Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 92

But there were a few bits and pieces of the past-other than when he'd picked them up at Charlene's place-when they'd actually seemed to like each other. He could distinctly remember Lurline feeding Eustess a bite of cherry cobbler at the annual Romeo Rodeo Bake-Off, and Eustess twirling Lurline around a sawdust-covered dance floor at the Spring Fling. Mason had been a small boy back then. Eustess had had all of his hair and a twinkle in his blue eyes and Lurline had been trim and vivacious despite birthing three kids.

But then she'd gone on to have several more, her figure had disappeared completely and Eustess had started to lose his hair. Their physical attraction to each other had obviously faded. They'd been arguing and making each other miserable ever since.

Mason knew they just needed to recapture the l.u.s.t they'd initially felt. Sure, they were old. But he was a firm believer in the power of l.u.s.t. Mason had seen it firsthand with Tucker and Linda who'd been total opposites, and it seemed the same way for Josh and Holly. He knew he could see it again with his great-aunt and-uncle who'd simply grown apart.

Unfortunately, Charlene Singer wasn't nearly as enlightened. She wanted a soul mate, for crying out loud. A boring, eyebrow burning pediatrician who-Mason had heard just that afternoon from Skeeter and his cronies down at the diner-ate actual c.o.c.kroaches as a form of weight control.

Talk about crazy.

On top of it all, Mason had agreed to help her.

Talk about really crazy.

And the real kicker was, he was actually going to go through with the ridiculous three-point plan. He'd given his word, after all, and Mason was a man who always kept his promises.

Both to others, and to himself.

7.

MASON STARED at Charlene as she exited the dressing room of the elite boutique located in the heart of downtown Romeo and the air caught in his chest.

She wore a hot pink miniskirt that emphasized her endless legs and a matching halter top that hugged her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and outlined her ripe nipples.

More than anything, however, it was the uncertainty in her expression that made him want to reach out and pull her into his arms. It was the same look she'd worn when he'd walked in on her in the Hee Haw underpants. And his reaction was the same.

He didn't act on it now any more than he had then. For different reasons. He hadn't understood the pull between them back then. He'd been young and naive, and then when he'd come to understand his infatuation with her, he hadn't been able to act on it. His parents had died and his life had turned upside down. He'd had to leave, to throw himself into his rodeoing and then his business so that he didn't feel the loss as deeply.

Everything had changed now.

Yet nothing had changed because Mason was still holding back. For different reasons, of course. Charlene wouldn't welcome his advances because she didn't believe in them. She didn't believe in l.u.s.t.

Unfortunately, he was stuck smack-dab in the middle of it.

She turned in a circle before giving him a questioning gaze. "How does this look?"

"Fine," he managed to say in a calm, cool voice that didn't betray the d.a.m.ned urge to haul her close and convince her just how fine she truly was.

"I don't know." She seemed almost disappointed by his reaction as she turned toward the floor-length mirror situated just to the right of the dressing room doorway. As if she'd expected more of a reaction. As if she wanted one.

"Maybe the color is a little too bright," she said.

"It's fine." Where the h.e.l.l did that come from? He had a whole bunch of adjectives swirling in his brain-s.e.xy, hot, bold, provocative-but d.a.m.ned if they could make the trek to his mouth.

"Maybe I should try the blue dress."

"Fine." He swallowed and tried to calm his pounding heart as she disappeared back behind the floor-length black curtain.

Pounding, of all things when he'd sworn to himself just that morning that he was going to focus on helping her pick out some nice clothes. He wasn't going to focus on her, as in the way the pink played up her creamy complexion or the way the spandex clung to her curves and made her seem that much more voluptuous. He wasn't going to go after a woman who wanted someone else.

Stewart.

What woman in their right mind would want a guy named Stewart? Why, the guy couldn't even use a bunson burner for Christ's sake. Sure, that had been a long time ago, but Mason wasn't going to risk getting too close. A guy didn't just outgrow that kind of clumsiness. He couldn't imagine that Charlene-smart, intelligent, s.e.xy Charlene-would get within five feet of the guy much less want to be his soul mate.

He fought down a wave of jealousy and s.h.i.+fted his attention to the racks of clothing that filled the shop.

Miss Jolie's carried everything from trendy hip-hugger jeans and camisole tops to the latest in s.e.xy underwear and do-me shoes. The shop tended to lean toward the risque, but then Miss Jolie herself had defined the word back in her day.

She was pus.h.i.+ng seventy-six now, but way back when, she'd worked for the notorious Red Rose Farraday who'd owned and operated one of the most famous brothels in Texas history. Jolie had been one of her most popular girls. When the place had closed down, Jolie had moved to town and opened up shop. The citizens had snubbed her at first, but as the times had changed, so had everyone's opinion of Rose and her girls.

Miss Jolie's had become the it place for the man-hunting Juliets, as well as every other woman in town looking to spice up her appearance.

Old Stewart would probably break out in hives if he set foot inside Miss Jolie's.

His gaze went to the old woman who stood near the front of the store, near a large gla.s.s accessory case. He watched as she pulled out a rhinestone necklace and set it on the gla.s.s counter for the customer in front of her. Her gaze caught Mason's and her face crinkled as she smiled at him.

"You just let me know if y'all need anything," she called out. "I'm always busy during the lunch hour, but I'll be back there to help just as quick as I can."

He grinned. "We're fine." There was that fine again.

The bell rang and Miss Jolie turned her smile to the next customer who walked in, while Mason s.h.i.+fted his attention to a rack of tank tops. A camouflage pattern caught his eye and he pulled it free.

"What about this?" Charlene's voice drew him around.

He turned to see her wearing a deep blue dress with a plunging neckline that went so low he expected to see her belly b.u.t.ton peeking out at him. The material barely concealed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, leaving a ma.s.sive display of cleavage that made it hard to swallow. Blue outlined her hips and fell to midthigh, leaving a delicious expanse of bare legs that made his mouth water.

Oddly enough, it wasn't the scanty dress that stopped his heart in that next instant. It was the desire that sparked deep in her eyes when his gaze collided with hers.

Heat fired in his groin and rolled through his body until he could barely breathe. He'd had chemistry with women before, but this gave new meaning to the word. It was more powerful and consuming than anything he'd ever felt, and it convinced him even more that he and Charlene should get together.

She drew a deep breath, her chest lifted, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s trembled, and need knifed through him. The feeling cut him to the quick and it was all he could do not to cross the few feet of distance separating them, push her up against the nearest wall and plunge fast and sure into her hot body.

And why not?

Because she isn't likely to a.s.sume the position, buddy. She doesn't believe in l.u.s.t, remember? She's looking for a deeper, more meaningful connection. That's what this whole transformation is all about. She wants to prove her theory once and for all.

Or disprove it.

The thought struck and suddenly Mason felt like the biggest a.s.s in the world. Here he was l.u.s.ting after her, wanting her and wis.h.i.+ng that she wanted him, when all he really had to do was help her.

Mason didn't believe for two seconds that Stewart was Charlene's soul mate. He had no doubt that the guy would run screaming the other way if he was faced with a drop-dead gorgeous, aggressive, daring woman. And when he did, Charlene would have to accept the truth-her theory was wrong. It wasn't similar personalities that drew and kept a couple together for the long-term. It was the physical attraction.

"We can't keep our hands off each other."

Tucker's words echoed again in Mason's head and his heart started to pound. Yep, when Charlene turned Stewart off with her new appearance, she would have proof beyond a doubt that physical attraction was all that really mattered.

Then she would stop denying the pull between her and Mason and realize that they were meant to be together. l.u.s.t mates rather than soul mates.

In the meantime, he intended to keep the chemistry sizzling and show her just how hot things could get.

"What do you think?" she asked again, uncertainty bright in her eyes.

He itched to reach out, to touch her cheek and trace the hollow beneath her eye and feel the tickle of her lashes against the pad of his finger. "It's good," he said instead, his voice gruff.

She frowned as if the response hadn't been what she'd hoped for. "Better than the pink?"

Where he'd been so d.a.m.ned intent on looking anywhere-everywhere-but at her since they'd walked into Miss Jolie's, he indulged himself this time. He started at the top of her head and moved down, pausing at all the interesting spots in between. The curve of her jaw. The smooth line of her neck. The slope of her breast. The indentation of her waist. The flare of her hips. "Maybe," he finally said.

"Maybe?" Her frown deepened. "Either it is or it isn't."

He hooked the camouflage tank top back on the rack and stepped toward her. He stopped just inches shy, planted his hands on his hips and studied her, as if thinking long and hard on the subject. "I think I need a second look," he finally said. He motioned to the dressing room. "Try the other one on."

"Again?"

He grinned, slow and sure, and watched her flush. "Again."

AND THEY SAID women couldn't make up their minds?

Charlene shook her head and took off the blue dress. Pulling it right side out, she slipped it onto the hanger and hooked it on the wall. She was just about to reach for the pink when she heard the rustle of curtains, followed by a deep, husky voice.

"I like it."

Excitement rushed through her for several fast and furious heartbeats before two all-important facts registered.

First, Mason McGraw was here, now, looking at her while she wore nothing but her underwear.

Second, Mason McGraw was here, now, looking at her while she wore nothing but her underwear.

This was not happening.

She blinked, praying that he would disappear. He wasn't real. This was just a figment of her imagination. Another fantasy to add to the long list that haunted her each and every night.

He didn't disappear.

The curtains swished closed behind him and he simply stood there. He looked so tall, dark and delicious in a black T-s.h.i.+rt and worn, faded Wranglers, the hems frayed around his scuffed boots. He'd left his hat sitting on the dash of his truck and so there was nothing except a thick fringe of black lashes shadowing the intense green gaze that swept from her head to her toes and back up again.

Her heart thundered and goose b.u.mps chased up and down her bare arms. Bare, as in naked. She was naked in front of a man. And not just any man. She was naked in front of Mason McGraw.

Knock, knock? You're wearing underwear, for heaven's sake. Granted, it's a pair of skimpy bikini briefs, but it could be worse.

You could be wearing a next-to-nothing thong.

Or the Hee Haw underpants.

The last thought killed some of the panic she was feeling and she drew a deep, calming breath. She wasn't completely nude, and she certainly wasn't the same vulnerable kid who'd run crying from her first boy/girl party after getting caught in her G.o.d-awful underpants.

She could handle this.

She could handle him.

She reached for the pink halter top and pulled it to her, using the material to effectively cover her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she made short work of pulling the strappy pink number from the hanger.

"I like it," he said again as he took a step toward her.

"I'm not wearing it yet," she responded as she set the hanger to the side with one hand while clutching the halter top in front of her with the other.

"That's the part I like." He took another step.

"We're supposed to be picking out the most flattering outfit," she reminded him as she turned toward the mirror, putting her back to him as she busied herself finding the hem of the halter top. "I can't very well prance around in front of everyone like this."

"Not everyone. Just me." The deep, husky words echoed in her head and thrummed through her body. He stood even closer now, his body warm and enticing in the frigid air-conditioning of the dressing room.

Okay, so maybe she couldn't handle this, Charlene admitted to herself when he stepped up behind her, her back kissing his chest.

The scent of him surrounded her and his hard warmth teased her shoulder blades. When she felt his large, callused fingers at her waist, her fingers went limp and the halter top slipped from her hands. Her head snapped up and her gaze collided with his in the mirror.

His dark green gaze glittered back at her, bright and hot and mesmerizing. "You're really something, you know that?"

"I..." She swallowed. "You shouldn't be in here."

"No, I shouldn't." His hand slid around her waist and trailed down her abdomen to her panties. His fingers skimmed the white cotton triangle covering her s.e.x. "I should be in here."

"I..." She started to say something, but his intimate touch stalled her frantic thoughts before she could come up with something coherent. Reason fled in the face of so much sensation and the only thing she could do was feel.

His fingertips burning through the thin material of her panties. His hard pelvis pressed against her b.u.t.tocks. His strong arms surrounding her. His warm breath ruffling the hair at her temple.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he murmured.

"Me?" A rush of joy went through her before she reminded herself that she didn't care if Mason thought about her. She thought about him, in her fantasies, that is, and that was enough.

That's the way it had always been.

The way it would always be because he was hot, hunky Mason McGraw and she was Charlie Horse Singer.

"I don't think this is a good idea," she managed to whisper, despite the sudden excitement pulsing through her veins.

"Actually, it's the best notion I've had in a long time. I want you."

Thanks to a hot pink halter top and a miniskirt.

But that was just a costume. Part of the transformation. A disguise to make her appear the daring diva she'd always wanted to be.

"And I'm getting the feeling that you want me," he continued. His fingers slid lower, to the damp cotton between her legs.