No Laughing Matter: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy Page 8

  “Who was he?” Mason was toying with the handle of his coffee mug, and I couldn’t stop staring at his hands. They were just as big as the rest of him, but he had surprisingly nice fingers. Like an oversized pianist. They seemed nimble, and I could imagine how good he’d be at caressing my…

  “Um.” I cut off my line of thought. “Just a jerk trolling for a hookup, I guess. I was unlucky enough to catch his eye.”

  Mason turned to Nat. “You’d never met him before either? Who invited you to the party?”

  “One of my customers. I went along to be polite, and asked Lottie to come because she makes everything so much more fun.” Nat cut a muffin into quarters, put a piece in her mouth, then spoke around it. “Hey Mason, how’d you get those scars?”

  “I’m a bodyguard.”

  “You must be protecting mobsters to have so many scars,” Nat said.

  “Or you’re guarding someone clumsy.” I eyed the long scar on his muscled forearm. “A nerdy tech billionaire with his head so far in the clouds he keeps stumbling off cliffs, and you have to dive after him.”

  “You figured out my secret.” Mason grimaced. “Nobody’s supposed to know. Now Elon’s going to be pissed.”

  I leaned in. Just because I was used to make-believe didn’t mean I wanted anything less than the truth. “But seriously, what’s the deal?”

  Mason’s long fingers stilled on the handle of his cup. “Sorry, I can’t say. Client confidentiality.”

  “Are you working while you’re in San Dante?” Nat asked.

  “I’m on vacation.”

  “You live in Houston, right?”

  “How did you know?” Mason frowned. “Did Kade say something?”

  Nat flushed. She didn’t get flustered easily, but now it was her turn to play with her coffee cup. “I haven’t spoken to Kade in years.”

  A businessman strode past us into the café. He was snarling at someone on his phone while he charged up to the counter.

  “Ugh,” groaned Nat. “I know that guy and he’s always in a hurry. I’d better get behind the counter before he starts complaining.” She got up and hurried to take his order.

  Mason looked around at all the empty tables. “The place should be busier than this, shouldn’t it?”

  “Apparently the café’s been quiet lately. Nat wants to sell it.” I lifted my cup slowly to my lips, thinking out loud. “If I can win my followers back on my side, there might be some way I could help her promote it.”

  “Win them back?” Mason shook his head. “After yesterday’s assault, you need to stop posting online and close your account.”

  I almost choked on my coffee. “Are you crazy? I’ve been building followers for years. I’m not abandoning everything I’ve worked for.”

  “Carlotta…” He reached across as though to touch my hand and my stomach flipped over. Then he seemed to change his mind and drew his hand back. “Please be more careful. You need a proper security system, and to stop opening your door to strangers. Most importantly, don’t upload any photographs that can identify where you live. If you’ve tagged any pictures with your location, you need to delete them right away.”

  His expression was so concerned, I felt a familiar—and unwelcome—tug on my heart.

  One of the things I used to love about Mason was the way he’d seemed to care so intently about me. Growing up with Mom had been like playing a supporting role in a one-woman show about her. But Mason had always made me feel like I was the one in the limelight.

  Before his mother took him to Mexico, I thought he was the most caring guy I’d ever met. Which was why it had hurt like hell when he’d turned back up in San Dante a couple of years later and pretended I didn’t exist.

  “I’ll be more careful,” I promised.

  I’d be careful of him, as much as any rogue followers with a grudge. It would be all too easy to forget everything bad that had happened and fall for his charms all over again.

  “How are you going to win your followers back?” he asked.

  “They like funny stories, so I’m going to keep coming up with new ones until I find something that takes off.”

  “What kind of stories?”

  I drank more coffee as I considered the question. “I think women are overexposed to pictures of people looking perfect. So I do the opposite. Like when I go swimsuit shopping. Instead of boring selfies in a bikini, I might take a photo of a fitting room filled with a mountain of discarded suits. I’ll wear one that’s all wrong for me, and ask the shop attendant to pose with her face buried in her hands, like she’s helped me try on so many, she’s losing the will to live.”

  He put his coffee cup down. “Do you always play up your flaws and make yourself look bad?”

  “That’s pretty much my brand. It’s how I do funny.”

  “You’re funny when you don’t sell yourself short.”

  “But that way I can help other women feel okay about being less than perfect, and I never get embarrassed so it’s win-win.”

  “I bet I could embarrass you.” When I gave him a skeptical look, he shrugged. “Not saying I’m going to. Just that I could.”

  “Go ahead and try. You’ll fail.”

  “Challenge accepted.” He nodded like we’d made some kind of formal agreement, and I wondered if I’d somehow, accidentally, just agreed to see him again.

  “But anyway,” he went on. “I have to admit something.” He reached across the table and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I can’t see any flaws.”

  His fingers brushed my cheek before his hand dropped, and the gesture sent a hot flush of blood surging through me, flustering me.

  I lifted my coffee cup to my mouth, and simultaneously made a rude sound. I’d intended it to be a gentle scoff of disagreement. Instead, it came out as a loud fart noise, and coffee sprayed from the cup.

  Mason laughed, and I grinned with him, relieved that the moment of intimacy was over, because it definitely couldn’t have been what it seemed. There was no way Mason Lennox was flirting with me.

  Was there?

  “See?” I grabbed a napkin to wipe coffee off my face. “I made a fool of myself, and I’m not embarrassed. It’s my superpower.”

  He moved the muffin plates out of the way as I wiped splashes off the table. Our hands bumped together, and I felt an inexplicable thrill.

  So. Weird.

  My body seemed to think I was still fifteen years old. I’d regressed back to the days when holding his hand would get me excited.

  “You have other superpowers as well,” he said.

  “Like my spectacular breasts?”

  His smile bypassed my brain and went straight to my thighs, setting them quivering again without my permission.

  “Among other things.” His eyes weren’t the color of Antarctica now. In fact, I used to have a well-worn pair of flannel pajamas that had faded to that soft, warm shade of blue.

  I sat back in my chair, feeling suddenly dizzy.

  On Wednesday, I’d hated Mason Lennox.

  On Thursday, he’d surprised me just by speaking to me.

  And today, somehow, we’d started talking like we used to when we were dating, swapping jokes and flirty remarks, while he went out of his way to make me feel good.

  How had I gone from being angry with the guy who’d broken my heart, to falling for his compliments? No, not just falling for them. I was getting tingles in all kinds of places.

  What in the sweet holy bejeebus was going on?

  Chapter Eleven

  Carlotta

  Mason’s pocket was buzzing.

  He tugged his phone out and frowned at it. “I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s a work thing.”

  I blinked. “But it’s Sunday. And I thought you were on vacation?”

  “I am. But this is something nobody else can handle.”

  “A bodyguard emergency? Does a body urgently need guarding?”

  “Something like that.” He paid for our coffees and muffins, and
said a quick goodbye to Nat. “How’d you get here?” he asked me.

  “I walked.”

  “My car’s outside. I’ll drop you off at home.”

  His car was a matt black sedan that turned out to be a rental. Mom’s house was only a couple of minutes away from the café, but after I slid into the passenger seat, I turned hopefully to Mason.

  “You still haven’t told me why your mother took you to Mexico, and why you wouldn’t talk to me when you came back. Will you tell me now?”

  His expression closed in like a storm cloud descending. “You really don’t know?”

  “How could I?”

  He seemed to be concentrating very hard on the road in front of him. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell me anything.

  Why keep secrets? What did he have to hide?

  “If you can’t be honest with me, I don’t want to talk to you at all,” I said. “I can’t deal with lies, secrets, or fantasies. Not from you. I’ve had more than enough from my mother.”

  He seemed startled at my rough tone. “You deserve to know everything. But I can’t tell you.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  He took his eyes off the road to meet my gaze, and the intensity of his eyes made me swallow. “I’d be sharing other people’s secrets, and that wouldn’t be fair to them. But I’ll make you a promise. As soon as I get their okay, I’ll tell you everything.”

  As he turned back to the road, I let out a long breath, my anger softening. “That seems reasonable,” I agreed.

  Mason’s secret probably had to do with his dead mother, and maybe he wanted to check with his brothers before sharing things she may not have wanted others to know. I couldn’t imagine what might have stopped him speaking to me when he got back from Mexico, but I believed he’d tell me when he could.

  “What did you do about the guy who threw red paint on you?” asked Mason. “Did you go to the police?”

  “I went. They filed a report, but didn’t seem very concerned.”

  “When Asher’s guys fix your mother’s porch, I’ll check your locks and make sure the house is secure.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to make sure you’re safe.” He said it with such sincerity that I studied his profile, wondering why he cared so much.

  Hadn’t he mentioned he couldn’t resist a damsel in distress? I couldn’t remember him wanting to rescue anyone at sixteen, so it must have been a compulsion he’d developed in the years since then.

  One thing I did know was that his face was hard to look away from. As big and tough as he was, there was a sharp beauty in the angle of his cheekbones. The cold lightness of his eyes was just a thin layer of ice that could easily melt, and his hands, though large on the wheel, were deft and sure.

  My gaze dropped to the scar on his neck.

  “Is that why you became a bodyguard?” I asked. “To keep people safe?”

  His expression seemed to tighten, though the change was so small I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it. Then he nodded ahead. “We’re here.”

  He stopped in front of Mom’s house and strode around to my side of the car as though intending to open the door for me, but I was too quick for him and clambered out onto the sidewalk.

  “When’s a good time to arrange the repair work for the porch?” Mason stopped an arm’s length from me.

  “I picked up a part-time job, and I start in the morning. Let me see how that goes, because I’m not sure how many hours they want me to do.”

  “Congratulations. What kind of work?”

  “In an office.” I was fumbling with my phone, feeling weird and awkward. “Want to swap phone numbers so you can check in about the porch?” Why was I suddenly all thumbs?

  He handed me his phone to enter my number, and as I handed it back, I glanced at the house. A curtain was twitching.

  “Mom’s watching,” I said. “She’s going to think there’s a Romeo and Juliet vibe going on between us. Two feuding families. A forbidden love. Wouldn’t that be ironic, considering how much she likes Shakespeare?” I laughed, amused by the thought. “Such a shame we’re not really in love. Mom’s even reading Romeo and Juliet with her class right now, and going to school dressed as Juliet’s nurse.”

  “She still does that? I remember how much you hated it when we were kids.”

  “I hated all the teasing. But that was before I developed my superpower.”

  He followed my gaze to the twitching curtain, then gave me a sideways look. “You think I can’t embarrass you?”

  “I know you can’t.”

  “Not even if we give your mother her Romeo and Juliet moment?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He couldn’t possibly be suggesting what I thought he was.

  But he stepped closer, and my heart sped up. The pale blue of his irises had darkened and heated, so they didn’t remind me of flannel pajamas anymore. Not unless the pajamas were flammable.

  He put his hand behind my shoulder, pulling me in. Then his hand slid from my shoulder to the back of my neck, behind my hair.

  My heart was skipping as though it couldn’t believe what was happening. There was a soundtrack playing in my head that consisted of just the words Oh My God being repeated over and over.

  Mason’s hand felt soft on the back of my neck. He bent his face to me, his gaze playing over my lips. My legs trembled.

  “Fair Juliet, will you grant me a kiss?” His voice was a soft rumble.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. The movement of my lips made his gaze intensify, the fire in his eyes burning hotter.

  His mouth was close enough to brush mine, so close that if I swayed forward a little, we’d kiss.

  I wanted him to kiss me so much, I couldn’t breathe.

  But this was Mason Lennox, and I’d kissed him before.

  Been there, had my heart ripped out.

  Still, it wasn’t like I’d ever let him hurt me again. Just like going along with Mom’s fantasies, I could enjoy a kiss from the hottest guy I’d ever known without getting emotionally invested. I’d learned how to protect myself.

  “Juliet?” His murmur tickled my lips, his warm breath carrying hints of coffee. His eyes softened, their heat becoming contained.

  He was waiting for me to say yes or no.

  Though his tone was carefully casual, I could sense the tightness in his muscles, his body coiled like a spring. His hand was still on the back of my neck, his fingers applying no pressure.

  He wouldn’t move unless I gave him an answer, and there was only one answer I could possibly give. Just one tiny word for me to say. Only my throat was frozen, my voice buried so deep I couldn’t force even the smallest word out.

  The first time we’d kissed, I’d been just fifteen years old. When he’d flicked his tongue over mine, I’d finally realized why so many songs and movies and books were dedicated to something so simple as two people pressing their mouths together.

  He was the one who’d taught me to love kissing. More specifically, I’d learned to love kissing him. So it would have been physically impossible for me not to lean forward now and offer my lips to the God of Kisses Past.

  As our mouths brushed together, he gave the softest, most intimate sigh I’d ever heard, like he was sighing just for me. His fingers tightened on the back of my neck and his tongue gently teased my lips, encouraging them to part.

  His lips were sinfully soft, his mouth an invitation to pleasure. He slid his other hand around my waist to draw my body against his. Then he kissed me with an intensity that made me gasp into his mouth.

  He kissed me like he owned me. Like he’d signed all the papers and had me delivered.

  He kissed me with his mouth, his body, and his soul.

  Heaven help me, but I loved the way that felt.

  My body softened against his like ice cream on a hot day. He was rock hard. And not just his biceps, either. If I’d somehow missed the signs that I wasn’t th
e only one being turned on by the best kiss in the entire history of kisses, I could feel the proof jutting into my stomach.

  I could dimly hear a sound, but it didn’t seem important. Not as vital as what Mason was doing to me, that was for certain. But the sound repeated itself again and again, slowly filtering through the gooey, lust-filled mush my brain had become.

  “Carlotta Watson!”

  This time I recognized the sound as my mother’s furious shout. She must have called my name a few times, because when I finally managed to drag my mouth away from sweet Mason heaven, I realized Mom was standing on her porch with her face bright red, yelling so loudly the entire street must have been wondering what was going on.

  As was I.

  I was a grown woman of almost thirty, and my mother was shrieking like that time she caught me making a booger sandwich.

  What? I was four. Okay, seven. Whatever.

  “Wow,” said Mason softly. He blinked at me, looking a little stunned.

  I made some kind of grunting sound in response, aware that I probably looked completely shell shocked. My entire body was quivering like a plucked guitar string.

  His lips hitched up. “You make an excellent Juliet, but I’d better go before your mother decides to reenact a Shakespearean tragedy and thrust a dagger through my heart.”

  I dredged up the scraps of my self-composure, wrapping it around me like a shredded cloak.

  “Goodbye, Romeo. You should know that Mom’s more likely to use poison, so be on guard for an apothecary bearing potions.” Amazingly, my voice came out almost steady.

  A loud bang came from Mom’s house and I jumped. My first thought was that she’d used a pistol instead of poison, until I realized she’d stormed back inside and it was the violent slam of her front door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mason

  At the café I’d received a reminder that the surveillance team were holding a debriefing meeting. But after dropping off Carlotta, I couldn’t pretend to feel bad about already being late for it. Grinning, I drummed on the steering wheel in time to the song I’d turned up to ear-bleeding levels on the stereo.