Chapter 8: Dirty Sexy Inked: Chapter 8

Mason was pretty good at multitasking, but even he was having a hard time concentrating on the tattoo he was shading on a client’s piece while trying to hear what Katrina found so damn funny. She’d laughed more in the past five minutes than she had since they’d gotten back from Vegas a little over a week ago.

It didn’t help his disposition that the person who was responsible for that light, bubbly laughter was a good-looking guy named Blake Cavanaugh, who was a regular client of Caleb’s, another one of the artists in the shop. Blake was a suit who co-owned one of the top ad agencies in Chicago—a clean-cut, polished executive by day, but beneath his designer suits, Blake’s arms, chest, and back were a canvas of inked art. What was even more irritating was that he was a really nice guy.

And he had a thing for Katrina. Every time Blake came in to add to his collection of tattoos, he openly flirted with her and asked her out, even though she always gently turned him down. But that didn’t stop the guy from turning on the charm, or Katrina from enjoying it, every damn time.

, Mason thought irritably.

More amused laughter had Mason gritting his teeth as he applied pressure with the needle in his hand to blend in the slightly different tones of black ink along the raven’s wing he was applying on a woman’s upper back. He couldn’t remember the last time Katrina had been that carefree with him, though he knew for damn sure it had been well before their trip to Vegas for the wedding.

They’d promised to leave their hookup in Vegas, and true to their word, neither one of them had so much as mentioned those two nights together—but Mason thought about them. Constantly. Especially about how Katrina had made him actually sex, as something unique between the two of them. As more than just chasing the physical release and high an orgasm gave him.

Everything they’d done those nights, the playful sexual games, the lengthy foreplay, and making sure that Katrina’s pleasure was equal to his own, were all things he never indulged in with other women. Hell, the thought had never crossed his mind before. His own needs had been his sole focus. With Katrina, her feelings mattered, and now anything less seemed shallow and self-serving.

God, he’d never thought it would be this difficult to return home, revert to best friends, and pretend Vegas had never happened. Forgetting was impossible, since he saw Katrina every day at work. Though she to be dealing with the situation just fine, he knew better. To the outside world, she was the same Katrina she’d always been—always friendly and smiling, but Mason could feel that things were and, at times, forced and not just with him. And he wasn’t sure what to do about it when all he wanted was for things to return to normal.

And he wanted to stop thinking about getting in Katrina’s panties again. Yeah, especially that, he thought with a frustrated exhale. No matter how many times he told his dick there wouldn’t be a repeat performance, that didn’t stop him from wishing and fantasizing.

Finished with the tattoo he’d been applying, he gave the young woman, Rachel, a mirror and let her check the design in her reflection.

“I absolutely love it,” Rachel said enthusiastically. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“I always aim to please,” Mason drawled, and smiled at her. It was a line he used occasionally with new clients, and it had slipped out automatically. But when she glanced back at him with a seductive look and gave him a once-over, he belatedly realized his mistake.

“Umm, I just bet you do,” she murmured flirtatiously, a clear invitation in her gaze.

Before Vegas, this was where he’d work the situation to his advantage and ask her if she wanted to meet up later, but shockingly, the idea just didn’t appeal to him. And that said a lot for his state of mind, considering he hadn’t been with anyone since that last night with Katrina over a week ago. Normally, by now he would have already moved on to another casual hookup. The fact that he hadn’t returned to his regular routine, and even this woman in front of him—who was pretty and curvy and seemingly willing—wasn’t tempting him, was a clear indication that his dick wanted what it couldn’t have.

Unfortunately, Katrina’s hot body was permanently off-limits, and he’d just have to ride out this self-imposed dry spell. At some point—probably when he thinking and obsessing about Katrina and comparing every woman to her—his goddamn cock would get back into the game.

So, for one of the very few times in his adult life, he didn’t pursue a woman’s blatant come-on. Instead, he went over care instructions with her while he applied a layer of antibacterial ointment over the fresh tattoo and covered it with a bandage. As she left his cubicle, Mason glanced over to the front counter, relieved to see that Blake had left, and Katrina was going over some paperwork with Jasmine, their full-time receptionist. A few moments later, Katrina walked over to the drafting table, where they all did their client drawings and designs, then sat down and started sketching.

He cleaned up his station and decided that in order for him and Katrina to get past this weirdness and set things right between them, they needed to get back to doing some of those typical things they always used to do together as friends. Something light and fun, where they could relax around one another again. And the perfect idea popped into his mind.

Feeling upbeat and hopeful, he checked to make sure his evening was clear of appointments, then strolled over to Katrina. Her head was down as she worked on her design, but she must have seen him in her peripheral vision, because her shoulders tensed. He wanted to reach out and run his hand down her spine until she softened beneath his touch. Hell, he just wanted to touch her, period.

Instead, he leaned casually against the table beside her, watching as she drew a series of cherry blossom vines that entwined around a woman’s name. “Is that a commissioned piece?” he asked.

She nodded, her wrist loose as she added a bit of shading to the flowers. “A woman came in earlier and liked one of the exclusive designs in my album and requested a custom piece. She wants cherry blossom vines along her rib cage, incorporating her sister’s name. She passed away a few years ago.”

A lot of the tattoos they did commemorated a special occasion or were dedicated to a loved one. “Who’s doing the ink?”

“Derek,” she said, naming the newest artist, who’d come to work at Inked almost six months ago. “He was the only one who had the day and time free that the client wanted.”

Mason continued to quietly watch her draw. She was an incredible artist—always had been, and it was nice to be able to offer their customers a more feminine style of art. Katrina had never had an interest in learning the actual application of a tattoo, but she loved the outlet of creating designs, and he selfishly liked having her in his shop.

She’d been with him since the first day he’d opened the doors to Inked, supporting him and making sure this place ran like a well-oiled machine. She took care of the front end of the shop and paid all the bills. She handled inventory, payroll, and accounting—all the crap that he had no time or interest in doing, not to mention, she kept his personal bills, and his life in general, in order. Just another way that she was so invaluable to him.

After a few minutes of silence, she put down her pencil and glanced up at him, her gaze guarded. “Is there something you need from me, Mason?”

Now was a loaded question if he’d ever heard one. All sorts of innuendos passed through his mind, and he tried hard not to say something stupid and put a damper on what he planned to ask her. “Actually, I was just wondering if you’d like to hang out tonight?”

A slight frown creased her brow. “Hang out?” Her tone was cautious.

“Yeah. Hang out,” he said with an easygoing shrug. “It’s been a while and I thought it would be fun to go to Navy Pier. We can ride the Ferris wheel and play some miniature golf and have dinner at Bubba Gump.”

The smile that appeared was nostalgic, and Mason knew that she was remembering when they were teenagers and how they’d sneak out on summer nights and spend hours at the pier, staying well after everything shut down. Back then, neither one of them had had any money for the food or attractions, but they’d always managed to have a good time. Being together had been all that mattered—and it had been a bonus that it’d also provided a much-needed escape from their crappy home lives for a few hours.

“It has been a long time,” she said wistfully, and Mason thought for sure he’d managed to hook her until she followed that up with, “But I can’t tonight. I already have plans.”

Her reply was frustratingly vague, when she never used to hesitate to share specific details with him. He waited a few seconds, and when she didn’t elaborate as he hoped, he pushed for an answer.

“What kind of plans?” He wanted to know what was more important than spending time with him. Or maybe it was just an excuse not to be alone with him. Whatever the case, he wanted an answer. “What are you doing?”

She hesitated, her teeth grazing her bottom lip in a nervous gesture before she replied. “Well . . . I’m going to dinner with Blake Cavanaugh.”

Her unexpected answer felt like a sucker punch right to the stomach, and it took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to roar like a fucking caveman and drag Katrina off to his office by the hair like said Neanderthal and show her who she belonged to.

Apparently, when it came to Katrina, he was battling a strong urge to stake his claim, when he had no right to do so.

More calmly than the emotions rioting inside him, he spoke again, “You’re going on a date with the guy?” The question scraped across his throat like a sharp knife.

“It’s just dinner,” she said, as if it was no big deal.

Dinner . . . and then what? Mason wondered. Back to Katrina’s place for a nightcap and . . .

, he couldn’t even think of another man touching her without coming unhinged.

“You’ve spent the past year turning him down,” he said, amazed that his voice actually sounded normal. “What changed?”

She sighed softly and tucked the purple ends of her blonde hair behind an ear, which gave him a better view of her beautiful face and the discomfort he saw there. “He’s a really nice guy, so why not?”

Mason could give her a dozen reasons , but he didn’t think she’d appreciate his answers:

Yeah, that last one made his goddamn heart .

He didn’t want any other man to have her, but Mason flat-out didn’t have what it took to be the kind of man Katrina needed and deserved. And his biggest fear was that someday she’d realize that, even as a friend, Mason wasn’t worth her while. That had been a familiar pattern in his youth—a mother who didn’t give a shit and chose drugs over her kids, a father who didn’t even know he existed, teachers who never tried to understand the source of his belligerent attitude and instead wrote him off as a loser. Which had only pushed him to be even more of a delinquent, because why the hell not? He’d had absolutely nothing to lose.

A part of him even knew that those doubts about himself were the reason he didn’t let his relationships last longer than a one-night stand. If he didn’t let anyone close enough to affect his feelings—Katrina being the one exception—there was no risk of rejection. His detached attitude had always served him well and kept his emotions isolated. Other than his brothers, Katrina was the one person he’d allowed himself to care for, and if he couldn’t give her of himself, did he really have the right to stand in her way of finding that with someone else?

Jesus, his stomach churned and he seriously felt as though he was going to throw up. Because he knew the answer to that question, and he had to being a selfish asshole when it came to her. And that meant he needed to face the reality of Katrina moving on with another man who wasn’t as screwed up as he was, and who would love her wholeheartedly and without any fears or reservations.

“You’re right,” he finally said, even as everything within him rebelled at his acceptance of the situation. “Blake is a nice guy. Have a good time on your date.”

And then Mason walked away while trying to convince himself that he’d done the right thing for Katrina, even if it felt so damn wrong.

*     *     *

Katrina pulled her iridescent purple Volkswagen Beetle into a just-vacated parking spot on the street near Antico, a higher-end Italian restaurant in Bucktown, where she was meeting Blake Cavanaugh. Part of her stipulation for having dinner with him was that she drove her own car and met him at the restaurant so that they could leave separately, as well. Mason might be under the impression that she was out on a date tonight, but that wasn’t the case at all.

She’d agreed to see Blake after hours for one reason only, and that’s because he’d said he had a business proposition to present to her, and she was curious enough to find out what that proposal entailed. She’d already made the difficult decision to find another job, and she was actively looking and keeping her prospects open while training Jasmine at Inked to take on more responsibilities so it would be a smoother transition when Katrina left.

Enduring Mason’s presence every single day, for up to ten hours, was taking its toll. Emotionally, her heart ached in a way she’d never experienced before. She knew in order to save their friendship, she needed space because it was just too hard and painful to watch every move he made at the shop, along with watching him flirt with women on a regular basis. The jealousy would eventually eat her alive.

Bottom line, she couldn’t move on with her life the way she needed to with the way things currently were. And especially after the weekend she’d spent with Mason in Vegas. Those two nights had changed everything for her, and nothing for him. Then again, he hadn’t made her any promises, and she’d known up front that’s how he operated when it came to women and sex. But that knowledge didn’t make what she felt for Mason any less painful.

Pushing thoughts of Mason from her mind so she could focus on Blake’s proposition, whatever it might be, she got out of her car, engaged the alarm, and made her way across the street. She’d gone home after work and changed into a nice pair of black cigarette pants and a dark purple off-the-shoulder blouse that matched the highlights in her hair, and a funky pair of heeled pumps that looked as though someone had spattered them with purple paint. The outfit was nicer than the casual attire she wore at Inked, and more appropriate for what Katrina considered a business dinner—

a date.

When she reached Antico, she found Blake waiting outside for her.

His appreciative gaze took in her changed appearance, and he grinned. “Wow, I thought you looked great today, but tonight, you look stunning.”

She smiled and accepted the compliment gracefully. “Thank you.”

Despite being all about business tonight, she knew Blake would try and mix in a bit of pleasure. He’d been very clear about his romantic interest in her, and the man was charming and persuasive, but Katrina was determined to keep things professional.

As they walked into the restaurant, she noticed that he’d gone home and changed, too. He now wore a pair of black slacks and a dark gray long-sleeved dress shirt. He’d forgone a tie and suit jacket, and while he looked much more casual, there was no mistaking that this man still had the ability to command whatever room he walked into. He just had that kind of self-assured presence.

On the outside, he was a clean-cut, good-looking man with chiseled features and dark brown eyes that shone with confidence and intelligence. But she knew that beneath those layers of clothes, he was a tattooed bad boy. It was such a contradiction, and while Katrina couldn’t deny that those dual sides to Blake’s personality were sexy as hell, that’s as far as her fascination went. It really was too bad she couldn’t return his interest, not when her heart belonged to someone else. Even if that didn’t have a damn clue.

Which was why she needed to put distance between her and Mason, so she could learn to live without him in her life every single day. And then, maybe some guy would come along and fill that void in a more permanent way. After seeing the love and affection that Samantha and Clay shared, she wanted a man to cherish her. She wanted to get married and create a family of her own. She didn’t want to settle for less than the whole package.

They stepped up to the podium to check in for their reservation, but as soon as the twenty-something girl saw Blake, her eyes lit up and she smiled brightly, clearly recognizing him as a regular.

“Hi, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she greeted him, and didn’t bother to look at Katrina. “Your table is ready.”

“Excellent.” The hostess walked into the restaurant, and Blake settled his big hand on Katrina’s lower back as they followed the girl.

It was a gentlemanly gesture, and while Katrina thought she might feel some kind of spark of awareness or even a flutter or attraction, it just didn’t happen, and she knew it wouldn’t, with any man, until she was over Mason. God, she hoped that was even possible.

They sat down at a table in a quiet, private corner, and as soon as the waiter arrived, Blake ordered a bottle of wine for the two of them. Katrina assumed it had to be expensive, because she’d never heard of it before, and Blake didn’t look like the kind of guy who drank cheap Chardonnay. She perused her menu of Italian fare and he did the same.

After a few minutes, Blake gave her his suggestions. “The roasted duck is fabulous, and so is the smoked pork shoulder ragù.”

She wrinkled her nose and peeked at him over her menu, knowing she was about to admit to her very boring and generic palate, versus his more refined one. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t bring myself to eat a duck, and a pork shoulder just sounds . . . wrong.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then.”

At least he was amused by her lack of sophistication when it came to food. “I mean, this is an Italian restaurant,” she pointed out. “Don’t they have ravioli or plain ol’ spaghetti and meatballs?”

His gaze glimmered with more laughter. “Sounds like I should have taken you to the Olive Garden.”

“Oh, my God, I the Olive Garden,” she said enthusiastically.

“I’ll make a note of that for next time,” he said, and put his own menu aside. “In the meantime, I think you’ll enjoy the Tagliatelle Bolognese, which is long ribbons of pasta in a meat-based sauce. It’s as close to spaghetti as you’re going to get,” he said with a grin.

She flashed him a satisfied smile. “Perfect.”

The waiter arrived with the wine and poured each of them a glass, then came back with a basket of bread and butter. He took their individual orders—Blake went with the braised short ribs—and once the server left them alone again, Katrina directed their conversation toward why she was really there.

“So, what is this business proposition you have for me?” she asked.

“What? No small talk first?” His voice was once again infused with humor.

At least he didn’t take things too seriously, which made him extremely charismatic and likeable. “Tell you what,” she said as she reached for a piece of bread and slathered it with butter. “Let’s get the business stuff out of the way, and then if there’s time, we’ll do some small talk.”

He absently swirled his white wine in his glass. “Sounds naughty.”

“I think that’s talk,” she corrected him, and took a bite of the bread.

“I can’t get anything past you, can I?” He shook his head in mock disappointment.

“No, I’m pretty sharp like that,” she teased.

He took a drink of his wine and then sat back in his chair, his pose relaxed but still very much in control. “Okay, here’s the deal. You know that I co-own an ad agency, right?”

She nodded as she finished her slice of bread and reached for another—dang, she was hungry, and she wasn’t one of those skinny women who wouldn’t eat bread or a bowl of pasta in front of a man. Not wanting to talk with her mouth full, she made the universal sound for . “Mmm hmm.” She also knew that Cavanaugh and Zimmerman was a very reputable agency, and judging by the designer clothes he wore and the sports car he drove, the firm wasn’t doing too shabby.

“Well, we’re a full-service agency that has a design department,” he explained. “We currently have an opening for a junior graphic designer who would work directly under the senior director of the art department.”

She took a drink of her wine—and yeah, the quality was outstanding—then tipped her head to the side. “And how does this pertain to me?”

“I thought it might be something that you’d be interested in,” he said seriously.

“Why me?” Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I don’t know anything about advertising. Well, that’s not completely true,” she amended. “I’ve done some marketing for Inked, but that’s hardly the kind of experience I’m sure you’re looking for or need.”

He leaned forward in his chair and braced his arms on the table, his gaze direct. “We want to hire someone with a fresh perspective and enthusiasm. Someone who isn’t trained and will think outside the box when it comes to creative designs for our clients.”

As exciting as the opportunity sounded, she still didn’t understand how she fit into that way of thinking. Wouldn’t they at least want someone with a degree? “Blake . . .I didn’t go to college, and I’ve never worked for a big company. I’m pretty good with Photoshop and a few other graphic design programs, but I’m not sure that’s enough for an ad agency as big or reputable as yours.”

He smiled. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be sitting here asking if you’d be interested in the job if I didn’t think you were a good fit for Cavanaugh and Zimmerman. Would I like to go out on a date with you? Absolutely. But one has nothing to do with the other. Right now, at this moment, my interest in you is all business. I don’t want you to think that one thing hinges on the other. And from what I know and have seen, you are more than enough for what we want as a junior graphic designer.”

Just as he finished his comment, their meals arrived, and yes, her fancy Tagliatelle Bolognese did resemble something that looked like an Italian meal to her. The waiter grated fresh parmesan over her pasta, refilled their wineglasses, and once Blake assured him that everything was great, the guy moved on to another table.

Once their server was gone and they were alone again, Katrina asked a question she was very curious about. “So, what do you know about me and what have you seen to give you the indication that I’d be a good fit for your agency?” If she was even going to consider this proposition, then she needed to be reassured that he really did know her strengths and limitations in regard to the position he was offering.

“Good question,” he said, seemingly impressed with her inquiry as he cut into a braised short rib. “I’ve been coming to Inked for over six months now. As for what I know about you, Caleb has been very talkative during my many sessions, and he’s answered a lot of my questions about you. According to him, you’re the reason the shop runs as smoothly as it does, so that tells me you’ve got a great work ethic. And I’ve watched you in action with other customers and how you manage the shop while I’m there, too.”

“Stalker much?” she teased.

He chuckled as he took a bite of the vegetables accompanying his meat. “It’s called scoping out a potential prospect.”

She twirled her strands of pasta around her fork. “Managing a tattoo shop has nothing to do with working for an ad agency.”

“True, but I know that you’re someone who will always strive to better herself, and those are the kinds of qualities that are important in the people I hire.” He hesitated for a moment as he drank his wine, then continued. “What I’ve also seen is your freehand artwork, in your personal album and what’s pinned on the gallery wall in the shop. Every time I come in, I look to see what you’ve done that’s new. And every time, I’m impressed as hell with your designs and creativity.”

She glanced down at her plate, her face warming at the thought of how thoroughly he’d been analyzing her as a potential employee for his agency. And she suddenly had a bout of insecurities. “I’m just not sure that my art and designs at Inked will translate to what you need for an ad agency.”

“

sure, and that’s all that matters,” he said confidently. “I’m known for bringing in untrained and inexperienced employees when I see the kind of talent that meshes well with our agency. I’ve rarely been wrong about the people I’ve handpicked to hire. In fact, most of those employees have become the backbone of the company and are the ones who are continually bringing a new and fresh perspective to ad campaigns and marketing ideas.”

Despite her slight concerns about not having any experience in the field, she found that the idea was starting to tempt her. “You’re so damn persuasive,” she said with a shake of her head.

He shrugged unapologetically. “I know what I want, and I’m pretty determined about getting my way if it’s important enough.”

She couldn’t help but feel flattered—that he believed so unconditionally in her ability to fit in so well with his company. They finished their dinners, and after the waiter cleared away their dishes, Blake glanced across the table and met her gaze.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

She exhaled a deep breath. The offer was incredibly generous, exciting even, but it was also so unexpected. Without a doubt, she knew that finding a new job was imperative to her friendship with Mason, and her heart and emotions, but she’d never been one to jump into something without really thinking things through.

“I really appreciate your job offer, and I’m very interested,” she said respectfully. “But I can’t give you a definite decision right this second.”

“I don’t expect you to.” His tone was understanding. “Take a week and think about everything I’ve said, and consider the growth and opportunities with an ad agency that is one of the top ten firms in Chicago. And I know we didn’t discuss pay, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Thank you,” she said appreciatively, realizing there really was no downside to taking the job. Even still, she’d take the one-week time frame to make sure a new career in advertising was what she really wanted.

“So, enough business,” he said in a more upbeat tone as a sexy smile curved his lips. “I’m more interested in getting to the pillow talk.”

Of course he was. Playing along, she leaned forward in her chair and whispered in a provocative voice, “Want to know version of seductive pillow talk?”

He angled closer, too, his eyes a deep, dark brown as he stared intently at her. “Absolutely,” he murmured.

She closed her eyes, slowly licked her lips, then opened them again and teased him. “I chocolate dessert.” She sighed and smiled mischievously. “That’s about as hot as pillow talk gets for me.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not about to deprive any woman of having dessert. Besides, it’s a win-win situation. You get to eat it, and I get to watch.”

As long as he didn’t , they were all good.