‘Cool,’ Mason says. ‘I did my dive training out in the Maldives.’
Of course he did. Not the bottom of Wolverton swimming pool for the likes of Mason Soames.
‘I’ve let my licence lapse now,’ he admits. ‘I’ve been more into skiing these last few years. My family have a chalet in Switzerland which I go out to.’
Hey, and my family like Toblerone, so we have something in common.
‘I’m not sure diving’s really for me,’ I admit. ‘The Maldives are beyond my meagre income.’ Then I realise that it’s Mason who provides my meagre income. ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ I add hastily. ‘I like working at the Butcher’s Arms, but I don’t think it’s my forever job. Though it does mean that I’m going to have to consider a cheaper hobby unless I want to dive at a gravel pit in the Midlands.’
Birdwatching. Embroidery. Bridge.
He clinks his glass against mine. ‘Here’s to life experiences.’
‘To life experiences,’ I echo.
We polish off our drinks and then I find myself stifling a yawn. ‘I should go. I have work tomorrow.’
‘Me too. I thought we might have a dance before we leave. We haven’t checked out the dance floor yet and I can throw some great shapes.’
He’s a funny one is Mason. One minute, he’s all swagger, the next he seems to be eager to please, almost seeking approval. Perhaps having a daddy who’s as rich as Croesus but is a complete bastard means that you’re always trying to live up to unrealistic expectations. I don’t know. It’s late and I’m a bit pissed.
Chapter Twenty-One
He takes me by the hand and leads me to the dance floor. We are the only couple here which is just as well as you’d never manage to re-enact Saturday Night Fever in this space. The music is slow and soulful, Mason pulls me close and we sway together. I can feel the warmth of his body on mine, his breath against my hair. Every sense is on full alert and I think it’s just because it’s been a long, long time since I had good sex. Or even rubbish sex. Or even sex all by myself. The last six months that Simon and I were together had been particularly bad. But you don’t need me to go into detail. Suffice it to say that Mason is reviving dormant emotions. The heat of his hand through my blouse is more than distracting. His body is slender, all angles, but I can feel the firm muscles in his arms through his shirt. Must be all that skiing. He’s clearly a good mover too, sensual, and maybe that’s why he’s so popular with the ladies.
I don’t go home. We have another drink and another. Then we dance again. I feel light-headed and loose. Loose as in relaxed not in, you know, the other kind of loose. OK, I feel a bit loose in that way too. Mason is one hell of a sexy man and, despite vowing not to, I can see myself falling under his spell. Definitely no more gin for me.
When the song ends, I take the cue to move away from him. If I don’t go now, I never will. But he keeps me pressed against him and my resistance is low.
‘It’s late,’ I say, reluctantly. ‘I really should be going.’
‘You could stay,’ he murmurs softly, his lips so, so close to my ear. ‘I have an apartment on the next floor.’
I shake my head. ‘Bad idea. You should never sleep with the boss.’
‘I was only asking you in for coffee, you hussy,’ he teases. ‘What kind of boy do you think I am?’
A bad boy, Mason Soames. ‘I’ll call a cab.’
He stands away from me and gives me a reproachful look before saying, ‘Let me.’ So, as we walk to the door, he punches a number into his phone and orders a car for me. ‘We have an account with them. The bill will be sorted.’
‘Thanks. That’s very kind.’
‘My pleasure.’
When we reach the lift, he says, ‘Do you mind if we say goodnight here? I’d take you down to the lobby, but I’d like to go back in and have a word with the staff before they finish for the night.’
Cindy, probably. And then I chide myself for being so stupid. What if he does manage to persuade Cindy to warm his bed instead of me? It’s no skin off my nose. I’ve had a nice evening with Mason. Better than I’d expected and I feel that he enjoyed it too. He’s good company and the world’s most accomplished charmer.
He presses the button for the lift. ‘Sure you won’t change your mind?’
‘No. It’s been a lovely evening though. Thank you for bringing me here.’
‘Let’s do it again,’ he says.
As we stand and wait, he kisses me softly on the lips and, I’m not joking, I think my head might explode. My lips tingle where his mouth has been and I feel like I’m on fire. We both intensify the kiss and my head swims. He holds me tightly and, at this moment, I could stay. I could throw caution to the wind and spend the night with him. Insert all of the things here that I said before about not getting enough/any sex. I have condoms in my handbag which are calling to me.
I know that I’d have a great time with Mason. I just know it. He is definitely a man who knows how to please a woman. Of that, I have no doubt.
Then the lift arrives and the doors bing open. Quickly, I scuttle into it before I lose my senses. It would be utter madness to let this go any further. I know what he’s like. I’ve been warned. But, my word, he’s got my motor running.
Mason touches his fingers to his own lips. ‘Wow,’ he says.
‘Goodnight.’ I don’t think I’ve ever been more flustered. My cheeks are burning and, as the doors slowly close, we both look at each other – with what? Lust? Longing? There’s definitely some chemistry going on here. ‘I’ll see you at work.’
‘You should never kiss your boss, Ruby Brown,’ he teases. ‘And, my goodness, you just did.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
When the taxi dropped me home, I fell into bed. But sleep eluded me. I kept going over and over what had just happened. One kiss and I’ve turned to jelly. A particularly rampant jelly. Honestly, my nipples tingled all the way home. I probably should have had a cold shower. I might have got off to sleep quicker.
The sky is lightening over the lake when I finally close my eyes and nod off. What feels like about ten minutes later, my phone rings and it’s Charlie.
‘Are we still doing cooky brekky, chummy?’
I groan. ‘I’d forgotten all about it.’ I look over at my clock. It’s gone ten. I let my head drop back on the pillow. I feel as if I’ve been drinking when I really haven’t had that much at all.
Scrap that. When I recall the number of cocktails we downed, it was loads.
‘You sound like shite.’
‘Late night,’ I confess. She’ll probably find out anyway. That woman misses very little.
‘Doing what?’
I have to bite the bullet and tell her, don’t I? We are friends and, as such, should not have secrets. Sitting up, I wrap my duvet around me. ‘I went out with Mason last night after work.’ I brace myself for the backlash.
‘Shagger?’ I hear the incredulity in her voice. ‘You went out with Shagger?’
‘For a drink. Or two. That’s all.’ I might be fessing up, but I’m still not telling about our steamy goodnight kiss.