Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 85

An attraction he was free to act on now because Mason McGraw was home. For the first time in a long time, he was home.

While he'd been back over the years, he hadn't been able to settle down. He'd been busy with his business. And when his grandfather had been alive, the old man had constantly pushed him and his brothers away.

Not that his grandfather hadn't loved his triplet grandsons. He had. It's just that they'd been the spitting image of their father and reminded the elder McGraw daily of his loss.

When Mason and his brothers had been sixteen their mother had died from an unexpected miscarriage-she'd bled to death before anyone had realized what was happening. His father had been out cheating on her, as usual, and when the oldest of the triplets, Josh, had caught up with him, it had been too late for him to say goodbye. He'd been so guilt-stricken that he'd wrapped his car around a telephone pole in town and, in less than twenty-four hours, the McGraw triplets had lost both parents and their grandfather had lost his reason for living. He'd been so overcome with his grief that he'd pushed away any and all reminders of his son and daughter-in-law-namely his grandsons. The boys had all left home right after graduation and they'd been on the road ever since. While Mason's grandfather had eventually realized the error of his ways-he'd been diagnosed with prostate cancer a few years back and made peace with his grandsons before he died-things just hadn't been the same. Mason hadn't wanted to cause the old man any more stress, so he'd kept his distance, except for the occasional visit. But things were different now. Romeo McGraw was dead and Mason was home for good to fulfill the promise he'd made to his mother-to look after the land she'd loved with all of her heart. A love she'd shared with his father. That's all they'd shared, however.

Not a real attraction.

Not the kind that dug down deep in your gut and turned you inside out.

Not a bonafide, bone-deep, l.u.s.ty attraction like what he felt right at this moment for Miss Charlene Singer.

The feeling had always been there but Mason had never been able to act on it. He'd been running from his past and she'd been a vivid reminder of it. While he'd avoided her all those years ago because he'd been a kid and the fierceness of what he'd felt for someone so different from him had scared him, he'd avoided her every day since his parents' death because he couldn't avoid tying himself to a town he could no longer call home.

Until now.

Judging by Charlene's fast retreat, however, he'd be willing to bet that, for whatever reason, she wasn't nearly as anxious to act on that attraction. But he knew she felt it.

"...have to get together sometime," Lolly was saying.

Mason forced his gaze away from Charlene and back to the blonde whose mouth moved faster than an ornery calf trying to outrun a la.s.so.

"For old times' sake," she went on.

"I'm really busy getting settled in." Not that busy, he reminded himself. It had been a d.a.m.ned sight too long since he'd really cut loose. He'd spent the past eight months on a twenty thousand acre ranch in the Black Hills of Montana. Isolated. With only a marriage-minded kindergarten teacher to warm the sheets with.

Needless to say, he'd spent many a cold night because Mason had steered clear of any and all SOS women-smart, opinionated and s.e.xy as all get out.

While he'd always liked his females s.e.xy, he'd also liked them uncomplicated. Given the fact that he'd been on the road so much and hadn't been able to have a real relations.h.i.+p, he figured it was better to avoid the temptation entirely. No smart, opinionated, s.e.xy woman was going to make him want to stay for more than one night.

That was all about to change.

"Do you remember that time on the fifty-yard line after the game with Waller High School?" Lolly asked him.

"I-" he started.

"Of course you do. Boy, we had such a good time. We could have a good time again." She tilted her head to the side and fluttered her eyelashes in a move that had seemed fresh and coy when they were kids. Now it seemed old and stale.

Because he was different now.

He wanted more than just a good time. He wanted a great time, and he wanted to have it with a woman who made him so hard and desperate that he couldn't see straight. Mason wanted what his parents had never had in their own marriage-the l.u.s.t factor.

While Lolly was pretty, he didn't feel near the attraction he'd felt for Charlene Singer. Even so, he'd never been one to hurt a woman's feelings. While he'd set his mind on his future, there wasn't anything wrong with talking over old times.

"I could sure go for a burger over at the diner."

"I was thinking more dessert back at my place..." The rest of Lolly's words faded in the sudden commotion as the front double doors opened and Josh McGraw strode outside, a pretty redhead cradled in his arms.

"Excuse me a sec," Mason said to Lolly before striding up to his brother. "I'm a.s.suming this is Holly." Mason smiled at the woman as Josh eased her to her feet.

"The one and only." Josh grinned, his blue eyes twinkling as he slid his arm protectively around her waist. "This is my younger brother, Mason."

"Younger by about five minutes," Mason reminded him.

"Five minutes and forty-five seconds," Josh corrected.

"It's good to finally meet you. My, but your eyes are green."

"We're fraternal triplets," Mason told her. "While we all look the spitting image of each other, our eye color is different. Josh got the baby blues and Rance, the youngest, has gold eyes."

"That's amazing." Holly spared Mason a smile before her attention s.h.i.+fted back to Josh. For the next few moments, they seemed to lose themselves in each other.

"Since you don't look madder than a wet hornet," Mason finally said, feeling suddenly awkward for one of the few times in his life, "I'm a.s.suming she said yes."

"d.a.m.ned if she didn't."

And d.a.m.ned if Josh didn't seem incredibly happy about the fact. The cynical gleam in his gaze had disappeared. His serious, intense expression had slipped away. His usual back-it-up-buddy air had faded.

He looked truly happy and content.

Mason felt a rush of envy. Despite all his professional success, his personal life wasn't anything to talk about. By necessity, he reminded himself. But now that he was taking over the Iron Horse the way he was always meant to, the way his mother had wanted, and continuing the family tradition, he could open himself up to a relations.h.i.+p with the right woman.

His gaze s.h.i.+fted in time to see the Lexus nose around the far end of the parking lot and pull onto Main Street. Charlie Singer was every bit the SOS girl he'd walked in on in the bathroom so long ago. Still smart and opinionated and s.e.xy as all get out. Still staring at him with that open hunger in her gaze. Still stirring his interest and firing his fantasies.

But now, she was no longer off-limits.

"THE HAMBURGER IS definitely off-limits. Talk about your double whammy. Toxic red meat swimming in saturated fat."

Charlene glanced up from her menu at the man who sat opposite her in the booth at the Fat Cow Diner.

Dr. Stewart Connally had dark brown hair cut short and neat, and deep brown eyes. His jaw was freshly shaven, as usual, and his white b.u.t.ton-up s.h.i.+rt was neatly starched and b.u.t.toned just one shy of his neck. A crisp white unders.h.i.+rt peeked from the small V and a gold Rolex glittered from his wrist. His lab coat rested on the back of the seat next to him. He wasn't a particularly attractive man with his slightly too large nose and a pair of eyes that sat a little too close together, but he made the most of what he had-namely a good physique-and he was neat.

It was their weekly lunch meeting and Charlene had been late thanks to Mason McGraw and the conversation about her underpants which had delayed her a good ten minutes.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, the bell on the door chimed and he walked in, Lolly Langtree on his arm.

He obviously didn't waste any time falling back into old habits, Charlene thought as she watched them slide into a nearby booth.

"...not having the hamburger, are you?" Stewart's voice pushed into her head and she s.h.i.+fted her attention back to the man who stared at her over his menu. Worry lit his brown eyes.

Charlene would have been touched by his concern, but she knew from previous lunch dates that he wasn't nearly as worried about her arteries as he was about having all that greasy temptation within arm's reach.

Stewart was six feet of fit, toned, tanned muscle with very little body fat. Less than nine point two percent, to be exact. A tidbit of information he shared on a regular basis with anyone and everyone who would listen.

She grinned. "I'm not in the mood for toxic red meat swimming in saturated fat."

"Good." Relief etched his handsome features as his gaze went back to the menu. "The fried catfish special is definitely a no-man's land, what with all the batter and oil and the steroids that Walt Jackson pumps into his fish before he stocks his pond." He studied the menu a few more seconds. "The egg salad's always a possibility provided they use a mayonnaise subst.i.tute."

"I feel like apple pie." While she didn't do chocolate, Charlene still indulged her sweet tooth. Not to mention, she needed something sweet after all that talk about chocolate and o.r.g.a.s.ms and...

Her gaze drifted back to Mason in time to see him glance up. His gaze locked with hers and her breath caught.

He wouldn't...

He did.

His eyes crinkled and his lips tilted at the corners and he actually grinned at her.

Her body-d.a.m.n the superficial, traitorous thing-reacted accordingly. Her nipples pebbled and her insides grew tight and itchy and- "Are you okay?" Stewart's voice broke the seductive spell that she'd been trapped in and yanked her back to reality.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"You look flushed."

"It's really warm in here." She fidgeted against the vinyl seat. "Don't you think it's warm in here?"

"I'm rather comfortable myself."

She fanned herself with the edge of the menu and let loose a deep breath. "Maybe it's just me." Duh. "Maybe I'm coming down with something." A bad case of l.u.s.t thanks to Mason and his grin.

"I could prescribe some antibiotics when I get back to the office."

"That's okay. I'm sure I'll be okay."

"I'll write the prescription anyway. In case you get sick with something while I'm away at that conference. There's a summer flu going around."

"Once I eat something, I'll probably feel a lot better." Charlene turned her attention to the waitress who approached.

"You don't know how lucky you are," Stewart told her after they'd placed their order-one apple pie a la mode and one grilled chicken salad with low-fat Italian dressing on the side. "Just catching a whiff of any type of dessert makes me pack on a few pounds."

Once upon a time, Stewart had been known at Romeo High as "Goodyear." As in the blimp. All that had changed when he'd gone away to college. He'd shed fifty pounds, packed on some muscle and had come home looking like he'd done a stint on Survivor.

"A protein-rich, low-fat diet and lots of exercise," he'd told Charlene. "Not to mention, pediatric residents barely have time to breathe much less eat."

But Skeeter McBee and his group of busybodies that sat near the doorway of the diner still swore they'd seen him eating Mongolian c.o.c.kroaches during the last season.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Stewart reached across the table and took her hand in his. It was a friendly gesture that he'd made often during the course of their lifelong friends.h.i.+p.

One with little meaning behind it other than genuine like, since he'd yet to realize how perfect they were for each other.

Men were just so slow sometimes.

"I'm fine, really," she told him.

"You don't look fine. You look uncomfortable." As if he'd noticed the direction of her gaze, he turned and glanced behind them. "Lolly Langtree looks as trampy as ever, particularly with that low-cut dress and her new set of double D b.r.e.a.s.t.s. With the way she's fawning all over Mason McGraw, she might as well crawl into his lap." He turned back to Charlene. "I know people like that can make everyone else uncomfortable, but you can't let a snotty diva like Lolly bother you. Sure, she's got a heck of a body and a really great face and she shamelessly puts it out there for anyone and everyone, but it will all come back to haunt her one day." He shook his head in disgust. "You mark my words, she'll fool around with the wrong married man and find herself staring down the barrel of a shotgun someday."

Because Stewart had endured so much name-calling as a kid, he'd yet to forgive and forget the people who'd made fun of him.

Namely Lolly and her diva friends.

"She's the last person you should let bother you," Stewart went on. "She isn't even in the same league as the two of us. We have self-respect. Cla.s.s. Actual brains." He told her what she'd told herself time and time again all those years ago.

The trouble was, she didn't believe it now any more than she had back then.

"I'm a little tired, that's all."

"Good because we're having dinner with my parents on Friday before I leave Sat.u.r.day morning and I would hate to have to cancel because you're sick. You know how Dad hates having his plans messed up." Judge and Mrs. Connally were perfectionists. Not a good thing for a boy who'd been very imperfect. But then he'd changed his appearance, graduated at the top of his cla.s.s, and come home the perfect son-at least weight-wise. He'd been going out of his way to keep things that way ever since.

"Not to mention," he was saying, "it was h.e.l.l to clear my schedule in the first place. Speaking of which-" he glanced at his watch "-I hope they hurry up. I've got a busy afternoon. I have several patients to see before I meet with Doctor Collier from Cherryville, who's agreed to fill in for me while I'm gone. We're having dinner at the Steak-n-Bake." The Steak-n-Bake was the nicest restaurant within a fifty mile radius of Romeo and the only place where they actually had linen napkins. It was located just off the main Interstate about twenty minutes outside of town and it had always been the date place on any given Sat.u.r.day night.

Charlene had been there on occasion with her mother while growing up, but never with a date. Which spoke volumes for her social life. Or lack thereof.

"Are you packed yet?" she asked Stewart.

He smiled. "Done, and I used my new organizer suitcase. Fit everything into one bag with room to spare. You know, I'm really excited about this conference. I've got everything planned down to the minute." He smiled and seemed to lose himself in his thoughts before he noticed that Charlene was looking at him. He cleared his throat. "Um, that is, I just love learning new treatments. It's time consuming, but totally worthwhile."

"I've just started a new communication therapy with some of my patients, one I read about on the Internet," she added. "It's the latest thing and, so far, it seems to be actually working."

"Really? You'll have to fill me in on the details when I get back. And speaking of getting back..." He cleared his throat again as if to work up his courage. "I, um, was thinking that when the conference is over and things settle down again, we really need to sit down and talk about us. We've been having lunch every week for how long now?"

"Two years."

"Two years is a really long time to see someone on a regular basis."

Plenty of time for Stewart to have realized that they were perfect for each other in a romantic sense. They were both professionals. They both enjoyed reading. They even had the same favorite color-beige. They were a match just waiting to happen.

"I'm getting back on Sunday morning, so maybe we can have an early dinner that night at the Steak-n-Bake. I think we need to talk about the nature of our relations.h.i.+p." Before he could elaborate, his beeper went off. "It's Bernice." Bernice was his nurse. "I hope Dr. Collier didn't cancel. I can't miss this trip." He gave Charlene's hand an affectionate squeeze and pulled his cell phone from his pocket to call his office.

Charlene closed her hand against the lingering warmth. A direct contrast to the overwhelming heat she'd felt when she'd handed Mason her business card and his fingers had brushed hers.

When Stewart touched her, she felt comfortable. Calm. Safe.

She never felt as if she was standing on the edge of a steep well, the shaft pitch-black, the bottom endless.

With Stewart, she could see what lay ahead. Their weekly lunch filled with talk about work and family. Their occasional Friday night dinner date-when he managed to carve time out of his schedule-always followed by talk about books or movies or world events. She could even envision the nice, satisfying s.e.x they would have once he actually realized they were so compatible. If his beeper didn't go off, that is.

Nice.

The way it should be between good friends.

Her gaze s.h.i.+fted to Mason who'd just taken a gigantic piece of chocolate cake onto his fork. He slid the bite into his mouth and Charlene felt her own stomach tighten.

Mason wasn't the type of man to be friends with a woman. Nor was he a man to dim the lights, slide beneath the sheets and hold a woman tenderly in his arms the way she imagined Stewart would do.

Loud. Bright. Down and dirty.

She'd bet money that that's what s.e.x with Mason McGraw would be like. If she'd been a betting woman.