Page 25 of Mason: His to Convince

“Handle her! Hell man you handle your car, your business, your bank account, you don't handle your woman. You love her. And you trust her, until she gives you reason not to. And occasionally you give her a damn good spanking to remind her whose woman she is and what acceptable behavior is and what is not.”

Shaking his head in disgust Nick started out of the room but Mason's hand on his arm stopped him.

“What makes you such an expert?” Mason demanded. “I don't see a ring on your finger or a passel of little ones calling you daddy?”

“Experience and good sense,” Nick replied, answering, yet not answering the question.

“Don't give me that bull. You don't know what it's been like. Rebecca isn't like other women. Just hearing her voice on the phone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up and it isn't from desire, it's plain old-fashioned fear. I never know whatshe going to do next. She's a flake, a flirt and absolutely fantastic in bed. I love the way she looks, smells, and sips her coffee. I can't imagine life without her and life with her is making me crazy.

“What happened here tonight might be a once in a lifetime experience for most women but with Rebecca this kind of thing is to be expected. If a few days go by without some kind of catastrophe I actually begin to sweat. In the last six weeks she's forgotten to eat, wrecked her car, broken her foot, overdosed on sleeping pills, beaten me with a broom, and ended up damn close to naked in the same room with another man. No insult intended. Add to that the times she has made love to me until I could hardly move.

“She doesn't believe in marriage and apparently birth control is the farthest thing from her mind. I'm telling you that woman is a menace to herself and every red blooded American male and if I can't convince her it's me she's supposed to spend the rest of her life with I'm afraid some other man will realize just how absolutely priceless she is.”

By the time he was finished Mason was out of breath and shaking and Nick was grinning like a fool.

“Wow little brother,” he said putting his arm around Mace's shoulders and guiding him out to the kitchen. “You've got it bad, real bad. Sit right down here and let old Nick make you a cup of his special Irish coffee,” he said eyes twinkling.

“I once knew a girl like Rebecca and I also loved her desperately. I, however, did not have a big brother to guide and advise me and I lost her,” he continued confidently. “That's not going to happen to you.”

Mason accepted the hot coffee gratefully but could not contain the snort of disbelief.

“Trust me,” Nick grinned, and surprisingly Mason did.

Chapter Nine

Rebecca stretched and rubbed the small of her back. The last few days had been tiring. The Christmas party was in full swing as she helped herself to a cup of black coffee from the big urn. Laughter and music flowed from the dining room into the kitchen but Rebecca wasn't tempted to join in the festivities. All she wanted to do was get this mess cleaned up and collapse on Maggie's couch with a glass of wine.

She felt small and selfish, wishing the day was over, but the Christmas spirit had somehow escaped her this year. Being unable to find someone to play Santa had been the last straw. She'd gritted her teeth and rented the last suit to be had anywhere in town, determined not to let her misery intrude on the celebration.

“Aren't you going to have anything to eat dear?” Mary Havens asked, coming into the kitchen just as Rebecca started to scrape plates.

“No, I'm really not very hungry,” Rebecca replied forcing a smile.

“You really should come and join the fun. The idea of having forty's music was perfect. You should see some of those old codgers 'cutting the rug’,” Mary laughed. “I never thought I'd seethe day. Mr. Jackson just tried to dip the widow Clark. Ha, they almost landed up in the punch bowl.”

Rebecca couldn't contain her amusement as Mary hurried back into the other room. She giggled to herself imagining the portly widow held up in Ray Jackson's spindly arms. Sighing she hurried on with her work.

A local Girl Scout Troop volunteered to help clean up, but as yet they hadn't arrived. It couldn't be soon enough as far as she was concerned. With their help and a little luck she would have the senior center locked up and be one her way by seven.

Rebecca pushed the question of why she was in such a hurry to get to Maggie's out of her mind. It had absolutely nothing to do with Mason she told herself. Besides, at the rate things were going, he'd be gone when she got there and it was just as well. He'd left a dozen messages on her machine, all of which she'd ignored. His deep voice had grown more frustrated with each attempt to reach her and the last message was not the voice of anyone she wanted to see in the near future.

A small shudder wracked her body thinking of the threatening tone he'd used when he tried to calmly explain to her voicemail how childish he considered her behavior and if he didn't hear from her in the next twenty four hours she might not have the opportunity to say anything at all. Rebecca took this growled remark to mean that call would be the last one he'd make and it appeared she was right as there hadn't been a message since. Her hands actually shook when she pushed the button of her cellphone last night, but the only message was from Maggie reminding her to come by as soon as she finished today, and to tell the truth she was looking forward to a little female companionship.

Thanks to Mason she’d been on edge for weeks now and she was tired of it. If this was love, she could learn to do without it. The uncertainty, the sexual frustration, the heartache andworrying were all taking their toll. Mason sent her flowers and candy, but that only made her more angry. Did he think he could buy his way out of this one? Not hardly. She had no intention of tying herself to a man who not only didn't trust her, but was a bossy tyrant besides. About one more “Rebecca” spoken it that intimidating tone of voice and she promised herself she'd punch him right in the nose.

The sound of excited chatter pulled her back to the present and she turned to let her helpers in the back door. Seven girls from Troop Thirty-Seven entered, giggling and full of Christmas excitement. Rebecca looked around the cluttered kitchen and the stack of dirty dishes and sagged in relief. Thank goodness the cavalry has arrived she thought smiling.

“If you girls want to hang up your coats in the other room, I'd sure appreciate the help cleaning up.”

“Sure Miss Moran,” Stacy Jacobs answered. “Sorry we’re a little late getting here. I had to wait for my dad to take my grandparents home before I could get the van and gather up the other girls. Has Santa Claus arrived yet?” she asked with a wink, blue eyes twinkling.

At seventeen Stacy was the obvious leader of the group. Her sparkling personality and pretty appearance made her a favorite around the small community and she was always ready to lend a hand at the center.

“Not yet,” Rebecca responded with a grin. “But now that you’re all here I'm sure he won't be long. I'll just see what's keeping him.”

Rebecca sauntered off through the dining room, pausing here and there to chat, unobtrusively heading towards the storeroom where her Santa suit was hidden. She'd dressed for the part in knee-high black suede boots and a jade green calf length dress that had a cinched waist but a very full skirt. Hopefully, if she gathered the dress up and stuffed it into herfurry red costume pants it would give her added fullness around the middle. Her hair was pulled back in a gold clip that could easily be used to gather it into a mass under her hat.

Rebecca had just put her hand on the doorknob to the deserted storage room when a boisterous “HO, HO, HO, MERRY CHRISTMAS,” stopped her cold. Turning in surprise she looked across the room to see a man who looked so much like St. Nick she was almost fooled.