CHAPTER SEVEN

“You’ll never guess what rumor I heard yesterday.”

Eva’s voice startled me Friday morning before Brit Lit as she slid into the seat beside mine. I’d been downloading a few songs Sarah and I could boogie to onto my phone.

“What’s that?” I asked, returning my attention to the four-inch screen to purchase a little Black Eyed Peas.

“I heard my favorite cousin on earth was spotted eating lunch with Waterford’s very own hunky, mysterious gigolo yesterday.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, he—Oh, I forgot to tell you.” I lowered the phone. “That babysitting gig I got—the one I started Wednesday—it’s his sister, Sarah. She has cerebral palsy. Did you know that?”

“About his sister? Yes, I’ve heard.” Eva made a grumbly sound in the back of her throat as she waved her hand. “How does that have anything to do with you sitting all alone in the middle of campus with her brother…~yesterday~?”

“Well, I guess I’m a kick-ass babysitter.” I tossed my hair over my shoulder as I flashed her a smug grin, preening over my awesomeness. “Miss Sarah raved about her evening with me to him, and he wanted to…I don’t know, thank me, I guess, for being so nice to her.”

Eva’s mouth dropped open as if she didn’t buy such a lame excuse. “Really? That’s ~all~ he said to you during your forty-five-minute conversation?”

Wow, our gossiping eavesdroppers had actually been timing us? Weird. And had we really talked for forty-five minutes? No way. It hadn’t felt that long. But then, it hadn’t felt nearly long enough, either.

“Well…” I frowned. “Mostly, yeah. After talking about Sarah, we moved on to a couple other topics, but—”

“What other topics? Like his work?”

I rolled my eyes. My God, she could be even more curious than I was sometimes. “Well…sort of. That was on the list. But we talked about all kinds of—”

“Oh, my God, so he admitted what he is.”

“You said he would.”

“But…but everything I’ve ever heard about him was just…hearsay. This is actually…fact.” Her mouth fell open as she whispered, “Holy shit, he’s really a gigolo.”

At that moment, our professor walked into the classroom. A sharp-dressed woman, Dr. Janison wore fitted skirt suits as you could imagine some executive in high fashion might wear. It was too bad I had to hate her now; she really did teach well and knew how to put together an awesome ensemble.

But thinking of her anywhere near Mason made me feel all heartbroken and depressed. And kind of vengeful.

Unable to help myself, I motioned to her with my eyes and leaned across the aisle to whisper, “And guess who one of his clients is.”

Mouth falling open, Eva turned to watch our teacher set her briefcase on top of her desk and click it open. “No freaking way.”

A niggle of guilt gnawed at my conscience. Mason hadn’t acted like it was a big secret, but I suddenly felt ashamed about spreading gossip about him—even though it was true and I was only telling my favorite relative and personal confidant.

Still.

“But you didn’t hear that,” I was quick to add. Both the professor and Mason would find themselves in a world of trouble if someone leaked their association.

“Oh, hell, yes, I did,” Eva whispered, unable to take her eyes off Dr. Janison. “I wonder what position she likes it in.”

~Seriously?~ “You did not just say that.”

“Whatever. Tell me to my face you’re not a little jealous of her right now. I mean, the man ate ~lunch~ with you yesterday. Mason Lowe just doesn’t…interact with females in public. I think you have more claim over him now than any girl, like, ever.” She turned back to me. “You should be the most jealous of us all.”

“I…~no~,” I insisted a little too emphatically. But did I really have more claim over him than any other girl ever? “I mean, no. I don’t hate Jessica for having Justin, do I?”

How could anyone hate another woman for having a man who was totally out of her league?

Eva wrinkled her face in confusion. “Jessica and Justin?”

I gasped. How could she not know who Jessica and Justin were? “Justin ~Timberlake~,” I clarified with that are-you-kidding-me kind of expression all over my face. “Jessica Biel. Only one of Hollywood’s hottest couples.”

Now she really looked mystified. “You like Justin Timberlake?”

“Hello.” The look I sent her said, ~Yes! Duh~. “He brought sexy back.”

Ooh, and now that I was thinking of it, that would be a good song to add to my phone for Sarah to groove to.

“Well, whatever,” E. murmured beside me as I searched for “SexyBack” since “Let’s Get It Started” had finished downloading. “~You~ can deny jealousy all you want. I don’t think Dr. Janison is going to be so forgiving, though.”

I whipped my head up. “What do you mean?”

“Honey, she’s going to flunk you hard for playing with her boy toy…without paying for him.”

I swear, she and Mason sounded too much alike sometimes. I opened my mouth to tell her our professor was a professional; she would ~not~ flunk me just because I had one lunch with her gigolo.

But Dr. Janison interrupted me by beginning class. “Good morning. Today, we’re going to start studying a new author. I think everyone will get a kick out of Chaucer—”

She broke off mid-word when her gaze caught mine where I sat near the right side of the room midway down the aisle. Recognition lit her gaze, and her face drained of all color. Then her eyes narrowed ominously. When everyone turned to glance at me, I shrank lower in my seat.

“You are so flunked,” E. hissed under her breath.

Oh, God. I was.

~$~

“We’re getting our noses pierced this weekend.”

I paused eating my lunch to gape at E. “Say what?”

I’d been so deep in thought, wondering if I should transfer out of my literature class, I hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention to her prattling. But I swore I’d just heard something along the lines of—

“You, me, nose rings. This weekend.”

She sat next to me on the bench to the table I had decided was going to be my lunch spot for the rest of the semester. My memory of sitting here with Mason the day before had pretty much cemented that decision—even if sitting with him was going to get me flunked from my English class. It was as if we’d christened it as ours.

It actually kind of felt like a betrayal to sit here with Eva instead of him.

But I suspected she was hanging around me so much today in the hopes I’d be granted another “gigolo-sighting,” as she was calling it.

“I’m not piercing my nose. Are you insane?”

“But they’d look so cute.” She stole one of my fries and decidedly stated, “I saw Alec checking out a girl wearing one yesterday. So, yeah, we’re getting them.”

I snorted. “If you want to go poking holes in strange places on your body just to impress your wandering-eye boyfriend, be my guest. But I will not be getting one with you.”

She merely sent me a cool smile and shrugged. “We’ll see. Oh, by the way, Mom and Dad are taking off early next Friday to spend Labor Day weekend at our beach house. They won’t be back until late Monday night. I’m thinking…party at my place, Friday.”

“Beach house? I had no idea you guys had a beach house. Oh, my God, why aren’t you going with them?”

Eva yawned as she flipped open her pink and black tiger-striped planner with a matching fuzzy pen. “Um…because I’m not ~ten~. How lame would it be to spend Labor Day weekend with the rents? Seriously, ReeRee. I have so much to teach you.”

If my parents had a beach house, I’d be there every weekend. I don’t care how lame spending time with them might look. But this was Eva we were talking about. So I just shrugged. “Well, I can’t make it on any Friday. I have to babysit.”

Eva scowled. “Who? The gigolo’s retarded sister?”

I sent her a glare to kill. “Her name is ~Sarah~. And yes, I’m talking about Mason’s ~special needs~ sister. Don’t ever call her retarded in that derogatory way again.”

With a roll of her eyes, she relented. “Okay, fine. How about Saturday night? Are you babysitting any freaks then?”

I ignored the bash against my little buddy by gritting my teeth and dipping one of my fries into a vat of nacho cheese. “Just how big of a party are we talking here?”

Ever since Jeremy, I had soured to huge gatherings full of too many strangers.

But Eva brightened. “Epic.” Then she spotted a group of guys passing our table. “Hey, boys. Party at my place. The Saturday of Labor Day weekend. You in?”

They grinned and gave her the thumbs up. “An Eva Mercer party? Oh, we are ~in~.”

“Great. See you then.” She turned back to me, looking smug.

I blew out a lungful of irritation. “I guess we’ll be throwing a party, then. And now I know why my mom was so worried you might become a bad influence.”

“Oh, let’s not call it a bad influence.” She slung an arm over my shoulder and grinned. “Let’s call it bringing a little color into your life.”

Behind us, someone snorted. “Only you would call it that, Mercer.”

The breath whooshed from my lungs as the owner of that voice rounded the table to sit across from us.

Mason.

Damn, he looked good today, all fresh and friendly with a charcoal gray v-neck that made his eyes look lighter than usual. He grinned at me and promptly scoped out what I was eating.

“Ooh, chili cheese fries. Good choice. Better than the rabbit food you had yesterday.” He stole one off my plate and popped it into his mouth.

“Well, look who’s come to visit Miss Deluded,” I snarked back, hiding my intense reaction of all things excitable to his presence. “Do you ever eat your ~own~ food? Or do you just get a perverse pleasure out of eating mine?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” He sent me a grin full of promise and hidden meaning. I fell into a mini trance, watching his lips purse and move as he chewed. Then my attention fell to his tanned throat as he swallowed.

Seriously. Eating a chili cheese fry should not look that sinful.

“Umm. Can we help you? ~Mason~?” Eva asked pointedly, glaring daggers at him.

He sent her a strained smile. “Nope. Just eating my lunch.”

“~My~ lunch,” I cut in right before he pulled a plastic-wrapped sub sandwich from his bag. He waved it tauntingly, letting me know he ~had~ brought his own food.

I scowled back because, really, I hated being bested.

Watching him unwrap his meal and take a bite, Eva muttered, “Do you seriously have to eat here? With us?”

“Eva!” I gasped. What was her deal? Earlier in Brit Lit, she’d acted as if being in his presence was the bomb. Now, she was just…a bitch.

“Jesus, Mercer.” Mason scowled as he lowered the hoagie. “I’m not contagious.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, who knows what kind of nasty STD—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” I broke in, lifting my hands and waving them in the universal white-flag gesture. “I’m sensing a disturbance in the Force between you two. Is there some kind of history here I’m not aware of?” Then I gasped. “Oh, my God. You two have slept together. Haven’t you?”

Eva huffed out an aggravated sound and wrote something in her planner vigorously enough to make the fuzzy tassel on the end of her pen bob sporadically.

Mason merely stared at me in awe as he shook his head. “Wow, your curiosity has no filter whatsoever, does it?”

I scowled back because he was purposely avoiding my question. Glancing at my cousin, I said, “E.?”

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, suddenly very interested in turning the page and checking future dates.

With a roll of my eyes, I whirled to face Mason with a pointed look.

“What?” he asked, pulling back with an overly innocent expression. He cast a questioning glance at Eva before focusing on me. “She said it was nothing.”

I opened my mouth, but Eva must’ve had a change of heart.

“~Nothing~?” she repeated in an offended voice. Slamming her planner shut, she narrowed her eyes. “Okay, fine.” She finally gave me her attention. “One night at a party about, oh, a year ago, I’d had a little too much to drink and I ended up throwing myself at him.” Her gaze pierced Mason with hateful shards. “And he turned me down. Flat.”

I frowned, confused. Umm…wasn’t that kind of what a guy was supposed to do when a drunk girl came onto him?

“And ~she~ proceeded to call me a pretentious bastard for it,” Mason added, glaring right back at Eva.

“Well, you are,” she hissed.

“…who had no right to act so self-righteous because I’m nothing but a high-priced whore with a pretty face, who’ll end up an overweight, broke, balding no one by the time I’m forty.” His jaw tightened. “Isn’t that how you worded it?”

I gasped and pinned my cousin with an incredulous glance. “You called him a ~whore~?”

She shrugged. “He ~is~ a whore.”

“So that’s what I get for trying to be a gentleman and not take advantage of the stumbling, slurring drunk girl.” Looking pissed and a trifle hurt, Mason reached across the table and picked up my cup as if he needed it to console himself. But after taking a deep drink through the straw, he winced and pulled back. “What ~is~ this?”

I wrinkled my nose at him and pushed my hair out of my face. My drink didn’t taste that bad. “It’s a diet cola.”

Okay, maybe it did taste that bad.

He set it back in front of me, looking deceived. “So…you eat chili cheese fries loaded with grease, calories, and carbs. Then get a ~diet~ cola?” He gave an amused laugh. “You’re such a girl.”

I tossed my hair again and leveled him with a fake scowl. “Maybe I just ordered a nasty-tasting drink because I knew you’d try to steal it. This could’ve been the only way to protect what’s mine.”

“A,” he said with a smile. “That won’t work on me. I’ll always steal whatever food or beverage you have. And B.” He fluttered his lashes. The feminine move should’ve looked ridiculous on him. Which, okay, it kind of did. But it also looked drop-dead sexy and somehow masculine. “I’m flattered you took the time to think of me at all.”

“Oh, gag me,” Eva howled. “If you two are done eye-humping each other, I’d like to go throw up now.”

I sent her a glower, promising a good strangulation later. I even opened my mouth to tell her in no uncertain terms that Mason and I were ~not~ flirting.

But he ignored her and said to me, “Are you watching Sarah tonight?”

I gave him some major brownie points for being able to totally blow off Eva’s rude comment. But the tightening around his mouth told me her words hadn’t left him unaffected.

Following his example, I decided to ignore her too. “Yep. I think I’m going to give her a mani-pedi and paint her fingernails and toenails some wicked awesome color.”

He nodded approvingly as he rewrapped his sandwich and slid his lunch back into his messenger bag. “She’ll get a kick out of that. I’ll see you at the house, then.” He knocked on the table in front of me as he stood. “And don’t forget that book you promised to lend me.”

“Right.” I sucked in a sharp breath, tickled he’d remembered. “Yeah, okay. I won’t.”

“Good.” With a warm, congenial smile for me, he stole one more of my fries. “And for the record, I like deluded.” Then he strolled away without once glancing at Eva.

My cheeks flamed. I loved knowing he liked me just the way I was, naïve tendencies or not.

I didn’t notice how Eva had spun to me with an expectant arch in her eyebrows until she demanded, “What book?”

I played with my fries without eating any. “~Harry Potter~. He said he’s never read the series before. Can you believe that? So I offered to loan him mine.”

“Really? ~Harry Potter~?”

She sounded so skeptical, I sighed. “No, we were talking about a Kama Sutra book. ~Yes!~ ~Harry Potter~. Why is that so hard to believe?”

Eva shrugged. “I just can’t see Mason Lowe reading ~Harry Potter~. I can’t see him reading anything.” Then she made a face, letting me know she’d thought up an allowance. “Except maybe Kama Sutra.”

I shoved my fries away and turned to pin her with a frown. “You know, he’s not that bad of a person. Once you actually talk to him, he’s just another guy.”

Just another guy who made my body heat, my pulse pound, and my throat go dry. Another guy who was fun to talk to, got my jokes, and liked my taste in food. Another guy who made me forget I was leery of the opposite gender these days. Yeah, just another guy.

“I don’t understand why you’ll talk about him behind his back like he’s some kind of god, but you just treated him like crap to his face.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Eva’s features filled with sympathy as she grasped my hands. “You poor, deluded thing. I’m going to have to explain the social pyramid to you, aren’t I? Mason Lowe is an honest-to-God gigolo. Guys like him are fun to gossip about. They’re fun to flirt with when nobody else is around, and I’m sure they’re fun, period, when you employ their services. But you do not ~sit~ with them in public and talk to them like they’re ~just~ another guy. Because they’re not.” She sighed and patted my hand. “I knew I needed to keep an extra-close watch on you today. Because look what happened. He came sniffing around, trying to ruin your reputation, and—”

I yanked my hands away from hers and lurched to my feet, not about to listen to another word. “If he’s such bad news, then why did ~you~ try to get a freebie from him?”

Eva flushed even as her eyes narrowed with outrage. “Okay, ~one~, I was drunk and I am still absolutely humiliated I did that. And ~two~, I could actually handle him without getting in too deep. ~You’d~ probably go and fall in love with a piece of underworld scum like him if he ever had sex with you. And that’s completely unacceptable, ReeRee. A prostitute doesn’t belong anywhere near you. You’re too sweet and innocent.”

My mouth fell open as I openly gaped with outright disgust. “Oh, my God, E. I’m going to ignore the way you just totally insulted me because I think you were coming at it from a good place. But I will not sit here and listen to you bash Mason like that.” I stood and gathered my things. “He may have made a…bad career decision, but he is by no means—”

“Dear God, you’re already falling for him, aren’t you?” Eva scooted across the bench toward me, her eyes pleading. “Don’t do it, sweetie. You’re just going to get hurt. It’ll be Jeremy all over again.”

“Whatever,” I muttered as I swept my book bag over my shoulder and whirled away. “I’m out of here.”

I stewed all the way to my next class. Eva was wrong; Mason would never be another Jeremy. First of all, I would never date Mason. I ~knew~ he was off limits. ~Not~ that he was unworthy, just that he was incapable of being faithful, due to his job and all. I knew I could crush on him from afar but never hope for more. I ~knew~ that. And secondly: Mason didn’t give off one control-freak vibe, not the way Jeremy had exhaled them like carbon dioxide. He was most certainly not the girlfriend-beating type.

But I remained moody for the rest of the day because Eva had said one thing that had completely freaked me out. Despite knowing I would never date Mason, I thought he could still hurt me, because I was pretty sure I ~was~ falling for him on a level I couldn’t stop.

He would be able to hurt me in a way Jeremy never had. I might have told my first boyfriend I’d loved him when he’d expected me to say it, but I’d never really given my heart to him. There was something about Mason though that told me I could give it to ~him~.

A little too easily.