanity, Tess knew it was time to go. She squeezed past him in the doorway, forcing herself not to run to the front door.

  She gave Wick a final rub behind the ears. Then she dug around in the outside pocket of her bag to find her client agreement form. As he sauntered toward her, she set it down on the table beside the door, congratulating herself on her calm. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning at eight. These are the terms of the dog sitting and training position. If you have any questions, give me a call.”

  And with that, she headed out the door.

  For now, at least, panties still in place.

  Chapter Five

  At 7:55 a.m., Mason poured a cup of coffee into one of his sleek ceramic mugs and sat at the counter in the kitchen, staring at the door. When he heard the soft knock, he rose with the cup in his hand.

  He should not be anticipating her arrival quite so much.

  And yet.

  Here he was.

  Imagining her laughing at him last night. Thinking about those lips. Remembering how she’d wanted no part of something that had become a reflex. Maybe even wishing, just for a moment, that he could start over. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but he still had a bad feeling that she’d been right—he’d been chasing her and hadn’t even realized what he was doing until she called him out.

  She’d rejected him with the most casual ease he could imagine. “It’s not a good idea,” she’d said. What did that even mean? How was it that the most nondescript woman he’d met in years had him spinning in circles, unsure of which way was up?