 
# Changing Her Mind

### The O'Malleys Book 1

## Stevie MacFarlane

#### Blushing Books
©2017 by Blushing Books® and Stevie MacFarlane

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Stevie MacFarlane

Changing Her Mind

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EBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-732-8

Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

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This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

### Contents

What's Inside

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Stevie MacFarlane

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# What's Inside

Rebecca curled into him. As her black, silk covered legs bent, her soft dress slid to mid-thigh. Sensing his withdrawal and frantic to regain the advantage, she unbuttoned his shirt. At the sight of his naked chest, she began to lose control. The hard muscles and soft curling black hair made her forget her destination. Alternately running her fingers over him and gently scraping with her nails, she experienced a burning deep inside and quickly tugged the shirt out of the waistband of his slacks. Snuggling closer, only the fabric of her dress separating them, she softly traced her tongue along his ear and down the side of his neck, sucking gently.

It was at this point, that Mason began having real doubts about his ability to manage anything. The soft form curled against him was causing havoc within. Her bottom was pressed snugly against his arousal and she was rocking gently. He could feel the heat of her through her dress and his pants. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to reason with her.

"Rebecca, stop," he pleaded, his voice raspy with passion. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

"The same thing you've been doing to me for the last week," she replied, nibbling across his chest. Almost panting, she couldn't get close enough and pressed down harder, feeling his hard length through her clothing.

Taking the situation in hand, Mason grasped her shoulders and gave her a slight shake.

"I said stop," he growled. "What are you trying to prove... that you can turn me on... make me forget all my good intentions? Well, I think you know that. Where we go from here is dangerous ground, honey. Desire can't be turned on and off like a switch and I won't be used to further your education. Whatever happens from here, you damn well better mean it."

"Oh, I mean it, Mason," she softly replied. "I've never meant anything more in my life."

Taking a hold of his hand, she laid it on her leg and started sliding it upward. The sight of her slim legs slowly being revealed excited him more than he thought possible. When he glimpsed the black garter and the soft flesh above her stocking, fire exploded through him, a fire raging out of control. Gone was the man who'd felt his superior control capable of handling Rebecca. In his place was a man, whose only desire was to go after what he'd been fighting against for years it seemed. She was his, had always been his. A woman he knew, in his soul, was made for him and come morning, she'd know it, too.

Crushing her to him, his lips found hers with a passion that left her in no doubt, the wait was over. She exalted in the freedom to touch and caress him as she so longed to do.

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# Chapter 1

Rebecca wheeled around the corner of Chestnut Street much too fast for the road conditions, but she wanted to be in the house before Mason caught up with her. She intended to be safely behind locked doors and she had absolutely no intention of letting him in. It wasn't that she was physically afraid of him, for all his size. No, she was so damn mad that she feared she would do him bodily harm. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw no headlights glaring in the dark rain swept night behind her and giving a sigh of relief, pulled into her driveway. The rain, really pouring down now, gave her a few precious minutes. Steady, dependable Mason would never exceed the speed limit, especially in this weather.

Snatching up her purse and books she made a mad dash for the door, her sneakers squishing with each step. Swearing softly, she fumbled for the key while icy rain dripped down the back of her neck. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the sleek black car pull up to the curb as her key finally slid into the lock. As she stumbled through the front door she heard a car door slam. Dumping her things down on the hall table, she watched Mason's long strides toward her with a strange fascination. His hair was plastered to his head, the rain making it look even blacker. Her eyes registered his tall frame and she stood transfixed for a moment, trying to decide if she actually had the nerve to slam the door in his face. It was the blaze in his brilliantly blue eyes that jarred her into action and deciding she did indeed have the nerve, she swung the door shut only to have a large flat palm stop it in mid slam. Refusing to lower herself to a wrestling match, which she had no hope of winning; she clenched her fists and turned her back on him, almost stomping down the hall and into the kitchen. Silently fuming, she shrugged out of her dripping jacket, flung it over the nearest chair and turned to face the large man she knew had followed her. Finding her nose mere inches from an extremely masculine, sweater clad chest did not in the least intimidate her, although the smell of his musky aftershave did trigger a moment of purely feminine response. Shaking her damp blonde curls out of her face, she planted her hands on her hips and backed up enough to look him square in his spellbinding eyes. Craning her neck back to be able to do so might have given a weaker woman pause but Rebecca was five foot two of spitting mad fury and no power on earth could have stopped her at that moment. Or so she thought, for in that instant two very large, powerful hands came down on her shoulders and gave her a quick shake.

"Just what in the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded roughly.

Wet curls snapped around her head, flashing green eyes widened in shock. Mason had never touched her in anger and she was momentarily stunned at the hard strength in those hands. Misunderstanding her silence, he continued.

"You were driving like a mad woman on those slippery roads. Sometimes I don't think you have any sense at all."

"That is exactly what's the matter with me," she responded, twisting out of his grasp. "When are you going to realize that I'm a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions, taking care of myself? And another thing," she continued, now poking a finger into his chest. "The reason I took off so fast tonight was because I, fool that I am, did not want to embarrass you, like you embarrassed me by announcing my grade to the entire class. I didn't think you'd have appreciated me telling you just what you could do with the test."

"You earned a 'D' and you got one," he shot back. "I announced everyone's grade if you remember correctly. You knew I was teaching that Economics class as a special favor to Dean Roberts before you registered for it. Surely you didn't think you'd pass the course just because your surrogate big brother happened to be the prof?"

Surrogate big brother, ha, she thought. If my feelings were any less sisterly, it'd be illegal.

"You're not my brother, or my guardian, and at the moment you're not very high up on my 'buddy list' either," she told him, suddenly feeling deflated and tired. Walking wearily over to the sink she filled the kettle and switched the stove on, trying to get her emotions under control.

Mason raked a hand through his hair in frustration as his eyes slid over her petite form. Her back was to him and he couldn't stop himself from staring at the rounded swell of her hips. Thinking of her as a grown woman was about half his problem. Protecting her and worrying about her were second nature to him. He'd been taking care of her, in one way or another, since her dad died when she was seventeen. Jake Moran had been damn good to him, given him a break when no one else would. Taking care of his daughter after his death had seemed like the right thing to do even if she had given him a run for his money. Well, she wasn't a little girl any longer and although it was hard to accept, somewhere along the line, while his mind was still thinking of her in juvenile terms, his body was definitely headed in another direction.

Taking two cups down from the cupboard Rebecca spooned instant coffee into them, wishing she hadn't left her cigarettes on the dash of her car. She didn't smoke often but she could sure use one now, even if it did make Mason crazy. All the things she had meant to say to him suddenly seemed cruel and unfair. It wasn't his fault he saw her as a child he was responsible for, especially when he could reduce her to an argumentative, uncontrollable teenager with just a few words. Somewhere along the way their relationship changed and she didn't know how to go back, or if she even wanted to. She was twenty-two and the chasm that separated them, a measly ten years, seemed miles wide. Working days and going to school nights left her tired and irritable and with a shrug of her slim shoulders she decided to let things rest for now. Pouring the hot water into the cups, she turned and handed one to Mason. As tired as she was it didn't occur to her that he took milk in his coffee and she froze when he walked across to the refrigerator and opened the door.

Mason stood staring into it as though there was some strange creature inside and slowly turned back to her swearing softly and glaring. She chewed her bottom lip.

Damn and double damn, she thought as she watched him set his coffee down and proceed to investigate the cupboards and pantry. When he got to the bread box he slammed it shut in disgust and advanced on her with a determined step, stopping mere inches from her now defiant form.

"Well, you certainly seem to be capable of taking care of yourself. You'll never have to worry about getting an infection as apparently everything here is growing some type of penicillin. Normally, intelligent women replace things when they become green and fuzzy, but hey, you may be on to something here." Anger was again evident in his voice. "Obviously, you've been living on black coffee and take out. No wonder you look so frail and frazzled lately."

"I love you too, big guy," she responded sarcastically. "You always know just the right thing to say to make a girl feel special."

"Keep it up and you're going to feel really special," he growled. "You won't be able to sit down, but apparently you don't eat meals anyway and it is almost bedtime so..."

Pinned effectively against the counter, Rebecca kept silent, her hands wrapped around the hot coffee cup. Although this wasn't the first time Mason had threatened her with a spanking, and she was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last, she wasn't worried. In all the years of his grumbling and growling he had never laid a hand on her and, if truth be told, she had probably deserved it about a thousand times. She felt a quick flutter in her tummy and wondered for a split second if her luck had finally run out but shook it off just as quickly.

Mason topped her by over a foot in height and one hundred plus pounds. He would never hurt her. On the other hand, her innate honesty forced her to admit he was right. There wasn't a decent thing to eat in the house. She'd been planning to pop through a drive-through on her way home but things hadn't worked out that way. Wishing she had a good argument didn't help. The fact was, she just hadn't taken the time to grocery shop in quite a while. Another fact seemed to be that when he was this physically close to her, she lost the ability to think straight. Instead of coming up with some witty comment, all she could think about was the width of his shoulders and the way his jeans fit those long legs just right. She grasped the cup tighter to keep her hands from creeping up around his neck.

Mason ground his teeth, obviously waiting for some type of explanation and when it was not forthcoming he deftly removed the cup from her hands, dumping the contents in the sink.

Bad move Mace, she thought and slid both hands behind her, leaning on them. Unfortunately, this caused her breasts to thrust forward and when they met that hard chest there were two identical gasps. Her arms came immediately up with the intention of pushing him away and ended up securely around his neck.

She suspected his hands also had the intention of setting her away from him but instead ended up wrapped around her bottom, pulling her even closer.

Rebecca's feet left the floor so quickly her head spun. Mace's body enveloped her completely. She wondered if the heat of the contact would meld them permanently together. The blood exploded in her veins as he brought her lips level with his and claimed them. She thought she had been waiting all her life for this moment and then she couldn't think at all, only feel. Her heart was pounding in time with his and the liquid fire that pulsed through her left her so weak she could only be glad of his strength. When he released her lips, her head fell to his shoulder, her neck like the broken stem of a flower could no longer support it.

Mason knew he should ease her down to the floor but instead watched mesmerized as her passion clouded eyes fluttered open. With a groan he trailed his lips along her silken neck, sucking lightly where her pulse beat the fastest.

Rebecca responded instantly and her legs wrapped around his hips seeking closer contact.

"Don't, baby," he moaned raggedly into her throat.

She was far beyond being able to stop herself. Passion's grip so powerful she scarcely heard him, she pressed tighter to the source of his heat, rocking slightly against him.

Backing her up to the counter, Mason released his grasp on her bottom and sat her down. Struggling for control, he pulled her arms from around his neck and gathered her firmly against his chest controlling her efforts to fight him. Whether to get away or closer neither knew as he held her securely. Rocking gently from side to side, Mason whispered soft words into her hair.

"Shh, baby, don't."

Taking deep breaths, Rebecca finally relaxed enough to stop struggling and Mason loosened his hold to look down into her eyes. They were blazing green fire and when she opened her mouth to speak, he laid a finger to her lips.

"I won't apologize," he told her, his voice still raspy with passion, "either for starting or stopping."

Rebecca stared at him. Much as she wanted to, she couldn't utter a single word. If she tried to talk she'd start crying, her body aching in places she hadn't even been aware existed. She wanted to alternately kill him for making her aware of desire this consuming, and demand that he fulfill it.

"Our relationship has been changing for some time now and neither of us knows where it's going. I won't do something we may both be sorry for later."

The tone of his voice left her no room to argue as it was obvious he meant what he said.

"I'm picking you up at seven tomorrow night and taking you to get something to eat. Be ready," he stated, walking across the kitchen and almost as an after-thought he turned back.

Seeing her sitting there on the counter exactly as he'd left her almost changed his mind. She looked like a dejected little girl sitting there in her faded jeans and soft rose sweater, legs dangling more than a foot from the floor. Walking back to her, he lifted her down and bending over softly kissed her cheek. Squaring his shoulders, he then proceeded to the door.

"By the way, the 'D' stands," he stated blandly. "Next time try studying."

He was gone before she stuck out her tongue.

Last night's rain had given way to a mellow autumn day. Rebecca was tired but in the way that comes from having spent a taxing but satisfying day. Her job at Silver Shore, a small adult day care facility and community center in upstate New York, was another thing she owed to Mason. While it galled her to admit she'd gotten the position because of his business contacts, she knew that wasn't why she'd kept it. The genuine care she had for her seniors shone through in every aspect of her work, from helping them with exercises that kept them as active as possible, to listening to their stories of days gone by. Beyond being a way to support herself, they were her special friends and each had a place in her heart. She smiled now as she drove home thinking of the late fall bouquet Mary Havens had brought today and secretly left on her desk. Yes, it had been a good day and her rumbling stomach reminded her it was going to be an even better night.

Confused at the way her spirits lifted thinking about going out with Mason she managed to convince herself it was because she hadn't had a good meal in quite a while, always seeming to be in a rush and grabbing a sandwich from one fast food place or another. Maybe he would take her to Mama Rosa's, a Mexican restaurant on the outskirts of the city. Rebecca waited tables there in the summer during high school and acquired a taste for the spicy, filling food. Memory brought a smile to her lips as she recalled the time she made Mama's Chili quite a bit hotter for one particular customer. Actually, about as hot as her temper that day...

It had been the summer she'd turned eighteen and she and Mason argued heatedly about a boy she was dating. While she was still smarting from his criticism and high-handed manner he'd had the nerve to bring that bimbo, Kathy Mosley, into her restaurant. Furious and filled with righteous indignation she'd added a generous amount of cayenne pepper to his portion before serving their meal. Watching from behind a large potted plant, it was all she could do not to burst out laughing when he took a spoonful. Sweat broke out on his brow and upper lip as he reached for his glass of water, knocking it over in his haste. Reaching frantically for Kathy's drink, he then knocked that over as well and right into her lap. Kathy squealed like he had lost his mind.

It was all too much for Rebecca and she doubled over in gales of mirth, wiping the tears from her eyes. That was when she saw him stand and throw down his napkin. The near hysterical laughter and the fact that Mason frequently ordered chili and always found it good sealed her fate. Guilt was written all over her and as he stalked toward her, Rebecca backed away, still unable to control her laughter.

"Now, Mason," she began, holding out her hand in phony supplication. "When you brought her in here I was sure you were interested in something a little a... shall we say hotter tonight."

The look on his face promised retribution as he advanced on her with a steady stride. His strong jaw was ticking as if he was having extreme difficulty keeping it shut and expecting him to roar any minute, she fled into the sanctity of the kitchen, where no man dared to go at Mama's. When he swept in after her she began experiencing her first real twinge of remorse. Not because of what she'd done, no he deserved that, but because she might just end up unemployed over this. Dancing around behind Rosa's bulk, Rebecca searched for an avenue of escape and ran to the storage area. When Mason didn't immediately follow she assumed he'd given up the chase or gotten thrown out of the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief. Leaning against a large table, she smiled again while she tried to slow the rapid beating of her heart. Her surprise was apparent in the widening of her green eyes when he appeared in the doorway, Mama Rosa right behind him brandishing a large wooden spoon.

"I'm ashamed of you," she scolded Rebecca. "Trying to poison one of my best customers."

Ironically, it was Mason who turned to her and tried to soothe her ruffled feathers.

"It's all right, Mama, I know your food is the best in town. I just have a few things to settle with this little witch here and I'll come back out and enjoy a real bowl of your chili." Turning back to Rebecca, fire in his eyes, he kept his hands to himself with difficulty. "There's a certain part of her anatomy I'd like to make as hot as that chili," he growled, now close enough to tower over her.

"Here, Senor Kord," Mama offered obligingly. "You may use my spoon."

Rebecca gasped, looked at Mama accusingly and then back at Mason with wary eyes, not quite sure he wasn't serious.

"Thank you, Rosa." He smiled for the first time. "I may decide to take you up on that if I don't hear a damn good explanation in the next five seconds."

Mama then gave Mason a look that clearly doubted there was one, laying the spoon on the work table she left. All the while mumbling something in Spanish that Rebecca was glad she couldn't understand. She suspected Mason did though as he nodded his head in agreement.

Six foot plus of angry male leaned against the table, legs crossed and calmly turning the spoon over and over in his large hands as though examining it for flaws. Rebecca stood almost frozen and when his rich voice growled, "I'm waiting," she jumped, her throat so dry and her face so hot she almost felt as though she had eaten the chili.

Deciding the best defense was a good offense she proceeded to come up with a reasonable plan. Unconsciously twisting the beautiful emerald ring he'd given her for her eighteenth birthday, she started inching around to the opposite side of the table.

"I don't know how you could bring her here," she blurted out. "Especially after all the lectures about suitable dates and being careful of my reputation. She doesn't have one left," she continued. Warming to her subject now, she began to advance on him, remembering her previous anger. Just why she was so angry about his choice of women she didn't examine too closely. Kathy had been a few years ahead of her in school and she'd always 'gotten around'. Everybody knew what she was and here she was, on a date with her Mason.

"Are you so desperate that you have to pick someone like...?"

"That will be just about enough," he shot back, unfolding his length from the relaxed position he'd assumed. Slamming the spoon down on the table with enough force to crack it, he reached her side in three long strides.

"Whom I choose to date and where I go on that date is none of your damn business."

"Then where do you get off telling me exactly the same thing?' she demanded, almost stomping her foot in frustration.

Her shining hair floated around her like a living thing and for a moment Mason lost his train of thought. Tearing his eyes away from that golden glory, he tried to marshal his thoughts into some type of reasonable response. Truthfully, he didn't have anything against young Jacob Brenner. He'd always seemed a well-mannered boy, but last night when Mason caught them clenched in an embrace on her front porch he'd been overcome with jealousy. It appalled him to realize he'd been ready to punch out a mere boy and he'd taken it out on Rebecca, accusing her of being too free with her affections.

The truth was, he'd asked Kathy out and deliberately taken her there on a night when Rebecca was working to prove to himself that the attraction he felt was only in his imagination. Now, standing next to her with her lovely face flushed with anger, her feminine little body only inches from his, he was damn close to saying the hell with it and pulling her into his arms. He longed to show her exactly why she couldn't date anyone, for he knew in his mind that no one would ever be acceptable as far as he was concerned.

Pull yourself together man, he thought. Basically, you're the only family she has; she thinks you're like a big brother. The last thing she needs now is you grabbing her and scaring the daylights out of her.

Rebecca stood quietly, watching the play of emotions across his handsome face. Feeling the unexplainable pull between them, but not understanding the cause, she was almost disappointed when he backed off and turned to leave the room.

"You're right, honey," he said softly. "You, too, are free to date anyone you choose. Just be careful you don't make the mistake of falling in love with the wrong man." Laying his big hand gently on her cheek he smiled sadly. "You don't need any more unhappiness in your life."

Confused, she nestled her cheek into his large, warm palm, feeling the loss when he dropped his hand and walked out of the room. She had difficulty understanding how what had seemed so terribly funny a few moments ago, now made her feel like crying.

Rebecca found herself sitting in the car in her driveway. Maybe going to Mama Rosa's tonight wasn't such a good idea. Looking at her watch she snapped out of her reverie and realized she'd have to hurry if she was going to be ready by seven.

# Chapter 2

Rebecca was just about ready when the doorbell rang. Spritzing on her favorite perfume she twirled once in front of her mirror, making sure she looked as good as possible. She loved the way the short, black skirt flared and fluttered with her movements. Black stockings and black four-inch heels helped her look taller and that was always a good thing as far as she was concerned. The ivory silk blouse felt wonderful against her skin and shimmered in the light. A gold metal belt accentuated her slim waist. Tendrils of soft blonde curls artfully escaped her upswept hair at her temples and nape. Green eye shadow, pink lip gloss and a soft blush gave a glow to her delicate features and brought out the green in her eyes. A gold locket hung low on her chest drawing attention to the low-cut blouse and hinted at the curves below. Delicate diamond studs sparkled on her ears. Pleased with her efforts, she grabbed her short black jacket and hurried to the front door. Last night, Mason had finally treated her like a woman and she wasn't about to let him forget it.

Mason's heart skipped several beats when she opened the door. Standing there in his leather boots, faded jeans and blue checked flannel shirt he realized they had gotten their wires crossed.

Rebecca couldn't help being affected by the sheer masculine force of the man. Long legs encased in tight fitting jeans, still damp hair and broad shoulders that blocked the sky. Even his aftershave was intoxicating. Towering almost a foot over her despite her heels, he took her breath away. Reaching quickly for her hand, Mason started toward the blue pickup truck at the curb.

"Let's go," he said and she closed the door and followed.

Halfway to the truck, the difference in their clothes suddenly registered and digging in her heels she managed to bring him to a stop.

"Look, maybe I misunderstood, but I thought you were taking me out to dinner?"

Grinning down at her stubborn expression, he slid an arm around her waist and continued propelling her forward, opening the truck door and just about lifting her onto the seat. Realizing this had the makings of a king-sized argument; Mason quickly buckled her seat belt and hurried to the driver's side, buckling his belt into place before answering.

"Actually, I said I was taking you to get something to eat," he finally responded, starting the powerful engine and pulling away from the curb, his eyes twinkling and wonderful little lines appearing at the corners. "I haven't been shopping in some time, but I still think you're a little overdressed," he continued, openly showing his amusement now.

"Shopping?' she asked, her mouth dropping open incredulously. "Grocery shopping?"

"That's what I had in mind."

"Turn this truck around and take me home right now," she demanded hotly. "I can do my own grocery shopping and I think it was damn sneaky of you not to make it clear what you meant."

"Not a chance," he responded, not in the least bit intimidated by her temper.

Crossing her arms over her chest to glare at him, Rebecca continued, "I don't need your help. I was going shopping tomorrow anyway so just butt out and take me home."

Still being incredibly reasonable, he answered, "If you're shopping tomorrow anyway, it won't matter if it gets done tonight. You'll have time to get some rest or here's an idea, maybe you could actually open your Economics' book and since you assumed we were going out you obviously have no other plans for the evening. End of discussion."

"It is not the 'end of discussion'. We'll look like a couple of fools."

"Since when have you been averse to making a fool out of yourself, and me?" He laughed back at her, as he pulled into the parking lot of the Super Duper.

Slouching in her seat, she began to see just how serious he was as he got out of the truck and came around to her side. Opening the door, he waited to help her out.

"I will not go into that store wearing this short skirt and these spike heels," she ground out between clenched teeth.

"Yes, you will," he stated, completely unconcerned with her temper. "You can walk in under your own power, or you can be carried in over my shoulder, although I'm not sure the bagboys could handle it. That skirt is pretty short." Reaching in, he slid one arm under her legs, the other behind her back and very efficiently removed her from the truck, setting her gently on her feet. He closed the door and hit the button for the lock and alarm, waiting for her to make up her mind.

For a moment, she contemplated giving him a good kick in the shin but as if he read the thought in her eyes, he grasped her and a proceeded to steer her across the parking lot.

"You, Mason Kord," she told him, plastering a tight-lipped smile on her face, "are an overbearing son of a bit..."

"Ah, ah, ah," he said grinning. "Watch out or we'll make the soap aisle our first stop."

"In your dreams," she shot back and stomped into the store, totaling ignoring the people who stared in amusement at the tall, dark-haired man in cowboy boots and the tiny, blonde who looked like she just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine.

A silent war raged through the aisles of the Super Duper that night. She pushed the cart and dropped in Twinkies, cheese twists and soda, daring him with her eyes to say one thing, just one thing. He put in fresh fruits and vegetables. She chose frozen pizza. He chose lean chicken and fish fillets. Up and down the aisles they went, grabbing the strangest combination of health and junk food the cashier had ever seen. They had a short-lived battle in the last aisle when she nonchalantly dropped in a carton of cigarettes and he deftly removed it placing it on the top shelf beyond her reach. Knuckles white as her hands gripped the cart, ready to turn and run him over, she was caught off guard as his hands closed over hers from behind and he pulled the cart close to her, effectively pinning her between the cart and his strong body. She could feel the heat of him and as he bent to whisper in her ear, her legs went suddenly weak.

'Keep it up and I swear to God, I'll put you in this cart just like that little girl," he growled not quite quietly enough.

Lifting her head, she smiled weakly at the father and daughter coming down the aisle from the other direction. "Is that lady in trouble, Daddy?" the toddler innocently asked her father.

"Sounds like it, doesn't it, honey," he answered, and his eyes smiled as he nodded to Mason and Rebecca as he passed.

"All right," she hissed at him, proceeding on and at the last moment snatching a six pack of beer.

"Thank you," Mason smiled cockily as he removed it from the cart, "but I prefer Bud." And, he replaced it with his choice.

Ready to explode, she turned and almost shouted, "I don't give a..." But seeing him nod to someone behind her, she found herself swallowing her words and also nodding to the elderly couple.

She made him pay, smiling helplessly as she lifted her empty hands, no purse. Leading the way out of the store, she left him to handle the heavy bags. The added height from her heels enabled her to climb into the truck on her own while he loaded the bags in the back.

"There, that wasn't so bad," he remarked when he finished and climbed in beside her. Rebecca didn't answer, just raised one eyebrow and kept her mouth shut. Mason started the truck and headed out of the parking lot, figuring even if she was mad, she'd get over it soon enough. If not, he'd help her.

As soon as they came to a stop in front of her house, she bolted from the truck and stalked away without him. Not even offering to carry a bag, she dug her extra key out of the planter and let herself in. Proceeding to her bedroom, she stripped off her good clothes and jewelry and threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Taking her hair down, she gave it a quick brushing then wiped off most of her makeup. She could hear Mason in the kitchen, obviously not trusting her to even put the things away, and he was humming. That sound was the last straw. As far as she was concerned, he could take his cheerful self right the hell out of here and she intended to tell him so.

Entering the kitchen, she was momentarily caught off guard. He looked so out of place in her tiny kitchen, putting things away, lining up canned goods neatly in the cupboard, discarding anything he thought questionable, that she smiled despite herself.

"Well, aren't you the little homemaker," she taunted, leaning against the doorway, bare feet crossed with absolutely no desire to help him.

"Did you want to keep this?" he inquired innocently, dangling a hairy green object in a little baggie at her. "It's been here so long I thought you might have some sort of strange attachment to it."

"That's it," she yelled, storming across to the table and grabbing a large grapefruit. "One more word and you and this grapefruit are going to become very well acquainted," she continued pointedly, brandishing it like a weapon.

He laughed aloud at that, the rich sound rumbling from deep in his chest. She looked absolutely adorable standing there in her jeans, hair pulled back into a pony tail, threatening him with a grapefruit. Adorable, until it sailed past his right ear and smacked into the cupboard.

"Hey, watch that," he yelled. "Boy, some people just can't see the humor in a situation," he grumbled to no one in particular and returned to storing away the food.

Waiting patiently until he had the kitchen neat as a pin, after all this was his idea, she then took his hand and led him to the front door.

"Good night, Mason."

"Sorry, sweetie," he replied. "The evening isn't quite over yet. We need to get a couple of things straight between us."

"I'll give you straight. You can go straight to he..."

Rebecca was stunned when she found herself over Mason's shoulder for the second time in one night. Her breath left her in a huff as he carried her into the dining room and kicked a chair away from the table with one big boot. Sitting down, he swiftly and effortlessly had her over his lap before she could utter a word. The pattern of the Oriental rug was suddenly up close and personal and her feet didn't even come close to touching the floor at her other end.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she screeched, afraid she knew exactly what he was doing. Struggling was useless but it didn't stop her from trying.

"You and I are going to have a little discussion. Well, actually, I'm going to be the one talking and you're going to be the one listening," he calmly informed her, resting his huge hand on her butt.

Rebecca froze and all struggles ceased as a shiver went through her. Turning her head to look at him was difficult in her undignified position, and she tried to blow her hair out of her eyes.

"Have you lost your mind?" she demanded more shocked than enraged.

"Quite possibly," he replied calmly. "I have heard of perfectly normal people snapping after long periods of being pushed past their limits and, baby, I passed that point a long time ago."

Rebecca sighed. Okay, he was obviously determined to spank her. Seriously, how bad could it be? Children had been spanked for centuries and wives too, probably. She personally had never been subjected to it, but she wasn't getting away and it didn't appear she could talk her way out of it so, whatever.

"Well, then have at it big man," she foolishly taunted, relaxing across his lap and picking out the intricate pattern on the rug.

Mason grinned and brought his big hand down hard covering both cheeks with one tremendous swat. Man, I'm gonna love this, he thought.

Rebecca's scream was probably heard three doors away.

Oh my God, she thought, trying to catch her breath. It can be bad, very, very bad, worse than the worst sunburn she'd ever had. Worse than that summer she'd stepped on a ground hive. Actually, just like that, except the bees were stinging her ass.

"Mason, please stop," she begged scrambling wildly to get away, her hands and feet like matching windmills.

"Sweetie, we're just getting started," he informed her with another blazing swat.

"Yeow. No, no, really," she panted, beginning to panic. "You... you talk and I'll listen, I swear."

"Exactly, and that's the first thing we're gonna talk about." _Swat!_ "Your language is atrocious and it stops right now."

"Ow! Yes a... language, yup no swearing. Got it! Please stop now, Mason, you're killing me."

"You will start shopping on a regular basis." _Swat._ "And, you will eat real food for at least one meal a day." _Swat._

"No," she moaned, in so much pain she could hardly believe it. "I mean, yes, yes, shopping, I love shopping, and food, love to eat. Oh my God, Mason," she pleaded hanging her head in defeat. "Whatever you say, just please stop."

"You will study." _Swat._

"You will drive responsibly." _Swat. Swat._

"You will not throw fruit or any other objects at someone more than twice your size and never at me. Do I make myself clear?" _Swat._

"Yes, yes, Mason. Very clear, crystal clear," she struggled to get out between squeals and moans.

Rebecca would have agreed to just about anything at this point. All she wanted was for him to stop so she could raid the freezer for anything frozen to put on her butt.

"All right, then," he informed her, as she breathed a huge sigh of relief, "let's finish this up."

"What! We are finished," she screeched. "You issued orders and I caved, we're done."

Mason actually had the gall to laugh. "Oh, my poor baby, you really have no idea, do you?" And with that, Mason began to truly spank her. Over and over, up and down until he had covered her entire backside several times. The heat coming off her cheeks was incredible and he wished he had taken down her jeans and panties so he could better judge their condition.

Rebecca screamed and cried, fit to shake the house down. When he angled the last ten smacks to catch the underside of her cheeks, she gave up and sobbed over his lap unable to fight any longer.

Mason rested his hand on her bottom but didn't rub away any of his work. He wanted her to feel this. Finally, after what seemed to Rebecca like hours, he helped her up and settled her on his lap, softly rubbing her back and offering what comfort he could.

Rebecca sobbed into his neck, occasionally wiping her tears and blowing her nose on the hankie he provided. She would have liked to try and rub away the sting but she wasn't sure she could even touch her poor throbbing bottom.

"Mason, do you hate me?" she whispered, struggling to control her tears.

"Oh, honey, I adore you, you know that," he told her, looking into her green watery eyes.

"Then why would you, you know...?" she asked her chin quivering.

"Spank you? Because I do adore you and I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you. That's why I need you to take better care of yourself. I hate to bring this up but you need to know that the next time you won't have the added protection of your jeans and panties. It will be on your bare bottom."

"Sheesh, they didn't feel like any protection on my end, literally."

"I'm sure they didn't but they were and if I didn't need to get out of here so you can get some much needed rest, your nose would be poked right into that corner over there," he told her firmly.

Not likely, Rebecca thought, tearing herself from the comfort of Mason's arms and pulling him to his feet.

"I think you're right, I do need to get some rest," she told him crisply, still trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened tonight.

"I want to thank you for a truly exceptional evening, one I hope I'll never have the misfortune of repeating," she told him. "Good night, Mason."

Mason allowed himself to be pushed steadily out the door but before she could slam it shut, he reached for her with a determined glint in his eyes. Wrapping one arm tightly around her waist, he tugged softly on her pony tail tipping her chin up where he wanted it. His lips descended, catching her open mouth gently, his hot tongue swirling persuasively over hers.

She tried to fight him, giving him a swift kick that only succeeded in hurting her bare toes and then she fought herself. The effect of his kiss was drugging, as mad as she was at him she was even angrier at herself as her body turned traitor and caught his fire. Arms that had been pinned between them were now clutching handfuls of his soft shirt; her breasts under the thin tee shirt seemed to swell, seeking closer contact on their own. The friction of their tongues waged their own battle and she sagged against him giving over to his expertise.

Her surrender had a sobering effect on Mason. Knowing he had to stop now or carry her back into the house, he quickly released her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he steadied her against the door frame.

"Don't bother to thank me for tonight, honey, the pleasure was all mine," he told her with a grin, trying to lighten the charged atmosphere.

By the time his comment registered and she took a half-hearted swing at him he was already sprinting toward the truck.

The ringing of the phone woke Rebecca the next morning. Sunlight poured through the white Pricillas, blinding her as she groped for the phone on the nightstand. The cherry, four-poster bed seemed very wide and finally shoving back the heavy white comforter, she was able to grasp the receiver and drag it to her ear.

"Hello," she groaned sleepily.

"Hi," a deep voice replied. "Still mad at me?"

"Yes, did you doubt it?"

"Well, I hoped you'd calmed down last night and taken advantage of my humble offerings. I thought maybe some real food would have mellowed you."

Hearing the amusement in his voice, she said, "There's not a humble bone in your body."

"Okay, then would you settle for remorseful?"

Stretching, she snuggled back under the covers, turning on her side to take the pressure off her still tender bottom. "I'd settle for a chance to get even. I don't think it's possible, but I am glad you're sorry you spanked me."

"Oh, never that, honey," Mason laughed. "I'm sorry you misunderstood and didn't get your fancy dinner, especially after you dressed so prettily for me. No, I can think of a few times I let you get away with plenty. Last night was mild in comparison."

"I guess it's all in how you look at things," she grouched back, still trying to come fully awake. "I can't guess why I'm even talking to you."

"Probably because of my charm, good looks and sense of humor. That and the fact you're dying for me to take you out for a real dinner."

"Not a chance, buddy," she laughed now. "I'd sooner eat worms. I trust you about as far as I can throw you. You won't lure me into one of your traps again."

There was a short silence on the other end. Mason had visions of the kind of trap he'd like to lure her into. Dragging his mind back to an acceptable level he continued.

"Cross my heart, no tricks, and a real steak dinner at the best restaurant in town. I'll wear a tie and everything."

She could hear the humor in his voice, picture his sparkling blue eyes. For a moment she had a wicked thought of telling him okay and showing up in rags and giggled.

"Hmm, that giggle sounded suspiciously like your mind is getting you in deeper than you want to be. Don't even think about it, sweetheart, because you know I'll take you however you're dressed, or under-dressed." Or preferably not dressed at all his mind continued the statement.

Rebecca gasped; amazed at the way he could follow her train of thought. She was definitely sailing in deep waters here.

"Okay, I'll let you make it up to me," she told him, her mind already rushing to the night ahead. She'd just about had enough of his hot and cold attitude. What she felt in his arms was a new and exciting step in their relationship and she wasn't about to let him call the shots. Rebecca had loved Mason as long as she could remember but now there was a brand new element. She wanted him. Never before, had she felt this desire for a man, a raging hunger that left her weak just thinking about his touch. Granted, she was still a virgin and sorely inexperienced but hell, she'd taken biology, she read Cosmo, she'd known what to expect since she was thirteen, well mostly. She'd just never felt like this, ached like this before. Most boys she'd dated were nice enough, their kisses warm and wet. Some of them had even gone so far as to grasp her breast, but she always sensed there had to be something better than their clumsy groping in the dark and she extracted herself from those situations as gracefully as she could. This was different, way different. Mason was experienced and knew what he was doing as far as she could tell. And she was ready, boy, was she ready. If he thought he could arouse her like he had and then continue to keep some type of cap on things, he was in for a big surprise. She had some power of her own.

"What time?" she inquired a little breathlessly, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"Around eight," he replied, pausing. "Are you planning something in that brilliant mind of yours? For some reason, the hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end."

Rebecca laughed. "You of all people should know how harmless I am."

"Yeah right," he replied, suspicious now. "Why do I subject myself to this?" he moaned half-heartedly. "See you later, witch."

Rebecca smiled, lying back in bed with her hands behind her head. Tonight, you meet your match Mr. Kord, she thought, and let the sparks fly where they may.

Lord, she was trouble, Mason thought, as he bounded out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She was up to something, he just knew it. Turning on the shower, he stepped in adjusting the water to a cooler temperature. Just thinking about her, talking to her, caused a fire in his blood that he was fast becoming unable to control.

When she was younger, he'd played the big brother admirably. She'd come to depend on him and he would never have done anything to jeopardize that trust. But lately, the more he was around her, the thinner his layer of control became. He'd never wanted a woman as he wanted her. Just the sight of her perfect little body, the smell of her perfume, made him feel like a lecher. He had a fine line to walk here. If he pushed her into a physical relationship, he'd better be prepared to make it permanent. That was the problem, he just wasn't sure if what she felt for him was the genuine thing or some type of misplaced gratitude. In typical male fashion, it never occurred to him that he wasn't the only one who could push.

Rebecca hummed to herself as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. Saturday was usually her day to clean but most of the time, things got what her grandmother used to call 'a lick and a promise'.

Working full time and going to school three nights a week, left her with little inclination to spend her weekends scrubbing and dusting. Today, however, she'd gone all out. Besides her usual changing the bed linen, vacuuming and dusting, she'd polished the furniture till it gleamed. She put candles in strategic places and even run out to the store for fresh flowers for the dining room table. Everything had to be perfect tonight.

Giving her body the same attention she'd given her home, she soaked in a scented bathtub, shaved, buffed and moisturized to within an inch of her life. Dabbing her perfume behind her ears and assorted other pulse points, she studied her reflection in the mirror. She spent a lot of time considering what to wear and digging through her lingerie drawer, she pulled the black silk camisole and garter belt she'd bought on a whim and never worn. The black stockings slid smoothly up her legs and the matching half-slip was slit to her hip.

The dress she'd chosen was purposely demure, black knitted and very soft, it had a high neck, long sleeves and the hemline was mid-calf with a softly flaring skirt. The wide belt accented her small waist. She twisted her long blonde hair into a flattering updo, held by a single clip. For jewelry she chose simply, her emerald ring and matching earrings. She'd never planned a man's seduction before, but so far so good.

Heading into the living room, she selected some romantic music. For some reason, Rod Stewart's _Great American Songbook_ CD's always touched her heart and soothed her, so she put several in the CD changer and set the volume to low. Taking a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet, she went into the kitchen and put it on ice. She smiled, as she glanced around the perfectly neat room. The appliances gleamed and everything was in its rightful place. The table was polished till the dark wood shone and the flowers looked beautiful. She pictured her and Mason having a quiet, romantic breakfast tomorrow and felt a thrill shoot through her.

The sensation of wearing the delicate, provocative lingerie added to her anticipation. The feeling was decidedly wicked and thoughts of his reaction kept her on a slow simmer.

When Rebecca opened the door at eight sharp, she was not disappointed. Mason looked wonderful in his tailored suit. The cut of the jacket emphasized his broad shoulders and trim waist. His hair was slightly mussed from the cool breeze that followed him to the door but the overall picture was breathtaking. Holding the door open for him, she checked him out from the back and wished they could forget dinner entirely.

"Can I get you a drink?" she offered.

Not on your life, he thought. She was being suspiciously polite. He glanced around and noticed the immaculate condition of the house, the candles that hadn't been there yesterday and soft music. No, I think I'll watch the alcohol tonight, better stay on my toes and see what she's up to.

"Better not," he replied, pulling his tie just a touch looser. "I made reservations for eight thirty."

"All right, I'll just get my coat,"

When she returned and handed him her coat, he helped her into it. The scent of her hair teased him like gentle fingers and he quickly ushered her out the door. The blast of fresh air helped a little but he had the feeling it was going to be an interesting evening.

Mason had chosen one of her favorite steakhouses about twenty minutes away and by eight thirty they were seated at a quiet corner table. The food was excellent and the wine delicious, although Mason only had one glass. Rebecca deferred to him when it was time to order and they kept the conversation on general topics. She never once disagreed with him, never raised her voice and never shot him a look that said, 'I'll get even with you for that'. She smiled all evening with just a touch of mystery, her hands gracefully emphasizing her words, the emerald ring flashing on her finger, and refused to rise to the bait when he tried to get her riled. It was then that he knew he was in deep trouble. Whatever was going on in that beautiful head of hers, she was definitely committed to seeing it through. He'd felt like this once before when she'd been buttering him up to tell him she'd wrecked his new car. Yup, he thought, swallowing with difficulty. Watch out.

The drive home was basically uneventful and Mason breathed a sigh of relief as they pulled up to her house. Thinking quickly, he planned his moves. I'll walk her to the door, give her a short kiss, make sure she gets in all right and then be gone before she can do any real damage.

Unfortunately, he'd made a slight miscalculation. He wasn't the one doing the kissing.

Mason walked to her side of the car and helped her out, forcing himself to slow down and not rush up the sidewalk like he couldn't wait to get rid of her. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings but sometimes a hasty retreat was preferable when dealing with Rebecca. She'd been too agreeable tonight and it damn near gave him a nervous tic.

Reaching the door, Rebecca turned and slid her fingers into his hair and with gentle pressure brought him down closer to her lips.

Good, good, he thought, another few seconds and I'm out of here. Just breathe through your mouth and try not to smell that perfume. Damn, that scent should be illegal. Don't think about how small, soft and warm she is, he told himself sternly. Think about the IRS or stepping in dog poop, or eating bad sushi.

Gently, Rebecca came closer but instead of the kiss he'd imagined her small tongue washed lightly over his lips. When he gasped in surprise, she entered his mouth like a sweet, hot liquid and increased the pressure. His mind exploded as her other hand slipped under his jacket, her small fingertip gently scratching his masculine nipple. When she finally released him, he took a deep breath through his nose and stood frozen for the time it took her to unlock and open the door, horrified to find himself being led inside like a puppy on a leash.

Throwing her coat over a chair, she advanced on him, almost laughing out loud when he held out his hands as if to ward her off.

"Rebecca, behave yourself," he pleaded huskily, his back almost to the door.

"To use your favorite expression, Mason," she smiled. "Not a chance."

Kicking off her heels, she walked over and switched on the music, smiling when _It Had to Be You_ came softly through the speakers. How appropriate, she thought as she unclipped her hair, dropping the black sparkly piece into a dish on the mantle.

The golden vision before him caused his throat to go dry and for a split-second, Mason thought about running but his male pride wouldn't let him. Get a grip man, he thought, she's only one small female. What's she going to do, rape you? A little voice responded, you can't rape the willing. Oh God, he groaned.

Rebecca came to him then and holding his hand led him over to the couch. Plumping the pillows, she gently pushed him down. Curiosity and desire were a deadly combination Mason decided, as he docilely went along with her direction. When she seated herself on his lap, he tried to picture her as a little girl but the contrast was too strong. Wiggling slightly to get comfortable, she almost drove him over the edge.

Rebecca reached up and began undoing his tie. Looking deeply into his eyes, she was surprised to see a touch of panic there. Gently, she massaged his temples, feathering light kisses across his mouth.

Mason was holding his own now, having given himself a firm lecture about taking advantage of inquisitive, inexperienced females. Let her have her fun, he told himself, feeling better, secure in his superior expertise. How far was she prepared to go in this seduction scene? Better to let her practice her new found skills on him than some wet behind the ears kid or worse, some punk who was full of himself. Maybe she was trying to pay him back for those passionate kisses the other night and then leaving her with emotions she didn't know how to handle?

Rebecca curled into him. As her black, silk covered legs bent, her soft dress slid to mid-thigh. Sensing his withdrawal and frantic to regain the advantage, she unbuttoned his shirt. At the sight of his naked chest, she began to lose control. The hard muscles and soft curling black hair made her forget her destination. Alternately running her fingers over him and gently scraping with her nails, she experienced a burning deep inside and quickly tugged the shirt out of the waistband of his slacks. Snuggling closer, only the fabric of her dress separating them, she softly traced her tongue along his ear and down the side of his neck, sucking gently.

It was at this point, that Mason began having real doubts about his ability to manage anything. The soft form curled against him was causing havoc within. Her bottom was pressed snugly against his arousal and she was rocking gently. He could feel the heat of her through her dress and his pants. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to reason with her.

"Rebecca, stop," he pleaded, his voice raspy with passion. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

"The same thing you've been doing to me for the last week," she replied, nibbling across his chest. Almost panting, she couldn't get close enough and pressed down harder, feeling his hard length through her clothing.

Taking the situation in hand, Mason grasped her shoulders and gave her a slight shake.

"I said stop," he growled. "What are you trying to prove... that you can turn me on... make me forget all my good intentions? Well, I think you know that. Where we go from here is dangerous ground, honey. Desire can't be turned on and off like a switch and I won't be used to further your education. Whatever happens from here, you damn well better mean it."

"Oh, I mean it, Mason," she softly replied. "I've never meant anything more in my life."

Taking a hold of his hand, she laid it on her leg and started sliding it upward. The sight of her slim legs slowly being revealed excited him more than he thought possible. When he glimpsed the black garter and the soft flesh above her stocking, fire exploded through him, a fire raging out of control. Gone was the man who'd felt his superior control capable of handling Rebecca. In his place was a man, whose only desire was to go after what he'd been fighting against for years it seemed. She was his, had always been his. A woman he knew, in his soul, was made for him and come morning, she'd know it, too.

Crushing her to him, his lips found hers with a passion that left her in no doubt, the wait was over. She exalted in the freedom to touch and caress him as she so longed to do.

Rising swiftly, Mason bore her slight form in his arms as he went down the hall to her bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot. Standing her on her shaking legs, he unbuckled her belt and sent it flying across the room. His hands shook, as he unzipped her dress letting it fall to the floor. The silky, black slip fell next, as he eased it over her hips. Rebecca seemed to tremble with the force of her own hunger. His eyes drank in her beauty, slowly wandering down from her flushed expectant face, her slim neck, the swell of her creamy breasts above the thin camisole cups that barely covered half of her. Down they continued, past the lacy underclothes that revealed more than they concealed.

He seemed almost incoherent now, murmuring words she barely heard. He bent and buried his face in her breasts, his hot mouth unbearably exciting as he alternately sucked and blew on the lace covered peaks. Dropping to his knees, Mason pressed hot urgent kisses onto the incredibly soft skin of her stomach. She grasped his dark head, begging for him to stop this torment. Rising, he again lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

He watched her as he began to remove his clothes. She was a study in contrasts, pale skin covered in black lace on the pristine white comforter. Her eyes blazed green fire as her breasts rose and fell rapidly.

Naked now, Mason bent and lovingly began to remove her stockings, gently rolling them down her legs, stopping to nibble behind her knees, the arch of her foot, her toes.

An incredible pressure was building inside her, she didn't' know where it would take her but she knew he controlled it and she followed it gladly. Watching his expression as he removed her panties, she was glad she'd worn such beautiful underthings. Smiling to herself, she decided if this was what it took to get him into the bedroom, she'd buy one in every color she could find. Her eyes took in everything about him and marveled. She'd seen pictures of naked men, of course, but he was magnificent. Everything about him, every feature, and every muscle drew her like a magnet.

Mason lay down beside her, sliding the camisole up over her head. Totally naked, she felt no shame, just an undeniable joy that at last all the barriers were gone and they could never go back, only forward. His strong, tender hands traced the peak of her breast and bending he followed the path with his tongue. Rebecca cried out when his mouth closed over her and began to suck strongly. Grasping her nipple gently between his teeth he flicked it quickly with his tongue, driving Rebecca crazy with longing. Her hands moved like lightening from one sensitive part of his body to another, kissing what she could reach with her mouth and stroking what she couldn't.

When her small hand tried to encircle him, he grasped both her wrists in one hand and held them over her head, knowing if she continued it would be over too quickly to bring her the kind of pleasure he desired. At first, she struggled against the restraint but he soothed her with honeyed words and when his lips again began their trail of fire she sank into the bed in helpless delight. His free hand slid down her stomach and gently nudged her legs apart, seeking the source of her heat. Carefully, he pushed his finger between the moist lips and found her core.

Rebecca was beside herself as he began to penetrate her smoothly, spreading her offering up and over her swollen femininity and returning for more again and again.

"Please, Mason," she begged, unashamed of her weakness. "I can't stand much more."

"Shh, darling," he soothed her. "You'll stand much more than this before the night is over. I know this is your first time; I don't want to hurt you anymore than I have to. Take it easy, baby, let me help you." He refused to be hurried and slowly drove her on, higher and higher. Kissing and sucking her breasts, stroking her sweetness until she convulsed around him, bucking wildly on the bed, riding his finger, screaming out his name. He let her rest for a moment and began again taking her up so fast this time, her head began to spin. Just before she peaked, he let go of her hands and rose above her. Grasping her hips in one strong arm he kissed her passionately as he positioned himself between her legs.

Rebecca was crazy with desire. She wrapped her arms as far around him as she could get as he slowly started to sink into her. Her legs came up and encircled his waist pulling him to her. His kiss swallowed her cry, that turned into a moan, as he thrust quickly and firmly past the wall of her innocence. He stopped, waiting for her to become accustomed to his size but it wasn't long before she began to lift her hips and let him know she was ready. After about four glorious thrusts, she exploded around him, gripping him like a fist while she screamed his name and shook beneath him.

Hot, sweet, tight. Dear God, Mason thought, as he continued thrusting, trying to be gentle and failing miserable. He couldn't get enough, would never get enough of her. Moaning her name, he gave a last thrust and bathed her with his essence.

It took Mason a few minutes to catch his breath and then he rolled them over so she was lying on top of him. He could feel her still rapid heartbeat; the heat of her surrounding him as he gently rubbed her back from her neck to below her bottom. Her golden hair spilled across his shoulder as she nestled her head under his chin.

"Are you all right?" he asked her softly, praying she was and feeling just a touch guilty that he'd ridden her so hard at the end.

"Mmm," she replied, snuggling into him for a moment. "God, that was great," she answered and lifting her head she looked him right in the eye. "When can we do it again?"

Mason laughed.

# Chapter 3

Mason awoke to singing. Rebecca was in the shower apparently belting out any and every tune that struck her fancy. _Amazing Grace_ was somehow prophetic he thought. After the way she had behaved last night she probably needed more than a few hymns to save her. His eyes traveled around the room he knew as well as he knew his own. This had been her father's room and Mason spent quite a bit of time in here when Jake's health had started going downhill so quickly. The heavy masculine furniture was softened by the feminine touches Rebecca had added. A photo caught his attention and he stared at the images of Rebecca and her father. The guilt that gripped him stunned him. He'd acted like a teenager with raging hormones, unable to control his urges and her father's eyes seemed to accuse him from across the room. Don't worry Jake, he promised silently. I'll do the right thing by her... even if it kills us both.

Rebecca toweled her hair and started to apply her make up. While she suspected Mason was consumed with guilt, she on the other hand felt wonderful. Last night was more exciting than she'd ever imagined. Mason had been incredibly tender and extraordinarily male. Every touch and caress turned her bones to jelly and she couldn't believe they'd wasted so much time getting around to the good stuff. After fluffing her hair, she slipped on her skimpy satin robe and headed back to the bedroom.

Thinking Mason asleep, she discarded the robe and climbed in next to him, cuddling up and inhaling deeply of his masculine scent

Mason opened his eyes and drew her tightly to him. The feel of her cool flesh, her breasts pressed against his chest inflamed him so quickly that he knew he had to put some distance between them if he wanted to have any type of reasonable conversation. Removing his arms from around her they faced each other, blue eyes gazing into green. She traced his lips with a fingertip, smiling.

"Thank you, Mason," she whispered softly.

"For what, honey?" he asked, surprised.

"For last night," she replied with a slight blush.

Taking a deep breath Mason answered her carefully. "Rebecca, last night I was wrong."

"Wrong? How could anything so beautiful be wrong?" she questioned. Her heart seemed to stop beating. Was he sorry? Maybe he hadn't enjoyed it as she had. Maybe she'd been so caught up in her own passionate response she hadn't noticed he'd only been performing.

Turning from him she quickly got out of bed, slipping on her robe again. Walking over to the dresser she began to vigorously brush her hair.

"Well, don't worry about our little mistake, Mason," she told him peering into the mirror. "You can go. I won't hold a gun to your head."

Mason couldn't believe his ears. The little twit was dismissing him, just as if she'd paid for his services and the time was up. Anger choked him.

"That isn't what I meant and you damn well know it. Get back in this bed before I come and put you in it. We have some things that need to be settled," he told her tightly, trying to control his temper.

"What, Mason?" she asked sarcastically, turning the brush over and over in her hands. "If last night was some type of favor, thanks but no thanks."

"Just five minutes with that hairbrush," he growled warningly, getting out of bed and stalking towards her, gloriously naked, "and I could give you a brand new attitude." Snatching the brush out of her hand he looked at it appraisingly as if testing the strength and weight.

Unconsciously Rebecca slid her hands behind her, as if that would protect her bottom. She let a small sigh of relief escape when Mason finally tossed it across the room and faced her, hands on hips and bending slightly to look directly into her eyes.

"I'm sorry about last night," he stated again, hoping she'd be reasonable before his itching hand got the better of him.

"Okay, you're sorry, I'm not. I personally thought it was great, but if I don't come up to your standards..." she shrugged, spinning away to hide the tears in her eyes.

Mason straightened and ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is that we shouldn't have made love so soon in our relationship," he explained as gently as he could with a clenched jaw.

"Soon," she responded stunned. "Mason, I've known you almost all my life."

"Yes, but not like this, as a man and woman."

"Did you suddenly become a man. Mason, because I've been a woman for quite some time now?"

Turning, he began to pace, trying to find a way to express himself without infuriating her further.

"What I'm trying to say, Rebecca, is that I thought... maybe someday... after we were sure it was right... Hell, I hoped we'd get married if things worked out. Now, I guess we'd better do it right away."

"Married?" Rebecca sank against the dresser in total shock, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You think because we made love last night we should get married? Mason this isn't the dark ages," she continued, almost hysterical now. "People don't marry everyone they sleep with." Rebecca's mind was working frantically now and another horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. "Is this to assuage some form of guilt... because if it is you'd better know right now I'm not into human sacrifices, especially mine?"

Mason stopped pacing, the flame in his eyes was nothing compared to what raged in his heart. He was at her side in seconds, his large hands clamped firmly around her upper arms and pulled her to her toes.

"First of all, I refuse to be just someone you slept with," he all but shouted, hanging on to his temper by a gossamer thread. "And secondly, did it ever occur to you that we didn't use any protection last night... that you could be pregnant?"

Fear tightened Rebecca's stomach but she wouldn't back down, even in the face of his anger.

"Women have been having babies since the beginning of time, Mace, some of them even manage to do it without a man," she shouted back. "If you think for one minute..."

"Not my baby," he shot at her before she could continue. "I grew up without a father, and if it hadn't been for yours and Sean O'Malley, I wouldn't have known what one was. My child will never have to worry about that even if I have to paddle his mother's behind all the way to the JP," he finished with a shake that sent her curls dancing.

Trying to get herself together she took several calming breaths and twisted out of his arms.

"Mason, has it escaped your attention that I seduced you last night? I planned the whole damn thing right down to the bottle of wine in the fridge, which by the way, I'm going to drink as soon as this conversation is over. I wanted you, Mason," she went on softly, "and I'm not ashamed of it."

Mason stood there silently as she left the room closing the door softly behind her. And just what could he say to that?

Two days later, Mason received a check in the mail for $137.23. He sat behind his desk examining it as if it held the answer to his problems. He had forgotten about the groceries but she obviously hadn't. After checking the envelope for the third time just to make sure he hadn't missed a note he tossed it aside in disgust.

A knock at the door brought him back and he crumpled the check and flung it into the trash.

"Come in," he called.

Maggie O'Malley Cassidy entered, removing her hard hat and flopping onto the chair across from him. "For someone whose company just got the bid on the new shopping mall, you don't look very happy," she observed.

Covered in dust, Maggie was still one hell of a good-looking woman. The auburn-haired beauty let her eyes travel over him, noting the slump of his shoulders and fatigue in his face. She and Mason went way back and he couldn't hide much from her.

"Not feeling well, boss man?"

Maggie had been his chief foreman for three years and she was damn good at it. Although many new employees gave her a hard time at first, they soon came to appreciate her expertise in the field and depend on her judgment. She prided herself on the fact there hadn't been a serious injury on her watch.

"I'm okay," he told her, running a hand through his hair, "just tired. And I am pleased about the new contract, but money isn't everything."

"Ha," she laughed, her eyes twinkling. "That's easy for you to say. Try footing the grocery bill for my crew and you'll soon be singing another song."

Immediately, guilt assailed him. Maggie's husband, Jim, had been killed last year in an auto accident. He knew it had to be tough supporting three kids on her own but she never complained, just buried her grief and went on. She was one special lady. He made the standard offer, knowing she wouldn't accept. She never did.

"Is there something I can do to help? If you need an advance or anything at all, just tell Masha I okayed it."

"Thanks, Mason, I appreciate the offer, but we're doing okay. I stopped in to find out what you wanted to do about the Logan site. Warfield's can't get there today with the concrete. Did you want me to contact the competition, or wait it out with them?"

"They've always been right on schedule with us before," he answered. "Give them two days to fix the problem and have a crew start up on the Hastings road site; if we have to we'll go into some overtime."

"No problem there," she grinned as she rose to leave. "The men do love that time and a half."

"What about you, Maggie?" he asked. "Is the overtime a hardship with the kids?"

Maggie sighed, letting her guard down for a moment. Her whole manner changed when she talked about her kids, the softer side shining through.

"No, Jason's old enough now to watch the other two and Ma checks in with him. To tell you the truth, the more tired I am when I get to bed, the better I like it."

Understanding flowed between them and he nodded as she put her hat on and went back to work.

Maybe that's what I need he thought. A little extra physical activity might help. Over the last couple of years, he'd become almost completely desk bound as the company grew. With Maggie running things in the field he didn't have to worry about that aspect and only made occasional site checks unless there was a problem. Getting up, he strode across the room and opening the closet got out his hardhat and steel toed boots. A little while later he was unloading concrete blocks. Maggie never said a word, she just smiled knowingly.

Rebecca pushed the hair out of her eyes for the third time and concentrated on getting the little black felt hat together. Everyone's pilgrim was finished but hers and she was the teacher. Embarrassed, she tried again and proceeded to prick her finger painfully.

Sara, standing behind her, laughed and bent down to whisper in her ear as Rebecca tried to wipe the little drop of blood off the pilgrim dolls vest.

"Leave it. Pretend the Indians got him," Sara continued, clasping a hand to her chest and staggering backward dramatically.

"Very funny," Rebecca responded, tossing the little man down on the work table in disgust.

"I don't know what's wrong with me lately," she sighed dejectedly, elbows propped on the table supporting her chin. "Normally I'm good at this sort of thing but for some reason I can't get him," she pointed at the little doll accusingly, "to cooperate."

"Probably because he isn't the man on your mind," Sara returned grinning cheekily.

"Who says I've got a man on my mind?" Rebecca demanded.

"Look, sweetie, we've known each other since grade school. I was around when the delectable Mason entered your life. Besides being consumed with jealousy," she continued, dropping onto a chair and crossing her legs gracefully, "and waiting patiently for him to notice me, your loyal, gorgeous friend, I learned to read you like a book. You're hooked. Big time."

"Booked?" Mary Havens questioned loudly, causing the others to stop what they were doing and look up in surprise.

"Who's doing time? Have you gone and gotten yourself arrested? I told you not to park in that No Parking Zone, Rebecca," Mary continued, deep concern etched in her face. "Oh, dear me."

Mary pushed her glasses up farther on her nose, something she unconsciously did whenever she had difficulty hearing, as if that would improve it.

"Bookie?" Harry chortled, "I had a bookie once, fine fellow, made me a lot of money too. Don't know if he's still around, but I can give you his number."

Rebecca couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the conversation. Hugging Mary, whose hearing was fast becoming a real problem for her, she spoke loudly enough for all her folks to hear.

"No, I'm not getting arrested and I don't need a bookie. It's just a misunderstanding," Rebecca informed them drawing out the words slowly.

"Huh? Standing? Here, take my chair," Harry offered, rising stiffly on his arthritic legs.

Smiling helplessly, Rebecca patted Harry on his thin shoulder gently.

"No, Harry, I don't need your chair. I have some paperwork to do in my office. Sara will help you now."

"Well if you need any help you just let old Harry Johnston know. I still have some friends left in this town, my girl."

"I surely will Harry. You can count on it," Rebecca choked out. Hurrying to her office she had a mental picture of Harry Johnston brandishing his cane at Mason. Shaking her head, she closed the door and burst out laughing.

# Chapter 4

Mason slammed the phone down for the eighth time in two days. If he got her voice mail just one more time...

The more she avoided him, the more furious he became. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to get physically involved and he cursed himself for his weakness.

Rebecca had been a part of his life for so long that he couldn't handle the separation. It had been two long weeks since he'd seen her. She hadn't shown up for class last week and he felt responsible. Her grades couldn't take any neglect. Economics was a tough course for someone who wasn't exactly practical minded.

Pacing his office, he tried to think of a way to recover what they'd lost, knowing subconsciously that they couldn't go back. His body burned for her in a way he'd never experienced before. The women in his life had always been fun, but forgettable and he'd never been faced with this gut wrenching indecision. 'Witch' was a good name for her he thought dejectedly, she'd cast a spell on him, haunted his nights and thoughts of her consumed his days.

It amazed him that one night of Rebecca's loving had affected him so deeply. He'd known she was a virgin and had figured it would take lots of patience and practice before everything clicked perfectly. He had expected some shyness, maybe a few tears, even some embarrassment the first few times. Instead he'd gotten a hellion who bulldozed him into bed before he even knew what hit him, and she'd loved every second of it. Thank God, he'd been her first and so far, only lover or who knows what could have happened. A guy could certainly take advantage of a woman like that, hell, he still felt like a lecher even though he loved her deeply. She wanted everything, and she wanted it right now. That was fine with him and he had no problem giving in to her desires in and out of the bedroom, but first he wanted his ring on her finger.

Mason knew the longer this silence went on the more insurmountable their problems would seem. He'd tried to give her some space, time to cool down and realize that marriage was the only reasonable solution, but as time went by and he didn't hear from her he began to grow angry. Every message he left that went unanswered increased his frustration. Rebecca had been angry with him many times, but to avoid a confrontation wasn't her style. No, Rebecca preferred to battle it out. The fact that she was acting so out of character worried him and increased his sense of urgency. The situation was completely out of control and he'd better damn well think of a way to fix it.

Brushing his hair back, he dropped down on the edge of his desk absently watching the final blaze of the sun as it sank beyond the horizon. It isn't as if she's just some girl you met last week, he told himself. You've watched her grow up; you know how her mind works. Now come up with a way to change it. It's not her mind that's driving you nuts, a little voice whispered.

Mason shoved off the desk and smiled. It's her delectable little body. She wanted him. Wanted him enough to seduce him. Wanted him enough to tell him right out what she'd done. The answer had been there all along. He couldn't believe it took him nearly two weeks to figure it out. The worst thing he could have done was give her space.

Mason grinned. He would assault her every sense, tease and torment her until she dragged him to the altar, because if she wanted his body again she was going to have to marry him to get it.

If she didn't show up tonight for class, he'd go to her and show her just what she was missing by not becoming his wife. As he slammed the door of his office, Maggie looked up from where she had been going over some figures with Marsha and watched him stride down the hall.

"Now, there goes a man with a purpose," she said. Marsha sighed wistfully, wishing that purpose was her.

Mason leaned on the desk and glanced at his watch. It was six forty-five and Rebecca still hadn't arrived. Checking the clock over the door, he verified that his watch was correct. He couldn't believe she was missing tonight's class, the midterm exam. The next few minutes he devoted to answering some questions for the students who had shown up early. At precisely seven, he closed the door and began giving out the instructions for the test. As he walked to the back of the room, passing out papers, the door started to rattle. Knowing everyone was there except Rebecca; he smiled to himself and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Turning sharply, he decided to make her pay for his worry.

"So, glad you could join us, Miss Moran," he said with a touch of sarcasm.

Looking up, his heart stopped cold. Teetering in the doorway was Rebecca, wearing one and a half leg of jeans, the bottom half replaced by white plaster. Crutches under one arm; she swayed alarmingly, her heavy book bag, purse and the added weight of the cast pulling her to the left.

Without thinking, Mason swore and sprinted to the front of the room and swept her up in his arms.

"What the hell have you done now?" he demanded, not caring that they had a very interested audience. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom and then back again as if he didn't trust what he saw. He took in the heavy plaster cast that went from her bare toes to just below her knee. Her hair was pulled back in a glossy ponytail so he felt safe in assuming she didn't have a head wound. The bulky jacket she wore concealed most of her upper body and he had a flash thought of stripping it off her, inspecting for other injuries. When his eyes saw the bruise on her cheek, he lost it.

"I asked you what happened?" he repeated harshly, fear making his voice raspy.

"My car and I had a little argument with a telephone pole, I lost," she told him quickly. "Now put me down," she hissed.

He continued as if she hadn't said a thing, as though they weren't standing in a room with twenty-four people eagerly waiting to see what would happen next.

"When?'

"Two days ago, now put me down," she responded, red faced with embarrassment.

"Two days," he all but shouted, furious because she hadn't even thought to call him. "Should you even be walking around? What doctor did you see? I'll call him and see what he thinks."

Rebecca sighed and put a hand to her aching head. "Will you please stop repeating everything I say? I don't want you to call anyone. I just want you to stop acting like a lunatic and let me take this test, preferably seated at a desk, and go home," she told him between gritted teeth.

Several giggles and snickers finally began to penetrate Mason's brain. Turning around to face the class, he then proceeded to stride back and forth, not quite sure where he should go with the infuriating bundle in his arms.

Looking up and seeing the expressions on the faces of her classmates, Rebecca groaned. Amusement was the most common one, but there were also several female faces with what could only be described as envy on them. Giving Mason a sharp jab with her elbow, she finally lost her temper.

"I have a broken foot, Mason," she shouted at him. "I'm perfectly capable of sitting at a desk and I don't need you carrying me around like I'm some kind of invalid. Now, put me down!"

Totally unconcerned with the tirade, Mason finally settled on a place and kicking his chair out from under the large desk he sat her down gently, pulling out a drawer and propping her injured foot on it. He then retrieved her book bag and purse from the floor where they had fallen and set then within her reach.

Walking back to the rear of the classroom, he picked up the test papers and began to pass them out.

Rebecca was seated so she had to face the class and smiling in what she hoped was an apologetic manner, she squared her shoulders and got out her pencils and calculator.

"When you finish the test, raise your hand and I'll collect your paper. There won't be any class next week due to the Thanksgiving holiday, but if you check with the department secretary on Tuesday she can give you your grade. As soon as you finish you can go and I hope you all have a happy and safe holiday," he finished, giving Rebecca a tight-lipped smile.

Geeze, you'd think I trashed my car on purpose, she thought. Sometimes I could just...

Unconsciously massaging her temple, she closed her eyes and didn't see the worry on his face.

Rebecca was one of the last ones to finish her exam. As each student handed in their exams, Mason put their papers into his briefcase and returned to the window ledge where he had taken up residence as his desk was occupied.

Rebecca struggled with the answers until her head actually felt fuzzy and finally raised her hand for him to come and get her test. Handing it to him, she quietly whispered, "Would you please get my crutch?"

Mason stood looking over her paper but didn't answer. "Could you hand me my crutch?" she hissed.

Two more hands went up and Mason still did not make a move toward doing as she asked. Drumming her fingers impatiently on the desk, she waited until the last student had turned their exam in.

"Mason?"

"Hmm," he mumbled, walking around and absently straightening up chairs, for all intents and purposes ignoring her.

"Mason, do we have a problem here?" The nagging pain in her leg was nothing compared to the frustration of not being able to get up and walk out. It galled her to have to sit there and wait until he saw fit to hand her the damn crutch.

"Yes, Rebecca," he informed her, crossing his arms and leaning over the desk in front of her. "I believe we do, several in fact."

"Well, could we discuss it later? I'm very tired and I need to call Sara for a ride home. Now, if you'll just..."

"No, I won't just. I think things are quite convenient the way they are." The expression on his face gave nothing away.

"Although, I don't have you in quite the position I'd like," he paused as though imagining a very different setting, "this is better than some I could think of."

"Give me my crutch!"

"Not a chance."

At this point, Rebecca decided that the distance wasn't so great she couldn't hop to the door. Standing on one foot, she balanced herself against the desk and started to move away from the chair.

"Sit down, Rebecca," he growled.

"Go to hell, Mace," she answered sweetly, still trying to control her temper.

In two strides, he was in front of her. Unless she could think of a way to go through him, she was going nowhere. Her hands weren't even free to slap him, which was a delightful thought by this point.

Her eyes were level with the third button on his shirt and she could smell his familiar aftershave. While she was mad enough to do him bodily harm, she also wanted to do nothing more than to lean on his wonderfully strong chest and be comforted. You definitely should have stayed for observation like the doctor wanted you too, she told herself, you have some type of mental disorder.

Mason was still standing close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body when he spoke again.

"Rebecca, I have been stirred to every emotion imaginable by you over the last few weeks, and some that I never even dreamed of, and while I have always prided myself on being an even-tempered man, I find that just the opposite is true when dealing with you. Now, if you have the sense that God gave an ant, you will sit down in that chair."

"Okay, okay," she told him, sitting down and putting some distance between them. The tone of his voice was one she didn't want to investigate further and his eyes were a stormy blue-gray. There was something different about him tonight and she sensed a certain danger. Don't be ridiculous she told herself, this is Mason, but it wasn't the Mason she knew. This man was harder, stronger, and more determined. The control he placed on himself was almost a tangible thing and while it frightened her somewhat, she also had a strange desire to shatter it and explore the mystery underneath.

He sat across from her, his eyes assessing her every feature. They traveled over her so slowly and thoroughly that her face flamed. If he'd physically touched her, it couldn't have been any more intimate. A spiraling heat penetrated her, and breathing became an effort. The power of his gaze made her feel suddenly weak and her mind rebelled against what her body gloried in. When he began to speak, it took her a moment to focus on what he was saying.

"You have been a part of my life for a long time. I always thought we were friends, good friends. I know we've had our disagreements, and that's putting it mildly. You have amazed me, infuriated me, caused me countless sleepless nights, and recently given me more pleasure than any man has a right to expect, but you have never hurt me... until now."

Rebecca felt like a giant hand was squeezing her heart. Hurt him? Of all the people in her life, Mason was the one who least deserved hurting. Her eyes filled with tears as he continued.

"Regardless of our differences the other night, or should I say the other morning because the night was damned near perfect, I can't believe you would have a car accident and not call me. How could you drag yourself to class like this, never considering how I would feel seeing you injured? Do you know how many times I've called you in the last week? Why didn't you return them? I don't know whether you're trying to convince yourself that I don't matter or convince me. Rebecca, we made love the other night. You can call it what you like and you can spout your modern attitude all you want, but that won't change the facts. You belong to me and I won't be shut out of your life, not without a fight. I want to marry you, not just be your lover."

Rebecca sat silently, her eyes misty. The last couple of weeks had been tough without him and if the truth were known, Mason had been the only one she'd wanted in the painful hours after her accident. But the word 'belong' froze something inside her. Belonging meant permanence and she, of all people, knew that nothing was permanent. Why couldn't he just enjoy what they had now? Why tempt fate with empty promises of forever... when there was no such thing. No one knew what tomorrow would bring and she preferred not to count on it.

Rebecca didn't know what to say to make him understand; when her mother had died, it had almost destroyed her father. For weeks he walked around in a daze, unable to function in even the most basic ways. Suddenly, he had become the child and she the parent, grieving alone in her room. Eventually, he had recovered enough to have a semblance of his former life, but he was never the same man.

At twelve years old she hadn't been able to understand what had happened to her dynamic, fun-loving father, or forgive her mother for leaving them. She did, however, know one thing. She never wanted to love anyone like her father had loved her mother.

Never would another human being hold her happiness in their hands. She would make her own happiness and if it included others, so be it. She didn't believe in 'happily ever after' and she refused to delude herself. Her life was living proof that there was no forever, at least not on earth. Why couldn't he just take one day at a time and be grateful for it? She loved him, she desired him, but she wouldn't ever need him, at least not in the way he wanted. Slipping a ring on her finger wouldn't change that.

Mason watched the play of emotions on her tired face. Her thick lashes were moist with tears and he suddenly felt like an insensitive jerk. He could see that coming here tonight had taken all of her reserve energy. She was exhausted, probably in pain and having trouble keeping herself upright.

"Come on, baby," he sighed, as he crossed the room to retrieve her crutch. "I'll take you home. I guess this can wait until you're feeling better."

Rebecca rose shakily to her feet and wiped the tears from her cheeks, looking at him with gratitude. She smiled slightly and misreading the look of relief, Mason froze.

"This discussion isn't over sweetheart, just postponed," he told her firmly, slipping an arm around her and guiding her to the door. "I know you're tired and in pain and I won't push you anymore tonight, but I won't change my mind either. You're going to be my wife."

The twenty-minute ride home was soothing to Rebecca. The night sky was black velvet sprinkled with diamonds and she sank further into the leather seat letting the powerful purr of the engine relax her.

Mason was equally quiet. Remembering his plans for this evening, he smiled grimly. There was not going to be any seduction tonight and in a way, he was relieved. He didn't think he was up to another night of lying awake. Wanting her as he did, and knowing that if he allowed her to set the rules for their relationship he would regret it, he forced himself to keep his mind on her injury.

Pulling up in front of her house, he shut the car off. Turning to look at her, he swallowed a lump in his throat. She was so damn beautiful. The streetlight shone on the wisps of golden hair that had escaped her ponytail. Head back and eyes closed she drifted in the place between sleep and wakefulness, not aware that he studied her. The slim column of her silky throat was exposed and proved too tempting, despite his good intentions. Leaning over he trailed his lips along her neck, inhaling her delicate fragrance. Rebecca moaned softly and tangled her hands in his soft, thick hair, seeking more.

Pulling away, Mason swore and got out of the car. Smothering her disappointment, Rebecca allowed him to help her out and assist her into the house. Removing her coat, she struggled with getting herself into a chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Go and get ready for bed and I'll make sure everything is secure for the night," he told her gruffly, angry all over again as he watched her struggle.

Not sure if it was habit or total exhaustion, Rebecca responded to the command in his voice and went meekly down the hall to her room, clasping her crutch firmly.

Mason searched through the cupboards until he found some hot chocolate and proceeded to heat the water. He checked the lock on the back door and made sure the windows she normally opened were shut and locked. Hearing scuffling coming from her bedroom, he proceeded down the carpeted hall, knocking softly at the door.

"Can I come in?" he inquired, hearing muffled curses through the door.

There was no response but still hearing what sounded to him like the sounds of a struggle he opened the door, propriety be damned.

The sight that met his eyes had a dual effect. Rebecca was half on, half off the bed, her jeans twisted impossibly around her ankles. While he stood there torn between laughter and lust, she finally managed to free her good leg but the material around her cast wouldn't budge. Setting the cocoa down on the dresser, he approached the bed.

"You wouldn't need me by any chance?" he inquired, trying not to laugh. Her tee shirt was twisted up above her breasts and the skimpy red thong panties left little to the imagination.

He should have been warned by the narrowing of her hazel eyes, but blinded by the vision she presented, he wasn't.

"Need you? No, Mason, I don't need you. About now, any man would do."

"Fine, I hope you can find one." He growled as he turned, fully intending to leave her to her own devices.

Rebecca faced with swallowing her pride and apologizing or spending the night and possibly the next day stuck in a pair of jeans, bit her tongue and quickly apologized.

"I'm sorry," she told him, not sounding the least bit sincere.

"No, you're not," he shot back, approaching the bed, "but keep it up and you will be."

Grasping her under the arms, he tried to remain impersonal as he lifted her up onto the bed.

"Turn over," he told her gruffly and with a humph she did as she was told.

The sight of her lovely pale bottom, cheeks separated by a tiny strip of red satin, made his hands clumsy and it took several minutes to untangle her. Presented with, what he considered a God given opportunity, he sat down next to her, tucked his arm tightly around her waist and pulled her snuggly against his hip. Figuring she was more comfortable than she deserved to be, he began to crisply and sharply spank that beautiful bottom. _Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack,_ _Smack._ Damn this feels good, he thought, watching as her lovely butt turned pink and enjoying each and every squeal and gasp. He couldn't remember when he'd felt more gratified.

"That's not helping!" Rebecca turned her head and screamed at him in indignation, wiggling as best she could to get away from him.

"It's helping me," Mason responded, not missing a beat, continuing to toast her butt with hearty spanks.

Rebecca was just about stuck. Her injured foot was on the bed and she was on her stomach, in what would have been a comfortable position had he not been determined to make her decidedly uncomfortable. The arm around her holding her to his side was impossible to budge so she couldn't squirm away from him. What she wanted to do, besides the obvious of course, was curse a blue streak but she didn't think that was a good idea either considering the circumstances. So, she took it. Each burning swat, as he worked from top to bottom and side to side on her poor throbbing bottom. Shoving her face deep into the fluffy comforter she squealed and moaned until the last few swats, which caught her right where her cheeks met the thighs and brought a few outright screams.

"All done," he told her cheerfully, his mood greatly improved.

"You bet you are," she told him, jaw clenched and completely mortified by his impromptu spanking. "You can get the hell out of here right now."

"Now, sweetheart, don't get your panties in a knot, pretty as they are," he told her, sliding his arms under her and depositing her on her stinging backside despite her flailing arms and protests. After propping her foot on a pillow, he continued fussing until he had her nicely situated. Mason got a nightshirt out of her drawer and retrieved the hot chocolate, setting both within her reach. Halfway to the door he turned and caught her rubbing her bottom.

"You don't have to thank me, darling," he told her grinning, not in the least bit ashamed of his action. "After all, it's only what any man would have done."

He heard the thump of a book hitting the door seconds after he closed it and was still smiling as he drove away.

# Chapter 5

Rebecca got through the next few weeks with a lot of help from her friends. The insurance company settled her claim quickly and she was able to replace her car without too much shopping around. Sara took over the more physical aspect of the adult day group, leaving Rebecca to handle mainly the crafts and paperwork. As a whole, her seniors were helpful and sympathetic, the healthier ones assisting the frailer. Mason was a Godsend, doing the grocery shopping and helping with the household chores she found difficult. They were on strange ground here. Not wanting to antagonize her, Mason kept his cool. He was around often but kept the conversations neutral and his hands to himself, much to Rebecca's disappointment. Not that she wanted another spanking, she definitely didn't, but she sure could have enjoyed some of his other talents.

While he seemed to have no difficulty reverting to their old relationship, she on the other hand, was in a constant state of emotional upheaval. In the last few weeks not once had he raised his voice, issued orders, or given her any opportunities to clear the air. He also hadn't kissed her, or touched her in any but the most impersonal way. Rebecca had fully expected him to use her dependence on him to make her see the 'error of her ways', so to speak. Suspecting that he would take every opportunity to convince her that marriage was the right thing to do, she had braced herself for an onslaught of emotional arguments.

Never once did he bring up his proposal. Ironically, this infuriated Rebecca. Although she repeatedly told herself she wasn't interested in a permanent relationship, she was definitely not interested in a platonic one either.

Being in the same room with him set her senses reeling. She constantly relived the one night they had been intimate, and the need such memories produced kept her perpetually on edge and snappish.

Mason never retaliated for her jibes and sarcastic remarks, nor did he respond with anything but soft-spoken words when she attempted to pick a fight, hoping to get them back on more personal ground. If he'd been like a big brother before, he was now like a doting uncle, humoring her as though she wasn't quite right in the head. After a while, Rebecca began to wonder herself.

Mason amazed himself at the amount of restraint he possessed. How he kept himself from strangling her, spanking her silly, or carrying her off to bed he was to wonder for years. She had never been more difficult, infuriating or readable. He knew what was bothering her and that knowledge gave him the stamina to continue what he considered their courtship. Her desire for him gave him the only power he had right now and he wasn't about to give it up, no matter how enjoyable the prospect. His heart was convinced that marriage was preferable to a short, intense love affair. Mason had never settled for second best and he wasn't about to start now. He intended to have fifty or sixty years with the woman he loved and that would be close enough to forever for him. If he had to beat her at her own game, then he was prepared to go the distance. He would prefer she give in gracefully, admitting their marriage would be much more than just a physical joining, that they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together, but whether gracefully or screaming in sexual frustration, give in she would. Not only would they be joined in body, but in heart, mind and soul, for he could never be satisfied with less.

# Chapter 6

As Christmas approached, Rebecca spent her time working with her seniors to get ready for the holiday. This year they were going to go caroling at a local nursing home with a group of students from the high school who were learning about community service. Her folks were very excited about the special treat, especially Mary Havens, whose husband was a resident of the home. The children came several times to practice and together they chose which songs they would sing. Rebecca got home each night tired but with a sense of accomplishment, knowing that she was able to make a difference in the quality of life for her special friends.

Mason accompanied her to the doctor when it was time to have her cast removed, the week before Christmas. It felt wonderful to be without the heavy plaster and Rebecca was in a rare mood on the way home.

"Why don't you let me cook you dinner tonight, Mace?" she asked happily, more pleased with her world than she'd been in a long time. "I could make that marinated chicken you like. I know I've been a wretch lately and I'd really like to show you how much I've appreciated the help you've given me since the accident," she told him laying her hand innocently on his thigh.

Heat shot through him at her touch and his voice, when he answered her, was harsh. "Not tonight." He cleared his throat and continued. "I already promised Maggie I'd take Jason to cut down a Christmas tree. She's worried about him and thought maybe it would help if he spent some time with someone other than her or the younger kids. This time of year, is especially hard on them."

Jealousy yanked Rebecca's hand back as if she'd been burnt and fast on its heels came shame. Rebecca genuinely liked Maggie Cassidy. She was a good mother and had been a good wife. Maggie and Jim had occasionally included her in their family gatherings after her father had died. They had always been kind to her, Maggie often coming to her defense when Mason was on the warpath. After Jim died, Maggie had become withdrawn and Rebecca, remembering her father's grief, had understood. Although they didn't see each other very often, Rebecca still considered her a close friend.

"Maybe some other night," she told him, trying to convince herself that it didn't matter if he was becoming an important part of Maggie's life.

Mason was glad he had plans. The touch of her hand after all this time was more than he could stand. Desire flashed through him like a bolt of lightning and gripping the steering wheel was the only way he could keep his head, and his hands off her. He wanted to stop the car right this minute and gather her into his arms. Wanted to feel her softness, slide his big hands under her soft sweater and tenderly cup her full breasts.

Groaning, he turned on the radio trying to distract himself. He found it amazing that a small touch from her could excite him so much. Sighing with relief, he pulled up in front of her house.

Rebecca was also glad to be home. She told herself she was happy that Mason was giving Maggie a hand, Lord knew she deserved it. Twisting in the seat, she intended to thank him for the ride, but when her eyes met his, she no longer had the urge to speak. Blue fire warmed her to the bone. His strong jaw had a slight stubble that only increased his masculinity. Rebecca studied him, heart pounding. A wave of black hair fell over his forehead. Her mouth went dry while other places in her body went damp and liquid. Deep inside sparks radiated and started flames she couldn't put out. His strong hands still gripped the steering wheel and Rebecca stared at them, remembering the feel of their velvet roughness caressing her. A pulse in her temple began to throb and unable to stop herself she leaned over, gently setting her lips at the corner of his mouth.

Mason's control snapped. Reaching out he pulled her onto his lap, twisting his head to claim her lips and brand them his. His beard scraped her soft cheek and she moaned into his mouth as his hand grasped the back of her head anchoring her in place.

Rebecca felt surrounded by his hard, male body. His hands spoke to her, telling her he wasn't going to let her go without a fight, but there was no fight in her and as his tongue swept hotly into her mouth she surrendered to him completely.

He spread his thighs and cradled her between them, his hard length making her mindless with longing. When he felt her body melt into his, he loosened his hold and sighed raggedly. Hard hot hands roamed her eager flesh, slipping under her clothing.

Neither were aware of the snow that was falling softly outside, blanketing the car in a layer of white, nor did they give any thought to the fact that they were parked on a public street.

Breathing in her perfume, Mason felt as though he were drowning in her sweet fragrance. His thumbs brushed her rigid nipples sending waves of pleasure through her body so intense she began to tremble with the fierce pleasure. Her hands reached up and grasped his rough cheeks, and as she kissed him, tears, caused by weeks of tension, slipped out from between her lashes. Their saltiness penetrated Mason's conscience as nothing else could and he forced himself to pull back, scattering light kisses over her delicate features and whispering words of love while he struggled with his raging passion.

Rebecca's head fell back against his shoulder, her face flushed with desire, her lungs gasping for breath. Feeling his withdrawal, she curled her nails into the palm of her hands, the pain nothing compared to the agony of wanting what she knew he would not give.

Embarrassment flooded her. He was on his way to Maggie's. Even in the throes of passion he had not mentioned marriage again and she told herself she was glad. Putting her hands on her cheeks to cool them, she tried to laugh at the situation and failed miserably.

"Don't," he told her harshly, grasping her shoulders and giving her a small shake. "There is nothing funny about this. I could take you right here. Strip you down in broad daylight and make you cry out loud enough to bring the neighbors running, but I won't, damn you."

Running his hand through his hair he continued, tension making his voice harsh.

"We seem to be at an impasse here, Rebecca. You won't marry me and I won't make love to you unless you do. I thought I could bring you around by showing you what we could have together, but I find I'm not the man I thought I was because I came damn close to giving in to you. I won't be used, Rebecca. You can call me old fashioned and I won't deny it but I can't have the kind of love affair you seem to want. I want a wife, a family, and if you're not interested in the same thing you can damn well keep your hot little body away from me."

Bodily he lifted her from his lap and almost thrust her onto the opposite seat. Determination set his jaw and he glared at her as if daring her to argue with him.

Rebecca was hurt enough to do just that. When he'd said the word marriage, her heart had accelerated but as he continued that feeling was rapidly replaced by sheer fury. He made her sound like some... tramp who was so hot for a man she couldn't keep her hands off him. Well, so be it. If that's how he saw her, she wouldn't disappoint him.

"Mason, darlin'," she cooed, getting to her knees on the seat and leaning toward him, lips pouting.

"Don't get yourself so worked up, sugar," she went on, using her sexiest voice in what she hoped was a convincing manner.

Rebecca ran one hand through her hair, arching her back to thrust her breasts out temptingly. Appearing to stretch lazily she moved her hands behind her back, one grasping the door handle.

"I know you're saving yourself for marriage, and I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of such a virtuous man," she drawled.

Mason's mouth all but fell open.

"Especially when there are so many ah... shall we say, more modern men available?"

Mason's mouth snapped shut.

"You little witch," he ground out, lunging across the small space that separated them.

Rebecca was ready for him. Laughing, now that she felt she had somehow gotten even, she was out the door and running for the house before his hands could touch her.

Mason got out of the car and started toward her when a large snowball landed smack in the middle of his chest.

"That should help you cool down," she shouted to him before she slammed the door, "and I always aim to please." It had certainly pleased her.

Mason let himself into the entryway at Maggie's, took off his snow-covered boots and shook his coat before hanging it up.

"Maggie," he called, padding across the thick carpet into the living room.

"In the kitchen," she yelled back.

Eight-year-old Todd was at the dining room table making a dinosaur out of clay and ruffling his hair, Mason stopped to admire his creation. Walking through the swinging door, he watched appreciatively as Maggie bent over to remove a cookie sheet from the oven.

The jeans she was wearing accentuated her slim waist and nicely rounded bottom. Her long auburn hair was tied back with a black ribbon making her look much younger than her thirty-four years.

Turning at just the right moment, she caught his look and grinned cheekily.

"Don't even think about it," she laughed. "You'd be bored in a month. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to look at a woman like that unless you're prepared to change diapers and mow lawns? Cookie?" she offered, noting his embarrassment and enjoying it.

"Sorry, Maggie," he told her almost sheepishly, reaching for a golden chocolate chip cookie. "I guess I'm not myself today."

"Problems?" she asked.

"Nothing I can't handle," he responded while munching.

Maggie laughed. "Ah, I sense male arrogance rearing its ugly head. You of all people should know I don't buy that."

"Meaning?" he asked, pulling out a stool at the breakfast bar and sitting down.

"Meaning, I've known you for a long time and the look on your face is downright screaming frustration, which translates to Rebecca."

Amazed at her perception, Mason watched as she fixed two cups of coffee and sat one in front of him. Leaning against the counter, she waited.

"She's driving me crazy. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this," he finally confessed, getting off the stool and pacing the kitchen. "It isn't like I wanted to fall in love with her, hell, I've been avoiding a serious relationship for years. It just stands to reason I'd have to get involved with the one woman who's worse than me."

Maggie patted the stool and Mason sat back down, running his hand through his hair. Pushing the plate of cookies in his direction, she smiled as he automatically reached for one, looking for all the world as dejected as her son, Jason, had when the most popular girl in the eighth grade stood him up for a movie.

"She won't marry me, Maggie," he told her, his voice low, "but she will have an affair," he continued, louder now as anger took over again. "Can you believe it? She actually told me that she'd rather just keep it temporary. The little witch wants my body for God sakes."

Maggie whistled low. "Just how far has this gone, Mason?" she inquired softly, and when he turned his head away she had her answer. Mason was not the type of man to settle for less than he wanted. Under normal circumstances, Rebecca didn't stand a chance of changing his mind once it was made up, but then these weren't normal circumstances. Mason was in love.

"Has she told you why she won't marry you? She's loved you for years. If Rebecca's anything, she's honest, sometimes painfully so. I can't imagine why she won't admit it."

"Oh, she admits it," he told her, "and I can understand why she's afraid of commitment, losing both her parents like she did. I know what it did to her father when Margaret died, but I can't involve myself in a relationship with no future. I really need the whole package, Maggie, not just the physical side."

"Sounds to me like you're already pretty much involved. No one's ever sure of the future, Mason," she told him sadly, gazing out the window at the softly falling snow. "I had love, with and without the ring, and believe me there are no guarantees."

Mason's heart turned over. How could he be so stupid?

"I'm sorry, Maggie," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder in understanding. "I wasn't thinking."

Laying her hand on his, Maggie nodded, accepting his comfort. Jason chose that moment to barrel into the kitchen. Snatching up a handful of cookies, he danced away as his mother reached out to smack his hand.

"I'm a growing boy," he told her, stuffing in another treat.

"Don't I know it," she laughed. At fourteen he already topped her by several inches. His black hair glowed with a life of its own, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. For a moment, she went back in time and a giant fist clutched her stomach. He looked so much like his father. Panic took her humor and she glanced quickly away from the two men who looked so much alike.

"Why don't you go get the saw and some rope and put it in Mason's truck?" she told Jason sharply.

Mason, surprised at the sudden change in her, went to get his boots and jacket. Carrying them through to the kitchen he put them on, after taking the thermos of coffee Maggie handed him he bent and kissed her cheek.

"Thanks for listening, Maggie."

"Don't mention it, Mace." As he turned to leave she put a hand gently on his arm, stopping him.

"Rebecca loves you very much, Mason. I think she always has. Just give her time."

"That's just it. I don't know how much longer I can...," he stopped, embarrassed. "I just don't want a shotgun wedding, with me holding the gun."

Maggie laughed but when she continued he was surprised at the sadness in her voice. "Not many women can resist the Kord charm for long, Mason. She'll come around."

Mason, wondering what she meant, had a fleeting memory of Maggie dating his older brother, Nicholas. What had it been fifteen, sixteen years ago?

A blowing horn pushed the thought from his mind and telling her not to worry, they wouldn't be late, he hurried to the truck.

# Chapter 7

Rebecca applied extra makeup to hide the circles under her eyes. It had been a long sleepless night, the hours ticking by one after the other until she finally took two sleeping pills. It had seemed like a good idea at four a.m. but when the alarm went off at seven-thirty she knew she would pay for it today. Grimacing at her reflection, she pulled her hair back into a clip, too tired to fuss with it. Dressing, she chose a cheery red skirt and a soft matching sweater hoping the bright color would make her look less washed out, her movements mechanical and sluggish. Her leg throbbed as she slipped on a pair of low red heels, the first she had worn in almost two months. Deciding this was as good as it was going to get, she went into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.

Standing at the window, hands wrapped around the warm cup, she thought about her argument with Mason. Why did he have to be so stubborn? What they had together was good and had the potential to grow even better if he would just lighten up. Making love should be just another part of their relationship, she yawned, not something that might end it. Yes, their romance was perfect just the way it was, why ruin it with promises of forever. Yeah, well, if it's so perfect, why are you standing here half sick with fear that he might decide to call it off any minute. Why are you resorting to sleeping pills just to get some rest?

Rebecca pushed the thoughts aside. Glancing at the clock, she went to the hall closet to get her coat and a wave of dizziness assailed her. Sagging weakly against the closet door, she tried to slip her arm into the sleeve and kept missing. Better not drive today, she told herself and going to the phone she dialed Mason's number. After several minutes, she got through his receptionist and heard his deep voice.

"Yes," he answered, so harshly that for a moment she couldn't respond.

"Mace, it's me," she answered softly.

"Who's me?" he shot back, his voice still hard.

"The woman of your dreams," Rebecca told him sarcastically, peeved that he either didn't recognize her voice or wasn't interested in talking to her.

Mason gave a harsh laugh.

"The woman of my dreams doesn't exist. I have to settle for a stubborn twit who's only interested in my body and doesn't have the sense to know a good offer when she hears one."

Rebecca put a hand to her aching head.

"Oh, please, Mason, let's not fight this early in the day," she sighed. "I'll talk to you later," she told him, deciding she'd rather risk another accident than beg him for a ride when he was in this frame of mind.

"No," he almost yelled into the phone, realizing she was on the verge of hanging up. "What did you call for?" he asked trying to sound reasonable.

"Forget it, Mace, it's not important."

"Now, that's scary considering that it's eight-fifteen in the morning. Add to that the fact that you totaled your car and didn't see fit to call me; I can only assume there is some type of emergency. Let's see," he drawled. "Has there been an earthquake, a flood, or did you decide to sleep with the mailman? After all, this isn't the dark ages. A woman can do just about anything she wants."

The silence at the other end was deafening.

"Well, come on, spit it out. It must be something really special to rate a call to me."

Rebecca held the phone in a death grip. Why she hadn't hung up, she didn't know. "I called to see if you could give me a ride to work because I wasn't feeling well, but faced with the options I think I'd rather chance the traffic," she choked out, so angry she could hardly speak.

Mason groaned. Finally, she needed him and what did he do? Act like a total ass!

"I'll be right there," he told her quickly.

"Don't bother," she shot back. "I won't be."

"Set one foot out of that house and a car accident will seem like a picnic," he growled and before she could get out another word she heard the slam of his receiver.

Mason drove with his usual care but managed to get there in record time just the same. He was surprised to see her new little car in the driveway. Will wonders never cease? She actually did something I told her to, he thought as he parked and got out of the car.

Rebecca was waiting with her coat on and she looked like hell. Her anger had cost her some energy she didn't have to spare and now she was mechanically making the moves that got her ready and out the door. Wondering briefly if this was all due to those stupid pills or if she was really coming down with something, she let Mason help her into the car and sat quietly while he settled himself behind the wheel.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Mason asked gently, unable to understand her docility. She had been ready to come through the phone ten minutes ago and now she was almost sleeping.

He reached over and laid his hand on her forehead to see if she had a fever. Frowning, he felt her cheeks which were flushed, but didn't feel especially warm. Rebecca still didn't say anything, just yawned and settled deeper into the seat.

Puzzled and not a little worried, Mason didn't pursue the reason for her illness, thinking it might be a female problem and not wanting to embarrass either of them. Backing out of the driveway he started toward the senior center, totally amazed that she wasn't ranting and raving at him for the way he'd treated her. Not that he didn't deserve anything she wanted to dish out. She was certainly in no condition to drive to work and he was damn glad she had the sense to realize it.

Full of remorse for the shabby things he'd said, he turned to look at her.

"Honey, I'm really sorry for the way I acted this morning," he told her, navigating the traffic.

Great, she's not even speaking to me. Mason tried again.

"I put in a bad night and there's trouble on the new mall site. Jason insisted on cutting down the tree all by himself and it took forever. Maggie was almost frantic by the time we got home. I'm sorry I took it out on you."

Still no response from Rebecca, she wouldn't even accept his apology and he couldn't really blame her.

"Please talk to me, sweetheart. I said I'm sorry." A soft snore from the other seat was his only answer and when he turned to look at her he found her head down, chin resting on her chest. Golden hair spilled out of her clip and down her coat. Pulling sharply over to the curb he released his seat belt and turned to take her shoulders into his big hands.

"Rebecca," he called softly, fear making his throat tight. "Honey, answer me."

Green eyes flickered open for a moment and a small moan escaped her as she tried to snuggle back into the seat.

Not sure what was wrong with her, Mason made the decision to take her home and call the doctor rather than have her in the local emergency room for hours. Turning the car around in the nearest driveway he drove back to her house. Pulling up into the driveway he jumped out of his vehicle and hurried around to the passenger side. When he opened the door, she almost fell into his arms as he tried to help her out. Giving up, he bent and slipped her gently over his shoulder, striding to the door. Fear made his hands shake as he struggled with the key. Was she too young to have a stroke? Could pneumonia come on this quickly? He tortured himself as he kicked the door open and strode in. Setting her on her feet his hands shook as he removed her coat. She seemed to come to for a moment then.

"Mason?" she questioned, yawning, her eyes barely open. God, she sounded so weak.

"It's all right, honey, I'm here," he told her, trying to be reassuring when he was terrified. "Everything's going to be just fine. Tell me where you hurt, baby. I'm going to get you into bed and call the doctor," he rambled on, scooping her up into his arms and striding down the hall to her room.

"Mason, no...", she tried again, willing her mouth to speak but failing.

When he laid her on the bed she seemed to stop trying to communicate with him and snuggled into the comforter as he removed her shoes and flipped it over her. Even now, he wasn't sure he shouldn't have taken her directly to the hospital but he pushed that thought from his mind and went to find the phone book. His hands shook as he frantically looked for the number of her doctor and finally locating it, he returned to the bedroom to call, not wanting to leave her alone. Reaching for the bedside phone, his eyes fell on the bottle of sleeping pills. Mason's mouth fell open and his hand froze on the phone at the same time he heard a soft snore. Minutes passed and still he stood there as though frozen in time, heart beating rapidly, breathing ragged. Incredulous, he stared from the bottle to the phone clutched in his hand. Putting the phone down with a bang, he couldn't believe what his brain told him. Sleeping pills. Snapping the cap off the bottle he quickly counted the number of pills left. Good, he thought, she only took two. At least I haven't driven her to desperation.

Back and forth from the door to the bed he paced, pausing to peer down into her face he again felt her cheeks. Bending low he listened to her steady breathing. Deceptively calm now, he went back to the phone and dialed her work number, telling Sara that she wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be in today. He then called his office and told them he wouldn't be in for the rest of the day. The tone of his voice was enough to discourage any questions. With the same methodical movements, he picked up the bottle of pills and going into the bathroom, flushed the rest down the toilet. Mason stopped and inspected Rebecca's small form under the white comforter one more time before he went into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. And wait.

A silvery moon was rising by the time Rebecca awoke. Lying for a moment confused and disoriented, she tried to get her thoughts in order. She remembered calling Mason for a ride but after that it was all a haze. Stumbling from the bed she made her way into the bathroom, splashing water on her face.

Rebecca couldn't believe she had gone back to bed. Sara must be worried sick. She had never missed work without calling in before. Hurrying to the door, she opened it and proceeded to walk smack into a broad chest with the impact of a butterfly hitting a brick wall. Strong hands came out to steady her and then dropped as if they couldn't bear to touch her. Pushing the hair out of her face, she looked up into a pair of eyes that were an extraordinary blue gray. Eyes that accused and at the same time mesmerized her. For once, Rebecca was speechless. They played a game of advance and retreat across the bedroom carpet. For every step Mason took toward her, she took two back until her knees were pressed against the bed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, trembling slightly from the sheer tension she sensed in him.

Mason didn't answer, just continued to look down at her until she sat down on the bed, unable to maintain the uncomfortable position of her neck.

"Of all the harebrained things you've done lately, this takes the cake," he roared, at last breaking his silence. Hands on his hips, he began to pace back in forth in front of the bed, looking like a thunder cloud.

Rebecca, still not sure what he was ranting and raving about, decided the best course of action was to let him get whatever it was out of his system. He didn't look like anyone she wanted to tangle with right now.

"Honestly, I don't know what possesses you," he said, stopping to bend and glare at her.

Sitting in the middle of her bed with her legs tucked under her, the fluffy white comforter spread out around her, she looked remarkably innocent. She stared at him with wide green eyes as if he had suddenly sprouted horns. The red skirt was swirled about her and her hands rested in her lap, while her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders.

"Haven't you anything to say for yourself?" he questioned sharply, unable to believe she could manage to look so damn tempting when he was ready to strangle her.

It appeared he was waiting for some sort of answer and when he again leaned over the bed, Rebecca flinched back involuntarily in response.

"Answer me," he roared in frustration, raking a hand through his black hair.

What did one say to a mad man they found wandering their bedroom, she wondered? Swallowing with difficulty, she tried to make her voice sound reasonable, as if she were talking to a small, irrational child.

"I would be happy to answer you, Mason, if I knew what you were talking about."

"Talking about? Talking about?" he shouted, unable to believe what he was hearing. "I'm talking about you taking enough sleeping pills to put you under for at least ten hours and God knows, how many before I found you. I'm talking about you giving me heart failure thinking there was something seriously wrong with you. I almost took you to the hospital and I probably should have. Maybe they would have pumped your stomach. That would have taught you a lesson."

Now that Rebecca knew what was going on it didn't take her long to come to her own defense. Springing to her knees on the bed, she pointed her finger straight at his flaming face and shouted right back, almost toppling over in her zeal.

"For your information, Doctor Kord," she informed him heatedly. "I took two damn pills. How was I supposed to know I'd react like that? Not," she continued leaning precariously toward the end of the bed, "that it's any of your business anyway."

"It's my business when you call me over here and then scare the hell out of me," he told her bending until they were practically nose to nose. "As far as I'm concerned, you're my business and you better get used to it, and while I'm at it I'll tell you one more thing," he continued, leaning so far over her that she was now on her way back down onto the bed. "If you were my wife, which by the way I'm beginning to have serious second thoughts about, you damn well wouldn't have to take pills to get to sleep."

"No, probably not," she shot back. "You could always bore me to sleep with your superior attitude and endless scolding."

"Not likely," he told her with an evil smile. "On nights like this, you'd be crying yourself to sleep, on your tummy, with a roasted bottom. And on nights when you can behave, which something tells me would be few and far between, you would be loved so long and hard, you'd be begging me to let you go to sleep."

Heat shot through Rebecca and the trembling in her limbs unbalanced her. Vivid thoughts of her and Mason in this very bed, overpowered her anger as she gasped in shock, tumbling backwards and landing in a tangle of legs, skirt and bed clothes. His breath fanned over her skin as he followed her down, mere inches separating them. The promise in his blazing eyes forced her to admit he meant every word he said, but at the moment, sleep was the farthest thing from her mind.

Impulsive as always, Rebecca stunned them both when her slim arms came up to circle his neck and pull him the rest of the way down. Her lips meshed with his, as with a groan Mason surrendered to her insistent embrace. She took his weight and welcomed it, despite her small frame.

Mason settled against her, his body responding instantly to her warm softness. Hard and throbbing, he pulled her tightly against him and rolled to the middle of the bed, conscious of his weight even if she wasn't. As always, the feel of her, the scent of her, pushed all other thoughts out of his head and he responded in the only way possible, as a man.

Rebecca's head spun as he rolled with her, and she held on to the only solid thing in her world. Her firm breasts were crushed against his broad chest and her nipples throbbed as her foot rubbed unconsciously up and down his muscled leg.

Strong hands pushed her skirt up and fastened firmly on her silk clad bottom, bringing them even closer together. When he pulled his lips away from hers to fasten on the sensitive cord in her neck, sucking gently, she whispered hoarsely.

"Show me, Mason. Show me what it would be like as your wife."

Mason needed no further prompting. Despite his personal feelings about marriage, he could no more have refused Rebecca than he could have stopped the moon from rising. He slid skirt, pantyhose and panties off her body in one sweep, catching them with his foot and pulling them free. His hands grasped her sweater and pulled it over her head, till the only thing between his hard, questing hands and her soft flesh was her ivory satin camisole. He untied the ribbon with his teeth, exposing some of the creamy skin underneath and drew a ragged breath. Burying his face between the silken orbs, his slight beard scraped against them, the friction making her sigh in ecstasy. Fastening on one pouting nipple, his hot tongue swirled over the thin fabric and then he blew gently. By the time he had given her other breast the same attention, Rebecca's hands were frantically trying to unbuckle his belt. Her hips rocked crazily against the hard, male length of him and placing his hands on her bare bottom he tried to slow her down, holding her even more firmly to him. The feel of her round, firm, cheeks making him fight to keep what restraint he had left.

Rolling to his side, Mason released her and pulled his sweater over his head. As he reached to unbuckle his belt, her lips began a journey across his chest, nipping and sucking, causing his own hands to stumble in their task. She found his small male nipple and lavished it with the same attention he had given hers and she now had the satisfaction of hearing him moan in response. Being the aggressor seemed to inflame Rebecca and when he finally managed to free himself from his clothes she rolled on top of him, determined to wait no longer.

Mason allowed her free rein as she lowered herself onto him and began to rock. His hands traveled over her, marveling at the softness of her skin.

Head thrown back, blonde curls wild about her, Rebecca gave a sob of protest when he lifted her from him, but Mason was not going to be taken so quickly. He'd been in torment for weeks. She wanted a sample of married life and he fully intended to keep his promise. Laying her on her back, his lips began a journey of their own, down her neck and lower.

Across her collar bone he nipped lightly and then kissed it away before she could form a protest. He kissed the insides of her arms to her wrists, sending ripples of sensation through her. The time he spent at her breasts was glorious agony for Rebecca and she alternately pleaded for him to stop and go on. Across her satin stomach Mason trailed hot fire and when his warm moist lips moved lower Rebecca began to shake in mindless passion. Waves of heat radiated out from her hot, damp core and everywhere he touched became a point of light.

Her head rolled back and forth and her breathing was shallow and rapid, when Mason finally answered her pleas and took her, sheathing himself in a long hard thrust. Rebecca lost herself in his arms, no longer sure of where or even who she was. The only thing that mattered was release from weeks of longing.

Up and up he took her, each thrust of his powerful body making her gasp in wonder. The nails of her slender hands scraped the muscled back beneath them and still he went on, taking her on a wild ride into paradise. Never before, had Rebecca felt anything like this overpowering possession. She followed blindly where he led, entrusting to him her very soul. There was no beginning, nor an end, just the present where his magnificent body brought such pleasure she thought she might die of it. The brilliance of a million sunbeams burst suddenly through her and he held her tightly as she spun into the flames, but when she would have sagged back into the bed his strong arms refused to relinquish her and he carried her back into heaven again and again.

Moonlight streamed through the thin bedroom curtains, spilling over the occupants of the bed. Rebecca studied Mason's features, eyes traveling from his forehead, where a lock of jet hair fell, to the strong, determined jaw. Lashes, that would have made any woman envious, remained closed as she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. Just who had put who to sleep here, she thought, smiling to herself. He seemed to be the one out cold. Her innate sense of honesty made her admit to herself, if not to him, that if she hadn't slept most of the day she'd be in the same boat he was. Their lovemaking had left her totally sated and she had, in fact, fallen asleep again for a while, snuggled close in his strong arms.

Rebecca decided to enjoy this rare opportunity to simply lie with him, not arguing, not wanting. It seemed that these two emotions were the only sure ones they had lately. When she wasn't fighting with him, she was a victim of her own passions, needing him with a fierce hunger that left her vulnerable, something she'd sworn never to be.

Now, laying here beside Mason, she was forced to take a long look at herself. She wanted him, admired him, and as much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. It was that very emotion that scared the hell out of her. Could she marry him, sleep with him, even have his children and still manage to maintain the distance she felt was necessary to her survival? Would she be able to protect herself?

She knew he was operating under a different game plan. He too, had been hurt. His parents had divorced and his father was not a man Mason was proud of. The relationship he had with his brother, Nicholas, was a strong one even though they saw each other infrequently. The childhood he'd experienced was much harsher in some ways than hers, yet he managed to come out pretty much unscathed. Yes, he saw things differently. You fall in love, marry, and raise your children, happily ever after, right? Rebecca didn't believe it for a minute. Could she marry him anyway, enjoy the time they had together and still be ready if and when their happiness was brutally snatched away from them?

Sighing, Rebecca rolled over and laid her head on his chest. She was a realist, took each day as it came, never expecting happiness but treasuring it when it came. Were they too different to make it work?

This is the problem, she thought, as his hands began to roam her body once again, rolling her over and gently massaging the tension from her shoulders. When he touches me all my good sense seems to dissolve into puddles which he goes merrily splashing through. Sighing, Rebecca turned over and reached for him. When his warm lips closed over hers, thought became a thing of the past, and sensation ruled the night.

The rich smell of coffee brewing tickled Mason's senses until he opened his eyes. Glancing at the bedside clock, he groaned, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Cupping his hands behind his head, he took in the room's disorder. His clothes were strewn everywhere, tangled with wispy underthings. One boot was in the bedside chair and the other against the wall where it had flown, when he impatiently kicked them off. Stretching, he wondered where Rebecca had gotten to and getting out of bed made his way naked to the bathroom, his long muscular legs disappearing just as she came through the bedroom door.

Rebecca, dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, began picking up articles of clothing and straightening the room. She could hear the shower running and laid his neatly folded clothes on the now made bed. Brushing her hair, she quickly braided it and left the room, not wanting to be there if he came out in all his glory. She needed to keep a clear head if they were going to sort this thing out.

By the time Mason appeared in the cheery kitchen, there were scrambled eggs and bacon waiting. The coffee was fresh and hot and while she busied herself around the kitchen, he sipped the fragrant brew.

He was a man of mixed emotions. Entirely disgusted with himself and his inability to keep his hands off of her, yet deeply satisfied from a long night of intense lovemaking, Mason stared down into his cup trying to come to grips with his feelings. So, withdrawn was he that it took several seconds before he realized she'd been speaking to him.

"I accept," she finished, obviously expecting some type of response.

Pulling himself back to the present, he stared at her, watching as she twisted the dishcloth nervously between her hands.

"Accept what?" he asked, somewhat confused.

"Your proposal," she told him, looking at him as if she'd like to smack him with the wet weapon in her hands. Now, that she had finally come to a decision she couldn't believe he was being so obtuse. Unless he'd changed his mind. Now, that she thought about it, he had mentioned 'second thoughts'. Flinging down the wet cloth, she stormed over to the table and picked up the plate of untouched food, wanting nothing more than to dump it over his head.

"Are you finished with this?" she almost shouted at a totally bemused Mason. Not waiting for a reply, she returned to the sink and dumped the entire contents down the garbage disposal, flipping the switch with maniacal glee.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he shouted back at her, rising to his feet, unable to comprehend the entire situation.

"Nothing," she snapped, grabbing the broom and sweeping so haphazardly that he backed up when she came near him. He didn't have his boots on yet and little as she was, she looked like she could do real damage with that broom.

Rebecca knew she was acting crazily but she couldn't seem to stop. After spending a good part of the early morning hours agonizing over this, he didn't even care enough to listen to her. Obviously, marriage was the farthest thing from his mind. She almost chased him across the floor, sweeping ever closer to his size thirteen feet as he danced out of her way. The very fact that she finally decided to become his wife and he hadn't even been listening to her, inflamed her to the point that, throwing caution to the wind, she swung the broom at his butt with enough force to make her lose her balance.

"That's it," he growled, snatching the broom effortlessly away from her and slinging her under his arm like he was carrying a bag of feed. Striding to the living room, he totally ignored her curses and struggles and sitting on the couch, pulled her unceremoniously over his knees.

"I'm willing to put up with a lot from you, Rebecca, but I will not tolerate being beaten with a broom. Do I make myself clear?" he questioned, peppering her bottom with quick hard smacks as she struggled to get out of his grasp.

Rebecca refused to give him the satisfaction of pleading for him to stop, even though her backside was beginning to throb. I will not cry, she told herself over and over, gritting her teeth as the spanking reached epic proportions. As she fought to catch her breath, he continued to tenderize her bottom, and she wondered how on earth she had managed to land herself in this position again and how she could have fallen in love with a man who thought it was absolutely okay to spank her?

Pausing for breath, Mason struggled with his temper and continued with another round of blistering swats until he finally pulled her up and plopped her down beside him.

"I don't pretend to know what happened between last night and this morning that could possibly make you so irrational, but I wish you'd enlighten me. I would like to remind you that even though you slept the day away, for all intents and purposes, I happen to have had very little sleep in the last twenty-four hours, so tread lightly darlin'," he continued.

"Maybe you had more sleep than you realize," she taunted. "I was awake to hear you snoring."

"If you're trying to imply that my promise to you went unfulfilled, I have the scratches to prove you a liar, not to mention we could probably check with any number of your neighbors, I'm sure they heard you."

"Oh," she squealed, throwing a couch pillow directly at his head. "How dare you say such a thing?"

"You started this, honey and I'm prepared to finish it, and if you think it's demeaning to cry out in pleasure, rest assured I found it extremely erotic. Apparently, I gave you the wrong sleeping remedy last night, but I'm prepared to fix that right now. If you'd like I can continue," he told her beginning to roll up his sleeves. Seeing her face flame with embarrassment was its own reward and Mason couldn't conceal his grin.

"Isn't it time you went to work?" she questioned haughtily, turning her face away from him.

"It's Saturday," he told her, really smiling now. "But I'll understand if your recent ah... ordeal has made you lose track of time."

"I have not lost track of anything but my wits," she informed him jumping up from the couch. "To think I was trying to tell you I'd mar...," she laughed shortly. "I must have been out of my mind."

Grasping her shoulders, Mason looked deeply into her eyes and Rebecca could have bitten her unruly tongue. Trust Mason to make her lose her temper to the point she just couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"What?" he demanded, staring at her intently.

"Nothing."

"What did you just say, Rebecca?"

"Now, that I have your undivided attention, Mason, I seem to have forgotten what I was going to say," she told him, pleased to see his face growing red now.

Mason's hands shook and when he pushed her back down onto the couch she actually laughed. Good, no sense in just one of us being mad.

"Fine," he growled stomping into the bedroom to retrieve his boots. "When it comes to you, call me," he told her snatching up his leather jacket and flinging it over one shoulder. As he reached the door his hand on the knob her voice stopped him.

"Mason," she called, apparently not the least bit upset by his anger.

"What?" he snapped, turning to look at her over his shoulder, teeth clenched.

"Thanks for the preview. The main event was four stars, but your before and after could use a little work," she told him, lounging on the couch now, legs crossed. "Just thought you might want to know." After the door slammed, Rebecca threw herself down on the couch and cried.

Mason spent the rest of his day catching up on paperwork at the office. The plans for the shopping mall had been finalized and they were to begin work in the spring. The problems they'd had early on had been worked out to everyone's satisfaction and Mason was pleased with the way things were progressing, he wished Rebecca was as easy to manage as a 2.3-billion-dollar project.

Setting down his pencil, he stretched and flipped his feet up on the desk, leaning back comfortably in the leather chair. Not bad for a man who had come up the hard way, he thought, closing his eyes and remembering the lean years when his father had deserted them and he and his brother, Nicholas, had taken every odd job they could find to help put food on the table.

His mother worked hard, but twenty-five years ago a woman wasn't always paid what she was worth. It had been tough for her, raising two boys and fighting to hang on to their home, but she'd done it. He smiled, remembering the many times he and Nick managed to be hanging out with Rory and Patrick O'Malley right around supper time. Their parents were good people and fed them, more often than not, while their mother worked, most of the time struggling to put food on the table. Although, he had a good head for business and wasn't easily influenced, he had to admit the O'Malley's kindness to two young boys was one of the reasons he'd hired Maggie O'Malley Cassidy when she'd come looking for a job. It had not been a mistake.

A few years later, when his mother married Joshua Campbell, it had gotten easier for her, but Mason and Nicholas hadn't felt right about accepting his help. It was expected that he take care of their mother, but after the raw deal they'd been dealt with their own dad, they had a hard time trusting anyone else. Mason and his brother had been very close, depending only on each other. By the time Nicholas was working his way through college, Mason was working part time in Moran's Hardware store and over the next few years Mason learned to trust and respect him.

Rebecca's father was everything his wasn't: dependable, fair, hardworking and honest. Yes, Jake Moran was just about the best friend he'd ever had, despite the difference in their ages. Mason had already learned to accept what life handed him, but Jake had taught him to make the most of every opportunity.

Jake was also that rare breed of man who could see the humor in everyday situations and he taught the serious Mason to see it too. Mace was convinced that Jake was watching and probably getting a great deal of enjoyment out of the merry chase his daughter was leading him on.

Mason, on the other hand, was not laughing. In fact, he was downright aggravated. Convinced she had been about to say she'd marry him, he had wracked his brain trying to come up with a reason for her change of heart. After much consideration he finally came to the conclusion that it was just her general contrariness and he had a good mind to ignore her and let her stew in her own juices for a while. Mason smiled at the thought, all but giving himself a pat on the back. She'll start backtracking fast enough when I stop chasing her, he tried to convince himself. He'd probably have his ring on her finger by Valentine's Day.

Extremely pleased with both the work he'd accomplished and the decision he'd made, Mason locked up the office and headed home, looking forward to a good night's sleep. Unfortunately, he failed to consider what plans Rebecca might be making.

# Chapter 8

Snow was falling softly as Rebecca's carolers made their way to the nursing home. Rebecca listened patiently to Mary's chatter on the ride to Harland Home. This was the home Mary's husband, Bill, was in and she was terribly excited. Bill was bedridden from a stroke and in a great deal of pain and although it had broken Mary's heart to place him there, she also knew she couldn't give him the care he needed. Mary visited him every day and kept him up to date on the small town's goings on. Often, she would stay and have her dinner with him and thought nothing of going down to the kitchen and sharing some of his favorite recipes with the staff. Even after sixty-two years of marriage, one of Mary's top priorities was that Bill eat right.

Arriving at the home, Mary led the way into the building. The residents were assembled in the community room and a special area was cleared for the singers. The children began the program with _Away in a Manger_ and then began to pass out gifts, as the seniors joined in and sang a rousing rendition of _Deck the Halls, Jingle Bells, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town_. They continued with traditional hymns and took a break to enjoy cookies and punch, visiting with each resident.

Watching the faces of the elderly folks, Rebecca forgot her aching feet. The ladies were dressed in their best for the occasion, some with ribbons in their hair or other adornments. Rebecca was glad she had chosen a festive red dress with a green and red Christmas scarf. The mood was one of celebration and good cheer and when they began to sing again they asked their audience to join in.

The closing of their program was _Silent Night_ and they dimmed the lights. All of them seemed to be watching the star on the top of the Christmas tree glow brightly. The beautiful hymn was sung with reverence and heart and Rebecca's eyes misted, wondering how many of these people were alone in the world, sharing a moment of peace and love with friendly strangers.

The lights came up and the happy carolers trouped out of the room to heartfelt applause, starting down the corridors of the home. They stopped at each occupied room for a few minutes, and Mary spoke to several of the friends she had made, introducing the group in general. Rebecca didn't know how much of their response Mary heard, but her smile went a long way toward making up for her hearing difficulty. When they reached Bill Havens' room, Mary hung back for a moment, squeezing Rebecca's hand. Laying her hand on Rebecca's smooth cheek she gazed wistfully at the soft, glowing skin under it, and then squared her thin shoulders.

"You've done a good thing here, Rebecca," she told her looking intently into Rebecca's eyes. Misty green eyes smiled into faded blue and understanding Mary's emotions, Rebecca was not surprised when Mary stayed a little way back in the group. As they sang _Oh Holy Night_ , her sweet clear voice rang out and Bill Havens' eyes found her without fail. The wrinkled face lit up with love and pride and it was obvious he wasn't seeing a frail, bent old woman, but the lovely young girl he'd married so many years ago. He was seeing with his heart. When he reached out in her direction, Mary went to him, clasping his large hand in her small one. The light shining in her eyes as she finished the song brought a lump to Rebecca's throat. This is forever she thought, for no matter who should go first, their love for each other would live on.

The group filed quietly out, giving Mary and Bill a few minutes alone. Rebecca quickly wiped away a tear. No one could watch the elderly couple without remembering a loved one of their own but when Mary came out of the room she refused to cave into emotions and led them down the hall singing her own rendition of _Rocking around the Christmas Tree_. Rebecca smiled through her tears and joined in.

Back at the senior center, Rebecca thanked each caroler with a homemade ornament. Transportation arrangements went off without a hitch and she locked up the building after everyone had gone. The sky was clear, stars twinkling brightly, the air crisp. Walking to her car, Rebecca was overwhelmed with the beauty of the night. It was a night to be shared and suddenly, sadness assailed her. She was as much alone as some of those people, but she didn't have their excuses. The choices she'd made were her own, not forced on her by poor health and age. No one there had chosen to be alone, but she'd chosen just that for herself. Did she have the courage to change it? She hadn't heard from Mason and Christmas was three days away. The wind suddenly seemed much colder and she hurried to her car.

Rebecca juggled the bag of groceries in one arm, while inserting her key into Mason's door. After spending the day torn by emotions, she finally decided to put things right. She knew she'd not only acted immature, but hastily. Mason was probably the only man on earth who could drive her to distraction, but he was also the only one she loved. Much as she had misgivings about marriage, she realized that living without him was just as unacceptable and it was time she faced facts. It was all or nothing with Mace. Yes, she could seduce him into her bed, but Rebecca wanted more. She wanted what Mary and Bill Havens had. Wanted to experience the kind of love that overcomes all obstacles and flourishes. A love that defies time. When she had seen their shining eyes, Rebecca suddenly and clearly understood that sometimes you took your chances and cherished every moment.

Kicking off her shoes, she padded across the deep chocolate colored carpet. She loved Mason's apartment, the warm tones, and the plush oversized furniture. It was a man's home, comfortable, yet functional and as always, neat as a pin. Going through the dining room and into the kitchen, she glanced out the French doors at the twinkling skyline. Maybe after they were married, she would give up the house and move in here until they bought a house together. It was time to give up the past and look to the future, and living in a home that had known so much sadness was probably not a good thing.

Shaking off her somber mood, Rebecca began to prepare the special meal she'd planned. Putting the bottle of wine in the fridge, she then set to work seasoning the small roast she'd bought. Next came the potatoes, which she peeled and set in cold water until it was time to add them to the roast. The meal was designed to be a man pleaser with roast beef, potatoes, carrots, onions and crisp hot bread.

After making sure all was progressing in the kitchen, she went back down to her car and grabbed a bag with her clothes and another with a beautiful linen tablecloth. There were also candles and linen napkins, as she wasn't sure what Mason had and she wanted everything to be perfect. Returning upstairs she proceeded to set the table, using his good china and crystal, making sure everything was placed just right for an intimate dinner for two. After checking the roast and the time, she added the vegetables and put the loaf of French bread on a baking sheet. Picking up her bag, she went into the luxuriously appointed bathroom.

Humming quietly, she sat her toiletries on the marble counter top and hung up the shimmery crimson dress she had chosen for the occasion. Adjusting the shower to the right temperature she got in, the warm pulsating spray washing away her tensions. Rebecca began to sing, quite loudly. Then, while washing her hair and continuing her feminine ritual she relaxed further, enjoying the acoustics of Mason's bathroom.

Mason let himself in the door just about the same time Rebecca was stepping out of the shower. His eyes traveled from the high heels lying on the carpet by the door, to the glittering table in the dining room. The smells coming from the kitchen were wonderful and Mason felt a pang of regret that all this effort hadn't been for him.

When Nick called to say he'd be coming in for the holidays, Mason figured he'd meant alone, but when he heard muffled singing coming from the bathroom, he decided to grab a change of clothes before high tailing it out of there. The table was only set for two and this had all the makings of a private dinner. Either Nick brought a woman with him or he was a better man than Mace had given him credit for, as he'd only been in town a few hours. Smiling, he quickly crossed to the bedroom door, listening before he knocked softly. It sure hadn't taken Nick long to find some female company.

Rebecca toweled her hair and left the wet curls to dangle down her back. Wrapping the towel around her, she peered into the mirror. It was steamed up and on impulse she decided to make use of Mason's bedroom to dress. Opening the connecting door, she padded into the room and went directly to the dresser, her feet making no noise on the thick cream carpet. Glancing into the mirror she froze. Lying propped up in the king-sized bed was a large naked chest, a hairy masculine chest, attached to an equally masculine face that was smiling in a totally unconcerned way.

Mortified, Rebecca could only stand speechless, staring at the reflection of Mason's brother Nick. The sudden opening of the door startled her to the point she almost lost the towel and she turned stunned, when Mason strode in. Embarrassment seemed to be the prevalent emotion in the quiet room, but Nick's obvious amusement came in second.

Mason reeled from the sight that met his eyes. Nick, apparently naked in his bed, and Rebecca, also naked but for a skimpy towel was more than his brain could take in.

His inability to move gave Rebecca the edge and she stumbled back into the bathroom, slamming the door and sagging against it, face buried in her hands, lungs fighting to draw breath. Hearing Mason's roar and Nick's laughter did little to settle her nerves and when Mason's voice got louder she dropped the towel and swiftly locked the door, seconds before his hand tried the knob.

"What the hell is going on here?" he shouted through the door, causing Rebecca to actually retreat from it even though it was securely locked.

Nick, it appeared, was content to lounge on the bed and watch the scene playing out before him. He wasn't sure what was going on, but it was damned interesting.

"Rebecca, open this damned door," Mason continued, not even making an attempt to control his rage.

"I'm not dressed," she shouted back, hating the shaky sound of her voice. What the hell was Nick doing in Mason's bed anyway?

"So what," came his angry response. "Obviously, it didn't bother you to parade around damn near butt naked in front of my brother. Are you trying to keep it in the family?"

"Now, wait just a minute there, little brother!" Nick finally responded, climbing out of bed and pulling on his pants. "I am not into that sort of thing and furthermore, I had no idea whose lovely voice was coming from the bathroom until she walked in here."

Rebecca, hearing the insulting tone of Mason's voice, was growing more steamed by the second. How dare he insinuate there was something going on between her and his brother. If he'd bothered to inform her that Nicholas was in town, she'd have made other arrangements. Dressing quickly, she prepared for battle, preferring to speak her piece face to face but wanting to have the advantage of being dressed to do it.

"All I know is that I come home to find my brother stark naked in bed and my woman close to it in the same room, and somebody had better do some pretty fancy explaining."

Mason's voice was dangerously low now, and Rebecca could picture his clenched jaw and flashing blue gray eyes. For a second, she wavered and almost slipped out the other door, leaving him to his own jealous imagination, but she had done nothing wrong and she'd be damned if she'd leave without at least telling him so.

Opening the door, she stepped into the room.

"It's all right, Nick," she told him, the light of battle in her eyes. "I'll take care of the explaining."

Mason's heart stopped in his chest. Rebecca stood in the dim room, the soft light spilling from the bathroom almost giving her a glow. The red dress she was wearing hugged her curves like a second skin, accentuating her small waist and full breasts. The thin spaghetti straps didn't look strong enough to hold all that loveliness in and his mouth went dry as he studied her. Her golden curls framed her delicate face and his stomach clenched in anguish at the thought of her with his brother. When she began to speak he had a hard time taking in her words; stunned by the breathtaking sight of her short flaming dress, silky legs and red high heels. His desire, in spite of the situation, blinded him to reason and he began to sweat, clenching his hands into tight fists.***

"I came over here tonight with the intention of trying to work things out with you, Mason. I've missed you. The dinner was my way of a peace offering, to make up for dumping your breakfast and attacking you with the broom."

Nick's eyes widened at this and he quickly turned away, clearing his throat suspiciously. Rebecca continued undaunted, determined to convince Mason that despite the evidence to the contrary, the situation was really totally innocent. She kept her voice calm, even though she was shaking inside. A frizzle of fear streaked down her spine. Fear that he wouldn't believe her mingled with anger at herself for getting herself into this situation. She also felt a little disappointed. Mason was so obviously ready to believe the worst of her.

"I had no idea your brother was here and it never occurred to me that I wasn't alone in the apartment. I decided to shower and dress here, because I wouldn't have had time to cook the roast and run home before you got here. I wanted everything to be perfect tonight. I hope you will see reason, Mason, and understand that this was just an unfortunate chain of events."

"You really expect me to believe that?" he queried, wavering between what he'd seen with his own eyes and what seemed quite logical when spoken by the vision before him.

Rebecca sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. It hurt to think that he doubted not only her fidelity but something she'd always prided herself on, her honesty. For a moment, tears threatened but fearing she was about to make a complete fool of herself, not only in front of Mason but Nick as well, she stiffened her spine and smiling defiantly into Mason's eyes, she did something she never did. She lied through her teeth.

"You're right, of course, Mason," she told him sadly. "I don't know how I could have thought you so gullible." Gliding across the room to Nick's side, she slipped her arm around him and leaned into his warmth. If Nick was surprised he hid it well and when Rebecca launched into a new explanation, it was all he could do not to applaud her spirit.

"The truth is, Mason, Nick and I have been carrying on a long-distance romance for years. I came over here today hoping to prepare an exceptional four course dinner, make passionate love to your brother, shower, serve him dinner in my towel, clean up the kitchen and dining room, dress, remove all traces of myself from the bathroom, pack up my linens, and candles etcetera, and be gone before you got home." Raising her chin haughtily, she smiled up at Nick.

"Come on, darling; let's enjoy our meal since we no longer have to hide from your little brother."

"Certainly, sweetheart," Nick replied. "Maybe when my pig-headed brother realizes how badly he has misjudged us both, we can scrape up some dinner for him." Smiling at Rebecca, Nick slipped on his shirt and gallantly held out his arm for her, escorting her from the room.

It took Rebecca exactly ten minutes to put a meal on the table and although the presentation wasn't as elaborate as she'd planned, it was exceptionally good.

Nicholas flipped a dish towel across his arm, seated Rebecca at the table, and opened the wine with all the flair of the most experienced maître d'. While he poured, Rebecca smiled gratefully over the rim of her crystal glass.

"Not exactly the dinner nor company you had in mind is it, my beauty?" he crooned, twisting an imaginary mustache and raising his eyebrows in a very bad imitation of who she thought was Snidely Whiplash.

"Beauty much prefers your company to that of the beast in the other room," she countered, laughing. This fiasco was unbelievable and she was grateful for Nick's attempt to keep the mood light. Her appetite was virtually nonexistent but she picked dutifully at her food. Pride kept her there, when all she really wanted to do was go home and cry her heart out. How ironic that she'd finally been ready to accept the happiness fate had been offering, only to have it snatched away. She should have known better.

Nick refused to let the conversation lapse, asking her about her job, how soon she would graduate, and her hobbies. He was attentive and charming and soon Rebecca felt herself relaxing. Studying him in the glow of the lamp, Rebecca couldn't help but notice how attractive he really was. Silver threads were woven throughout his glossy, black hair. His eyes were bright blue without the stormy quality of his brothers'. The tiny laugh lines added character, rather than age, to his handsome face and when he genuinely laughed at something she said, Rebecca was startled, a feeling of déjà vu washing over her. He reminded her of someone else. That beautiful flashing smile, the flawless teeth, struck a strange cord in her. Her mind tried for a moment to make the connection. It must be that Mason and he were so much alike, but it wasn't Mason's laugh, Mason's smile. A frown creased her brow and Nick immediately began telling her about his life in Colorado, describing the majestic mountains and breathtaking wonder of his home and it was obvious to Rebecca that, although not a native, he loved it too much to stay away for long.

"When do you go back?" she inquired softly.

"Right after the first of the month," he told her, pushing his plate aside. "What are your plans for Christmas?"

Rebecca's eyes went involuntarily to the bedroom door, her longing clearly revealed to Nick. "We're having a Christmas party at the senior center but after that..."

Damn Mason, he thought, pushing back his chair and beginning to clear the table. He needed a swift kick in the butt and he was just the one to give it to him. His lack of faith in this girl, who was obviously very much in love with him, was appalling, but for him to think his own brother would...

"Would you like me to make coffee?" Rebecca asked, following Nick into the kitchen.

"Sure. I was hoping you weren't planning on running off. I make a mean Irish coffee."

"Not for me, thanks. I've had a long day and I'm driving, but I'd be glad to put on a pot if you want."

Nick took the plate she was scraping out of her hands. "I'll do that," he told her. "It's the least I can do to thank you for that great meal. The only cooking I get is my own and I hate to admit it, but microwave dinners are about the tastiest dish I can prepare.

Rebecca laughed. "It takes a brave man to admit that," she told him, wiping off the counters while he started the dishes. "In this day and age, you're supposed to be not only self-sufficient, but loving it."

"Yeah, well, there are certain things a man still needs a woman for and at this point in my life, cooking is right up there in the top three."

"I'm afraid to ask what the other two are," Rebecca teased, leaning against the counter and sipping the last of her wine.

Her lovely head was tilted to the side, golden hair spilling over her breast. Her green eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter and the dress she wore was temptation itself.

Nick cleared his throat. He almost answered her truthfully before forcing himself to remember that regardless of what either of them might insist at this moment, she belonged to his brother.

"Why to wash my car and take my suits to the cleaners," he told her turning back to the sink, apparently completely serious. "Not to mention, I hate cleaning the oven."

"Now, I know why you're still single," she laughed, pulling away from the counter and dangling her glass in front of him.

Taking it out of her hand, Nick proceeded to wash it and the rest of the dishes, grumbling something about women never being satisfied.

By the time the kitchen was in order, Rebecca had packed up all her paraphernalia. Despite their easy banter, there was a deep sadness in her eyes when she kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Nick," she told him softly.

"My pleasure, honey," he responded, giving her a warm hug.

Nick walked her to her car; made sure she was safely locked in, and told her to give a call when she got home. Then he returned to the apartment. He had a few well-chosen words for his stubborn brother.

"You acted like a jerk," he stated, shoving open the bedroom door and striding into the room. Mason was lying on the bed, hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"I know."

"A jealous, insensitive, jerk."

"I know."

"What the hell were you thinking? I'm your brother for Christ's sake."

"I know."

"The least you could have done was come out and apologize."

"I know."

"Is that all you can say?" Nick demanded his hands on his hips, clearly pissed.

Mason sat up and ran his hands through his hair.

"I admit I was wrong, overreacted, but at the time it seemed that there was no other reasonable explanation. I'm in love with her," he continued, as if that explained everything and getting to his feet he began to pace.

Nick stood stock still, watching the anguish on Mason's face, torn between sympathy and that good swift kick. He'd been in love once, so much in love that he'd been blinded to deception, but this was not the case here. Rebecca had truly been innocent of any wrong doing.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Nick asked.

"I don't know."

Nick swore softly.

"You'd damn well better find out."

"Nick, you don't know what that little hellion has put me through," Mason ground out. "I can't begin to figure her out and I don't have a clue how to handle her."

"Handle her! Hell, man, you handle your car, your business, your bank account, you don't handle your woman. You love her. And you trust her, until she gives you reason not to. And occasionally you give her a damn good spanking to remind her whose woman she is and what is acceptable behavior and what is not."

Shaking his head in disgust, Nick started out of the room but Mason's hand on his arm stopped him.

"What makes you such an expert?" Mason demanded. "I don't see a ring on your finger or a passel of little ones calling you daddy?"

"Experience and good sense" Nick replied, answering, yet not answering the question.

"Don't give me that bull. You don't know what it's been like. Rebecca isn't like other women. Just hearing her voice on the phone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up and it isn't from desire, it's plain, old-fashioned fear. I never know what she's going to do next. She's a flake, a flirt and absolutely fantastic in bed. I love the way she looks, smells, and sips her coffee. I can't imagine life without her and life with her is making me crazy. What happened here tonight might be a once in a lifetime experience for most women but with Rebecca this kind of thing is to be expected. If a few days go by without some kind of catastrophe, I actually begin to sweat. In the last six weeks: she's forgotten to eat, wrecked her car, broken her foot, overdosed on sleeping pills, beaten me with a broom, and ended up damn close to naked in the same room with another man. No insult intended. Add to that the times she has made love to me until I could hardly move. She doesn't believe in marriage and apparently birth control is the farthest thing from her mind. I'm telling you, that woman is a menace to herself and every red blooded American male and if I can't convince her it's me she's supposed to spend the rest of her life with, I'm afraid some other man will realize just how absolutely priceless she is."

By the time he was finished, Mason was out of breath and shaking and Nick was grinning like a fool.

"Wow, little brother," he said putting his arm around Mace's shoulders and guiding him out to the kitchen. "You've got it bad, real, bad. Sit right down here and let old Nick make you a cup of his special Irish coffee," he said eyes twinkling.

"I once knew a girl like Rebecca and I also loved her desperately. I, however, did not have a big brother to guide and advise me and I lost her," he continued confidently. "That's not going to happen to you."

Mason accepted the hot coffee gratefully but could not contain the snort of disbelief.

"Trust me," Nick grinned, and surprisingly Mason did.

# Chapter 9

Rebecca stretched and rubbed the small of her back. The last few days had been rough getting ready for this dinner, now it was almost over. The Christmas party was in full swing as she helped herself to a cup of black coffee from the big urn. Laughter and music flowed from the dining room into the kitchen but Rebecca wasn't tempted to join in the festivities. All she wanted to do was get this mess cleaned up and collapse on Maggie's couch with a glass of wine. She felt small and selfish, wishing the day was over, but the Christmas spirit had somehow escaped her this year. Not being able to find anyone to play Santa had been the last straw and she'd gritted her teeth and rented the last suit to be had anywhere in town, determined not to let her misery intrude on her friend's celebration.

"Aren't you going to have anything to eat dear?" Mary Havens asked, coming into the kitchen just as Rebecca started to scrape plates.

"No, I'm really not very hungry, Mary," Rebecca replied forcing a smile.

"You really should come and join the fun. The idea of having forty's music was perfect. You should see some of those old codgers 'cutting the rug'," Mary laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day. Mr. Jackson just tried to dip the widow Clark. Ha, they almost landed in the punch bowl."

Rebecca couldn't contain her amusement as Mary hurried back into the other room. She giggled to herself, imagining the portly widow held up in Ray Jackson's spindly arms. Sighing, she hurried on with her work. A troop of local Girl Scouts had volunteered to help clean up but as of yet, they hadn't arrived. It couldn't be soon enough as far as she was concerned. With their help and a little luck, she would be out of here by seven.

Rebecca pushed the question of just why she was in such a hurry to get to Maggie's out of her mind. It had absolutely nothing to do with Mason, she told herself. Besides, at the rate things were going, he'd be gone when she got there and it was just as well. He'd left a dozen messages on her machine, all of which she ignored. His deep voice had grown more frustrated with each call and the last one was not the voice of anyone she wanted to see in the near future. A small shudder wracked her body thinking of the threatening tone he'd used when he tried to calmly explain to her machine just how childish he considered her behavior and if he didn't hear from her in the next twenty-four hours, she might not have the opportunity to say anything at all.

Rebecca took his growled remark to mean that call would be the last one he'd make, and it appeared she was right as there hadn't been a message since. Her hands trembled slightly when she pushed the button on her machine last night, but the only message was from Maggie, reminding her to come by as soon as she finished today, and to tell the truth she was looking forward to a little female companionship.

Mason had her on edge for weeks now and she was just about tired of it. If this was love then she could learn to do without it, she told herself. The uncertainty, the sexual frustration, the heartache and worrying were all taking their toll. Mason sent her flowers and candy, but that only made her madder. Did he think he could buy his way out of this one? Not hardly. She had no intention of tying herself to a man that not only didn't trust her but was a bossy tyrant besides. About one more "Rebecca" spoken in that intimidating tone of voice and she'd promised herself she'd sock him right in the nose.

The sound of excited chatter pulled her back to the present and she turned to let her helpers in the back door. Seven teenage girls from Troop Thirty-Seven entered, giggling and full of Christmas excitement. Rebecca looked around the cluttered kitchen and the stack of dirty dishes and sagged in relief. Thank goodness, the cavalry has arrived she thought, smiling.

"If you girls want to hang up your coats in the other room, I'd sure appreciate the help."

"Sure, Miss Moran," Stacy Jacobs answered. "Sorry, we're a little late getting here. I had to wait for my dad to take my grandparents home before I could get the van and gather up the other girls. Has Santa Claus arrived yet?" she asked with a wink, blue eyes twinkling. At seventeen, Stacy was the obvious leader of the group. Her sparkling personality and pretty appearance made her a favorite around the small community and she was always ready to lend a hand at the center.

"Not yet," Rebecca responded with a grin. "But now that you're all here I'm sure he won't be long. I'll just see what's keeping him."

Rebecca sauntered off through the dining room, pausing here and there to chat, unobtrusively heading towards the storeroom where her Santa suit was hidden. She'd dressed for the part in knee high black suede boots and a jade green calf length dress that had a cinched waist but a very full skirt, thinking that if she gathered the dress up and stuffed it into her red furry costume pants it would give her added fullness around the middle. Her hair was pulled back in a gold clip that could easily be used to gather it into a mass under her hat.

Rebecca had just put her hand on the doorknob to her hiding place when a boisterous " _Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas_ ," stopped her cold. Turning in surprise, she looked across the room to see a man who looked so much like St. Nick she was almost fooled.

His Santa suit was a perfect fit but hid his identity effectively. Rebecca was so tired at this point, she didn't much care who the good-hearted soul who'd answered her prayers was. He portrayed Santa much better than she ever could and she smiled and went across the room to greet him.

"Well, look who's here," she called, making sure everyone's attention was on the big stranger. "How nice of you to stop in, Santa."

"My pleasure. It does my heart good to see so many folks enjoying themselves on Christmas. Too many people are just too plain stubborn to admit to being lonely and spend the holiday alone."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed as she squinted across the small distance separating them. The way the man pronounced the word stubborn sounded vaguely familiar but she pushed the thought out of her mind. She noticed now, that the man towered over everyone in the room and it appeared his spectacles were slightly tinted, hiding his eyes. Shrugging her shoulders, Rebecca advanced with a firm step extending her hand. After all, what did it really matter if she knew Santa's identity or not? The very fact that he'd taken time out of his own holiday to brighten up their day made him special in her book.

"I'm very glad you could come," she said, but when instead of taking her hand, he bypassed it pulling her up against his side in a firm grip, she gulped. His hold, though not painful, was unbreakable and she began to have second thoughts when she tried to gently disengage herself and couldn't move an inch.

"Has everyone been good this year?" his voice boomed across the room, taking the attention off Rebecca and back onto him.

"Shoot, can't be anything else at our age," Ed called back sounding disgruntled and bringing a round of laughter from the crowd.

Santa shook with laughter too, bringing Rebecca even closer if that were possible. Trying to smile, Rebecca refused to struggle with someone twice her size and alarm the seniors. The best thing would be to divert their attention for a moment so she could get free. Perspiration broke out on her forehead as she realized that this man could be anyone dressed up like Santa, even a criminal.

"What have you brought us in your bag, Santa?" Rebecca spoke up, trying not to let fear alter her voice.

"If he's got what I want in that bag, I'll die a happy man," Ray Jackson called out, winking at his widow friend and causing her to blush profusely.

"I'm not sure what you're looking for, friend," Santa responded with a chuckle and a wink, "but at your age you must have learned that when you want something you're better off to get right to it."

"Darn straight," Ray shot back. "Now, where's that mistletoe got to?"

The hoots of laughter and good-natured ribbing were enough of a distraction that Rebecca was able to bring her heeled boot down hard on Santa's instep, freeing her instantly.

"Oh, Santa," she cooed, backing away. "I'm so sorry, let me get you some refreshments while you hand out your packages." A niggling suspicion had begun to form in her mind. She felt instinctively that she knew this man but her panic at his refusal to release her had baffled her senses. It'll come to me, she thought, as she hurried away to refill the punch bowl and add more cookies to the platters.

Watching him circulate the room a little while later, Rebecca still felt a fissure of fear. He talked and joked easily with the group and even danced a waltz with Mary. Santa had handed out corsages to all the ladies and boutonnieres to all the men. Each person also received a gift certificate for dinner at a local restaurant. Well, whoever he was, he certainly wasn't cheap.

Rebecca slipped into the ladies' room and unfastened the clip in her hair. Golden curls tumbled free and she massaged her scalp for a moment, trying to relax. After refreshing her make-up, she felt she was again ready to face the mysterious Santa. The girls had the cleaning up under control and all that was left to do was washing the punch glasses and clean the tables. A few of the ladies had offered to stay until it was time to lock up and Sara would be here any minute to help with the final cleanup. Maggie, here I come, she told herself, picturing a relaxing evening with her friend.

A dreamy waltz was playing when she left the ladies' room. Her eyes automatically searched for the mystery Santa, determined not to put herself in a vulnerable position, but before she knew what was happening he'd grasped her waist from behind, swirling her around and into his arms. The strong grip around her waist definitely let her know she wasn't going anywhere and his big hand enveloped her own, effectively stopping her from using it to push herself away. Color flooded her cheeks. His hold was inescapable and she was sure she could feel the beating of his heart even through his padding. She tried to bring her hand in to pull down his beard and discover his identity, but he just laughed and swung her in circles to the music until she laid her head on his chest, dizzy.

"Have you ever heard of asking, Santa?"

"It occurred to me," he answered, obviously ignoring the indignation in her voice, "But I decided to follow my own advice to our friend there," he nodded at Ray and his lady, dancing in a world of their own, "and go after what I want".

Rebecca swallowed hard. Lord, how do I get myself into these situations. His voice was deep and not at all unpleasant and again she was almost certain she knew this man; an amorous Santa who wouldn't take no for an answer. Just where was Mason when she needed him? Sighing, Rebecca decided to finish the dance with good grace and then escape for Maggie's at her first opportunity. Relaxing in his arms, she gave herself over to the spell of the music, marveling at how well he danced despite his heavy boots and padded stomach. His soft beard tickled her forehead and when she closed her eyes she felt like she was in the arms of a giant teddy bear. Surprisingly, after she relaxed, the threatening feeling faded away and she actually felt safe and protected. He was strong and led her in the steps as lightly as a feather on the wind. Almost sorry when the dance ended, she shook her head to clear away the strange feelings. It must be his costume that made her feel secure and cared for.

Expecting to be released, Rebecca started to thank him for the dance when, to her extreme embarrassment and alarm, he swept her up in his arms and sat down in the nearest chair, holding her firmly on his lap. His legs were so long that her feet dangled inches off the floor keeping her helpless, his arm around her waist resting mere inches under her breast. Speechless with fury, Rebecca could only gasp when the deranged Santa calmly whispered in her ear.

"And what do you want for Christmas, pretty lady?" Santa asked innocently.

Suddenly, the light and the angle of his glasses revealed eyes of stormy blue, sparkling with humor.

"A gun," she shot back, beginning to really struggle now that she realized the rotten trick Mason had played on her.

"Now, now," he told her tightening his hold, sliding one hand under her bottom and kneading firmly.

"Santa could make all your dreams come true." Mason's grin was her undoing.

"If my dreams come true, I'll be in jai1 by tomorrow," she growled back from between clenched teeth. " _Now let me go!_"

"Not a chance. Santa finds his little green elf extremely tempting. Now, be a good little girl, we have an audience."

Rebecca stopped struggling and glanced around the room, finding a very interested group. Their faces clearly bewildered by the strange behavior of both their director and Santa. Torn between reassuring them and getting free of Mason's hold she froze, plastering a weak smile on her face. Turning her gaze back to Mason's, she elbowed him sharply in his padded ribs, disappointed he couldn't feel it.

"I don't care who's watching," she gritted out, still smiling. "If you don't let me go this minute, I'll have someone call the police and you'll be arrested for impersonation."

Mason laughed outright at that and the sound relaxed the features of many across the room.

"Arrested for impersonating Santa?" he inquired, smiling down into her blazing green eyes.

"No, for impersonating a human being," she told him, struggling and almost succeeding in wiggling off his lap. "Now, let me go."

Mason gave Rebecca's bottom a firm squeeze.

"Somehow, I knew you were going to be difficult," he sighed, setting her on her feet. Her relief was short lived however, and before she could take a step he bent and slung her over his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on the backs of her kicking legs.

Rebecca's shrieks of indignation earned her a sharp slap on her squirming bottom, which he immediately patted softly as if in remorse. This inflamed Rebecca further and throwing discretion to the wind she began to pound his back and swear like a trooper. The faces of her shocked friends registered in her upside-down world and she immediately clamped her mouth shut.

Ray and Ed stepped in front of Mason in indecision, knowing they couldn't stop him, but determined to make the effort despite the difference in their size and ages.

Pausing momentarily, Mason regarded the two men with admiration.

"It's all right, my friends," he told them firmly, reaching out to shake each hand. "I'm only planning to make an honest woman of her, if you know what I mean," he winked.

Both men simultaneously cleared their throats, blushed in understanding and moved out of his way.

"Don't be alarmed folks. The lady and I have known each other for a very long time and I happen to be deeply in love with her. We're going to take a little trip together, during which time I intend to convince her that it's time she agreed to become my wife. Rebecca and I would both like to wish you a wonderful holiday season."

Rebecca thought she'd been angry before but now that he'd just about told the entire group that he'd slept with her, she was mortified. Raising her head, she pushed her hair out of her face and cringed to see the faces of Troop Thirty-Seven staring in awe. Glancing around the room she observed the glow on the faces of several of the ladies, while the men showed admiration for Mason's determination. Searching with her eyes until she found Mary, Rebecca shouted across the room to her bewildered friend.

"Call the police," she called breathlessly as Mason hiked her up higher on his shoulder, knocking the wind out of her as he began striding to the door.

"Tell them I've been kidnapped."

Mary hurried as best she could after them, hands held up in helpless amazement. At Rebecca's words she turned to the kitchen and the phone, spending the next half hour trying to convince the local officer that the director of Silver Shores had been kidnapped by Santa Claus.

# Chapter 10

The minute they were out the door, Rebecca let loose. The string of curses that fell on Mason's head would have made his toughest crew blush but Mason continued on undaunted. He had too much to lose to stop now. It was all or nothing and he was determined to have it all, her love, devotion, a life-time commitment, the works. Rebecca had had her chance to talk this out like two adults and she'd refused to cooperate, wouldn't return his phone calls and had been generally, a stubborn brat. Well, now they'd do this his way, on his terms and if she had any complaints she could shout them to the world, if she thought it would do any good.

Full of guilt and remorse, he had tried in every way he knew to apologize and she wouldn't listen. If he had to take drastic measures, so be it.

Mason opened the driver side door of his pick-up and bending over plopped Rebecca down on the seat. Instantly, her foot came up to deliver a hard kick but he was ready for her.

"Tsk, tsk, is that any way for an elf to act," he teased her, grabbing both ankles in one large hand and swinging her legs into the truck. "Tis the season to be jolly, you know."

"I'm not your elf and I'm about as far from jolly as I can get," she shrieked at him, making a dive for the other door only to find herself still held firmly by the legs. In total frustration Rebecca lay across the seat kicking and screaming, pounding her fists into the upholstery. Mason, unconcerned, leaned in over her, wrapped a muscular arm around her waist and pulled her upright. He then reached across her squirming body for the seat belt. Holding the buckle up in front of her, his breath coming hard and fast despite his superb physical condition he looked straight into her flashing eyes. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It's entirely up to you, but you need to know, right now, that you're coming with me one way or the other."

Rebecca's chest heaved with exertion. Sheer fury made her raise her hand to strike him. His reflexes were, as always, ready and he caught her wrist and snapped her arm down, clicking the belt firmly in place.

"Be careful, I'm 'old-fashioned' remember? If you don't behave, I'll pull you right over my lap."

"You've already slapped me," she informed him huffily. "I owe you one".

Mason started the truck and turned to her in genuine surprise. "I've never slapped you."

"Yeah, what do you call what you did in the center," she demanded, rubbing her bottom unconsciously.

Mason's grin could be seen in the dim light of the dashboard. "That was what my grandfather referred to as a 'love pat'. My grandmother could hardly walk by him without him... well, never mind, we weren't supposed to notice. Must be hereditary."

"Just do me a favor, from now on keep your 'love pats' to yourself, before you damage me permanently," she told him angrily.

"That's something I would never do. I happen to think that part of your anatomy is perfect. But if you can't tell the difference between that and a spanking, I obviously didn't spank you hard enough, or long enough. I'll see what I can do to remedy that," he scolded, unsnapping her seatbelt and pulling her over his lap in about two seconds.

Before Rebecca could do anything but blush, Mason had her dress up and her tights and panties down around her knees, hobbling her legs quite effectively. Laying his hand on her beautiful ass was almost his undoing but Mason didn't allow himself to be distracted.

"This is a spanking," he stated matter of factly, bringing his hand down crisply, and immediately seeing the large handprint. "This is what happens to naughty girls who can't seem to behave themselves," he continued, spanking her with gusto. "And if you continue to fight me and yell your head off like you're doing right now, there will be quite an audience of senior citizens watching your lovely naked bottom become cherry red."

Rebecca blushed; glad that he couldn't see her reaction to his words as she quickly ceased wiggling and yelling, waiting for him to stop.

Mason watched her closely and as soon as she quieted, began to softly rub her bottom.

"Now this is a 'love pat'," he told her gently, slapping the warm flesh with just a touch of sting. "This is what good girls get and believe it or not it can be quite erotic," he informed her, rubbing gently and then slapping each time she relaxed and let out a moan he was sure she wasn't aware of. Sliding his rough hand over her bottom, he went just a little lower each time until finally his hand slipped between her thighs. As he slid his long middle finger into her hot, tight body he was immediately bathed with moisture. Using his other hand, Mason began a rhythm that had Rebecca sighing and moaning with absolute abandon. Sliding in and out gently, while lightly slapping her sensitive bottom had her rising up to meet one hand and plunging down to absorb the other.

Mason was now having difficulties of his own, as her body repeatedly rubbed against his rock-hard erection. He wanted nothing more than to rip off her panties and lift her to straddle him, burying himself in her hot wet core. Unfortunately, they were in the parking lot of the senior center where at any moment they could have an audience of several dozen elderly patrons.

Groaning, Mason removed his wet fingers and gave Rebecca one last crisp smack that had her bouncing against him to get away from the sting.

"Now, do you understand the difference between a spanking and a love pat darling? If not, I'll have to continue this little demonstration when we get to our destination."

"Rebecca, do you understand?" he asked hoarsely while helping her right her clothes and buckle her into her seat while she fumed in silence.

Rebecca seething, both in sexual frustration and indignation, responded hotly, "Yes, Mason, I understand. No further demonstration will be necessary. Just go, before you embarrass me further."

Mason drove carefully while he removed his hat and beard and shrugged out of the hot Santa jacket.

"Just what is this little escapade supposed to accomplish?" she asked, rubbing her hands up and down her arms feeling the cold and occasionally sneaking one down to sooth her stinging backside.

Mason reached behind the seat and drew out his jacket and a blanket, handing it to her before he answered.

"You and I have a lot of things to talk about, honey, and since you wouldn't answer my calls and continued to avoid me, I felt I had to take desperate measures."

"So, talk," she told him, "I'm listening."

"With your ears maybe. I won't be satisfied until you're listening with your heart."

The conversation failed after that. Rebecca pulled the blanket closer and quietly watched the big snowflakes falling on the windshield. Mason turned the heater on and between that and the steady swish of the wiper blades she began to feel drowsy. Fatigue was taking its toll and she had almost fallen asleep when she noticed the patrol car turning the corner in front of them. Suddenly, sitting up in her seat Mason caught the movement.

"Forget it," he told her as he tooted and waved at the officer in the car.

Recognizing the truck, Patrolman Marsh waved back. He was on his way to the senior center to investigate an alleged kidnapping and he wasn't too happy about being called out on Christmas. The first thing he intended to do when he got there was sample the punch and see just what those folks had been drinking. Kidnapped by Santa Claus? Right.

"I can't believe you told my seniors we'd been sleeping together," Rebecca said accusingly. "I'll never be able to hold my head up after this."

"I'm surprised it bothers a modern woman like you to have people know you sleep around. You being so independent and all," he drawled, watching from the corner of his eye for flying objects.

"I do not sleep around," she ground out, locking her fingers tightly together to keep from strangling him.

"Just because I made the mistake of thinking we could have a mutually satisfying physical relationship like two responsible adults without one of us becoming possessive."

"Sweetheart, you haven't seen possessive yet," he interrupted her, his blue eyes hot with a passion that rocked her to her toes, "because I intend to possess you in every way imaginable."

Taking deep, calming breaths Rebecca tried to push the vivid images out of her mind but her body throbbed despite her efforts. Damn him, she thought. Why did he have the power to arouse her as no one else could, even against her will? How could that perfect body have a mind that belonged in the eighteen-hundreds, when men owned their women as they owned their property? He must be a throwback to another century or something. Is it so bad to be desired to the point he'd do anything to win you, a little voice questioned? Oh, shut up, she told it, you're not helping.

"Would it be too much to ask where you're taking me?" she demanded, when she could speak without sounding breathless. They had been heading north and the snow was falling so quickly the wipers could hardly keep the windshield clean. Rebecca decided not to antagonize him further. He needed all his attention on the slippery road.

"We're going up to Inlet. My friend has a cabin I can borrow for as long as I need it," he said meaningfully.

"Inlet? In this weather? Are you out of your mind, that's another hour away? We could be stranded for days up there."

"Yeah," was his only response and he didn't sound the least bit remorseful.

Rebecca settled back into her seat. The weather grew steadily worse and her nerves stretched to the breaking point. If the truck hadn't been a four-wheel drive they might never have made it but finally, Mason turned off the main highway onto some kind of track. The trees along the sides were so laden with snow that Rebecca feared a branch would fall off at any moment and pin the truck beneath it. Finally, they came to a small clearing and she could make out a log cabin nestled on the edge. Mason pulled the vehicle as close as possible to the porch and got out, leaving the truck running for warmth.

If Rebecca hadn't been so cold and tired she might have tried to drive off and leave him in this winter wonderland, but the roads were so bad she didn't think she make it to the motel they'd passed a few miles back.

Mason sprinted through the deep snow and fished a key out of his pocket. Cold, icy wind surrounded him but he breathed a sigh of relief when he unlocked the door and a rush of warmth met him. Flipping on a nearby lamp, he quickly returned to the truck for Rebecca, opening the passenger door and lifting her out. For once she didn't struggle in his embrace and let him carry her through the deep snow to the cabin. Already snow dusted the floor and Mason used extreme caution carrying her to the couch and placing her on it. Rebecca sat huddled in her blanket, as Mason returned to the truck and brought in several boxes of provisions. When he had finally retrieved everything he thought necessary, he shook the snow off his coat. The glow from the small lamp made his wet hair look soft and shiny.

Rebecca watched as he went to the fireplace and began to lay a fire. His shirt pulled tight across his back, his tight-fitting jeans hugged his long legs as he knelt down to work and Rebecca turned her head away, forcing herself to study her surroundings. They were in what appeared to be the main room of the sturdy structure. Large beams ran across the ceiling and the walls gleamed in the flickering light of the fire. Polished floors were covered here and there by scatter rugs and a large braided rug was before the fireplace. The place was obviously well cared for and she was thankful that at least it hadn't been stone cold upon their arrival.

Mason stood in front of the fire, warming his hands in the heat. He still hadn't spoken a word and she wasn't sure she wanted to break the uneasy silence either. Looking at him and watching the outline of his large frame in the fire's glow Rebecca huddled under her blanket. When he left the room, she breathed a sigh of relief and her eyes drooped as the heat he'd been blocking reached her. She could hear him moving about in another room, the sound of water running, but she was just too tired to care what he was doing. She must have dozed off for the touch of his hand softly brushing the hair off her forehead startled her.

"Come on, honey, I've got a hot bath running for you and when you're through I figured I'd scramble up some eggs or something quick to eat."

Rebecca yawned and turned over, not wanting to leave her warm cocoon. "Mason, I'm tired, hungry and cranky and all I want to do is go to sleep."

"Tired and hungry, I can believe," he smiled, taking the cover away from her in a quick swipe and pulling her into a sitting position. Going down on one knee, he removed her boots and then stood pulling her to her feet. "But you, cranky? Never."

"Very funny," she yawned again. "Now, give me my blanket and let me go back to sleep."

"Nope. You're getting out of these damp clothes and into a hot tub. I could kick myself for not thinking of your coat. You'll probably catch pneumonia. Come on." He began drawing her with him out of the toasty warm room.

Her protest weakened, the prospect of a hot bath became more appealing as she left the warmth of the fire. Her nylon clad feet were freezing now after being in her warm boots all day. The bathroom held a big, old-fashioned clawfoot tub that was rapidly filling with hot scented water. Thick brown towels were stacked on a stool over the register and a soft brown carpet covered the floor, warming Rebecca's feet.

Turning her so that her back was to him, Mason began to unbutton her soft green dress, refusing to give in to her protests.

"Give it up, Rebecca, I've seen it all before, and your virtue is safe with me. For tonight at least," he added, smiling confidently when her expression registered disappointment before she could stop it.

Catching the look in the mirror, Rebecca realized what she'd just revealed and pulled sharply out of his arms, further angered when her dress gaped away from her revealing the wispy black bra she wore. Mason laughed in genuine delight.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking a bath by myself," she informed him tartly, holding her dress in place. "Please leave."

"Fine, just don't go calling me in to wash your back, or I'll be joining you in that tub. I think it's big enough for two," he said wistfully, eyeing the tub.

Rebecca put her hand on his chest and pushed firmly backward until he was out the door.

"Not a chance. Why don't you go do something useful in the kitchen, like stick your head in the oven and check for a gas leak," she told him, finally maneuvering him far enough out that she could shut the door with a bang. Mason laughed when he heard the key turn in the lock.

"Just don't fall asleep in there," he warned, serious now. "I'd hate to have to explain a busted door to Maggie."

The door immediately opened back up. "This is Maggie's cabin?"

"Well, actually it belongs to her folks but she has use of it anytime she wants."

"Maggie was in on this?" Rebecca asked, feeling disappointed in her friend.

"Not exactly. I told her I needed to get away for a few days and sort things out and she offered it to me. Though by now she's aware you're with me. Nick promised to stop over and let her know so she wouldn't worry when you didn't show up or answer your phone."

"You've thought of everything, haven't you?" she asked sarcastically. "Everything except my job. Or have you taken care of that too?"

"Actually, Sara is going to cover for you until we get back. She thought you needed a break."

"Great," she shouted slamming the door. "Nick and Sara, too," she yelled through the thick wood, almost tearing off her clothes. "I'm surrounded by traitors."

"Not traitors, friends," Mason replied too softly for her to hear and headed for the kitchen.

# Chapter 11

Nicholas stood in front of Maggie Cassidy's door for a long time. Sweat beaded his brow despite the chilling wind and swirling snow. His hand shook slightly as he rang the bell.

Maggie O'Malley had been the only girl in high school Nick dated. He'd fallen helplessly in love the first time he saw her and they'd been a couple from that moment on. Sure, he remembered her as Rory's pesky younger sister, but somehow, she'd transformed from a red-headed, stubborn pain in the butt who followed them everywhere into an auburn-haired beauty with curves and a dazzling smile and she stole his heart.

For a while, Maggie had returned his love in every way and Nick had assumed that when he graduated from college they'd be married. That was before he learned his first lesson in heartbreak.

After a grueling week of college exams Nick packed his small car and went home for the weekend. Wanting to surprise Maggie, he cut across the lots separating their homes and quietly came upon Maggie on her backyard swing and she was sobbing in Jim Cassidy's arms. The things he'd overheard that day still haunted him, reminding him never to be so trusting again. Maggie had been telling Jim between sobs that she didn't know what to do. She wasn't ready for this kind of commitment, and she didn't know how long she could put off telling Nick. Although her words were broken and disjointed, Nick caught the general idea.

He'd retreated unseen, crushed that the girl he loved could be so callous. Convinced that she had been two-timing him, he wrote her, breaking off their unofficial engagement. Several letters came after that, but Nick never opened them. His pride wouldn't let him and although there had been other women later in his life, he never allowed himself to become deeply involved.

Maggie had married Jim Cassidy in a quiet ceremony, within three months, reinforcing his suspicions.

Now, he stood uncertainly at her door. His fingers were stiff with cold and the once lovely poinsettia he held in his other arm looked like a reject from a supermarket. If he hadn't promised Mason to stop in and explain why he and Rebecca wouldn't be joining her, he'd have turned around right then, but a promise was a promise, even if some people didn't think so.

Maggie answered the door smiling. For a moment, she didn't recognize the large man standing on her porch and automatically closed the door a little more.

"Can I help you?" she asked, struggling to see in the dim light.

"Hello, Maggie," the man said. "It's been a long time."

A gasp was her only response as recognition dawned. A slim hand flew to her throat and Nick watched as all the color drained from her face. Her eyes had a haunted look that shocked him. He had expected surprise, even a cool reception, but he could almost feel the fear that radiated from her.

The light from behind her silhouetted a slim and shapely woman, bringing a flame to her hair. Long auburn curls trailed down from a pony tail high on her head and Nick's heart began a steady tattoo. She didn't look much different than she had fifteen years ago. Still, the expression on her face was not one he ever remembered seeing in those days.

"May I come in?" he asked softly, feeling the cold even as his temperature rose.

"I a... of course, Nick, come in for a minute."

Nick didn't miss the quaver in her voice or the reference to time. Handing her the plant, he removed his coat and looked around for a place to put it. He could hear giggling coming from the other room and he casually walked in that direction.

"Nice place you have here," he told her, looking around and not missing a detail. The house was a blending of old and new, blues, creams, roses and pinks. The tree was trimmed in a Victorian style and scattered beneath it were packages opened earlier in the day. A ten-speed bike leaned against a large doll house and Nick's thick eyebrow went up in surprise when a little girl with curly blonde hair came scampering across the floor and flung herself into his arms.

"Uncle Mason," she cried, so excited she began to hiccup. "Come see the doll house Santa brought me."

Maggie quickly disengaged three-year-old Caitlin.

"Honey, this is Mason's brother, Nick."

Caitlin held out her hand in a very adult manner, patiently waiting for Nick to shake it.

Automatically Nick's hand came out, completely enfolding her small one.

"Very nice to meet you, Caitlin."

"You look like Uncle Mason," she told him, completely unaffected by her mistake. "And like my brodder too."

Maggie swayed, catching hold of the door frame with one hand and reaching for Caitlin with the other.

"And what brother is that little one?" Nick quietly asked, going down on one knee and looking directly into her small face.

"My brodder, Jason. Come see my doll house, Nick," Caitlin continued, grasping his hand and pulling him in the proper direction.

"Mr. Kord can't stay," Maggie cut in, picking up Nick's coat for emphasis. "I'm sure he has other things to do."

"As a matter of fact, I was hoping you'd let me hang around for a while. It is Christmas, after all, and with Mason and Rebecca out of town I...?"

Maggie never heard the rest of his words. With his mention of Mason and Rebecca, her last hope for a way out of this situation vanished.

The disappointment on her face was not lost on Nick. Turning his attention back to the golden sprite before him, Nick dutifully admired every feature of the special toy. For several minutes the big man and the petite girl knelt together on the floor. The sight of his dark head bending over her daughter while he listened to every word made a lump form in Maggie's throat and turning away she wiped a tear from her cheek. The sound of running footsteps preceded the two boisterous boys down the stairs and Maggie groaned. What else could possibly go wrong she thought? She'd been hoping to get Nick out of here before this happened and now it was out of the question.

"Mom, make Jason give me back my new CD, he's had it all afternoon," Todd whined, never noticing the stranger in the room.

"Aw, take it, baby," Jason responded, calling his little brother a name that always inflamed him.

"I'm not a baby, you take that back," Todd howled, getting ready to head butt his sibling.

"Boys, that's enough. It's a holiday, can't you get along even for one day?" she asked in frustration, flinging Nick's coat down on the couch and wrapping an arm around the squirming Todd.

"Todd, why don't you call Tommy and see what he got for Christmas," she suggested, trying to defuse the situation.

"Okay, Mom," Todd complied somewhat resentfully. "But tell Jason to leave my stuff alone."

"All right, go on. You can use the phone in my room. Jason, I wish you'd stop antagonizing him. You know how hard this last year has been on him."

"Yeah right, like it hasn't been hard on the rest of us."

Maggie put a hand to her temple, gently massaging. The man in the living room had been temporarily forgotten in the heat of the moment, but Nick had taken in every bit of the scene played out before him. The stress and fatigue etched in Maggie's face pulled at him and he had the impulse to take her into his arms and comfort her. This first Christmas after her husband's death must have been exceptionally hard on her he realized, absently studying Maggie's oldest son. He was taller than Maggie by several inches, his hair so black it looked almost blue. Funny, Jim hadn't been especially tall and Maggie was barely average height. Suddenly, the boy looked directly into Nick's eyes and the color was startling. Recognition sent a fiery jolt through him and he took a step in the boy's direction.

Maggie quickly stepped between the two males who were silently sizing each other up. "Jason, this is Mason's brother, Nicholas. Nick, my son, Jason."

Nick heard the slight emphasis she placed on the word my, even transfixed as he was. Looking at Jason was like going back in time. Every feature was stamped Kord. Even the small dimple in his chin marked him.

"Nick was just leaving," Maggie said firmly, interrupting their silent assessment.

Maggie's hands shook when she picked up his coat and handed it to him. For a breathless moment she was afraid he wouldn't take it. Her throat was so dry she could hardly get the words out as she thanked him for stopping by and escorted him to the door.

She'd loved him once. Loved him with every beat of her heart, every breath in her body, but that was long ago, before he'd denied them their chance for happiness, denied their love. Now, the only feeling he inspired was fear. Jason had never questioned his parentage and Maggie never brought it up. Jim had been a good father, treating Jason exactly as if he'd been his own child and Maggie had promised never to reveal the truth. It was a promise she intended to keep.

"Good night, Nick," she forced out, holding the door open, "Have a safe trip back to ah... Colorado, isn't it?" she questioned hopefully, refusing to back down even though her insides were shaking.

"All right, Maggie, I'll go, but I'll be back," he told her softly, the look in his eyes pinning her. Suddenly, he laid his large palm against her cheek.

"I know things have been difficult for you and I'm trying to understand how you must be feeling, but this is far from over, Maggie, and it's best you realize that right now. I'm not thinking too clearly at the moment, but based on a gut feeling, I'd say you have a lot of explaining to do."

Maggie nodded and silently closed the door as the only man who had the power to destroy her life walked off into the night.

# Chapter 12

Incredible heat penetrated Mason's consciousness. At first, he merely kicked off the covers and rolled farther away from Rebecca. Not understanding the source of such warmth, he sought only to avoid it. Pale light filtered through the gap in the bedroom drapes directly into his eyes and he flung up an arm to shut it out. He finally came awake to the howling wind and the sound of sleet hitting the window. The chill of the room drove him back under the heavy quilt as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He remembered holding Rebecca in his arms as they both dozed off, now the heat radiating off her small body brought him fully awake as he realized something was very wrong. Propping himself up on one elbow, he laid his hand on her forehead almost flinching when he came into contact with her burning brow. Hopping out of bed he circled to her side and placing both hands on her shoulders, he shook her slightly.

"Rebecca, honey can you hear me?" he whispered, fear clutching his heart.

Her only response was a low moan. "Sweetheart," he tried again, fighting panic. Mason had never been sick a day in his life. He had no experience dealing with illness beyond what he'd seen on television.

The hoarse sound of her voice when she squeaked out 'thirsty' terrified him further and jumping up off the bed he flew to the kitchen and hurried back with a glass of cool water.

"Here, baby, sit up a little," he encouraged, trying to support her and guide the water to her lips at the same time. For a moment she seemed to come awake and took several small sips, but immediately afterward she drifted back into unconsciousness.

Mason got off the bed and began to pace the small quarters. God, she was burning up. Thrusting his hand through his hair, he wracked his brain. Fever, what do you do for a fever? Were you supposed to keep them warm or try to cool them down? He was amazed at his own ignorance. The later seemed the more logical of the two, but he knew she needed medical attention. Throwing his clothes on, Mason stopped only long enough to place a quick kiss on her dry cheek. Running into the living room and snatching up his coat he opened the front door, cursing when the biting wind almost drove him back. When he saw the two feet of snow piled up against the door frame, he had his first idea of how hard it might be to get her out of here. The heavy fall of snow was now covered with a coating of ice and the yard looked like a glossy white lake.

Stepping up onto the snow, Mason grabbed the porch rail and tried to keep his balance. The truck was only several feet away, but buried up to the wheel wells. It was covered with a solid sheet of ice and proved extremely hard to reach. Falling several times before he made it, Mason was now sweating profusely. The doors were frozen shut and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't free them. Slipping and sliding he made his way back to the cabin, taking off his jacket and putting his near frozen hands under his arms to warm them.

No telephone had been a plus when Mason first considered his plan, but now it came back to haunt him. The isolated area, the lack of communication with the outside world had turned into a nightmare. He wracked his brain trying to remember if he had seen any lights from neighboring places but the driving snow had made visibility almost nil. Going into the kitchen, Mason filled a basin with water and found some towels.

Rebecca tossed and turned on the bed, mumbling incoherently. The twin spots of color on her cheeks accented the paleness of her face. Pushing back the covers, and pulling aside her robe, Mason began to bathe her with the cool cloths. Hour after hour he worked, replacing the towels when they became warm.

Rebecca fought him, moaning when the cold hit her fevered body. Sometimes, she would look directly into his eyes as if she were aware of what was going on, and the accusation he saw there brought a lump to his throat. This was all his fault and he knew it. He'd kidnapped her, dragged her out into a storm without a coat and taken her miles away from anything resembling a town where there might be a doctor.

Mason was sweating profusely. He'd built up the fire in the main room, wanting to keep the air warm even as he worked endlessly to cool her skin. At noon, he forced some broth down her throat aware of the very real threat of dehydration. How long could anyone have a fever like this and survive he wondered, burying his head in his hands. He pulled up a chair next to the bed, using the bedside stand as a table.

Rebecca alternately slept and ranted, talking about things that had happened years ago as if they happened yesterday. She talked about her father and he heard the voice of a hurt little girl. It amazed him that despite her condition her recollections were very clear. Mason made several more trips out to see if he could get in the truck, taking a lighter with him and trying to thaw the doors, but to no avail. The weather hadn't let up at all and he finally admitted it was useless. Even if he could get the truck started, the chances of them getting out to a main road were slim at best. They were well and truly stranded.

He had been sure he'd taken care of everything. They had enough provisions to last a week and the wood supply would see them through even if they lost power, but he'd never figured on Rebecca becoming ill. Hoping he was doing the right thing, Mason returned to the bedroom and resumed his vigil, trying to cool Rebecca down.

The hours ticked by slowly, each one bringing her temperature a little higher. The thought that he'd put Rebecca in this dangerous position tormented him. She'd accused him of being over-bearing and treating her like a child and he had. It was his stupid idea that had gotten them into this and not one of her hair-brained schemes.

Darkness fell early and with it, Mason became more convinced that Rebecca's fever would never break. Crushing up two aspirin he mixed them with applesauce and forced her to swallow it. Crying softly, Rebecca struggled to obey him, choking but finally getting them down. Mason murmured encouraging words to her as the evening wore on, trying to convince himself that she would be all right.

Sometime during the night, Mason dozed, laying his head on the side of the bed. It was four in the morning when he next looked at his watch, rubbing his eyes wearily. Rebecca seemed to be somewhat cooler he thought and sleeping more peacefully. Crawling up onto the bed he lay back and closed his eyes but he did not sleep again. At six o'clock he got up and stumbled into the kitchen, dumping out the stale coffee and putting on a fresh pot. He added more wood to the dying fire and headed to the bathroom. A stranger looked back at him as he splashed cold water on his face. Gone was the arrogant man he'd been two days ago. In his place was a man, haggard and bleary-eyed. Two days growth of beard made him look even worse but he didn't take the time to shave now.

He had placed the person he loved more than anyone in the world in grave danger and he could hardly look himself in the eye. He'd always been the one who accused Rebecca of acting impulsively and irresponsibly, but this macho man plan might yet cost him more than a relationship, much more. Unable to bear the thought of losing her, Mason hurried back into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of strong coffee. For the first time, he understood what she'd been talking about when she'd voiced her fears on marriage.

Maybe it was better not to count on tomorrow because right now he wasn't all that certain they had one. It crossed his mind several times during the endless hours of the night that she could die out here, with only his slim store of medical knowledge. There might not be time to ever put a ring on her finger, plan for their future, and see the birth of their children. A life could be snuffed out in a heartbeat and there would be nothing anyone could do about it. He could see some sense in words that had previously sounded morbid, yes, but certainly like an excuse to avoid a commitment. Rebecca could often cut to the heart of a problem in an instant. She didn't go through life with blinders on, but acknowledged the risks and took her chances knowing them. There was a lot to admire in a woman like that.

Gulping down the last of his coffee, Mason refilled the basin and returned to the bedroom, ready to do everything he could to make sure Rebecca had the chance to tell him what a jerk he'd been.

An instant after he'd placed the cold cloth on her head, it came whipping back into his face, causing him to jump in surprise. The force behind the attack had been slight and he wondered if she was delirious again.

"What do you think you're doing?" a weak voice demanded, when he replaced the cloth.

"Rebecca," Mason whispered pulling the offending towel away and laying his cheek against hers. It was damp and cool. Her hair looked dark and curled from sweat and he slumped in relief, sagging back into the chair, wiping moisture from his cheeks.

"You look terrible," she told him, green eyes taking in his appearance. The flannel shirt he had on was buttoned wrong and the beard made him look like some kind of mountain man. Dark circles underlined his fatigue and Rebecca's heart went out to him.

"What happened?" she questioned, starting to get out of bed and falling back weakly. "You look awful and I feel worse."

"You have been very sick, honey," he told her, taking her hand in his and holding tightly. "I was beginning to worry about pneumonia. Are you hungry?"

"No, but I could sure use a glass of juice if we have some."

"Sure." Mason went into the kitchen and returned with a large orange juice. He watched silently as she sipped, marveling at the fragile beauty before him.

Setting down the empty glass, Rebecca snuggled down under the covers. "I'm going back to sleep for a while," she told him, barely able to keep her eyes open. "You look like you could use some yourself."

"I guess I could at that," he responded, getting out of the chair with effort. Now, that the fever had broken and she was better, exhaustion washed over him. Stripping off his jeans he climbed onto the big bed, but before he allowed himself to sleep, he breathed a prayer of thanks.

At the end of four days together in the cabin, Rebecca was just about out of her mind with boredom. Mason had been wonderful, insisting on cooking all their meals and doing the small amount of housework that was necessary. He had apologized until Rebecca wanted to strangle him. All right, so he had acted impulsively for once, so what. She'd gotten sick because she'd run herself ragged. Everything he'd said about her was true. She didn't eat right, never got enough sleep and refused to slow down. For the last six months he'd hounded her and now that it finally caught up with her, he was blaming himself. It just didn't make sense. They had been totally alone in a very romantic setting for days and he'd avoided any but the most impersonal contact, even sleeping in the other bedroom, insisting she needed her rest. Worst of all, he seemed to have forgotten why he'd brought her here in the first place.

Rebecca inspected her image in the mirror. Mason had just vacated the bathroom but the scent of his aftershave lingered, adding to her frustration. That stuff ought to be outlawed she thought in disgust. No man should smell so good. Rebecca had found some of Maggie's things in the spare room and confiscated faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Rolling the cuffs up to just below her knees and pulling on some bobby socks she sought out Mason. Enough was enough. Tonight, things would come to a head, one way or another.

Mason looked rested. His hair was damp from his bath and it curled around his collar, slightly longer than he was used to wearing it. Rebecca had all she could do not to run her fingers through its softness. Watching him shuffle a deck of cards at the kitchen table, Rebecca's heart softened. He was so handsome but the real attraction went much deeper.

He studied her as she went to the fridge and took out a pop. She looked about sixteen dressed as she was and he breathed a sigh of relief. The last few days he'd had no trouble keeping his hands to himself, but today even that old flannel robe she'd been wearing couldn't hide her beautiful body. Well, at least she hadn't found anything revealing in Maggie's closet.

Somehow, he'd lost his perspective. The whole reason for this trip had been to convince her to marry him but after her illness he hadn't been able to pressure her. The incredible guilt he felt overrode everything else.

"What'll it be lady?" he questioned, as she seated herself across the table from him. "Pitch, poker or rummy?"

"Poker," Rebecca answered decisively. "I've always wanted to learn how to play."

"Ha, my game. I'm going to whip the pants off you."

'God, I hope so,' she grinned but kept quiet.

Mason dealt the cards with flair and explained the rudiments to Rebecca. She listened attentively and got up to find something to bet with, returning with match sticks.

For the next hour and a half, they played a companionable game, munching popcorn and arguing when Rebecca thought Mason was trying to cheat. Whenever it was Rebecca's deal she fumbled the cards and Mason tried to show her a better way.

"Buzz off; I can't believe three measly deuces beat my two aces and two kings. Are you sure?" she questioned suspiciously.

Mason twirled an imaginary mustache and grinned, delighted with his winning streak. "Would I lie to you?"

"If you thought you could get away with it, probably."

"Madame, you wound me."

"Not where I'd like to."

Mason laughed. "Well, if you're gonna be a sore loser we can always switch to something else. How about Go Fish?"

"How about you go to Hell and we raise the stakes?" she shot back, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

"All right. What did you have in mind, toothpicks, mints?" he teased, his smile one of masculine superiority.

"Clothes."

For a minute, he didn't understand.

"You already have more clothes in your closet than one woman could wear in a year. What could you possibly want with more?"

"Not clothes as in a new wardrobe, clothes as in what you're wearing right now."

Understanding flared in Mason's eyes and they flashed blue fire. Not one to forgo a challenge Mason wavered. Either way I lose, he reasoned. In about five maybe six hands she'll be sitting there stark naked and she knows it. What she really needs is a good lesson, he thought. It might just do her good to sit there without a stitch on and have me ignore it. He knew what she was up to all right and while he'd decided not to push marriage, he wasn't going to make love to her and risk a pregnancy. They still had a lot of things to talk out and until they did, it was strictly hands off.

Rebecca waited patiently for his answer. She could almost hear his mind working. A small smile played about her eyes, but she said nothing. This would be his decision.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he questioned. "After all, you haven't won three hands out of twenty all night. It could get mighty chilly in here for you in just a short time."

"I'll take that risk," she told him picking up the deck and cutting the cards. "Your deal."

Mason's hands shook slightly as he dealt the first hand, not at all sure he should have agreed to this. Even the thought of seeing her beautiful body, naked and across the table from him suddenly made his jeans uncomfortably tight.

The first hand went to Mason and Rebecca removed one sock and dangled it in front of him before dropping it on the floor. When the other sock came off, Mason began to sweat, wondering if he had the stamina to go through with this. God, she had only exposed her feet and he was shifting in his chair.

The third hand went to Rebecca and Mason breathed a sigh of relief as he removed his belt and laid it next to her socks. The silence in the room was deafening as they both concentrated on their cards. Mason lost the next two hands and both his socks joined the pile as he congratulated her on her improving skill. Rebecca just smiled knowingly and dealt the cards with finesse remarkable for someone who had just learned to play a couple of hours ago.

While the two opponents studied their cards on top of the table, bare toes caressed each other unconsciously beneath it. Mason won the next hand and held his breath as Rebecca considered what to remove next, releasing it when she smiled and pulled the band from her hair. Shimmering blonde waves settled softly around her shoulders and he gasped, wondering how he'd ever thought she looked childish before. The secret smile she threw at him was definitely all woman. Her small feet caressed his as he dealt the next hand and he blamed his losing on that, as he removed his shirt.

Now, it was Rebecca's turn to hold her breath as she watched the ripple of muscles. The sight of his bare chest had her reaching for her pop and for a moment she almost laid the cool glass against her flushed cheeks. Gathering her wits, she picked up the deck and began to deal, quickly and expertly.

Mason's eyes narrowed as he began to realize he'd been had. Rebecca played the game beautifully, pretending to be a novice when in fact she knew exactly what she was doing. It galled him to think how worried he'd been about her sitting there naked when in reality it would probably be him. When he yanked his feet back and glared at her, Rebecca laughed in delight.

"What's wrong, Mason? Not going to be a sore loser, are you?" she asked, openly admiring him and unconsciously licking her lips.

The sight of her small pink tongue set Mason's determination back a bit but he recovered quickly and smiled grimly.

"Let's just play, shall we?"

"Anything you say, you're the teacher," she shot back, trying not to smile openly.

"Yeah right," he growled.

Mason lost that hand too and as he stood up to unfasten his jeans Rebecca couldn't keep the anticipation off her face. Her eyes devoured him as he slowly slid down the zipper and eased the tight jeans over his hips. Black knit briefs were the only thing he had on now and they left little to the imagination. Rebecca suddenly had doubts wondering if she could calmly say goodnight to the magnificent male before her as she'd planned to do. She'd been suffering for weeks and she had fully intended to pay him back, but the sight of him made her wish she'd lost a few hands herself. Maybe she wouldn't be so warm.

Mason was having problems of his own. While he'd been sure he could take the sight of her sitting in all her glory he'd never anticipated what would happen if the shoe were on the other foot. There was no way she could help noticing how aroused he was and no matter where he tried to direct his thoughts it came down to the fact that the woman he loved was all but eating him alive with her eyes. Mason was used to being admired by the female sex, but this was something totally different. Rebecca's eyes actually caressed him, her flushed face glowing. He was alternately embarrassed and inflamed. If he lost one more hand he'd be stark naked for her enjoyment and if he didn't she'd uncover another part of her delectable body for his. This was a no-win situation, you could both be winners his mind teased, but Mason pushed the thought aside and concentrated as best he could on his cards.

The hand she dealt him was the best he'd had all night and he didn't know what to do about it. If he beat her she was either going to take off her jeans or her shirt and he was almost certain she had nothing on underneath them. If she removed another piece of clothing he wasn't sure he wouldn't do something to ease the fire racing through him. When she lay down her two pair he folded up his full house face down on the table. Rising slowly from his chair he towered over her and let his briefs fall to the floor.

Rebecca's mouth went dry. If she'd ever had thoughts of teasing him and then sailing off to bed they escaped her now.

He was truly magnificent. The soft lighting accentuated his male beauty, shadows outlining the taunt muscles. Her hungry eyes traveled down from his chiseled jaw and drank in the hair covered chest and flat stomach. Dark hair tapered down from his chest and narrowed into a thin line past his trim waist. His legs were long and muscular and Rebecca actually felt faint from the power of her response. She could sense the tension in him and wasn't sure if it came from anger at her deception or his own desires.

"Seen enough?" he inquired, eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Mason, I..." Rebecca swallowed, using the table for balance as she rose shakily from her chair.

Her trembling body gave Mason a small measure of satisfaction. She was in as much pain as he and it pleased him that her little scheme had backfired. Scooping up his clothes he advanced slowly toward her. When her head was tilted back on her slim neck he bent and touched his lips gently to hers. Their quivering softness was almost too much for him but he managed to withdraw before it was too late.

"You win, Rebecca," he said softly. A grin split his face as he turned to leave the room. "Sort of."

Rebecca's nails dug into the table as she watched the sight of his taut buttocks walking away from her and she all but wailed in frustration. This had not worked out at all as she'd expected. She was supposed to be the one to walk away, leaving him seething.

"Mason," she called hoarsely. When he paused, she continued, "One more hand, winner takes all."

He turned to face her questioningly.

"As you can see, honey, you've already taken everything I have."

"Not everything," she whispered, sitting back down before she fell down and tearing her eyes away from the sight of him.

Confusion was the only emotion his mind was capable of registering right now and he walked back to the table, slipping his jeans on but not fastening them. Turning his chair around Mason straddled it, watching her closely.

"What's the deal?"

"Well," she began, wetting her lips and shuffling the cards, not looking at him. "We play one more hand. If you win, I'll marry you and..."

"Are you out of your mind?" he roared, almost knocking the chair over as he sprang to his feet and leaned across the table, so close to her their breaths mingled. "You don't decide something that important on a hand of cards," he ground out.

"Wait, you haven't heard me out," she shot back tipping her chair on two legs to give herself space. "I think it's a fine idea and besides you haven't heard your forfeit if you lose."

Mason sat back down with a snap.

"I can't believe this," he growled out. "All right, Miss Smarty-Pants. Let's hear the rest of it."

"If you lose," she breathed, urgency in her voice. "We go into the bedroom and make love all night."

"Now, there's a hardship," he spat back, raking a hand through his hair.

"Look it's a way to settle things—that is, if you still want to marry me.

"You don't want to know what I want right now," he all but shouted.

Mason looked at her closely. Comprehension dawning.

"I get it. You've been on a winning streak and you figure it might last. If I lose you get what you've wanted all along, a physical relationship with no strings attached and if you lose you can always cry off later."

"No, Mason. If I lose, I'll keep my promise."

"That you'll marry me?" he snorted derisively. "When, in five years?"

"No, next week if you want, whenever you want."

"Boy, lady, you want it bad," he drawled sarcastically.

Rebecca almost backed out then. His attitude wasn't what she'd expected and she felt the first fissure of fear, fear that he'd win or she'd win she wasn't sure.

Mason snapped the chair down to four legs.

"Deal."

Her hands shook as she shuffled. Twice she dropped cards and had to start over.

"Having second thoughts, honey?" he drawled softly, an unholy gleam in his eyes.

"No, just a little nervous," she answered.

"You should be," was his reply.

Rebecca dealt the cards and held her breath looking at her royal flush of hearts in awe.

Mason scowled and lay down his hand. Two pair. Rebecca weighed her options. If she showed her hand she would spend an incredible night in Mason's arms. If she folded, a lifetime. She folded.

Rebecca was not a happy camper when the sun streamed in through the bedroom window. A glance at the clock told her it was still early and the one thing she wanted to do most at the moment was sleep. It had been a long night of tossing and turning and only her pride had kept her from joining Mason in the other bed. The frustration she endured in the seemingly endless hours till daybreak more than punished her for her deception of the night before and all she wanted was a few hours of undisturbed rest. She still couldn't believe that Mason had calmly informed her they would be married as soon as possible and kissed her good night, on the forehead no less. Now, the sound of deep masculine singing coming from the other room made sleep impossible. The clatter of pots and pans seemed like an explosion in her tired mind. Climbing out of bed, she stomped from the room. Marching angrily into the kitchen, she shoved her tangled hair out of her eyes and glared at Mason.

"Something wrong?" he inquired artlessly, taking in her clenched jaw and angrily tapping foot.

"Only that someone let a herd of bellowing elephants loose in here and I haven't had an hour of sleep all night. Do you think it's possible to do whatever it is you're doing, at this ungodly hour, a little more quietly?"

"It might be, if you asked me nicely," he returned, crossing his arms over his chest, dark head tilted expectantly. His slate eyes gave nothing away this morning and Rebecca could have sworn he'd had a wonderful night's sleep which further infuriated her.

Dressed in tight jeans and a cream sweater he'd already showered and shaved and looked vibrantly male and awake. Ignoring him and the smell of coffee perking, Rebecca stumbled to the cupboard searching until she found a bottle of aspirin. Without a word she brushed past him to get to the sink for water.

"We are in a nasty mood this morning, aren't we?" he asked, turning away and giving the skillet of sausage a shake. While he was slightly amused by her temper, the sight of her slim legs and the sway of her hips did nothing to cool his still smoldering passions.

Rebecca swallowed the pills before answering. The thoughts that had kept her awake all night flowed over her like the steam rising from the stove. Her level of frustration was so high that her answer came without thought.

"I'm not nasty," she informed him, hands on hips, head thrown back in challenge. "I'm tired, and the reason I'm tired is because I spent all night remembering the last time we slept together."

Mason began to sweat.

"Remembering the feel of your hands on my body, the texture of your skin..."

Mason turned away and picked up the spatula, hands shaking as he played with the cooking meat.

"Remembering the taste of you, the smell of you, the cloudy look that came into your eyes when you..."

She got no farther. Crushed suddenly in his arms she moaned softly into his mouth. The spatula skidded across the floor as he swept her totally off her feet. Rebecca's head fell back in relief as he carried her from the room and buried his lips in her neck. "Finally," she sighed softly.

Her own scream shocked her as she flew through the air and landed on the bed, bouncing several times. Shoving the hair out of her eyes, she glared at Mason, struggling for names bad enough to call him.

"Get dressed," he ordered sharply. "We're leaving."

"How dare you," she began, rising to her knees and searching for something to throw at him.

"Oh, I dare, honey. That and a lot more if you don't get your butt dressed and ready to go in the next ten minutes," he ground out, hands on hips as he stared her down. "I've had enough."

Rebecca swallowed any response she had planned to make. He looked enormous from her position on the bed, towering over her, his eyes dark with passion and fury.

"Enough of what?" she asked softly. Fear closed her throat. Enough of her?

"I'm a man, not a plaything," he shouted, raking his hand through his hair. "I've explained the way I feel to you but you just don't get it, do you? I've offered you everything I have, everything I am Rebecca and you, contrary woman that you are, aren't complaining it's not enough... no you don't want it because it's too much." Mason stomped into his boots, his movements jerky and quick.

"You want me to be less than I am, Rebecca, and God help me, I was trying to be. I tried to make myself believe I could play it your way, fun and games and we'll be buddies when it's over, oh well, but it doesn't feel right here, Beck," he told her, thumping his chest, his voice thick with emotion.

"Oh, I don't blame you, not totally at least," he continued. "I blame your father for shutting you out when your mother died, and I blame myself for always giving in to you. Well, not this time sweetheart. You're finally going to pay the piper."

"But Mason I want to mar..."

"And another thing, just so we understand each other. I'd like nothing better than to get in that bed with you and make you cry 'uncle', but I won't. For one thing, no child of mine will be born a bastard and for another, I wouldn't want to do anything to make you try to welch on our little arrangement. Not that I don't trust you."

Rebecca stood perfectly still as Mason left the room.

"Ten minutes," he growled over his shoulder before slamming the door.

Shaking with suppressed sobs, and wiping her tears away with the back of her hand she began to dress. For all the times she'd argued with him, for all the years she'd spoken her piece without effort, she hadn't been able to say a word at what was probably the most important moment of her life.

The trip back was long and silent. Mason had the cabin closed up and the truck packed in less than fifteen minutes. Nothing had turned out as he'd planned, although why that surprised him he didn't know. Yes, he'd accomplished his objective. Rebecca had promised to marry him but winning her in a card game... It was a bittersweet victory and certainly a blow to his pride, he admitted, to say the least. Not that he had any intention of letting her back out. For all he knew she could be carrying his child this very moment. It would be just like her to keep quiet about it, too.

He glanced speculatively over at her, trying to determine if she looked any different. No, if that mutinous expression was any indication, she wasn't feeling any gentle emotions, maternal or otherwise. Best to get the arrangements made as quickly as possible he thought, watching her fidget out of the corner of his eye. Maybe then they could find a balance. This tension between them was out of control and as much as he wanted to relieve it for both of them he refused to be used like that. It was going to be all or nothing. But once that ring was on her finger...

Jerk. Numbskull. Imbecile. Arrogant Neanderthal. Rebecca's silent litany continued for several miles. How do I get myself into these messes? Everything I do backfires. He spends weeks badgering me to marry him and what happens when I finally agree? He gets his underwear in knots. Well, it wasn't exactly a fair way of going about it, a little voice whispered. So, what, it worked didn't it. Besides I tried the other way. I planned a romantic dinner and he accused me of being involved with his brother. Well, the voice returned, you were next to naked in the same room. Yes, but that wasn't my fault. Nick understood perfectly. Why is Mason so pig-headed? Maybe it's catchy the voice whispered. Oh, shut up!

Music filtered softly through the church as Nick and Mason waited for the signal from the minister. Mason had kept his word and made the arrangements without delay. Within two weeks everything was accomplished and now the church was filled with flowers and friends. The only thing missing was the bride.

Nick watched silently as Mason paced the small waiting area. This was more than pre-wedding jitters. Mason was frantic.

"She's not coming," he ground out, running a hand over his face. "I know it."

"Of course, she's coming," Nick replied calmly. "She loves you."

"She's late."

Nick laughed. "Rebecca's always late."

"No, this is different. I can feel it. She's not going to show."

"Mace, what is this about?" Nick asked, beginning to get a little nervous himself. "Did you have a fight?"

"No, we aren't fighting, we're hardly speaking," Mason replied shortly.

"Good God, Mason! What are you talking about?" Nick demanded, grasping Mason's arm. "And stop pacing, you're making me dizzy."

"I tricked her," he said softly, sinking into a nearby chair and burying his face in his hands. "She didn't want to get married but I pushed and pushed. Finally, one night we were playing cards and we made a little bet."

"What kind of bet?" Nick questioned, curiosity almost killing him now.

"We were playing poker and I was losing, to say the least. Rebecca tried to trick me into making love to her and suggested we play one more hand. She wagered marriage but she had been on a winning streak and... anyway I cheated, and I won, but I may have lost everything."

"One question, brother? Why would she have to trick you into making love to her?" Nick asked, still trying to grasp the whole crazy situation.

"I..." Mason paused. "I refused to sleep with her until we were married," he finally admitted sheepishly.

Nick threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"It's not funny," he told Nick accusingly.

Nick wiped his eyes and tried to control himself. "I'm sorry, Mace. I can't agree with you there."

"Wel1, you go ahead and have yourself a damn good laugh, Nick, but you don't know her like I do. I've lived in fear every time we made love that she would get pregnant. Knowing how she felt about commitment I couldn't risk it. I'd like to be able to raise any child of mine."

Nick sobered instantly and laying a hand on Mason's shoulder apologized. "I'm sorry, Mason, I never thought about it that way and although now isn't the time or place to go into it I do understand how you feel."

Mason resumed his pacing and this time Nick was right behind him.

Maggie drove as fast as the speed limit allowed. They were already late and still ten minutes from the church. If Rebecca hadn't forgotten something, they still would have been late but not this late.

"He's going to kill me," Rebecca fretted, checking her make-up in the mirror and smacking the wayward hoop of her mother's wedding dress down.

"Probably," Maggie agreed. "What was so important we had to go back?"

"A little wedding present for my future husband," Rebecca answered, patting the envelope in her lap.

"Couldn't it have waited till later?" Maggie questioned, trying to pay attention to the traffic.

"It could have and probably should have," Rebecca answered mysteriously. "But I figured I owed him this one."

Maggie glanced at the envelope and shrugged. It seemed like a small thing compared with what she had to face. She was honored to be standing up with Mason and Rebecca but the thought of spending the afternoon with Nick by her side was terrifying.

Rebecca was out of the car almost before it stopped. Tearing up the slippery church steps one hand clamped on her tiara and veil and the other holding her dress up to her knees she ran smack into the man coming out the front door.

Nick's quick reflexes saved them both, seconds before tumbling down the stairs.

"Where's, Mason?" she demanded breathlessly.

"Ripping his hair out in the waiting room. Where the hell have you been?" he questioned steadying her. Nick towered over her, his strong hands grasping her arms.

"I forgot something," she replied trying to twist out of his hands.

"I hope it was important," he ground out releasing her, the scowl on his face making his feelings perfectly clear. "You just put my brother through hell."

"It was," Rebecca assured him, laying her hand on his arm. "Please give this to Mason," she requested softly, handing Nick the envelope before turning away and entering the church.

Maggie could feel his eyes on her as she tried to slip past him. When his arm shot out and grasped her wrist she struggled to control her trembling and faced him with a boldness she was far from feeling.

"I've been trying to reach you for days," he stated calmly, the hold on her wrist tightening slightly. "Why haven't you returned my calls?"

"I've been busy, Nick, and you're hurting me," Maggie answered. He released her instantly and she tried not to wipe her sweating hands on her silk dress.

"Well, get un-busy," he ordered. "We have things to discuss and I won't be put off much longer."

"Nick, please," she pleaded. "I have to go to Rebecca; this isn't the time or the place."

Nick nodded and made a visible effort to relax. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried after Rebecca. Let this day pass quickly, she prayed.

The music swelled as Rebecca started down the aisle. If Mason had opened the envelope he would know she was coming to him out of love. She knew he might be upset with her for being late, but once she explained he would know how important the cards had been to her. Observing him carefully, she noted the tenseness of his broad shoulders. His hands were clenched slightly but it was his eyes that threw her. There was a sadness in them that almost broke her heart.

She stumbled slightly as she reached him and he took her arm to steady her. It was as if an electric current passed between them, snapping Mason out of a trance.

"Dearly beloved," Reverend Whittaker began.

When Mason said, "Excuse me," Rebecca almost fainted. Mason turned her towards him and lifted her veil.

"Rebecca, there's something I have to tell you before we go any further," he began, stunning the entire assembly.

"Mason," she hissed, looking over her shoulder at the gathered guests and groaning. "Don't you think they've waited long enough?"

"This is important," he stressed, taking her face into his hands. When their eyes met, Rebecca fell silent.

"I love you more than anything in the world," he began, softly stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. "I've waited forever for this day, and there were times I thought it might never come, but it has and I can't go any farther without telling you the truth."

Rebecca's heart froze. The congregation faded away and there was only Mason, his size blocked out everything but him, his eyes holding her spellbound.

"I cheated," he stated softly, guilt in his eyes for all to see.

A collective gasp went up from the congregation as Rebecca's heart resumed beating with a furious pace... Oh my God, she thought swaying and putting a hand to her forehead. I've driven him to another woman.

Mason pulled her into his arms, afraid she would slip into a heap at his feet. He'd known he had to confess his deception before she said, 'I do', but he hadn't expected this reaction. Lord, he thought, she really wouldn't have married him if he hadn't won that stupid game.

Recovering with a vengeance, Rebecca shoved out of his arms and smacked him across his chest with her flowers, petals flying everywhere. Her hooped gown was swaying crazily and she stomped her foot down hard on his.

"With who?" she demanded, hands on hips, totally oblivious to everyone but Mason.

Mason limped backward, not sure she wasn't planning a further assault and eyed her cautiously.

"Not that kind of cheated," he shot out; appalled she would think such a thing.

Nick, watching the congregation, thought they looked more like they were at a tennis match than a wedding. Left, right, left, heads snapping back and forth. Sighing, he stepped back a little himself when Rebecca grasped Mason's lapels and pulled him down to her, nose to nose.

Maggie held her hand over her mouth, although at this point she was incapable of speech.

"What other kind is there?" she drawled softly while preparing to give him a good kick.

"At cards!" he shouted back. "I cheated on the last hand."

The minister held out his hands pleadingly, and sighed with relief. Giving a nervous laugh, he tried to regain control of the situation. Mopping the sweat from his brow he spoke up.

"Well, now, that's not so serious, may we continue with..."

Rebecca's fingers loosened on Mason's lapels. Nervously, she began to smooth out the wrinkles she'd made as he watched her cautiously. Backing up, she adjusted her dress, fiddled with her flowers and gave an apologetic smile to her guests.

Weak with relief that Mason hadn't cheated on her she now realized he hadn't opened the envelope. At this point, she was sorry she hadn't left it at home and given it to him later, but it was too late now. Squaring her shoulders, she faced him, might as well get it all out in the open. She could only imagine his wrath later when he realized he'd made a complete fool of himself for nothing.

"Mason," she began with a meekness that immediately put him on alert. "About cheating, we might as well clear the air..."

Now, it was his turn to burn. The thought of her in another man's arms almost brought him to his knees. The thunderous look on his face had Rebecca backing up, and the minister most likely re-thinking this whole marriage ceremony.

"Did you open the envelope Nick gave you?" she asked quickly, before she changed her mind.

Mason stared at her, remembering the envelope Nick had handed him moments before. Finally, shoulders slumping he patted his pockets until he located it. Pulling it out he slid his fingernail along the seal to break it, fully expecting to see a written confession of Rebecca's infidelity.

Mason stared at the contents. The Reverend Whittaker tried peering over Mason's shoulder. Nick and Maggie both took an involuntary step forward, and the congregation leaned forward in their pews, all trying to see what Mason had in his hand. Rebecca smiled.

For endless seconds, Mason studied the contents of the envelope. The minister slid a finger under his collar and tugged. The congregation waited breathlessly. Nick gave up and walked over to slip his arm around a shaking Maggie, wondering if it would be inappropriate to offer her a swallow from the silver flask he carried in his pocket.

Suddenly, Mason's deep laughter filled the church. Rebecca tossed what was left of her flowers aside and launched herself into his arms.

Giving a whoop of pure joy, Mason crushed her to him, his blue eyes sparkling with love and laughter. The royal flush scattered softly to the floor as his lips claimed hers in a deep kiss.

"Please, please," the reverend began, flustered and rubbing his forehead as though he was beginning to get a headache. "Mr. Kord, Rebecca... that happens at the end of the ceremony. Let us continue."

"Oh, right, sorry," Rebecca answered tapping Mason on the shoulder and trying to whisper, "put me down, honey." The acoustics of the church made this virtually impossible and she tried not to notice the tittering behind her. Once she was back on her feet she took a couple of moments to straighten Mason's tux. Patting her hair, she pushed her lopsided crystal tiara back up on her head and looked around for what was left of her bouquet. Unfortunately, the stems were about four feet behind her and the flower petals were... well, everywhere.

Rebecca smiled apologetically at the congregation and turned to the reverend.

"We're ready now, reverend," she told him smiling brightly as if this were just your average, normal wedding.

"Good," he replied quickly, sending a silent prayer skyward that there would be no further interruptions. He had never been afraid of the part in the ceremony that asked, 'If anyone had any reason why this couple could not be joined in marriage' until today and he held his breath until it was time to move on.

"Mason, do you take Rebecca to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor and cherish her as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Mason responded with love in his voice.

"Rebecca, do you take Mason to be your wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honor and obey him as long as you both shall live?"

"Obey? Really?" she questioned. "I didn't think they put that in the marriage ceremony anymore?"

"Well," Reverend Whittaker explained, tugging on his collar, "some couples do and some don't. It's really a personal choice."

"Oh, well in that case, take it out," she stated thankfully, giving a sigh of relief.

"Rebecca, Mason specifically asked for me to leave that in," he told her trying to keep his voice low and blotting the sweat from his face with a hankie.

Rebecca bowed her head and began to nibble on her index fingernail. Glancing up at Mason out of the corner of her eye she saw his eyebrow raise and a tic suddenly began in his jaw.

Raising her head, she looked at Nick and saw the same eyebrow raised in exactly the same way. Swallowing, she looked to Maggie for assistance but her head was in her hands and she was shaking, whether in laughter or embarrassment, she never knew. Squaring her shoulders, Rebecca turned to face the reverend

"I... don't think..." was all she got out, before Mason had her firmly by her upper arm.

"Excuse us for just a moment, reverend," he said smoothly and began to pull her none too gently toward the side room to the right of the church, nodding to the congregation as he went.

Rebecca was almost running in her extremely high heels trying to keep up with him and pull away at the same time, her hooped dress swaying like a bell in the wind.

Opening the door, Mason twirled her in and brought her around to face him. Retaining his firm grip on one arm and securing the other he brought her to her tiptoes and looked her straight in the eye.

"You will say obey and you will mean it," he told her firmly. "I asked to have it included and it will be. I love you very much but I will be the head of our household. Is that understood?"

"But, honey," was as far as she got before Mason put his foot on a nearby chair and upended her over his knee. It took several seconds before he got her wildly rocking hoop under control and bunched above her waist. Her kicking legs didn't even reach the floor and were absolutely no impediment to Mason's crisp spanks.

"I suggest you keep your voice down, sweetie," he told her while spank after spank were delivered to her snow-white bottom. "Of course, I doubt anyone in attendance would be surprised that your wedding was a little out of the ordinary."

By the time Mason was done blistering her bottom, dainty white lingerie framed a cherry colored backside. There was very little white between the tops of her gartered stockings and the underside of her butt. Putting her gently on her feet he assured her he would even up the color later that night, pulled her into his arms for a bone melting kiss and handed her his handkerchief to dry her eyes.

In the church, the reverend went between giving the congregation awkward smiles, mopping his brow and checking his watch.

Nick, clearly hearing the beginning of what was no doubt a well-deserved spanking, began to cough intermittently trying to cover up the noise but gave up when the speed of each spank exceeded his ability to cough that fast. He began to hear tidbits of conversation from the assembled guests that ranged from, 'it's about time someone took that girl in hand', 'why would she marry such a brute', and the occasional wistful sigh.

Maggie was literally shaking with her hands over her mouth and a wide-eyed expression frozen on her face. When she eventually snapped out of it she started across the floor to help her unfortunate friend. Nick slid his arm around her waist and smoothly steered her back into position.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Magpie, lest you find yourself in the same uncomfortable position."

Looking at Nick's smile, but seeing that raised eyebrow convinced her she was far better off right where she was.

When the door finally opened and Mason escorted his soon to be wife back to the altar, all eyes were fixed on Rebecca, still looking quite lovely despite the blush and the fact that her tiara was hanging by about four hairs on the left side of her head. Maggie approached quickly, fixing her hair as best she could before Mason led her before the reverend.

"I do", Rebecca stated quickly, holding onto Mason's arm and trying not to wiggle about too much although every sway brought blessed cool air up her hooped dress and relief to her steaming bottom.

Reverend Whittaker took a deep breath.

"Inowpronouceyoumanandwife," just as fast as he possibly could. "Ah," he sighed with great relief. "You may kiss your bride."

And Mason did. A kiss that promised everything their hearts had wished for.

* * *

The End

# Stevie MacFarlane

Best-Selling author Stevie MacFarlane has been writing in her spare time for more than twenty years. It wasn't until 2012 that she decided to submit some of her work to Blushing Books. Since then she has been a nominated for several awards and has frequently hit Amazon's list of Most Popular Erotic/BDSM authors. While most of her stories are on the sweet side, she never fails to add just enough kink and humor to keep her loyal fans clamoring for more.

Visit her blog here:

http://steviemacfarlane.weebly.com/

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_Don't miss these exciting titles by Stevie MacFarlane and Blushing Books!_

_The O'Malley Series_

Changing Her Mind

Little White Lies

The O'Malley Brides

The Perfectly Naughty Bride

The Trouble with Abby

Kiss Me, O'Malley

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Sugar Babies, Inc. Series

A Sweet and Sassy Match, Book 1

Match Me if You Dare, Book 2

Matched for Keeps, Book 3

The Last Match, Book 4

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_The Marriage Market Series_

Amelia, Book One

Grace, Book Two

Effie, Book Three

Suzanna, Book Four

Martha, Book Five

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_Single Titles_

Widow on the Loose

Crystal's Calamity

A Timeless Woman

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_Anthologies_

Sweet Town Love

Hero Undercover

Connect with Stevie MacFarlane:

steviemacfarlane.weebly.com/

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# Blushing Books

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