Turn Over(92)

“Was there a guy in Virginia?”

I shook my head. “Not for awhile. We broke up before the holidays.”

“Was it serious?” His eyes gazed heavily on my lips, and I couldn’t resist drawing my lower lip against my teeth.

“Depends on how you define serious, I guess. We didn’t date very long if that’s what you’re asking.” I didn’t know why I was even answering these questions. It was as if the tequila was some kind of weird truth serum.

He grinned. “So you didn’t move here for a guy, and you didn’t leave one back home?”

I shook my head. My chest rose with deep breaths. “No,” I whispered.

“Sounds like you are unattached.”

I didn’t know if it mattered to him what my answer was, but I nodded. “Completely single.”

“I guess that makes two of us.” He grinned, and somehow I felt as if I had just told a wolf my secret hiding spot.

I didn’t know much about his personal life. He didn’t grant interviews so what I found online were gossip articles and the occasional picture from a groundbreaking. He had no social media accounts, which I guess made sense. He obviously worked hard to keep a low profile. He was busy taking over the world, not adding friend requests.

But there were rumors—plenty of rumors. He was a womanizer. A fun-loving, perpetual player who never got close to settling down.

I wanted to ask him about the women in his life, but it wasn’t my turn. I’d have to wait.

“I was wondering if you’d like to see where I live when I’m visiting Padre.” His eyes had turned playful. “Maybe you could add it to the interview.”

“Your place?” I wasn’t entirely sure my voice hadn’t cracked.

“Mmm-hmm. Come on.” He stood from the table, waiting for me to join him.

I felt the sweet hum of the drinks circle my veins when I met him. “I don’t know that I should drive.” I looked up at him, suddenly aware at just how broad his shoulders were.

“That’s ok, Miss Paige. I live right across the street. We can walk.” I didn’t expect him to take my hand. It fit over mine, warm, smooth, and strong. I exhaled as he tugged me through the bar.

We emerged in the parking lot of Pete’s. He pointed. “I live right over there.”

Of course. I had forgotten the Palm Palace was practically next door. I followed him across the street, his grip against my palm firm and reassuring. The tequila was working through me with electric magic.

I could hear the waves crashing against the sand as we walked closer. Mason’s condo was the last one in the row and the closest to the beach. We climbed the stairs and I could make out the surf pounding the shore while he punched in the combination on the lock.

“Why do you have a combination lock?” I asked.

“This unit is for sale.” He opened the door for me. “Although, after today it looks like I’m going to be spending more time here so I might need to find a new place to live.”

I took in the condo. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of something personal. Something that would tell me more about him. But it was a perfect model unit. Nothing was out of place. The only thing that looked like it belonged to Mason was the laptop glowing on the glass dining table. There was a short pile of folders stacked next to it.

“Nice.” I admired the furnishings.

“Eden did the decorating. But check this out.” He pulled me toward the balcony. “You can see the entire beach from here.”

I leaned over the railing. He was right. On the right the famous South Padre hotels jutted out over the beach. On the left were a few cottages before the park began.

“It’s beautiful here. Why don’t you keep it?”

He had that faraway look again. “Nah. I’m not meant to stay here. I’m here for business. Besides, this is the most expensive unit on the entire property.”

“But you have family here. You could keep it.”

He turned toward me, and I felt the heat of his stare burn against my lips. I took a slow step back, feeling the wall block my movements.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Mason’s eyes locked on me and all I could think about was being kissed by him. I ran my tongue over my lips, wetting them slightly, anticipating the move he was about to make.

He took a step closer, and I felt my heart hit the back of my ribs, it was pounding so strongly. He was sexy as hell. He was smart. Conniving. Powerful and controlling. And if he didn’t kiss me there was a chance I would never recover.

His hands cradled my face, and I tilted toward him as his lips lingered against my mouth. I wrapped my hands around his neck, pressing him closer, urgently, forcefully. The kiss was reckless and breathless as our mouths devoured each other with hungry strokes. I eased into his hands as they coasted down my shoulders and entwined at the small of my back. He slowly worked my shirt from my skirt, sliding his hands along my skin, moving in luxurious circles.