Admit One (25 page)

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Authors: Lisa Clark O'Neill

BOOK: Admit One
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“What flowers?”
Wesley all but shouted.

Allie grimaced and clutched her head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, immediately contrite. “I –”

“Just what,” came a coolly furious voice from the doorway to the kitchen “the hell, are you doing here?”

Wesley sat up straight as he met Will’s icy gaze. “This is between Allison and me, Will. I’d appreciate it if you’d mind your own business.”

“Someone coming into my home uninvited, harassing my sister – seems to me that falls well within the realm of what constitutes my business.”

“Will, please.” Allie took a deep breath. “I appreciate it, but I’d like for you to let me handle this.”

His gaze shifted toward her. “You’re sure?” he said after a moment.

“I’m sure.”

Reluctantly, Will nodded. “Okay. But I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

When he’d left, Allie turned her attention back to Wesley, who looked a little pale, but resolute. “You really didn’t send those flowers.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but he answered anyway. “I haven’t sent flowers to you – or anyone else for that matter – for longer than I care to remember.”

Allie frowned, unsure as to whether this development made her feel better or worse. “Someone had a bouquet delivered the other day. After I told you. The card – it said
congratulations.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It had a… teddy bear on it.”

“A teddy…” Shock replaced the confusion on his face. “Jesus, Allie. And you thought
I’d
done that?”

“I thought… I thought you’d sent them as a way to get back at me.”

“I see.” His voice was stony. “And I also see what you think of me.”

“Can you blame me?”

He held her gaze for several moments. “Maybe not,” he said quietly. He glanced toward the doorway, clearly uneasy with Will’s lingering presence. He stood and after hesitating, awkwardly took her hand. “Whatever else you may think, I hope you believe me when I tell you that I’m sorry. I, well, I’m just really very sorry. About everything.”

Allie searched his eyes. “I believe you. But now, I’d like for you to leave.”

He nodded. “I guess it would be pointless for me to ask if I could see you again.”

“Good guess.”

“Well then.” He squeezed her hand. “Take care, Allie.”

When he’d gone, Will made another appearance in the doorway. “If you tell me it’s none of my business, I’ll understand. Or I’ll try to, at any rate. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Allie searched her jumbled emotions, attempted to figure out which of them held the upper hand. For the first time in a long time it wasn’t grief, or anxiety, or depression. She felt… a sense of closure, she guessed, although she didn’t think that certain chapters of your life were ever fully closed.

“I’m okay.” However, if Wesley had been telling the truth – and Allie’s gut told her that he’d been honest – that put the bouquet she’d received in an entirely different light.

A light, Allie admitted, that was disquieting, to say the least.

She glanced at her brother. Another rock, she admitted. And she could use one just now.

Squaring her shoulders, Allie nodded toward the chair so recently vacated by Wesley. “I’m okay,” she repeated. “But I’d like you to have a seat. There’s something I need to tell you.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“SOMETHING
told me I might find you here.”

Mason turned – as much as possible, anyway – from his position on the ladder. Squinting into the shadows, he made out a petite, dark-haired form coming down the center aisle.

“Allison.” Surprise and lingering concern had him climbing down from the ladder, crossing the stage. “I didn’t expect to see you until Saturday.” When she’d rescheduled their date.

“I know.” She seemed to hesitate, then looked up and met his eyes. “I didn’t want to wait. I’ve done too much of that already. I know you’re helping Bran with the lighting issue, but… could we talk?”

This sounded serious. “You’re not about to give me the conversational equivalent of a Dear John, are you?”

She smiled. “No.”

“Then absolutely.” Mason hopped off the stage. He studied her face, pleased to note that she looked alert and well-rested. He’d been worried that she’d returned to work too early, but apparently she’d suffered no ill effects. “Feeling better?”

“Much. I probably won’t be running any marathons soon, but I’m cleared for all, um, normal activities.”

The way she said
normal activities
made Mason purse his lips. “Would it be vastly inappropriate of me to read something into that?”

“I was kind of hoping that you would, so that I wouldn’t actually have to say it.”

Mason stared. And stared some more. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been rendered speechless.

His mind might not be able to quite grasp this rather sudden change in fortune, but his body was completely on board. Since his palms itched to grab, he clasped them behind his back. “Shall we discuss this further? Someplace with a bit more privacy, perhaps?”

“Will drove me over here, and I’m afraid that getting past him might be a tricky proposition. He’s…” her smile faded a little. “He’s being pretty protective right now.”

“Which is completely understandable.” And feeling like a bit of a cad for wanting to rush Allison off toward the nearest horizontal surface, considering what she’d just been through, Mason took her hand. “Shall we have a seat?” 

They sat next to each other in the front row.

“So,” Allie said after a beat of fairly charged silence. “I…” She sighed, and studied their joined hands. “You’re going to have to forgive me, because I suck at this, completely. Not just the seduction part, but relationships in general. Letting people in. I have… walls, I guess. A protective barrier. It’s hard for me to take it down.”

Mason considered that. “Do you think that you’re the only one who sometimes feels the need to hide?”

“Of course not.” She glanced up at him. “It’s just that we’re so different, you and I, and I want you to understand where I’m coming from. Before we go any farther.”

“Different?”

“Oh come on. Just look at you. You’re… golden.” Here she made a sort of gesture with her hands, indicating, he gathered, some sort of glow.

“Is that supposed to be my aura? Or perhaps an undiagnosed case of radioactive poisoning.”

“You’re making fun of me?”

“When you say rubbish like that, yes.” Before the storm clouds gathering behind her eyes could break, Mason snatched her hand back. “Before you go haring off,” he brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Allow me to tell you a story.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m all ears.”

“And rather adorable with steam coming out of them.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” she told him.

“A rather unfortunate habit of mine. May I continue?”

The look she gave him was sour, but she gestured for him to go ahead.

“You asked me once how I’d come to be interested in acting. And I’d planned, originally, to woo you with my tale of woe – amusingly rendered, of course – over dinner tomorrow, but… the truth is that I stuttered as a child. Horribly. So horribly that I feared social discourse as some people fear snakes or falling from a great height or being murdered by homicidal clowns. It went beyond a rational, understandable aversion and became a sort of phobia. I stopped speaking, almost entirely. I didn’t want to go to school, because that meant interaction with teachers and abuse from my peers. My parents, understandably, grew desperate.”

“That must have been awful for you.”

He glanced over. “It wasn’t a day at the park. But my parents eventually found a program – a therapeutic program for children with severe speech impairments. It combined therapy with various activities, theater among them. It was…” he didn’t know quite how to describe the changes the experience had wrought in himself. “Magic, I guess. On stage, I could be anyone. Anything. And I could make other people believe it as well.” He looked at the empty stage, saw the endless possibility which had so entranced him. “I grew comfortable there, behind the façade of those other people. They were so much more interesting, you see.”

“You’re saying that the characters you play… they’re your walls.”

He turned his head, looked into her thoughtful blue eyes. “We’re not so different, you and I. The glow you described… it’s not me, Allison. Not really. That’s just what people see when they can’t – or won’t – look past the façade. But last year, when I came here with Tucker… you spoke to me with no knowledge of whom or what I was. You treated me as a friend. And I felt like for the first time in, well, too long for me to remember, a woman was actually seeing me. Mason. It was both terrifying and liberating.”

They looked at each other for several moments, long moments in which Mason’s palms began to sweat again while he waited for Allison to laugh at his poor-little-celebrity routine.

But she leaned forward, kissed him sweetly on the lips. “You’re wrong,” she said. “You are golden. And it has nothing whatsoever to do with either your appearance or your career.”

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he murmured “I’m afraid a certain
normal activity
will commence in the region of my groin.”

Allie bit her lip, jump-starting the commencement, but then she glanced over her shoulder toward the lobby, reminding Mason that two of her brothers were loitering about nearby.

And he also recalled what Branson had advised, regarding reservations.

“About dinner,” he said. “How would you feel about taking an excursion to Savannah?”

“Savannah?”

“Medium-sized city in the neighboring state, historic riverfront, bustling tourism industry…”

“Yes,” she said dryly. “I’m familiar with the spot.”

“Then you should also be familiar with the fact that one thing the city does not contain is Sweetwater residents. Or your brothers. Or Sarah and Tucker. Or anyone else who might take an inappropriate interest in what we discuss over dinner and whether or not we ring up room service to order dessert.”

A pulse began to beat visibly in her throat. “Room service?”

“You are off Sunday, correct? And unless I am very mistaken in my interpretation of this conversation, you are ready” please God “to take our relationship to the next level.”

After a pause in which Mason felt as if his lungs were going to explode, Allison nodded. “Very much.”

He brushed his thumb over her lips. He’d never really staged a seduction. He’d never had to. But he wanted, rather desperately, to handle this with finesse. “I hope you will allow me to make the appropriate arrangements.”

“At this particular moment, I’d allow you to do pretty much whatever the hell you want.”

Before he could stop himself, his arms were around Allie, pulling her toward him over the armrest between their seats. So much for finesse. Her hands were in his hair, and his worked their way under her skirt, cupping the surprising roundness of her cheeks. Her mouth opened beneath his, welcoming the invasion of his tongue. When she nipped at his lip with sharp little teeth, he grew rock hard and ready.

Mason groaned. His ears began to ring.

“Wait. Shoot. Stop. Mason.”

“What?” He had to shake his head. There was no blood left inside it.

“That’s my phone,” Allie told him.

“Right.” Bloody buggering hell. “What do you say we ignore it?”

“I would,” she said, detaching herself from his grip. “I really would. But I’m expecting a call from my insurance agent. About getting a replacement for my car. It’s kind of important.”

“Right,” he said again. He ran a hand over his face.

Allie shot him an apologetic glance before bending over to retrieve her phone from her purse.

Mason looked away. In his current state, he didn’t trust himself not to simply toss her to the floor.

“Hello? Oh. Hi, Alan.”

Mason’s gaze snapped back toward her.

“Really? Well, I guess that’s to be expected. At least they left my license. I wasn’t looking forward to doing all of the paperwork for the DMV. Thank you for letting me know. Saturday?” She shot a look at Mason. “Actually, I have plans. But… I appreciate the offer. Mmm-hmm. Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

Mason used all of his skill as an actor to keep the annoyance from his voice. “I take it they’ve recovered your driving license?”

“Someone just turned in my wallet. They found it under some bushes along the road. The cash and credit cards were cleaned out, but my license was still there.”

“Well, that’s something, at any rate.” Mason drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Did you need to… postpone our arrangements? I wouldn’t want them to interfere with the investigation.”

“That poor bush is going to be completely denuded if you keep beating around it.”

“And here I thought I was being subtle.”

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