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"The white two-story colonial with the picket fence?" At her nod, he added, "Isn't that Dr. Connally's place?"
"I share the building with Stewart." That wasn't all she wanted to share with him, if he would just realize that they were meant for each other.
Oddly enough, her lips seemed to tighten around that last bit of information.
"We're dating," she finally managed to say. "Sort of."
"How do you 'sort of' date someone?"
"Well, we have lunch once a week."
Mason let loose a low whistle. "Sounds serious."
"It will be. We've known each other since we were kids. We like the same things. It's just a matter of time."
"Congratulations," he said. Oddly enough, the sentiment didn't seem to touch his gaze. "Is that the Connally guy from soph.o.m.ore chemistry? The one who burned his eyebrows off with the bunson burner?"
"They finally grew back." After several special hair treatments in Austin. "You can't even tell now."
"Good for him."
"So what about you? What have you, um, been up to?"
"I've been running my own ranch management consulting group, doing independent projects here and there. But now I'm home to take care of things at the Iron Horse."
"What does a ranch management consulting group do?"
"Ranches call me in to help modify their operation. I put them on a branding and breeding schedule, teach them the most effective ways to increase their herd size with their available resources. If they're a horse ranch, I do the same for their horses and also teach them the newest techniques in breeding and training," he said proudly.
"Who's going to run your business while you're home?"
"I sold half of the business to my chief manager. He's running things now and I'm just a silent partner."
"Sounds like you gave up a lot to come home." Charlene wondered if she'd have had the guts to do it. Probably not.
"Actually, I expect to gain a lot by coming home. My job has always kept me on the road and now I get to actually settle down in one place. No more living out of a suitcase."
"I guess that would be a plus."
Say goodbye, a voice whispered. You've cleared the air, killed the teasing and done the small talk. Just excuse yourself, get into your car and leave. You don't want to know him. You don't want to like him. And you don't want the Juliets to see you.
The sound of laughter drifted from the lodge entrance, signaling the dismissal of the meeting. Any minute, the doors would burst open and she'd be busted.
"Married?" she heard herself ask.
"Are you kidding?"
"Fiancee?"
"Hardly."
"Significant other?"
"Only a horse named Winston."
She couldn't help smiling. "So what are you doing here?"
"Josh is inside proposing right now." He indicated the souped-up GTO that sat just off to the side of the building. "So I thought I'd give him a little moral support."
"Moral support for a marriage proposal? And here I'd heard that the whole notion gave you the heebie jeebies."
"Actually, it does. And it used to have the same effect on my brother. Until he met this woman." He shrugged and glanced behind him at the entrance, a puzzled look on his face. As if he thought Josh was about to cut off his arm instead of pledging his life to a special woman.
"What's her name?"
"Holly Farraday," Mason said as his gaze collided with Charlene's. "She makes desserts and stuff."
"Ultimate o.r.g.a.s.ms," Charlene clarified. "And Chocolate Body Bon Bons and Daring Divinity, and a dozen other things with suggestive names."
His eyebrows kicked up a notch. "Come again?"
"She makes aphrodisiac desserts that supposedly entice the senses and put a person in 'the mood.'"
Amus.e.m.e.nt glittered in his gaze. "Must be some d.a.m.ned powerful desserts."
"It's all propaganda to sell her product. Real attraction doesn't lie in the five senses. It goes deeper than that."
Mason eyed her. "Is that how it's going to be with you and Dr. Steven? When you start officially dating, that is?"
"His name's Stewart, and that's exactly how it's going to be. He won't need me flitting around, half-dressed, serving him glorified chocolate cake to make him feel frisky. Just talking with me will be enough for that."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself."
If only she felt half as sure.
"Stewart and I have a lot in common," she told him. "We don't need to worry about appealing to each other's senses."
"So why are you here?"
"Research purposes."
He arched an eyebrow before giving her another grin. "That's what they all say, sugar."
Her stomach fluttered and she stiffened. "I have to know what bunk is circulating in order to effectively debunk it. I'm sure Holly's desserts are delicious, but there's no way merely eating one can heighten the attraction between two people."
He gave her a wink. "Depends how you eat it."
The gleam in his eyes told her he wasn't talking about using plates or forks. Something sharp and sweet tickled between her legs and her breath caught.
"I..." She licked her lips and instantly regretted it when his gaze hooked on her mouth. Desire brightened his eyes.
Desire?
Because of some simple lip-licking?
Maybe on the most superficial level.
But Charlene didn't advocate superficial. She preached depth and commitment and destiny.
Besides, she didn't think for one second that Mason McGraw, the Mason McGraw, would actually l.u.s.t after her. Sure, she'd changed. She wasn't the same gawky teenager she used to be. She wore better clothes and she'd conquered her raging acne. But she wasn't all that, either.
She wasn't nearly the daring diva she would have to be to interest Mason. Not that she wanted to interest him, mind you.
Charlene had long ago accepted who she was-serious, low-key and on the plain side-and she'd stopped pining away for bigger b.o.o.bs, better hair and a more curvaceous figure. She simply wasn't meant to be bold, beautiful and big-breasted, and she wasn't meant to be with a man as good-looking as Mason. Oranges belonged with oranges and apples belonged with apples, as far as she was concerned.
That's the way it had been when she'd been young and the way it would always be. Despite the strange tension bubbling in the air between them.
"Here's my card," she told him, eager to distract herself from the electricity skimming up and down her arms. She pulled the familiar piece of vellum from inside her purse and handed it to him.
"Excuse me?"
"In case you ever need any therapy."
She saw the twinkle in his gaze and she braced herself for the grin she knew would follow.
"Well, lookee what the cat dragged in." Lolly Langtree's voice killed Mason's expression and drew his attention.
A mix of relief and dread rolled through Charlene as she turned to see the blond, blue-eyed, once-upon-a-time captain of the Romeo cheerleading squad standing in the open double doorway.
"I was just-" Charlene started to say, but Lolly cut her off.
"If it isn't Mason McGraw," the woman declared as she stepped forward and made quick work of the gravel parking lot. Just like way back when, she didn't so much as spare Charlene a glance. "I'd heard you were back, but it's high time I saw for myself."
"Mason McGraw!" another voice shrieked as the double doors opened again and several more women spilled out into the parking lot.
"OhmiG.o.d, it's Mason!" another voice squealed.
"What a sight for sore eyes."
"You're looking as good as ever!"
Charlene quickly found herself pushed aside as the women surrounded Mason.
She ignored the strange tightening in her chest the way she always had where Mason was concerned.
He wasn't her type. And she definitely wasn't his.
Not then and not now.
She turned on her heel and headed for her car. Better to forget the real man wrapped up in his cotton T-s.h.i.+rt and skintight Wranglers and settle for her fantasies.
Better, but not easy, she realized as she caught herself chancing a glance behind her.
Not by a long shot.
2.
MASON MCGRAW HAD TALKED o.r.g.a.s.ms with more than his share of women, but no such conversation had ever ended with a handshake and a business card.
"...surprise when I heard you were coming back for good..." Lolly's voice droned on, but the words didn't register.
Then again, this wasn't just any woman. This was Charlie Singer. Once upon a time, the smartest girl at Romeo High School, and the owner of the longest pair of legs.
His gaze followed her as she crunched across the gravel. She still had long legs, made even longer thanks to a pair of do-me high heels. But where she'd been somewhat awkward back then, she now moved with a smooth, fluid grace that came with maturity and, perhaps, a little practice. Her torso, which had once seemed immature and small for the rest of her, had broadened and filled out just enough to create an enticing silhouette and to balance her long limbs.
He zeroed in on the push-pull of fabric against her round a.s.s. The soft material molded to her curves and swept the length of her legs to just below her knees. There was nothing remotely s.e.xy about the blah beige skirt. If anything, it leaned toward the respectable side. Still, it stirred his curiosity and he couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath it. Smooth thighs and sweet curves and soft skin and...s.e.x.
His gaze went to the card she'd handed him.
Dr. Charlene Singer.
She was obviously still as smart as ever.
"If you ever need any therapy..."
Mason needed a lot of things at that moment, but therapy wasn't one of them.
He s.h.i.+fted his weight from one foot to the other, eager to give his d.a.m.ned d.i.c.k a little breathing room.
Then again, he was hot and bothered over Charlie Horse Singer, for Christ's sake. Maybe he did need some therapy.
Charlie Horse.
The name echoed through his head, along with the memories of a painfully awkward girl who'd worn thick gla.s.ses and too-short jeans. She'd always stood off to the side, never partic.i.p.ating. Just watching with her deep brown eyes. He'd never called her the name everyone else did. h.e.l.l, he'd never even talked to her. She hadn't been worth his effort when he'd had dozens of other girls to choose from-all prettier and more outgoing and not the least bit shy.
That's what he'd told himself back then, whenever he'd seen her at school or at the grocery store with her mom. She was Charlie Horse, and she wasn't worth a smile or a h.e.l.lo, or even a thought.
But Mason McGraw had thought about her anyway.
Fantasized about her.
From the moment he'd seen those long legs up close and personal, he hadn't been able to get her out of his head. Even more, he hadn't been able to forget the flicker of heat as he'd stared at her and she'd stared at him, her gaze as rich and tempting as his aunt's prize-winning chocolate cake. Everything else had faded away for a few seconds. There'd been no embarra.s.sment. No awkwardness. No divas or groupies. Just the two of them and a fierce attraction.