“Anna?”
She looks at me with those huge, sky blue eyes. “Hello, Mason.”
I can’t speak, can’t think. All I can do is soak in the sight of her and fight the urge to fall to my knees and thank the heavens.
She’s finally here. At long, long last.
The weather has turned cooler, and she’s wearing a black V-neck sweater with a matching skirt and knee-high boots.
I frown.
It’s an unusual outfit for her. Usually she wears bright, sunny colors and loose, flowing fabric. Her normal clothes make her look adorable and huggable.
The clothes she has on now give her a sexy, sophisticated air. Andhuggableisn’t exactly the word that springs to mind.
Licking her lower lip, she glances around, peering into my foyer.
Jesus, I want to take that mouth and possess it.
She gives me a slow, dazzling smile that about knocks me on my ass. “Can I come in? Or am I interrupting something?”
I jerk as though awakened suddenly from a deep sleep and stand back, waving her in. “No, of course not. You took me by surprise.”
“Were you expecting someone else?” The silky cadence of her voice slides down my body, more intoxicating than the scotch I drank.
I shrug. “No. When the bell rang I assumed it was Rissa. She’s being a pain in the ass.”
“Are you happy it’s me?” Anna’s head tilts, sending blond curls flying.
My heart gives a hard thump. “Very. Are you coming in?”
“Yes, please.” She strolls past me. Something has changed in her. It’s obvious from the way she carries herself, the way she smiles. It’s in the tilt of her chin and tone of her voice.
The question is, what does it mean? I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. I follow her like a puppy dog into the living room.
I can’t take my eyes off her ass as her hips sway a seductive beat. I’ve never seen her in clothes so tight. Not even on our first date. That day she wore a loose white dress, which practically covered her from head to toe. I remember thinking she looked like an old-fashioned bride—one I wanted to defile.
She sits on the couch with an easy grace. “Do you always tell her to go to hell?”
I take the chair across from her so I can watch every expression on her face. I study her carefully, mildly annoyed that she looks good enough to eat, while I feel like yesterday’s garbage.
Damn, she’s gorgeous. Too gorgeous. It makes it hard for me to think straight.
She raises one golden brow in question, and I realize I haven’t answered her.
I clear my throat. “It’s not an unheard of occurrence. She’s bossy.”
“Takes one to know one, I suppose.” Anna crosses her legs, and black fabric slides up to expose a strip of thigh.
I stare at her smooth flesh and clasp my hands tightly to keep from lunging. “Well, according to her, I learned from the best, so I suppose there’s some truth to that. But I don’t want to talk about her right now.”
Anna gives me a long, direct stare, and the corners of her mouth turn down. “You don’t look very good.”
I sit back and attempt to find my footing with the woman sitting across from me. Is this how she felt? Back when I changed the game? I gain a new sympathy for her.
What is she doing here?Instinct tells me it’s not to end things—not with that sly gleam in her eye and shift of her hips.
With no patience for a cat-and-mouse game and the pleasant warming of scotch in my belly, I do what I do best—I test. “Well, you look very fuckable.”