Page 7 of Hidden Resolution (Stonebrooke #2)

“ S honda, wait!” Mason caught her in the hallway.

“No, I’m sick of you ordering me around,” she snapped. “I was right the first day. You’re an asshole.”

He released her, feeling thoroughly insulted. Other than the cab incident, he’d been there for her in every way, seeing to her safety and comfort.

“I’m an asshole? I find you kissing up to a fucking wannabe surfer dude—less than two hours after I leave you, I might add—and I’m the asshole. That’s rich.”

“I wasn’t kissing up to anyone. I was having a good time. Your twisted mind always makes everything worse than it is,” she retorted.

“Really?” he scoffed. He held up his hand, ticking off his points. “So no one broke into your room? You weren’t doing shots and dancing all over a stranger? You’re really here on the island alone, even though I just saw your twin at the bar?”

She halted in the process of pushing past him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Stop pretending,” he snapped, over the runaround. The entire situation reeked, and he was thrust back into the head games Melanie loved. “I want to know what’s going on, Shonda. Why did you pick me? Do I have patsy tattooed on my fucking forehead?”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

She shoved against his chest and stormed off.

Perhaps he was crazy. The intelligent thing would be to walk away, but he couldn’t leave without answers. He caught up and cut in front of her.

“I want the truth.” Inhaling deeply, Mason met her furious glare. In a voice far calmer than he was feeling, he asked, “Are you playing me?”

“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

She looked sincere. Sounded sincere. Added to both was how much he wanted to believe her. God, he was a gullible fool.

Hauling her close, he buried his nose in her silky hair.

“If you’re in trouble, you can tell me, love. I’ll help you,” he promised.

“Mason.” She drew back and cradled his face in her palms. “Look at me. Really look at me.”

He did, but she must’ve seen the smidgeon of lingering distrust. Her bright, searching eyes dulled, and her expression hardened.

“I see. Good night, Mason.” Her tone dripped with ice, freezing him out, and it wasn’t a place he wanted to be.

“Shonda—”

“I said good night.” She ruined her frosty dismissal with a hiccup.

Shoulders back and head held high, she left him, weaving slightly from the alcohol she’d consumed. And because his desire was to hold her, to hold tight to whatever was building between them, he let her go. Yes, he was a contrary bastard, but in past relationships, clinging had cost him dearly.

He was almost one hundred percent certain she spoke the truth, yet a tiny kernel of doubt held him in place.

But only for a heartbeat.

With a savage curse, he jogged to catch up.

“Hold up!” he called.

“Why won’t you just go away?” she cried. And perhaps there was a gleam of tears in those solemn eyes to match her frustration.

“I will once I see you safely to your room,” he assured her.

He’d have said it wasn’t possible for her to stick her nose up so far, and he’d have been wrong. If the hotel sprinkler activated, she’d drown.

“I don’t need you,” she told him, haughty and proud.

Suddenly, it registered: she was too buzzed to lie. For fuck’s sake, sometimes his idiocy was award-winning.

“I know you don’t. But will you humor me?” he cajoled, tucking a strand of her hair behind one delicate ear. “I don’t want to worry throughout the entire night.”

“Fine. Whatever. But none of your sexy-ass bullshit. I’m not caving,” she warned with a finger wag.

A bark of laughter escaped. “Sexy-ass bullshit? Will you clarify what you mean, so there’s no misunderstanding and all?”

She waved a hand up, down, and all around. “That! Right there. First, you’re all Neander-man, practically banging your chest. Now you’re all sweet and shit. All, ‘let me escort you back to your room.’ Don’t do that.”

“I see,” he said, with mock thoughtfulness. Later, when she was less combative, he’d ask what Neander-man meant. He suspected he knew, but clarification was in order.

Holding up his hand, two fingers skyward, he pledged, “I solemnly swear, I will honor my commitment to walk you back to your room without any sexy bullshit. On my oath as a Boy Scout.”

Shonda scoffed. “Oh, knock it off. As if any of you Sharps were Boy Scouts,” she grumbled.

She gripped his hair so tightly he dared not sneeze or he’d have bald spots.

Her low, frustrated growl tickled him, and he was on the verge of making a wiseass remark.

Jerking his head down, she kissed him, erasing any desire he had to kid.

“The Scouts were a three-finger salute,” she informed him, never losing sight of the conversation. With a defeated sigh, she added, “And I’m so glad you weren’t. Race you back to my room. First one there gets to be on top.”

Mason gave her a ten-second head start for three reasons.

One, he wanted to admire her ass. Two, he was more than fine with her taking command of their sexcapades.

The third reason? Expending unnecessary energy went against the grain.

He fully intended to use all he could muster in making love to her.

Suddenly remembering he didn’t like to lose, he quickened his pace.

They arrived at her door together. Technically, it was a tie, but she proudly declared herself the winner, and Mason found no reason not to indulge her.

A single glimpse of her puzzled visage shot any plans for the night straight to hell.

“What is it?”

She gestured toward the slightly ajar door.

“Stay back,” he ordered in a low voice.

“This again?” she whispered fiercely.

Done with the nonsense, Mason snaked an arm around her waist and backed her up against the opposite wall.

Once they were at a safe distance, he tipped her chin up.

In a low voice, he said, “Please go to the reception desk and get security up here.” He pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’m asking, not telling. Please, Shonda. I only want you safe.”

He dropped a soft kiss on her lips, lingering longer than he should’ve. Time was of the essence if he wanted to catch the culprit terrorizing her.

“Okay.” She sighed and cast a worried glance behind him. “But shouldn’t I just call them? What about you?”

“I’d prefer you away from the danger. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

He waited until she rounded the corner before cautiously inching open the door. The air was stale, as if the suite was empty, and his sixth sense told him no one lay in wait. But caution was the theme of the day.

He stopped and swore.

The place was completely trashed. He’d bet his last dollar nothing was missing this time, either, and the break-in was a scare tactic.

Grim determination settled over him.

Whoever was harassing Shonda was going to pay. Dearly.

Two hours later, after the police cleared out, Mason helped Shonda pick up and fold the clothes strewn about.

“Pack your things. You’re staying with me for the remainder of our trip.”

“No, Mason. I can’t impose on you.”

“It isn’t up for debate, love. We’re spending our nights together anyway. Why not move in together?”

“They’re re-keying my lock. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

His frustration spiked. “And if you aren’t? How do you think I’ll feel if something happens to you, knowing I could have prevented it?”

“Mason…”

“No!” he shouted, finally losing his temper with her continued stubbornness. “Shonda, there are things at play here you’re clueless about.”

“Such as?”

“Earlier tonight, I saw a woman who was identical to you at the bar.” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath.

“My gut tells me she’s behind this. Do you honestly believe re-keying a lock will prevent her from obtaining a copy of the new key card?

I doubt if she stood in front of the hotel manager at this point, he could tell the difference.

” Mason fingered her double-strand necklace.

“Hell, if it weren’t for the fact that this tangled with my button when we were dancing and your dress is a different shade, I’d have believed she was you, too. ”

“It makes no damn sense,” she argued. All traces of her earlier intoxication were gone as she paced. “Are you sure about what you saw? I mean, the bar was dimly lit. How can you be positive?”

He’d never wanted to strangle someone more than he did her right then. Exasperation had him rubbing his palms up and down his face to counter the compulsion. A ten count, then twenty, made him no less irritated.

“I need glasses now?” he growled.

She threw up her hands. “Will you stop taking offense at everything I say? Every time someone questions you, you get angry.”

Admittedly, she wasn’t wrong. Around her, his emotions were closer to the surface.

Softening her tone and expression, she placed her palm on his chest. “I’m an only child. There is no possible way someone can be identical to me. And what are the odds of two of us being in the same location?”

“First, I do not get angry. I get annoyed. There’s a difference,” he clarified with exaggerated patience.

A smirk teased her mouth. “I stand corrected.”

He ignored her to make his next point. “Second, I’m not mistaken. She was purposely watching you, Shonda.”

Stunned into silence, she simply stared.

“Third, the odds would be fairly high that the two of you were in the same location if she happens to know your itinerary and is stalking you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” he asked.

Her sudden shift was confusing. And since when did a woman give in to logic? And what exactly was she giving in to?

“Okay, I’ll stay with you until my flight home. But you need to agree you won’t freak out again like you did today in the cab.”

He nodded. “Thank you. But, uh… please don’t think?—”

“I get it, Mason,” she said with a tired sigh. “You don’t do long-term.”

Shonda returned to sorting her strewn items.

Leaving her to her chore, he stepped out onto the patio. An escape of sorts.

Cowardly? Hell, yeah. But he’d never claimed to be Superman in the face of emotional drama.

The ocean breeze, the stars, and the distant tiki bar music all contributed to calming him. Between their fight, the break-in, and the stress of needing to find out who wanted to terrorize Shonda, he was wound tight. Possibly too tight.

“Mason? I’m ready to go.”

He faced her, bracing his hands behind him on the railing.

She hovered in the doorway, still wearing the sundress from earlier. The halter top propped up her breasts, creating a mouth-watering display of cleavage. The desire to hold her overtook him.

“Come here.” His voice was hoarse, but they both ignored it.

She moved to stand between his splayed legs.

Using one finger, he trailed the opening of her top.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said huskily, dipping under the material to caress her skin and toy with her nipple.

Shonda bit her lip on a soft moan, but Mason felt the slight sound throughout his body.

He lowered his head as he skimmed his long fingers along her jaw. Plunging his hands into her hair, he brought her mouth within kissing distance.

Mason closed the gap, but the resistance of her hand against his chest stopped him.

With her other hand, she stroked him through his shorts.

“We should take this indoors,” she said, staring at his mouth. “I’ll lose all sense of propriety out here, and anyone with a phone?—”

“I get it.” Before he lost his wits, he clasped her hand and led her inside, stopping only long enough to lock the sliding door. “Should we make use of your bed one last time, love?”

Her smile was deliciously naughty. “Well, it is a very comfortable mattress.”