Page 9 of Hidden Resolution (Stonebrooke #2)

S honda greeted her cat and skimmed the note from her pet sitter.

“Jannaya said you were a good boy and no trouble at all,” she praised, scooping him into a hug. “That’s my sweet boy.”

From across the room, Mason was vaguely irritated by the amount of affection she lavished on the cat, but refused to comment. Maybe it was the smug look on the beast’s face as it stared him down. The one that said, “She’s mine, asshole.”

“Dinner at Luigi’s sound good to you tonight?” Mason asked, attempting to redirect her attention.

“Luigi’s? Over in Springdale? How do you plan to get a reservation this late?”

Fair question. He hadn’t thought past the incredible food after the slim pickings all day, but a smile and a fifty could usually move mountains.

“I have my ways,” he said with a cocky grin. “How about a quick shower before we head out?”

She snorted. “Since when have our showers been short?”

He laughed. She wasn’t wrong. On vacation, they’d only managed to leave the bathroom because the hot water gave out.

“We’ll set a timer,” he assured her.

As he stepped forward to pluck the cat from her arms, the little gremlin hissed and swatted at him. Unfazed, Mason reached for the scruff of its neck.

“No!” Shonda snapped. “Don’t even think about picking Loki up that way. What’s wrong with you?”

He raised a brow but said nothing. While he knew next to nothing about cats, he was pretty sure he’d seen a mother cat pick up her kittens in the same fashion. He kept quiet as she soothed Loki’s hurt pride.

With a roll of his eyes, Mason hauled their suitcases to the larger of the two bedrooms with the assumption it was the primary. He didn’t see himself making fast friends with her pet.

Correction, pets .

At the center of the queen-sized bed lounged another feline. One decidedly bigger and clearly more pissed off than the first. The malevolent glare could’ve turned a lesser man to stone.

Jesus. How many of them were there?

The beast was enormous, thirty pounds if an ounce.

Mason half worried it might attack him in his sleep. Or sit on his chest and crush him.

What the hell was she feeding these animals?

He dropped his garment bag on the chest at the end of the bed and unzipped it, pulling out a pair of black trousers and a white button-down.

He considered placing them on the mattress, but one look at the abnormally round menace nixed his idea.

The monster cat had an air of ownership about its surroundings, and Mason’s clothes didn’t stand a chance.

Assuming steam would smooth the worst of the wrinkles, Mason started the shower, adjusted the temperature, and stepped under the spray.

As hot water streamed down his back, he questioned why he chose to continue their affair.

Not being a complete and clueless tool, he saw the way Shonda looked at him.

She’d caught feelings. And he wasn’t able to handle that aspect of a relationship.

He’d been prepared to walk away. Had spent the entire flight staring at the back of her glossy blonde head and telling himself it was better to end it cleanly.

Yet hearing her car start and watching her prepare to leave had triggered a panicked reaction.

Mason scrubbed a soapy hand over his scalp and blew out a cleansing breath. Yeah, a closer examination of his deeper emotions wasn’t going to happen. He’d give them a few extra days, max, intending to enjoy them to the fullest.

Shonda knew the score and wouldn’t push. It counted for a helluva lot, allowing him to remain and draw this, whatever this was, out.

But in the unguarded moments when he caught her speculative look, the one debating if she could change his mind, he grew worried. If things became sticky, he’d bolt. He’d have no choice.

He was so distracted, he jolted when her hand landed on his back.

“Christ!” he swore.

“Sorry. You looked so serious.” She laughed.

“Yeah. I have a lot on my mind.” He shifted to make room.

“Anything you care to talk about?”

He smoothed the small furrow between her brows and gave her a lackluster smile. “No.”

Thankfully, she let it go. Had she pressed, he’d have hightailed it out of there faster than a lazy cat blinks. Mason didn’t exactly fear honesty, but getting all touchy-feely about his emotions was a big nope.

“In that case, let’s get this show on the road,” she purred, cupping him.

Her take-charge attitude triggered an immediate response, and Shonda laughed softly at the effect on his body. The deep, throaty sound made him harder.

Mason needed space.

Needed to not stare into her soulful eyes and lose what little detachment he still had.

“Face the tile and spread your legs,” he ordered, voice gravel-low.

She complied with a slow toss of her head, sensual and unhurried.

The liquid soap in his hands became a tool of seduction. He smoothed it over her curves and slicked his palms across her hips, her thighs, her breasts. Her moans echoed off the tile.

Mason bent, lifted one of her legs to the shower bench, and stepped in behind her. He teased her entrance with the head of his cock, coaxing out another breathy moan.

Her head dropped back to rest on his shoulder, and he seized the moment to nip at her throat. His tongue traced the line of her collarbone, his hands working over her breasts, teasing until her nipples were tight little peaks.

“Please. Now,” she panted.

God, he loved how responsive she was. But the devil in him wasn’t about to give in easily. He bent her forward slightly, hands roaming over the swell of her ass. He found her folds, slick and ready, then ran one finger in tight circles over her clit.

Her moan turned into a strangled cry, and as he inserted his fingers into the welcoming heat of her vagina, her climax hit. He felt her contract around him, her thighs shaking with the force of it.

Before she recovered, he entered her. Slow. Deep. Thrusting on repeat until she whimpered, with her body arching back against him. His steady rhythm drove them higher, and she braced her hands on the marbled wall.

Mason tightened his grip on her hips, pausing for the slightest moment to catch his breath and appreciate the beautiful sight she presented. The glorious, graceful curve of her back and neck, the soft, creamy skin, pink from the water’s warmth.

He drew back before sinking into her, pushing as much as she could take. She came again, gasping and chanting “yes” with each thrust. Her screamed release shattered what little control remained, and he followed her over the edge.

They washed quickly, panting and spent.

As they stepped out, she asked, “Still interested in dinner, or would you prefer to order in? There’s a great little Chinese place not far from here that delivers.”

The part of him trying to avoid anything intimate—like dinner at her place—overruled her suggestion. “Go ahead and get dressed. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to take you out.”

She gave him a small, flickering smile, and he couldn’t help noticing the hesitation.

He wondered at her lack of enthusiasm. Most women he knew would be giddy over a reservation at Luigi’s, but Shonda just looked… tired.

“Or I can go if you’re too exhausted,” he offered.

“Nope. All good. Give me a few minutes to recover and dress.”

By the time she emerged from the bedroom, Mason was buttoning the cuffs of his shirt, his hair damp and tousled.

Shonda had selected a fitted burgundy sweater dress and dark hose, keeping her makeup minimal. Adding only enough to hide the red tinge around her eyes. Expensive jewelry elevated the look, enhancing her natural, yet classy appeal.

“You ready?” he asked, slipping his watch on.

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied, fusing a chipperness he suspected wasn’t real.

The drive to Springdale was quiet. Not the awkward, tension-filled silence of people who’d fought, but something closer to two people walking a high wire, afraid any unbalance would send them tumbling.

And again, he wasn’t clueless. Simply cautious.

They arrived at the restaurant and pulled up to the valet station at the front entrance. Mason circled around the front of his car, tossed the keys to the attendant, and opened the passenger door for Shonda. A smiling employee gave her a respectful nod, indicating she must be a regular.

Inside the grandiose restaurant, they pushed through the throng of would-be diners to reach the host stand. The man behind it studied them for a moment too long, as if sizing them up. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s a two-hour wait.”

Mason slid him a fifty. “You sure? Will you check again?”

The host glanced down, then said, “I may have been mistaken. The wait is only an hour and a half.”

Irritation surged. The fucker was an extortionist!

Shonda was biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.

With a resigned sigh, Mason slid another fifty across the stand. “And now?”

“Yes, I see. Here, I can seat you in approximately one hour.”

He was ready to reach across the podium when a distinguished older gentleman approached, his eyes locked on Shonda. A warm smile lit his face.

“Hello, Bella. When did you get back in town?”

“Hello, Papa.” Shonda stepped into the bear hug he offered, while Mason stood frozen. “I arrived this afternoon,” she added.

“You should’ve called. I would’ve had a table waiting,” her father said with mock sternness.

“I thought it would be more fun for Nico to play with my date.” She laughed.

There was an unapologetic glint in Nico’s eye.

“You’ll never find a husband if you torment the men you date,” her father scolded. “Come, I’ll take you to the private dining area.”

Color rushed to Shonda’s cheeks. “I’m not looking for a husband, Papa.”

Given her blush and her father’s skeptical expression, Mason wasn’t sure he believed her. The room grew hot, and he stopped himself from loosening his collar.

“Nico, give his money back,” Shonda ordered.

“No.” Mason lifted a hand. “He earned it.”

The sparkle in her eyes made it worth every dollar. He placed a hand on her lower back as they followed Luigi through the restaurant.

Their meal was extraordinary. One masterful dish after another arrived at their table. And Mason, a devoted foodie, couldn’t get enough. Italian cuisine happened to be a favorite, and tonight, the flavors practically brought tears to his eyes.

The dessert sampler was clearly Shonda’s favorite.

The noises she made rivaled those from their earlier shower.

He sipped his wine, mesmerized as she spooned a bite of tiramisu between her lips and closed her eyes in bliss.

Next came the dark-chocolate gelato. Each of her reactions heightened his arousal.

There probably wasn’t anything about her that didn’t turn him on.

Mason was so caught up in his Shonda Dessert Porn Fantasy, he didn’t register Luigi’s approach.

A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he instinctively adjusted his napkin. Luigi’s booming laugh told him the move hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“What are your intentions toward my daughter?”

Mason sputtered wine across the table.

“Papa!” Shonda groaned, jumping in. “We’ve known each other for less than two weeks. Please don’t.”

Luigi narrowed his gaze. “Two weeks? But you only returned today.”

“We met on the plane,” she said quickly.

Although she wasn’t technically lying, she was clearly attempting to make their connection sound more innocent than it was.

The twisted troublemaker in Mason couldn’t help it.

“We were seated together on the flight to St. Thomas, shared dinner that night, and spent most of the next week enjoying… the island.”

Why he felt compelled to force her to acknowledge their time together, he couldn’t say.

Horror dawned in Shonda’s eyes before they narrowed with promised retribution.

“I suppose your mother is all right with this… this…” Luigi flailed for words, his face becoming a concerning shade of red.

“Mason, please excuse us.” Shonda hauled her father toward the back of the restaurant. When she returned five minutes later, her expression was pinched and her lips thinned. “We should go.”

“Shonda…” He was unsure what to say, but figured it had to start with an apology.

“We should go,” she repeated firmly as she gathered her things.

Regretful, Mason climbed to his feet and tossed cash on the table. But she was quick to shove the bills back into his hand.

“He’ll be offended,” she said by way of explanation.

On the drive home, he couldn’t help but try. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why you did what you did, Mason, but it was a dick move.”

“I know.” He shifted tactics, hoping she’d open up or soften. “How is it you’re Luigi De Vitis’s daughter but your last name is Grant?”

“My mother left him and married Nolan Andrews when I was a baby. She wanted Nolan to adopt me, but Papa refused, insisting I keep his surname. He felt it was good enough for generations of De Vitis, and so it was good enough for me.” Shonda scoffed.

“Of course, Mama had to thwart him and used her maiden name on my school records. Afterward, changing it was too much of a hassle.”

“That’s right! I remember now. Luigi was married to…” He did a double-take, gaping. “Wait, your mom was Eva Grant? The Eva Grant? Centerfold and supermodel?”

“The one and only.”

She clearly wasn’t thrilled about it.

Darting quick looks between her and the road, he cataloged all the similarities.

“The resemblance is definitely there. Her hair is redder than yours, but the features are the same. And the body…” He trailed off, suddenly recalling exactly how familiar his teenage self had once been with the swimsuit spread featuring her mother. Awkward didn’t begin to cover it.

Shonda’s arch look said she knew exactly what memory he’d tripped over.

He barely managed not to squirm in his seat.

They fell into awkward silence for the rest of the drive, but as soon as they arrived at her apartment, Mason halted her escape.

“You’re far more stunning than your mother,” he said, meaning it and willing her to believe him.

Her eyes locked with his, and whatever she’d been stewing over during the ride vanished.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Now take me upstairs and do what you do best.”