No Laughing Matter: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy Read online

  “May I take your order?” The waiter was hovering over us.

  Before Rex could answer, I said, “Please give us a minute or two.” Then I turned back to Rex, searching for some way to increase my enthusiasm for him. I wanted my thighs to quiver and my insides to turn gooey like they used to for Mason, but so far they were refusing to cooperate.

  “What’s the most exciting or unusual thing that’s ever happened to you?” I asked, a little desperately.

  “I had a near-death experience.”

  “That sounds interesting.” I leaned in hopefully. “Did you go toward the light and get told by a dead relative that it wasn’t your time yet?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that.” He picked up his menu and ran his gaze down the options. “It was the middle of the night. I got out of bed to go to the bathroom and fell down the stairs. Could have died.”

  I took another sip of my water before forcing a smile. “Great story. Hey, did you know that Death once had a near-Chuck Norris experience?”

  He frowned, lifting his gaze back to me. “No. Is that a joke? I don’t get it.”

  The waiter moved back to our table. “Would you like to order now?”

  I gave the waiter a sad smile and shook my head. Rex wasn’t going to be my rebound guy after all.

  “I’m sorry, Rex.” I made my tone as kind as possible. “I’m afraid I can’t do this. It’s not you, it’s me. You seem really nice, and I wish I could enjoy eating dinner with you and get to know you, and more than anything I’d like to have sex, because it’s been a really long time and I want to climb back on that horse and go for a very long ride. But someone broke my heart, and the truth is that I don’t want to date you because you’re not him. That’s messed up, I know. I’m working on it. But I guess I’m not quite there yet.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks for being honest.” He hesitated. “What was that you said about the sex thing?”

  “That I want to have sex?”

  “Did you mean with me, or…?”

  “No. Sorry. That wasn’t clear, was it?” I shook my head ruefully. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful guy, Rex, and the perfect woman is out there for you. But I have to go now.”

  I left him in the restaurant and drove home with an empty stomach and an unbearably heavy feeling of despair.

  Once back in my apartment, I took a shower, scrubbed my face clean of makeup, and put on the clothes I’d be sleeping in: a baggy old shirt with I Only Speak Sarcasm printed on it in faded letters, and a loose-fitting pair of cotton shorts with a large hole in the crotch where the stitching had unraveled. Then I climbed into bed. It was only nine o’clock and my hair was damp from the shower, but who cared? I was too depressed to bother drying my hair or staying awake.

  I’d only just pulled the blankets over me when there was a knock on the door. I sat up and frowned. Who the hell would come over to see me at nine o’clock at night? Could it be Nat? Was she in some kind of trouble?

  I padded to the door and cracked it open, peering out.

  My heart stopped.

  “Mason,” I gasped, pulling the door all the way open.

  Wearing dark jeans and a fitted T-shirt, he filled my doorway. His eyes were creased with worry lines and stubble darkened his ridiculously square jaw. His cheeks looked more shadowed than the last time I’d seen him, and his posture was tense, as though he was on edge. A nasty purple bruise bloomed above one eye.

  “Hi Carlotta.” His gaze ran over my hair. “You’re wet.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Mason

  Carlotta’s hair was damp and a little shorter than last time I’d seen her, and her face was pink as though she’d just washed it in scalding hot water. She was wearing a baggy, faded T-shirt, and shorts with loose threads hanging off them. I tried not to scan every inch of her like a voracious, desperate man, but after missing her every minute of every day, I sure felt like one.

  She was even more beautiful than in my dreams. So beautiful, it hurt my heart to look at her.

  “May I come in?” I forced my voice out around the lump in my throat.

  Her expression was still shocked as she stepped back. She seemed lost for words.

  Because I was afraid I was staring at her like some kind of ravenous animal, I forced my gaze away, scanning her apartment instead.

  “I like your place.” I tried to act normal, attempting to break the tension. “How long have you been here?” It was a small apartment, but she’d decorated in bright colors and I liked the tall palm in one corner. Her style was quirky but comfortable, just as I would have imagined.

  “Where have you been?”

  With relief I let my gaze snap back to her, drinking her in again. She was an oasis after an endless desert, and I wasn’t sure how I’d ever get enough.

  “In Houston.”

  “But I looked for you in Houston. I searched the phone directory. I called every Lennox in the city.”

  “I used a different name. I wasn’t Mason Lennox there.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed, and I could see what she was thinking. I was bringing more lies into her life, and I had no right to do that.

  “What’s this?” Searching for some way to change the subject, I picked up a feather boa that was draped over the couch.

  “I’m directing Chicago at the Spotlight Theater.”

  “You’re the director there now? Congratulations.”

  “Are you really here?” she asked softly, like she was still trying to process it.

  “I’m here.” I rubbed my hand over my rough chin, realizing I should have shaved. I’d had such a deep need to see her, I hadn’t wanted to delay even a few extra minutes. But with my battered body and unshaven face, I’d brought a little of Houston into her home, and even that small amount was too much. The thought of that ugliness ever touching her was abhorrent.

  “Are you all right?” Some of what I was feeling must have shown in my face, because she suddenly sounded concerned. “Sit down.”

  I sank onto her couch and ran my palms over my jeans. “How are you?”

  “Better than you, I think.”

  She was right, but I could only give a faint nod. The last eight months had been more brutal than I could ever have imagined.

  “You want a drink?” she asked. “I have beer.”

  She didn’t like beer and I’d never seen her drink it. She was a wine drinker, so why did she have beer in her fridge?

  There was only one reason I could think of.

  She had a boyfriend.

  “Yes. Please.” Though the realization was a lance through the heart, I kept my voice steady and didn’t let my pain show on my face. Of course she had a boyfriend. I’d been away for an eternity. It was probably a good thing she’d moved on. Maybe it would make it a little easier when I had to walk away.

  She got the beer from the kitchen and handed it to me, then sat on the chair opposite me. She hadn’t bothered with a drink for herself.

  “You look tired,” she said. “And you’re hurt. You have bruises.”

  “I came here straight from the airport.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you’ve been doing?”

  She was too calm. This wasn’t going the way I’d expected. I’d thought she might shout at me, but she was very still.

  In Houston, being able to tell what someone was thinking could mean the difference between life and death, and Carlotta had always been open with her emotions. But she seemed almost as blank as when I’d said goodbye to her outside the jail, before I’d left San Dante. I had no idea what was going through her mind.

  I took a swig of the cold beer while I steeled myself for what I’d come here to say.

  “When I left, I couldn’t answer any of your questions about what I was doing. But now my undercover work is finished. I still can’t be totally open about that part of my life, because it might endanger other agents. But my part is done and I’ve come to tell you whatever you still want to know.”

  She f
lattened her palms on her bare thighs and stared down at them a moment, as though trying to sort through her thoughts. “You were pretending to be a bodyguard so you could get information about drug dealers?”

  “I was a bodyguard for an evil scumbag. One of the worst. I was there to help put him behind bars, and my team managed to do it.” I’d come here because I needed to tell her the truth, but now I was in front of her, the words were even harder to say than I’d expected. “The things I saw have changed me. Hardened me. I’m not the same man I was. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.”

  She deserved the truth, but it wasn’t enough. How could I describe the constant jumpiness, or the certainty a shooter was waiting around every dark corner? Worse was how terrible sights had started to slide off me, as though cruelty had become normal and hell was a place I could feel at home.

  She frowned. “What happened to your face?”

  I put my beer on the coffee table and lifted one hand to the bruise above my eye. “The arrest got physical. I was forced to restrain someone.” Then I dropped my hand to the twisted scar on my neck. “I lied to you about being in a car accident. This is a gunshot wound.” I touched the scar on my forearm. “This was a stab wound.” I lifted my shirt to show her the scar on my stomach. “Another stab wound. And a bullet also nicked my calf. That scar is barely noticeable.”

  Her eyes were wide. When she took a breath, it didn’t seem steady. “Mason…” She broke off, and I had no idea what she had wanted to say. Her hands clenched on her thighs, forming fists.

  I waited for her to keep talking. When she didn’t, I said, “I’m done in Houston. Finished.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I wanted to tell her that I loved her, but I’d left her for eight long months. She had a new life, one that didn’t include me.

  My jaw tightened as I fought a sudden need to hurt the man she was dating. With every cell in my body, I hated that he was the one who got to be with her.

  But I forced my muscles to loosen. This wasn’t Houston. Violence might have stained my soul black, but it had no place here.

  When I spoke again, my voice was level. “I’ll never work undercover again. I haven’t decided what I’ll do now, or where I’ll go, but I wanted you to know how sorry I am that there were so many things I couldn’t tell you. My biggest regret is that I had to lie to you. I wish I could have been honest, and things could have been different between us.”

  “I wish that too.” Her voice was thick, and I saw unshed tears in her eyes, glimmering in the overhead light.

  I stood up, furious with myself for hurting her again. Though I’d come to explain, I’d dragged in with me the pain and darkness I’d never be able to escape. It had been a mistake to bring it here. I’d been chasing a dream that had already slipped though my fingers.

  “I need to go,” I said.

  “You can’t.” She stood up too. “Please, don’t.” Her tears were threatening to spill. “I’ve missed you Mason. More than anything, I want to trust you. But I don’t want to be lied to anymore.”

  My heart was pounding. Hope had lit a faint spark in my chest, and I could barely stand the pain of it.

  “Lying to you is the last thing I want to do.” My voice came out rough. “So here’s the only secret I have left.” Unable to help myself, I curled my hands around her arms, finally touching her like I’d longed to do for eight endless, unbearable months. “My heart will always be yours, Carlotta. I’m not asking anything from you. I know it’s too late for us. But I want you to know I love you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Carlotta

  My breath was trapped inside my lungs, which seemed to have forgotten how to exhale. “You what?” I rasped.

  This was a different Mason to the one I knew. This Mason was wounded, and not just his body. He face held a dark seriousness that hadn’t been there before. His eyes were troubled and my memory of his playful smile seemed like it must have belonged to someone else.

  “I need to go,” he said again, letting go of my arms. Striding to the door, he pulled it open and stepped outside. “Don’t worry, I didn’t come here to ask anything from you. You have a life that doesn’t include—”

  “I love you too.”

  My breath caught on the words. I could hardly believe I’d said them. Was this really happening or was it a dream? Could Mason really be in love with me?

  He froze, his gaze fixed on mine. His brow was furrowed and his expression unreadable. It was as though he were finding this as hard to comprehend as I was.

  “You don’t have to say that,” he said slowly. “You don’t owe me anything. If you heard something about why the charges against you were dropped, you need to understand that I never expected anything in return.”

  “You had the charges against me dropped?”

  His frown deepened. “You didn’t know?”

  I shook my head, too overwhelmed to process what that could mean.

  “So why did you say you love me?” His tone was so rough, he sounded angry.

  A spark of fury flared into life inside me, burning hot, and I strode toward him with my fists clenched. “I’m saying I love you because I’ve spent the last eight months missing the hell out of you and wishing you’d never gone away.” Stopping in front of him, I had a powerful urge to pummel my fists against his chest, and settled for a hard shove that barely made him sway. “For future reference, Mason you big dummy, when a woman says she loves you, she expects a totally different reaction.”

  His frown slowly softened. Then some of the darkness eased from his face. His eyes seemed to lighten and his lips pulled up. His smile wasn’t exactly playful. But he was Mason again, the man I loved.

  My anger softened along with his expression. When he let out a chuckle it sounded hesitant, like he’d all but forgotten how to do it. But warmth filled my chest and I found myself grinning back at him. My heart started dancing.

  “You don’t have a boyfriend?” he asked.

  “Not unless you want to apply for the job.”

  His face was transforming like the best magic trick I’d ever seen. Instead of barely suppressed pain, it was filling with something like wonder.

  “You’re still willing to take a chance on me?” he asked. “After everything I’ve told you?”

  “That depends. Are you still married to your job?“

  “Actually, I’m unemployed. I handed back my badge.”

  “Then I just have one more question.”

  Mason nodded, his shoulders going back as though he was bracing himself. “Ask me anything.”

  “Do you still have a moon rocket?”

  He stared at me for a moment longer before the last of the darkness slipped away, vanishing from his face.

  “I’m going to kiss you now.” His voice had gone hoarse. “And I guess we’ll find out.”

  “Do you want to come inside first?”

  His face was already halfway to mine, but he paused and glanced around as though recognizing his surroundings for the first time. “What am I doing out here? Yes, I suppose I should come in first.” I stepped back, and he moved back inside my small one-room apartment and shut the door behind him before putting his arms around me.

  “Carlotta.” He breathed my name as though it were a prayer. “I missed you every moment I was gone.”

  I pressed myself against his wide chest, pulling him closer. He smelled so good it made me dizzy. “Me too. But I need to know if we’re at the kissing part now, because I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

  A hint of playfulness in his smile made my heart soar. “That’s exactly where we are.”

  Then his lips were on mine, first soft, then demanding and desperate. Mason always kissed me like he owned me, but this kiss was more than that. It was far deeper. He kissed me like I was a lighthouse guiding him through treacherous rocks. Like he’d been stumbling down a dark, dangerous path, and he’d finally glimpsed light.

  He kissed me like
he needed me more than life itself.

  And I kissed him back the same way.

  Somehow we made it to the bed, stumbling together with one mind. We fell onto it with me underneath him, still kissing as though we’d die if we had to stop.

  With his weight on his hands, he lay over me, his large body pressing into me in a way that felt incredible and drove me crazy with frustration at the same time.

  His lips lifted from mine, leaving me gasping with need. “I didn’t want to make love to you before you knew everything about me.” He kissed me again. “Not while I still had to lie to you about what I did.”

  “That’s why we’ve never done more than kiss?”

  Instead of answering, he pressed his lips back to mine. His mouth was as hot and demanding as his gaze. I wrapped my legs around his hips, and his hard length rubbed where I needed it.

  That’s when I realized the true benefit of having answered the door in my sleep clothes.

  No. Underwear.

  My thin cotton sleep shorts with the unraveled stitching in the crotch opened like the gates of heaven, allowing Mason’s rough denim jeans to rub against my bare flesh. The sensation was intense, and when his tongue flicked inside my mouth as well, I just about exploded.

  “Oh God,” I panted. “Stop. I can’t…”

  “What’s wrong? You okay?” His brow furrowed and his eyes travelled down my body, but I had my legs wrapped around him, clamping his hips to mine, and I wasn’t about to let go.

  “Feels amazing. Changed my mind, don’t stop.” I nipped his lip for emphasis, then struggled with his T-shirt, trying to pull it up. But it was caught between our bodies and as much as I fought with it, his weight prevented me from getting it off.

  “Mason,” I gasped. “You need to be naked. Can you help me make that happen?”

  He drew back, smiling down at me. It had to be a trick of the light, but I could almost see my own reflection in his eyes. He was looking at me with such warmth, it lit me up from the inside.

  “You’re incredible,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I missed you like air or water. You have no idea how much.”