Free Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance) by Celia Loren Page B

going to go out of my way to seek her out,
then she's got another thing coming. I can play it cool just as well as she
can. I've been doing it for years. I mean, hell, I gave her the first orgasms a
man has ever given her. Or so she said... Fuck. Is she the one playing me here?
    Is it always like that for you? she asked when we
were lying in bed together. I didn't answer her, but the words keep rattling
around in my head. I try to push them away, try to explain away what I felt
while she was pressed against me, when I felt her perfect fit around my cock,
and I can't. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe she's got extra-strong pheromones.
Maybe...
    "Here we are," Mason says, pulling into a spot in
the building's underground lot. We head up in the elevator to the top floor,
and a young female receptionist eagerly stands to greet us as we walk to the
front desk.
    "I'll just let Martha know you're here," she says.
As she picks up the phone and punches in her boss's extension, I see her peer
up at me through her eyelashes, and subconsciously or not, her hand goes to the
top button of her blouse and fiddles it back and forth. I've had women react
this way to me since I hit my late teens. I mean, it's nice to know I have the
option, but I'm not really in the mood to pursue this girl.
    Martha comes out of her office with an alacrity befitting
the presence of her biggest clients. We follow behind her, and Mason chats her
up. I can feel that I'm being uncharacteristically quiet, and consciously will
myself to shake off my dour mood.
    We make ourselves comfortable in a seating area opposite her
desk, and Martha pulls out a few very initial design ideas from her team.
    "Hm..." Mason murmurs, before Martha even has a
chance to hold the top one up. I feel myself stiffen. I knew he'd pull this
shit. "I'm just not sure that captures the traditional Woodall & Sons spirit.
This is a business that's been passed down through my family for
generations," he says, as though he's telling her something she doesn't
know.
    "Of course," she replies, nodding her head as
though he's said something incredibly wise.
    Over the course of the next hour, Mason manages to find
something wrong with each preliminary design, though he's never very specific
about what he doesn't like. I feel my mouth begin to twitch with annoyance. If
I'd been here alone, we would have gotten through this meeting already and come
out with solid steps on how to move forward. And when I would have presented
Mason with the final idea, he would have loved it. It's only when he starts
micromanaging that he holds up the operation. He blames it on the ideas, but I
think it comes down to his being unsure over the decisions he makes.
    Finally, we stand up and shake Martha's hand. I can see a
fissure of worry on her forehead, even though she's smiling. I share her
concern. The grand opening of 100 River Street isn't too far away, and should
be much further along in the rebranding. As Mason and I head back into the
elevator, I'm shocked to hear him start humming and glance over at him.
    "Just gotta make one quick stop," he says, looking
mischievous. I stare at him for a moment, wondering what he could be referring
to, but decide not to ask. When the doors open on a lower floor, he walks out
with a spring in his step. "Be right back," he says over his
shoulder, and walks away.
    I sigh, wondering how long he's going to be. After five
minutes of waiting and catching myself grinding my teeth again, I decide to go
looking for him. If he's going to be much longer, I'll just catch a cab back to
the office and he can drive back when he's done.
    I glance over the phalanx of cubicles in the middle of the
floor. I can't see him from here. I wander around the edges, pulling out my
cellphone to call him when I finally hear his voice coming from an open door
down a short hallway. Just before I reach the doorway, a woman's voice pipes up
and I stop in surprise.
    "I just wish you would have told me," she says.
It's