Page 56 of Sugar and Spice
I freeze, and my eyes fly open. Mason’s breath is on my skin, and my nerves sing with pleasure. His dark hair brushes against my cheek, and before he pulls back, my poor, over-stimulated brain somehow manages to notice that the short strands are cool.
He must have recently showered, and that’s why he smells so strongly of clean, fresh soap and shampoo. I give in to the urge to breathe in the fresh, airy fragrance—after all, what sane girl would let an opportunity like this pass her by?
So badly, I want to raise my hand and run my fingers through his hair. I restrain myself somehow, but it’s not easy.
It only takes seconds for Mason to lift his head, but I’m already breathless.
“For such a seemingly meticulous person, you’re a disaster in the kitchen,” he says casually, continuing his train of thought even though I’ve drifted far, far away.
I’m not sure he even knows that he just short-circuited my world. He backs up to arm’s length, with his hands still on my shoulders, and looks at me as if nothing just happened.
But when I really look, something in Mason’s expression—maybe the tiny, crooked tilt of his lips or the way his eyes crinkle at the edges—gives him away. He knewexactlywhat he was doing.
That, however, only makes it worse. Because it means he was having the same thoughts I was, and if I’d only acted on them…
I still could.
Mason’s hands pause on my shoulders, almost as if he can read my mind.
With a questioning look in his eyes, he takes a step closer. I’m just about to wind my arms around his waist when something on the television catches my attention.
Before, it was nothing more than background noise, but now I recognize Sadie’s voice.
I turn toward the TV, startled to find our show on. “You’re watching it?”
I knew they had to get it up tonight, but it was close with our late judging.
“I like to watch you work.” Mason turns toward the medium-sized flat-screen TV, so we’re standing side-by-side. “You’re careful and focused. You and Sadie are so in sync, you hardly even speak to each other.”
Frowning at the screen as Sadie tells the story of her grandmother teaching her to bake, I say, “I’m not sure it’s because we’re in sync necessarily.”
Mason turns back to me and gives me a soft smile. “Are things still tense between you two?”
“Yeah.”
Then the camera focuses on me, and I hold my breath, feeling slightly sick as I watch myself tell the world—and mostly my parents—about my desire to publish my own cookbook.
Too late I remember Dave’s questions about Mason.
“What kind of response do you want me to give you?” On the screen, my eyes flash with irritation. “Do you want me to say that Mason is even more handsome in person? That his eyes are truly gray—the exact color of storm clouds in winter or some such nonsense? Fine. He’s handsome, all right? At first, it was disconcerting to be in the same room. He’s funny and charming, and when he smiles at you…”
I watch, half-horrified as I lose my train of thought on camera. I thought they’d cut some of it, but it’s worse that they didn’t. I like Mason a little more than I should. Maybe even a little more than I thought.
I look at Mason from the corner of my eye, not daring to breathe. His whole attention is on the television, and he doesn’t look my way until the next interview is on.
“You think I’m handsome, funny, and charming, do you?”
Slowly, wanting to deny it but knowing there’s no point now, I shrug.
He’s still next to me, and he turns his head until his jaw hovers over my ear. Then he whispers, “What happens when I smile at you?”
I raise my eyebrows and give him a droll look that makes him laugh.
“So, you’re writing a cupcake cookbook?”
I’m not sure this subject is any safer. I turn from him, putting distance between us as I wander his room. “Mmmhmm.”
“Why do you lookguilty?”
