Beautiful Crazy Part 17

"Hey, where'd you go?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said, squaring her shoulders for a fight.

He reached over and smoothed her skirt over her knee gently. "What happened? You were so excited, and suddenly you're all cold."

She didn't say anything. What could she say? He was right.

"No pressure. No work. Remember. Just dinner and enjoying each other's company," he said.

He was right. As usual. d.a.m.n man. She nodded, and a reluctant smile threatened to break forward.

"We'll worry about tonight, not the future," she said as her heart sank a notch. She forced a smile, and it must have worked, because he patted her knee and whistled along to the song shuffling on her iPhone through the car's sound system.

Kevan didn't want to think about why he'd chosen to focus on today. She was pretty sure what it meant, but she just couldn't admit it. Because there was no possible future for them. Even if they didn't have the tour and the band hanging over their heads like a guillotine, they still would never fit into each other's worlds. How could they?

He was corporate Ivy League all the way. And she was low-rent street smarts. That would never work in the real world. Kevan could imagine walking into PTA meetings with her hair color of the month and her tattoos next to her big, bad, handsome man in his tailored suit and polished shoes.

Poor little Mason Jr. would be the kid with the weird mom and the perfect dad. Other parents, and probably teachers, would wonder what the h.e.l.l someone like him saw in someone like her. Maybe they'd a.s.sume he'd knocked her up and had to marry her. Whoa. Again, imagination run amok. Cue the witches from Hocus Pocus running around in her head. No, that wasn't her future. At least not with Mason Dillon.

She put her hand over his much-larger one and gave a squeeze and a smile she didn't really feel. Tonight would have to be enough. She'd deal with the aftermath of her broken heart later.

Just like always.

Walking into the old Victorian house converted into a restaurant, Kevan marveled at the mix of antiques and modern amenities. Bronze gasoliers in the shape of cherubs dotted the red velvet walls, providing seductive low lighting.

The entryway was narrow and tall, with the walls covered by painted portraits of every size, time period, and style. A gorgeous painted tapestry of a British soldier-circa the American Revolution-hung below a surrealist image of a young woman and a modern piece of a couple entwined. The effect was elegant and relaxed, much like the refined man standing next to her, whose commanding presence was like a supercharged magnet.

The host walked them to a quiet corner of the main dining room, the cozy table draped in burgundy linens and lit by the warm glow of candles. After their orders had been taken and the wine poured, Kevan took a shallow sip from her gla.s.s. The cool, tangy liquid slid down her throat, and she hummed in appreciation. "This might be my new favorite wine."

"I thought you'd like it." He took a bite of the warm sourdough bread San Francisco was famous for. "This bread is delicious. You should have some-" Before he could finish, she reached over and gripped his wrist, bringing his hand to her mouth. She never broke eye contact as she took a slow bite of the bread. She let her tongue slide over his thumb before releasing his wrist. The dark look that transformed his face made her feel powerful and reckless. And really h.o.r.n.y.

When she s.h.i.+vered, Mason pushed back his chair and moved behind her. He gently dropped her vintage velvet shawl over her shoulders and leaned in to whisper, "I could stare at your hard nipples all night, but I don't want you to be cold."

He kissed the magic spot he'd discovered that first night, and her breath caught as she remembered her fantasy in the car. She trembled again, but this time for another reason altogether.

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. This man was so much more complex than she'd initially given him credit for. She wanted to know more about him, what he liked, where he'd grown up, how he liked to spend Sunday mornings.

After he returned to his seat, she asked, "So tell me about your life. You're kind of an important guy in the business world. This whole touring with a metal band, hands-on marketing thing has to be sort of surreal for you. How does GEM's top gun end up on tour with a secondary-market heavy metal band?"

He sent her a s.e.xy half smile. "When I interned at BEA after I dropped out of Harvard, I spent a couple of years being very hands-on with several of their promising LA-based hard rock and metal acts. Basically, I worked my a.s.s off for very little pay. But the education was priceless and helped me get my first real job in talent development at GEM. And I've been climbing the corporate ladder ever since."

A haunted look flitted across his face but was gone as soon as the waiter delivered their salads. She wondered at his sad expression. Wasn't GEM his dream? Kevan wanted to wipe the drawn look from his eyes and make him smile again.

"That's it? Pretty short story, cowboy," she said, sipping her wine. "And you really didn't answer my question."

"Which one?"

"The one where Global Entertainment Marketing's top executive suspends time and goes on the road with a talented but second-rate heavy metal band and a quirky, but endearing marketing upstart."

He laughed, a deep, confident rumble that made Kevan feel warm and safe. It made her want to crawl into his lap and snuggle.

"My company has been successful following a narrow business model of pop stars and mid-level R & B acts. Until recently, it worked well, but the industry has changed, and we haven't kept pace. I'm trying something new."

"And that's why you're trying to ruin my life-for something new?" she asked before she could filter her words.

"I'm not trying to ruin your life, Bettie. And we agreed to take it a step at a time. Let's focus on tonight, okay. What else do you want to know?"

"I don't understand why GEM sent their CEO to chase after Manix Curse." She gulped some water. "I mean, you're the top guy at a pretty big company. Why not send someone less senior, less important?"

He finished chewing the food in his mouth. Stalling, probably.

After he took a sip of wine, he said, "Revenues have been dropping consistently the last four quarters. I've tried to staunch the bleed of money by diversifying our holdings and encouraging reps to seek out new talent. I've worked with marketing to try and change our corporate brand to be more contemporary. But the damage has been done. The ball was already rolling downhill." He took another sip of wine.

She waited for him to continue.

"Despite my best efforts to take the company to another level, the board resisted. But when we recently lost one of our major stars-"

"Bella Cole?"

"Yep. The one and only little diva herself. Anyway, when she bailed to one of the well-funded startup agencies out there-"

"The Argyle douchebags?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "Anyway, the board-or the chairman, really-decided I had to change things or look for another job."

"They're going to fire you?" she whispered.

No. Her breath rattled out of her chest, pinging painfully against the hollowness.

"I came up with a shoot-it-all type of plan to save the company by changing our image and our clientele, and, hopefully, save my job."

Suddenly, winning didn't seem like winning anymore.

She rested her face in her hands. Without looking up, she sighed. "Well, f.u.c.k a duck, Mason. We're both screwed if we don't sign Manix."

"Yep."

They sat in silence for several minutes, finis.h.i.+ng their salads. Kevan suspected there was more left unsaid than said, but she let it go. She wanted to enjoy the evening despite the dire confession Mason had shared with her. She needed to get him back to his s.e.xy, playful self.

"So tell me how big, bad Mason Dillon was raised."

Relief flooded his face as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I already told you about my mom. She retired a year ago. My dad was the deputy attorney general for Texas and is now in private practice in Portland. My sister lives in Portland, too, and is a divorce lawyer. She also does pro bono work for the Women's Resource Center in town. That's pretty much it." He swirled his winegla.s.s, the liquid reflecting the restaurant's candlelight and appearing to glow.

"You've got to be kidding me." She looked at him, trying not to let her mouth hang open like a noob. "That's pretty much it," she said in a mocking Texas drawl.

"Okay, fine, what else do you want to know?" He scowled, reminding her of a grumpy child.

She shrugged. "Tell me about your childhood."

"Why?" he asked, his face clouding.

She smiled. "Humor me."

The flamboyant arrival of their dinner-three waiters dropping off plates, refilling water and wine-prevented Mason from answering. She let him take one bite of his steak and shrimp before fixing him with a pointed stare.

He sighed. "Born and raised in Texas. Parents are very A-type personalities, very success oriented. They see everything as a negotiation or transaction. They're decent enough people, just not very warm, if you know what I mean."

Kevan nodded. She understood that kind of person completely-driven, emotionally disconnected. Mason didn't seem like that at all. He was stoic most of the time, but when he felt strongly about something, he burned brightly with pa.s.sion.

Clearing her mind of Mason and pa.s.sion, she asked, "Is it because of their marriage that you don't do relations.h.i.+ps?"

"Let's talk about you. You're much more interesting." He flashed his wicked grin, the one that routinely melted her panties.

Reaching across the table, he offered her a bite of his shrimp; delicious garlic and b.u.t.ter exploded on her tongue. "Mmmmm," she groaned, maybe a little more l.u.s.tily than she'd intended, but the darkening of his eyes was the reaction she'd been aiming for.

"Your turn, Bettie."

"I used to work tricks out of the Tiki-"

"What the f.u.c.k?" His mouth dropped open, transforming his rugged features into a more fishlike gape.

She laughed loudly. "I'm kidding. Making sure you're paying attention. I run the front desk and do the books at Tatuaggio part-time. I earned extra money doing pinup modeling and tattoo magazine shoots. I made enough to get myself through community college and then Portland State with a degree in business marketing, but I still have to work part-time at the shop to make ends meet. Had Tina helping out part-time, but I couldn't keep her on. Sindra is technically an intern, so she works for free." Hopefully, he'd leave it at that instead of digging up all the ugliness of her life. But he calmly c.o.c.ked an eyebrow and waited. The man was exasperating.

"I told you about my family. Basically it's Bowen and the guys at Tatuaggio." She tried to hide the tears in her eyes by blinking rapidly and turning toward the window a little too late. He saw them.

"I lost my mom to cancer when I was eleven. A little girl still. Bowen is only five years older. He stepped into the roles of Mom and Dad while still a child himself." She paused, letting the past wash over her. "He protected me from my dad's anger and from his creepy friends who noticed when I started filling out and wasn't just a pudgy little girl with fat lips anymore."

Mason's jaw tensed, and she felt the ache of acid in her gut, knowing he felt anger at her past. The shame she usually felt was completely overshadowed by relief. Mason was, at heart, a good man, and sharing her story was the right thing to do.

"Tony has always tried to be there for us. Gave Bowen a job when we needed money. Taught him his trade. Keeps me on when he really doesn't need my help. But really, until now, it's always been Bowen and me as a team. I miss him. He has a gift for creating beauty from nothing-music, painting, mosaics, murals, you name it." Her throat suddenly felt tight, like the present and past had collided and were choking her.

She reached for her wine and took a sip. The sharp but fruity coolness soothed her rising tears. For someone who never cried, she seemed to shed a lot of tears around Mason.

"And now he's fallen into the same pit every other f.u.c.ked-up man in my family has. Booze and drugs have stolen him from me. Now everything he touches turns to s.h.i.+t." She was about done with the gloom and doom taking over their conversation.

Only after blurting out her entire life, did she worry she might be sharing too much information. But she wanted him to know. She wanted to tell someone about her life.

"Tell me about your sister," she said.

Mason's smile grew wide. "JamiLynn. Jami. She's a pain in the a.s.s." His words contradicted the warmth cascading over his face. "But I love her."

She imagined briefly a little girl with traces of Mason's strong features, and her heart clenched a little. Just a little. Nothing to worry about.

"Is she like you?" she asked, taking another sip of wine. She rarely drank but was enjoying the warmth and serene coc.o.o.n the alcohol created.

His eyes looked directly at her but seemed focused on something far away. After a moment, he answered. "No. She doesn't really look like me. She's short and much prettier. And blond."

Kevan giggled. "I don't know, cowboy, you're one of the prettiest men I've ever met."

His eyes sparkled, reflecting the candles in the dining room, and he laughed. "You have no idea how truly beautiful you are, do you?" Again. This man and his words.

She shrugged. "We're talking about you. Tell me about Jami."

"Jami's younger. As kids we fought. A lot. She was spirited and creative. A little impulsive." His grin widened, barely showing his dimple as he took a bite of his steak. "I think you'd like her. As least how she used to be. In a way you're a lot alike. Anyway, she used to drive me crazy, sneaking out and getting in trouble with her boyfriend, Dallas." He cleared his throat.

"After Dallas, it got really bad for a while, then he bailed. Then she got serious, and school became her priority." He picked up his winegla.s.s and swirled it before bringing it to his lips, lips she wanted to taste again, to feel brus.h.i.+ng against her neck.

"I take it you didn't approve?"

"It's not that. I'm glad she stopped partying and was taking her life seriously. But she changed so much. It was like her light just died. My parents didn't approve of Dallas, so they weren't very helpful. They were thrilled when she started acting like them. Jami managed to get through college and then law school." The look of love that shone in his eyes when he spoke of his sister made her heart hurt a little. Oh G.o.d, what would it be like to have that intense affection directed solely at her? She mentally shook her head. Now she was jealous of a woman she'd never met?

"What happened?" Kevan asked.

His sigh carried the weight of whatever memories he was holding back. "She got pregnant. He hurt her, and she lost the baby in a bad car accident."

She teared up and reached across to pat his hand. He smiled, a faraway look in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry." They may come from different worlds, but the way he felt about his sister was exactly how she felt about Bowen. This was getting more and more complicated.

Chapter 18.

After dinner, Mason talked Kevan into kicking off her shoes and walking down the dark beach. The moon shone brightly on the water as the waves lapped at their feet. When she pulled away and suddenly twirled around with her arms out, his breath caught in his chest. Her simple joie de vivre made his lungs hurt. G.o.d, can she be more beautiful?

When was the last time he'd felt such simple joy for anything? Never. She loved life and had no problem sharing her emotions. He believed the world, with him at the top of the list, spent far too much time calculating risk and measuring outcomes. Instead of worrying about odds and repercussions, Kevan Landry lived her life full throttle with no apologies.

Running up, he grabbed her hips from behind and lifted her up before a wave crashed over her legs. Her laugh sent tingles of electricity from his heart to his d.i.c.k. It seemed that just about everything she did made him as hard as steel.

He set her down, and she turned toward him to wrap her arms around his waist. He dropped a kiss on her pert nose, and she blinked as if considering something. They stood for a moment, the cold water tugging back and forth at their feet, swirling foam and sand in cool circles.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, barely audible over the cras.h.i.+ng waves.

Confused, he asked, "For what, darlin'?"

"For prying. For asking about your job. I know we promised not to talk about the tour or the band tonight, but it's all getting to be a little much. A little confusing."

"Yes, it is." They walked, holding hands, to where they'd dropped their shoes. The cold sand felt good on his feet. Somehow grounding him there in that moment with Kevan.

She dipped down to grab her heels. "It was really sweet of you to bring me here. I promise I won't borrow trouble for the rest of the night."