Page 2 of Hidden Resolution (Stonebrooke #2)

M ason had never tasted anything sweeter than Shonda.

Her soft moan and the breathy mewl against his mouth went straight to his groin.

He was rock-hard and two seconds from forgetting they were on a packed plane.

They hit another turbulent patch, snapping the moment in half and waking him from his fantasy.

She muffled a cry of fright, and he automatically tightened his grip on her hand.

“It’s okay, love.” He winked, hoping to ease her nerves. “Let’s readdress the club membership when we’re not plummeting into air pockets.”

She managed a trembling smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Mason brushed his thumb over her knuckles, noting how her pupils dilated at the contact.

A subtle shifting of her legs suggested she was into him.

Perhaps they could share a few days of island-style R&R.

No strings. No drama. Pure fun. Of course, he’d be upfront and make the rules clear.

Having been cured of his romantic delusions long ago, he didn’t do complicated.

Another jolt rocked the aircraft, earning a squeak from Shonda and a chorus of screams from the back. His stomach slow rolled in sync with the dip. If they survived this flight, someone was receiving a strongly worded email.

Pain pulsed behind his eyes in relentless waves, and his ears were ringing from the banshee wail of the woman seated behind them. With each passing second, his mood soured.

Her final scream broke his control.

“Shut the hell up, or I’ll open the damned door and toss your sorry ass out!” he snapped. Yeah, less-than-kind and likely to bar him from future flights, but for the love of all things holy, he was moments from murder.

The screamer clamped her mouth closed, sending him a stunned stare. In fact, all those close to them were gaping in astonishment.

Except for Shonda.

He was almost positive hero worship lit in her eyes.

By the time they were herded off the plane, all amorous thoughts fled.

Mason picked a couple of chairs in the next terminal, beating out a hundred or so disgruntled travelers waiting for a replacement plane and crew.

The delay had him out of sorts and craving caffeine. He was halfway to the nearest kiosk when he stopped and retraced his steps.

“You want coffee?” he asked Shonda.

Her tight, tired smile made him glad he’d bothered.

“Two creams, no sugar.” She gestured to his carry-on. “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

As he stood in line, he recalled her pale, brave face during the worst of the trip. She’d handled it better than most, especially the guy reciting Psalm 23 on repeat. Once would’ve sufficed. If the man truly feared no evil, why the endless loop?

When Mason returned, Shonda was in deep conversation with the same jackass who’d hassled her while boarding. Apparently, the guy thought surviving a near-death experience gave him a shot. But body language never lied, and she leaned so far away she was practically in another zip code.

Mason put his towering frame to good use and dropped his voice an octave. “You’re in my seat.”

The guy hesitated, eyes darting between them.

After handing Shonda her coffee, Mason leveled the horndog with a flat stare. Wannabe Romeo took the hint.

“Thanks,” she breathed, appearing genuinely relieved.

“My pleasure. I assumed he was bothering you, but if you’re into sweaty, balding creeps, please don’t let me stand in your way.” He shrugged, indicating it was no big deal either way.

She shuddered. “Yeah, no.”

Biting back a grin, Mason reclaimed his seat and stretched out his legs. She sipped her coffee and let out a moan of appreciation that made every hair on his body stand at attention.

Jesus, that sound! He nearly groaned in response. It was impossible to recall ever wanting a woman this badly, this fast. Usually, he let them come to him. Let them flirt a little, throw out a signal, and take the lead. But this one? She had him on a hair trigger after one kiss.

He took a chug of his brew and tried to analyze why. Gorgeous? Check. But he’d dated stunning women before. The appeal was more than looks. Perhaps it had to do with her dry humor and whatever spark he’d felt when they kissed. Whatever it was, it made him want to dig deeper, stay longer.

His last thought scared the fuck out of him, but he’d let it play out to see where it led.

“Are you meeting anyone on vacation? A group of girlfriends? A boyfriend?”

Christ. Did he seriously just ask about her relationship status?

“Um, no.” Her eyes widened, honest and unguarded.

And because chivalry wasn’t dead, he leaned in, careful to keep his voice low. “Do me a favor. Don’t advertise traveling alone. If you have to, lie. Say your boyfriend or husband is joining you.” At her startled look, he added, “A woman by herself could attract the wrong kind of attention.”

She blinked, and a half-formed “oh” rounded her lovely, pink lips.

“Just be cautious. I’d hate for you to be one more statistic.” Inside, he cringed at sounding like an overprotective dad.

“Thanks.”

Smooth, buddy. Real fucking smooth. Way to kill the vibe and taint her vacation with worst-case scenarios.

He could almost hear Zack braying like an ass.

But statistics and probabilities drove everything he did.

Apparently, he’d morphed into the kind of guy who warned women not to talk to strangers.

They fell into a slightly awkward silence. Not Mason’s usual MO. And the damnedest part was he hadn’t felt this off-balance in years.

Her hand landed on his thigh, and he nearly shot out of the chair, spilling coffee on his shirt.

“Fuck!” He drew the material away from his skin, intent on preventing a burn.

“I’m so sorry.” Shonda’s face turned crimson. “You looked so lost in thought, and I wasn’t sure you heard me.”

With a pointed glance at the hand still on his knee, he arched a brow.

“Ohmygod! Sorry!” She jerked back faster than if she’d touched a hot stove.

“No harm, no foul. It was barely warm.” Mason couldn’t help but smile when she frowned at his chest.

“Do you want me to get ice or something to cool the burn?” Shonda offered.

Her concern spoke well of her, and he felt terrible for his overreaction.

“I’m good,” he said. “Swear.”

She seemed unconvinced.

He sighed. “What were you going to ask me?”

“I… It’s just that, well, I was wondering if maybe you’d keep pretending we’re together? Just while we’re at the resort.”

“You want me to play your pretend-boyfriend?” he clarified.

“No. Yes. I mean—” She blew out a breath and laughed. “I’m such a hot mess, and here I’ve made you one. Let me get something to clean your shirt.”

Her about-face rattled him, and he watched her go with a shake of his head. That walk of hers was straight fire. Confident, sexy, and effortless. Hot as fuck.

His jeans were growing tight as his thoughts detoured to places they shouldn’t, and he shifted in his seat. What the hell had gotten into him? But it wasn’t just him. Every guy in the terminal was observing her, too. Perhaps even a few women.

Knowing how she affected others made him uneasy. She was going to get hit on, propositioned, and maybe worse. Leaning on his mother’s do-the-right-thing teachings, Mason couldn’t just leave Shonda to deal with the hassle alone.

A minute later, she returned with a soapy paper towel and an apologetic smile.

“It was all they had,” she said.

“Yes.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Yes,” he repeated. “I’ll be your pretend-boyfriend shield in St. Thomas.”

They discussed resort details and discovered they were staying in the same hotel.

Convenient.

Maybe too convenient.

As Mason scrubbed the stain from his shirt, Shonda questioned Fate’s wicked sense of humor. Self-sufficient by nature, it had never occurred to her exactly how vulnerable a woman could be while traveling solo. Hell, she flew back and forth to Miami for business all the time.

Instinct told her Mason was safe. At least physically.

Emotionally? Yeah, that was another story.

If she indulged in a fling—and let’s face it, all signs pointed to go—she’d have to guard her heart.

Her track record of falling too fast and later regretting it was Olympic-level gold.

Most men she’d dated weren’t worth the time investment.

Deep down, she’d always known it, but listening to her inner voice meant a life of loneliness.

Mason felt different.

And not just in appearance, though God knew those movie-star good looks didn’t hurt.

She’d recognized him the instant he picked up his duffel bag.

What girl from Stonebrooke didn’t know the Sharps?

Their sex appeal was genetically encoded in their DNA, and their reputations as lovers were the stuff of legend.

Mason clearly didn’t recall her. But she certainly remembered him. His swagger demanded attention. Older by a couple of years, he’d been one of the few genuinely nice football players. And if memory served, he’d been utterly devoted to his high-school sweetheart.

She’d envied their kind of love. The hand-holding. The stolen kisses. The way he looked at the girl as if she were his whole world. Though his girlfriend had been on the same cheer squad, her face escaped Shonda. Funny how she recalled him so clearly, but not the person he’d been so crazy about.

Her breath caught.

Crap! She’d made an assumption he was single, based on his solo travel and his easy agreement to play boyfriend. But maybe he was simply being chivalrous. Maybe he had a girlfriend, or worse, a wife, waiting for him.

“You… uh, do you have…?” Her brain stalled the moment his blue eyes found hers. She gave herself a mental facepalm. Where did her college-level vocabulary go around this man? At the moment, she sounded like she had never passed the fifth grade.

Those eyes crinkled with amusement. “No. I’m single.”

Relief gushed out of her like steam from a pressure valve.

“Okay. Good.” She winced at how eager she sounded.

Get it together, Shonda. You’re a grown woman, not a lovesick teenager.

“Time to board.” Mason’s deep voice cut through her mental scolding.

Startled, she glanced around. Lost in thought, she’d managed to miss the announcement. Lord, help her! This man was turning her brain to pudding.

By the time they arrived on the island, Shonda was running on fumes and ready for a twenty-four-hour coma. But wasting valuable vacation time wasn’t an option.

A restorative shower washed off the worst of her travel grime, helping to cool her after the wild fantasies starring a certain sexy companion. And okay, she’d turned the water a few degrees colder than comfortable after visions of Mason under a waterfall began to feel too vivid.

When she stepped out onto her suite’s veranda, there he was.

Mason Sharp.

Who, from their high-school days, would have believed it?

Leaning casually against a railing across the courtyard, he looked out at the horizon like he owned it.

Relaxed.

Confident.

Utterly delicious.

Then he turned and met her gaze across the distance.

A slow smile curled his mouth before transforming into an all-out, knee-weakening, wicked grin.

Startled, Shonda immediately glanced down to make sure she hadn’t forgotten an essential article of clothing and exhaled a relieved sigh.

Everything was accounted for.When she looked up, Mason was striding in the opposite direction.

“So much for holding him enthralled, you silly woman,” she muttered.

With a shake of her head at her foolishness, she pushed away from the railing.

Her stomach gave a not-so-subtle grumble, reminding her to get food fast. The tropical breeze kicked up, suggesting a walk on the beach after dinner would be a perfect way to end the evening.

Followed, of course, by another cold shower to cool her overactive hormones.

Her debate was between room service and the resort’s main dining room. It boiled down to the question, did she want solitude or a little pampering after the long-ass day?

Prickling started along her skin, creeping up her spine. Her body’s early warning system.

Someone was watching her.

With a seemingly casual eye and a slight smile, Shonda surveyed her surroundings, pretending to appreciate the view.

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, and she mentally shrugged off her unease.

She slipped inside and locked the glass slider, an old habit after a scary experience she’d never forget.

The sharp rap on her door surprised her, making her muffle a scream.

Crikey, she was getting jumpy. And as she debated answering, another knock sounded, more impatient this time.

She was approaching the peephole when Mason’s voice called out.

Her relief felt over the top, and she put it down to fatigue.

“You looked lonely,” he said as she swung the door wide.

Warmth curled low in her belly. Three little words. How the hell did he manage to make her a puddle at his feet with so simple a sentence? She inhaled to steady her nerves and smiled wryly. No way was she letting him know he affected her this much.

With a tilt of her head and a raised brow, she aimed for casual. “Did I?”

Studying her, he didn’t answer straight away. And it was like he could see through her faux expression and read every thought in her head. All of them still revolved around her shower fantasies.

Wordlessly, and with a boldness only seen in movies, he stepped closer and slid an arm around her waist. With his free hand, he unclipped her updo, sending waves tumbling over her shoulders and down her back.

He raked his finger through her hair as if memorizing its texture, fascinated by the play of gold.

When his eyes met hers, the intensity stole the air from her lungs.

“Yes, you absolutely fucking did.”

Then he kissed her. Their second one of the day. It was hotter, deeper, and a helluva lot more dangerous than anything she’d ever experienced.

Dear God, she was a goner!