Page 33 of Mason: His to Convince

“Sure.” Mason went into the kitchen and returned with a large orange juice. He watched silently as she sipped, marveling at the fragile beauty before him.

Setting down the empty glass, Rebecca snuggled down under the covers. “I'm going back to sleep for a while,” she told him, barely able to keep her eyes open now. “You look like you could use some yourself.”

“I guess I could at that,” he responded, getting out of the chair with effort. Now that the fever had broken and she was better, exhaustion washed over him. Stripping off his jeans heclimbed onto the big bed, but before he allowed himself to sleep, he breathed a prayer of thanks.

* * *

By the fourth day in the cabin, Rebecca was out of her mind with boredom. Mason had been wonderful, insisting on cooking all their meals and doing the small amount of housework that was necessary. He apologized until Rebecca wanted to strangle him.

All right, so he had acted impulsively for once, so what. She'd gotten sick because she'd run herself ragged. Everything he said about her was true. She didn't eat right, never got enough sleep and refused to slow down. For the last six months he hounded her and now that it all finally caught up with her, he was blaming himself. It didn't make sense. They had been totally alone in a very romantic setting for days and he'd avoided any but the most impersonal contact, even sleeping in the other bedroom, insisting she needed her rest. Worst of all he seemed to have forgotten why he brought her there in the first place.

Rebecca inspected her image in the mirror. Mason had just vacated the bathroom but the scent of his aftershave lingered, adding to her frustration. That stuff ought to be outlawed she thought in disgust. No man should smell so good. Rebecca found some of Maggie’s things in the spare room and confiscated faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Rolling the cuffs up to just below her knees and pulling on some bobby socks she sought out Mason. Enough was enough. Tonight things would come to a head, one way or another.

Mason looked rested. His hair was damp from his bath and it curled around his collar, slightly longer than he was used to wearing it. Rebecca had all she could do not to run her fingers through it. Watching him shuffle a deck of cards at the kitchentable, Rebecca's heart softened. He was so handsome but the real attraction went much deeper.

He studied her as she went to the fridge and took out a soda. She looked about sixteen dressed as she was and he breathed a sigh of relief. The last few days he had no trouble keeping his hands to himself but today even that old flannel robe she'd been wearing couldn’t hide her beautiful body. Well, at least she hadn't found anything revealing in Maggie’s closet.

Somehow he'd lost his perspective. The whole reason for this trip had been to convince her to marry him, but after her illness he felt unable to pressure her. His incredible guilt overrode everything else.

“What'll it be lady?” he questioned as she seated herself across the table from him. “Pitch, poker or rummy?”

“Poker,” Rebecca answered decisively. “I've always wanted to learn how to play.”

“Ha, my game. I'm going to whip the pants off you.”

God I hope so.Rebecca grinned but kept quiet.

Mason dealt the cards with flair and explained the rudiments. She listened attentively and got up to find something to bet with, returning with match sticks.

For the next hour and a half they played a companionable game munching popcorn and arguing when Rebecca thought Mason was trying to cheat. Whenever it was Rebecca's deal she fumbled the cards and Mason tried to show her a better way.

“Buzz off; I can't believe three measly deuces beat my two aces and two kings. Are you sure?” she questioned suspiciously.

Mason twirled an imaginary mustache and grinned, delighted with his winning streak. “Would I lie to you?”

“If you thought you could get away with it, probably.”

“Madame, you wound me.”

“Not where I'd like to.”

Mason laughed. “Well if you're gonna be a sore loser we can always switch to something else. How about Go Fish?”

“How about you go to hell and we raise the stakes?” she shot back, green eyes sparkling with challenge.

“All right. What did you have in mind, toothpicks, mints?” he teased, his smile one of masculine superiority.

“Clothes.”

For a minute he didn't understand.

“You already have more clothes in your closet than one woman could wear in a year. What could you possibly want with more?”

“Not clothes as in a new wardrobe, clothes as in what you’re wearing right now.”

Understanding flared in Mason’s eyes and they flashed blue fire. Not one to forgo a challenge Mason still wavered. Either way, I lose, he reasoned. In about five maybe six hands she'll be sitting there stark naked and she knows it. What she really needs is a good lesson, he thought. It might just do her good to sit there without a stitch on and have me ignore it. He knew what she was up to all right and while he'd decided not to push marriage, he wasn't going to make love to her and risk a pregnancy. They still had a lot of things to talk out and until they did it was strictly hands off.

Rebecca waited patiently for his answer. She could almost hear the wheels turning. A small smile played about her eyes but she said nothing. This would be his decision.