Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men 1)

“And you couldn’t have said anything like this to me earlier this morning because…?” I arched an eyebrow, actually proud of myself for standing firm against his oozing sensuality.

But that’s when it happened.

His face lit up and he grinned.

He grinned.

It was the first real grin I’d ever seen him give. And it was all for me. It fried a couple of my nerve endings. I definitely felt overheated. Might’ve even smelled smoke.

With a carefree shrug, he answered, “You were giving me food…and apologizing. If I had said anything then, you might’ve taken that bear claw back.”

He had a point. I would have. Bear claws were very important to me. Unless he had pulled out that sweet grin this morning. In which case, I probably would’ve sat on his lap and hand fed him the damn doughnut.

But I snorted and shook my head, because I needed to fight my attraction.

Fight it!

“You are such a guy.” I said it as if it was an insult, but he smiled again as if I’d complimented him.

Seriously, we were going to have to do something about that smile. It was way too powerful.

I rolled my eyes and let out a big sigh. When I realized he was still just standing there, watching me, I lifted an eyebrow. “So, are you going to sit down or not?”

His smile fell flat. “You don’t mind?”

Mind? Sitting beside the most gorgeous guy on the planet? He obviously needed to get to know me better.

The surprise in his voice made my throat go dry, however. If he could look so stunned by a girl asking him to sit by her, then it must be a rare occurrence. Did his gigolo status really make him that much of an outcast?

Needing to keep things casual before I turned misty-eyed with sympathy, I lifted my hand to the back of my neck and pretended to knead strained muscles. “I mind this crick in my neck you’re giving me by making me look up at you,” I said, startled when my fingers drifted over my scar.

Crap, I’d completely forgotten about my scar. I never forgot about my scar. Dropping my hand, I swished my head to make sure my hair fell back over the area, concealing any and all red, puckered flesh. “Sit down already.”

Scrutinizing my face as if he expected me to retract my invitation, Mason slowly looped the strap of his messenger bag from around his head. Then even more slowly, he lowered himself onto the bench seat beside me, leaving two feet of space between us and keeping his back to the table with his feet braced firmly on the ground—probably for a quick getaway. He set his bag gingerly on the bench between us, using it like some kind of shield. His shoulders looked so stiff I swear he was holding his breath.

I grinned, feeling the itching need to tease. “Comfy?”

He shot me a short glance before his shoulders visibly dropped a fraction of an inch as if to appease me.

Turning my attention back to my lunch, I tried to start a casual conversation. “I feel like your mom totally played me, by the way.”

Mason cringed. “I know. I’m sorry about that. I told her she needs to tell people about Sarah’s condition whenever she interviews them. But she insists it takes her five times longer to find a willing sitter when she does.”

Yeah, Dawn really should’ve told me about Sarah in the interview. But then, I guess Dawn had a point too. I bet it did take her significantly longer when she was up front and honest. I’m ashamed to admit it, but if I’d known about the CP thing before I’d gotten the job, I totally would’ve declined it.

“I don’t see how I’m allowed to watch Sarah at all,” I said. “Not that I’m complaining, because your sister is absolutely the sweetest thing ever, but…doesn’t she need, like, a trained medical professional watching her or something?”

“No.” He shrugged and made a face as if he’d never considered that scenario before. “I watch her all the time, and I have no medical training. It’s not like you have to give her any of her prescriptions or treatments when you watch her either. That all lands on the day sitter, who, okay, is a retired nurse, but government programs pay her wages, whereas your job is off the records since you only work part time every couple of evenings. Mom and I pay you cash out of pocket.”

“Oh.” I sat back, my brow wrinkled in thought. When I glanced at Mason, he was staring at me again with that unreadable scrutiny that made me want to fluff my hair and pull up a mirror to check my face. What the hell did he see when he looked at me like that?

Needing to fill the silence between us, I drew in a quick breath and pushed my hair out of my face. “You know, I kind of freaked out when I saw her picture board. I thought she couldn’t talk at all.”

I wasn’t going to admit that wasn’t the only thing to freak me out last night, but I felt more honest by confessing one of them.

Mason barked out an incredulous sound. “The picture board? Mom didn’t really show you that, did she? God, Sarah hasn’t used that stupid thing in over a year, and she only needed it in extreme situations when she was too excited or distressed to talk properly.” He rumbled out a frustrated sound. “I swear, I love my mother to death, but sometimes the woman is way too overprotective. She can treat Sarah as if she’s still two.”

I grinned, because I’d had the exact same thought last night. “Yeah, I figured the board was unnecessary about one-point-eight seconds after your mom left when I touched a picture of the TV and Sarah rolled her eyes at me.”