Up the Chimney Page 4

  Ciera grabbed the open edges of his worn leather jacket and hung on. She was afraid he’d stop and feared what would happen if he didn’t. His slow kiss was pure seduction and the man using his lips like a passionate pistol knew how to hit the mark. All she could do was hope her heart wasn’t his target.

  Friction from his beard and mustache blitzed prickles of awareness up and down her hormonal system, making a slow U-turn at her core. The cold ice-covered surface of her car sent shivers to her back, but nothing compared to the incessant waves of heat from Mason’s body pressed to hers.

  He released her lips and scrapped his teeth across her jawline. “Stop fighting me. Give me a chance to show you how you should be treated.” Warm kisses were breathed down the column of her neck and, although she shuddered, she was ready to melt into a puddle of feminine goo.

  “Mason,” she moaned.

  “Yes, baby. Just give me a chance to make you feel things you never thought possible. Take a chance on me. Get to know me on a personal level. Look, you have to be cold and my arm’s getting tired holding this umbrella over your head. Let’s find someplace warm, get a bite to eat, and talk. Name a place near where you live.”

  “There’s an Olive Garden I pass on my way home.”

  “You like Italian? Why not come to my place and I’ll cook you some great pasta. I have a special quick sauce I can whip up with lots of fresh vegies. Very healthy. Plus, you’ll get to see how great I look in an apron.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know you well enough to go to your house.” God, she sounded downright virginal. They’d worked near each other for two years. Plus, the man had just practically examined her tonsils with his tongue. “Okay, you lead, I’ll follow.” She turned to get into her SUV.

  “Where’s your ice scraper? I’ll clear your windows for you while you warm up your car.”

  Well, this was a new experience. Not once had Seth ever worried about the condition of her windows in foul weather. As the heater warmed her interior and her rear defroster cleared her back window, Mason made quick work of scraping off her windshield and side windows. He opened her door, tossed in the plastic tool, and cupped her face before placing a quick kiss on her lips. She laughed and he kissed her again.

  “Don’t drive off like a bat out of hell and lose me,” she warned.

  “Don’t worry. I’d come hunting you.” He closed the door and strode to the black Jeep Wrangler parked beside her.

  She leaned her forehead against her steering wheel. What was she going to do about him? She replayed his words in her mind. Was she denying herself happiness because of Seth? Was her ex-husband worth it? Hell, no. And, if she were honest, she was very drawn to Mason Holt.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mason lived in a complex of condos a few blocks from headquarters in the opposite direction of her house. She’d have a longer drive to get home. Who knew how bad road conditions would be by the time he fixed dinner and they ate.

  This was probably a bad decision. Not just because of the nasty weather, but because once he started kissing her she was damn near powerless. She didn’t like being vulnerable to him, or anyone.

  He pulled into a numbered spot and jumped out of his Wrangler, motioning for her to park in the guest parking area on the opposite side of the street. He helped her out of her red Land Rover, grabbed her bag of roses, and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I’ll keep you from falling.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m not sure I’ll be able to drive home if this mess keeps up for another couple of hours.”

  “You can stay here. I’ve got two bedrooms. If you don’t mind sleeping in bunk beds. The guest room’s fixed up for my nephews.”

  “Eva Marie’s sons?”

  “Yeah, they come over and we watch scary movies. Eat too much junk food. You know, manly stuff.” He hip bumped her and she laughed. This side of him surprised her. At work, he was typically concentrated on the seriousness of his job.

  His condo was on the third floor. He must have had the floor lamp beside a wide chair and ottoman on a timer, for it cast a welcoming glow when they walked in. The wall of the living room that held the white-brick, gas-log fireplace was painted brown to match his brown leather furniture. The remaining walls were cream and there were sliding glass doors to a balcony.

  “I chose this condo because of the view, which you can’t see tonight. There are mountains behind us. I didn’t want to sit on my terrace and look at the parking lot. I wanted something to soothe my soul after a rough day.” He picked up a remote control from the mantel and pushed a button. Flames popped to life.

  He stooped to plug in the lights on his tall, artificial Christmas tree sitting in the corner next to the sliding glass doors. Small footballs and dark green and white bulbs, no doubt in honor of the New York Jets, decorated the tree. So did an assortment of super hero ornaments. The twinkling clear lights cast a cheery glow.

  “Give me your coat and things. I’ll hang them up while you get warm in front of the fire. Meanwhile, I’ll wash the veggies for the sauce. Oh, the guest bath is the second door on your left if you need it.” He pointed toward a hallway beyond a kitchen.

  “Thanks.” She took her flowers out of her bag and set them on the coffee table. She turned her back to the heat of the fireplace and allowed its warmth to seep through her jeans. His place was orderly, if not a little sparse. The only pictures on the walls were a pair of mountain scenes hanging above the over-padded leather sofa. On the bottom shelf of his glass and walnut coffee table were oblong baskets filled with folded action figure blankets and what appeared to be remote control cars. He seemed to take his role as uncle seriously. She pivoted to warm her front.

  She had a fireplace in her Cape Cod, but it was just for show. The chimney flue liner and smoke box had been removed by the previous owner for reasons she couldn’t fathom. Who knew, maybe the items had never been put in when the house was built ages ago. After a raccoon had scampered down her chimney and frightened her to death, she’d had a neighbor place a screen on top of it. Come spring, she’d have to invest in a better cover. Strong winds had dislodged the screen and it often beat on the roof, scaring her. Her home had its charm; it also needed repairs unlike this new condo.

  A large TV hung over Mason’s fireplace. On one end of the mantel was a picture of a woman she recognized from the backs of her romances in the arms of a man in uniform. Eva Marie and her husband. Beside it was a small one of herself in an ornate frame. Her fingers reached to pick it up; she couldn’t believe it. Why would he have a picture of her here among his family?

  She remembered the day it was taken. She was in her chair at the communication’s center, her hands clasped behind her neck, and taking a deep breath after a tough call. Mason had called her name. She’d looked his way and smiled and he’d taken a picture with his cell phone. He’d had it printed and framed. Imagine that. She placed it where it had sat, still wondering why he had a picture of her. On the other end of the mantel was a professional photo of three kids—two boys and a little girl, all looking pained at having to sit still.

  Hanging from the mantel were five stockings labeled Uncle Mason, Eva Marie, Jackson, Dillon, and Emma. A garland of artificial pine with tiny red and gold bulbs edged the mantel.

  Water was running and Mason was humming. Ciera strode for the kitchen. “You better have that apron on you promised—” She broke out laughing. Big, manly Detective Mason Holt wore a yellow apron with ruffles over the shoulders and around the hem. Embroidered across the part covering his pecs was—A man’s place is in the kitchen…cooking. After a few minutes of laughing until she held her stomach, she forced out, “Oh, sweet Lord.” She wiped her eyes and slipped onto one of the tan leather bar stools. “Wait till I tell people at work.”

  He pointed a finger at her, his eyebrows raised in challenge. “Not a damn word. This is private between you and me.” He shook the excess water from the chrome strainer and began slicing the zucchini on a chopping block
placed on the counter between them, his movements sure and fast. “A man tries to do something special for his lady and she laughs at his choice of attire, chosen with great care I might add.” The corners of his mouth twitched as if he were fighting a smile.

  His cellphone chirped and he noted the caller before swiping the screen. “Hold on, sis. I’m putting you on speaker. I’ve got company and I’m slicing vegies for my special pasta sauce.”

  “Company? Please tell me it’s Ciera, that she understood your explanation about the flower mix-up.”

  His gaze rose to hers and locked. “Well, I’m still trying to convince her, but yeah she’s here for dinner. How’s everything at the compound?” The blade of his knife kept cutting as he talked.

  “Mason, Jackson got sent to the principal’s office today. He’s been expelled for three-days!” She sounded exasperated.

  His knife slammed the cutting board and he reached for a dish towel to wipe his hands. He shoved the sleeves of his sweatshirt almost to his elbows and braced his hands on the granite counter. “For what?”

  “Fighting.”

  “Put him on the phone.” His head hung and he muttered a curse under his breath.

  “He’s upstairs in his room. I’ll let you talk to Dillon while I go get him. He might not want to talk to you. He’s so afraid he’s disappointed you and his daddy.”

  “Bring him down and put me on with Wild Man in the meantime.” He palmed the knife again and chopped an onion.

  “Uncle Mason! Mommy says you have a girlfriend.”

  “Yes, I do.” He winked at Ciera. Heat bloomed on her cheeks.

  “Does she have wipstick on? I wike it when girls wear wipstick.”

  “She did, Wild Man, but I kissed it all off.”

  Ciera’s hands flew to cover her flaming cheeks. Was nothing private?

  “Oh, Uncle Mason, you’re as bad as Daddy. Does she have big ‘breasteses’?”

  Her hands covered her eyes and she shook her head. What kind of family was this? Oh, right. The family of a romance writer and a manwhore uncle.

  He grabbed a stalk of celery and sliced it. “There are some things a man, a real man, doesn’t talk about, like the size of his lady’s breasts. Those things are personal between the man and his woman.” He began chopping red and green peppers.

  “Oh. I didn’t know that. So I shouldn’t talk about breasteses?”

  His knife kept cutting. “Not unless you want me to cuff the back of your head, young man. It says so in the rule books.” There was sternness in his voice. She didn’t doubt he meant it.

  “Here’s Jackson, Uncle Mason. I wuv you and I wuv your girlfriend, too.”

  “Love you, too, pal.” Mason laid the knife down again, folded his powerful forearms on the counter, and leaned over the phone.

  Someone sniffled. “H…hello, Uncle Mason.”

  “Hey, J-Man, heard you had a rough day at school.”

  “Yes. I…I’m sorry if I let you down.”

  “Well, suppose you tell me about it from the very beginning. Okay? Then we’ll decide if you let me down or not.”

  Ciera’s heart went out to the little fellow on the other end of the phone conversation.

  “From the very beginning?”

  “Yes.” Mason nodded.

  “Well, I got up when Mom called me. I went to the bathroom and peed.”

  Mason slapped a hand over his eyes and a smile spread while he shook his head. “No, J-Man. I meant from the beginning of the trouble at school.”

  “Oh.” There was a big sigh. “We were at morning recess. Since we couldn’t go outside because of the rain, we had recess in the gym with the fourth graders. Most of us played dodge ball. Do you remember me talking about the blind girl in our class? Kayla?”

  “Yeah. Kayla, sure.”

  “Well, the biggest bully in fourth grade, Jason, hit her in the face with the ball, knowing she couldn’t see it coming. It broke her glasses and knocked her down. I looked for the teacher’s aide assigned to take care of Kayla, but she was busy texting and didn’t see what happened.”

  Mason’s hand curled into a fist. “Go on, buddy. You’re doing a good job.”

  Two of Jason’s friends joined in and kicked her. They made fun of her. I ran over and told them to stop. That she couldn’t help she was blind. Jason shoved me down and called me a suckass, which didn’t bother me none. I just wanted him to stop hurting Kayla. So I stood up and punched him in the nose. I think I broke it, Uncle Mason. Blood flew everywhere. The teachers got excited and I got marched to the principal’s office.”

  “What about Jason?”

  “No one saw him do anything to Kayla except for some of the other kids and they’re afraid to speak up. He can be mean. But let me tell ya, he bawled like a sissy after I hit him.”

  Mason clasped a hand to his mouth, his shoulders shaking in laughter. Ciera reached out and slapped his bicep. He cleared his throat and fought for control. “Jackson.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’m proud of what you did.”

  She could almost visualize thin shoulders snapping back in surprise and relief. “You are?”

  “Yes, by damn, I am. You took up for someone who couldn’t protect herself. That’s what your daddy does every day. The next time he Skype calls, you tell him exactly what you told me. I’m betting he’ll be proud of you, too.”

  “You think so?” A deep sigh sounded. “But I got in big trouble. I’m only in third grade and I got expelled already. Dad will freak.”

  “Son, that sometimes happens when you do the right thing. You get in trouble over it. Now, we’re gonna let this time slide, but if you start making it a habit of getting into fights then you and me will have a long heart-to-heart. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I love you so hard, Uncle Mason.”

  “And I love you twice as hard. Now put your momma back on.”

  “Mason?”

  “I’m guessing school is already cancelled for tomorrow. But you can double damn guarantee I’ll be in the principal’s office when those doors open. There’s no way Jackson is taking the fall for this. I mean, who do they think broke the little girl’s glasses? No. This shit’s not right. My nephew is not—” He was pacing and scowling.

  “Mason, for God’s sake, calm down. Geesh, I thought I overreacted when I found out. You’re worse!”

  He took a deep breath. “Eva Marie, he needs someone in his corner. I promised Sean I’d fill in for him while he was gone and I intend to honor that pledge. Jackson’s a good kid. He was only trying to protect another student. Don’t be hard on him.”

  “If you say so. I know his heart was in the right place. It’s just no mother wants to hear her child got expelled. I didn’t know if it was the beginning of a bad pattern, or what. Thanks for talking to him. Enjoy your evening with Ciera. Do you want me to tell her what a good guy you are?”

  His eyes connected with Ciera’s. “No, she needs to find that out for herself. Your doors are locked for the night, right?”

  Mason ended the call with his sister and filled a pan with water, poured in a dollop of olive oil, and set it on the stove to boil. His gaze flicked to his laptop on the table. He poured a quarter-sized blob of virgin olive oil in the large frying pan and used his spatula to spread it around before sliding in the assortment of chopped vegies. A spoonful of chopped garlic was tossed in next.

  “Baby, could I ask you to keep stirring these veggies while I send Sean a quick email about Jackson?”

  “Sure thing.” She scooted off the bar stool and came around to his side of the open galley-style kitchen.

  He handed the spatula to her and stalked to the table that sat in a bay of windows. “Can you believe that shit? No one sees a blind girl get knocked down and kicked. Or her glasses getting broken. But they sure as hell see a bully get his comeuppance.”

  “If you can prove Kayla’s teacher’s aide was texting instead of watching her, you’ll have a stronger case.”


  “I like how you think.” He had the laptop open and his fingers were flying over the keys. “I want Sean aware so he doesn’t ‘freak’ as Jackson said. He’s pretty demanding of his sons. He takes no guff from them. I want him to know the kid was doing an honorable thing.” He hit a key. Waited. “There. Sent.”

  The water was boiling. He opened a box of linguini and broke the pieces in half before adding them to the water. “You can sit down now and watch the master at work.”

  She rolled her eyes and plopped back onto the stool.

  “You know, it wouldn’t take me long to get the teacher’s aid’s phone records.” He opened two cans of clams and a large can of chopped tomatoes, adding them to the sautéing vegetables. He stirred the mixture carefully before adding shrimp he had draining on paper towels. Then he opened a cabinet full of spices and shook in an assortment. The aromas made Ciera’s stomach growl.

  She glanced at his sweatshirt. “So, you were in Special Forces?”

  “Yeah. A lifetime ago. My leg got shot up pretty bad. Even with the pins in my thigh, I’ve lost enough strength in the bone that I can’t jump from planes anymore. They grounded me. I could have taken a support job in SF, but I knew how it would eat at me. You know, being so close and yet not being a part of the action.” He took her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Like being so close to you every day and yet having you ignore me gnaws at my soul. Makes me scowl, as you say.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. A fluttering deep in her belly zinged straight to her core and she pressed her thighs together. This man sure knew how to schmooze a woman.

  “So I did intelligence until my enlistment time was up. I heard about an opening in the police department here about that time and I applied. I left the Army when my time was up.” He uncorked a bottle of wine and set it aside to breathe. “Coming home was good.” A buzzer sounded. He opened the oven and removed a foil-wrapped loaf, dropping it into a bread basket. Then he turned the gas burner off for the pastry and drained it.