Stella Bagwell – Her Sweetest Fortune (страница 8)
Mason tossed his pen onto the desk, where it promptly rolled to the back and fell between the wall and the kickboard. A sign of just how his luck was going, he thought dismally. “She went out on a date with him last night.”
Nadine’s brows arched upward. “Really? How would you know that?”
“Yesterday, when you saw her here at my desk, she was telling me that Thom had asked her out. She was jumping up and down with excitement.” He shook his head while trying to ignore the heavy feeling of dejection settling in the pit of his stomach. “She has her heart set on having a big Valentine’s date with Thom. And knowing Sophie’s determination, she’ll probably get it.”
“Poor girl. She’s letting that pretty face of Thom’s blind her. I expect it won’t take long for the blinders to fall off and then she’ll start looking for a man with real substance. And we know where she can find one of those,” Nadine added with a sage grin.
“Do we?”
Before Nadine could answer, Dexter Johnson, another programmer, stopped by Mason’s cubicle.
“Oh. You two are still here. Are we supposed to be staying over for a meeting or something? I didn’t get a memo about it.”
In his midthirties, Dexter had black hair that waved in a giant bush about his pale face. A wide smile exposed a set of longer than normal eyeteeth, prompting the nickname Vamp. And though it was done with affectionate teasing, Mason didn’t approve of his colleagues’ humor. When it came to computers, though, Dexter was practically a genius. Along with that, he was a nice, unpretentious guy.
“Don’t worry, Dexter. There’s no meeting. Nadine and I are just having a little visit.”
“Oh, well, I’ll let you two get on with it.”
Before he could move on, Mason said, “You don’t have to go. Pull up a chair and join us.”
Even though Dexter was clearly warmed by the invitation, he quickly shook his head. “No thanks. I need to get home. They’re predicting sleet tonight. Not good walking weather. And I’m too chintzy to catch a cab.”
Nadine wrapped her arm around Dexter’s slender shoulders. “Forget about walking, or the cab. You can ride with me. Your apartment is right on my way.”
Dexter’s thin face brightened. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“No bother at all. I’m happy to have the company. So if you’re ready, let’s go.” She urged Dexter away from the cubicle, while tossing a smile over her shoulder at Mason. “Get your swagger on, Mason. Your time is coming. Good night.”
Mason waved, then turned back to his computer.
Swagger? Him? He was hardly the guy who roared in on a motorcycle wearing black leather chaps and a slick pompadour. How was Mason supposed to get swagger when everybody saw him as the boy next door with the kind face and comfortable shoulder?
For the next two hours, Mason tried to dive into his work and forget about Sophie’s date with Thom. But each time he thought he’d cleared his mind, her pestering image came right back to him.
Sophie had told him to stop by her desk today and she’d give him a report on her date. But regardless of how much he wanted a chance to talk with her, he was hardly keen on hearing about Thom Nichols sweeping her off to some magical spot and kissing her until she fainted with delight.
No. Mason didn’t need to hear any of that. But when he finally shut down his computer and walked out into the corridor to leave, he spotted a light still burning in human resources and knew it had to be Sophie. No one else put in the long hours that she did.
With his jacket slung over his shoulder, he stood near the elevator doors, trying to decide whether to go speak to her, when the light suddenly went dark and Sophie stepped into the corridor.
Spotting him immediately, she waved. “Mason! I didn’t know you were still here.”
His heart tripping at a ridiculous rate, he watched her stride quickly toward him, while thinking she looked as fresh as if it was eight thirty in the morning and she’d just arrived, instead of nearly three hours past quitting time.
“Hi, Sophie. I just now saw the light and wondered if it was you,” he confessed.
Her lower lip thrust forward in a playful pout. “And you weren’t going to stop by and see me? Shame on you. I expected to see you today.”
So she could brag about her date with Thom, he thought sickly. “Well, I’ve been very busy today. I’m still doing last-minute tests on the sports app. And then there’s a new project.”
“You’re so incredibly smart, Mason. I doubt you ever worry about the work you produce. In fact, I’ve heard Wes bragging on you before. You’re one of his favorites,” she added, then gave him a coy wink. “But don’t let him know I told you so.”
At least there was one Fortune Robinson who appreciated him, Mason thought dryly.
“I wouldn’t think of repeating that little tidbit,” he assured her.
For some reason he felt compelled at the moment to grab the bull by the horn, as the saying went. Raking a hand through his hair, he asked her, “Uh, seeing as how you’re leaving, too, would you like to grab a cup of coffee?”
For one split second she appeared surprised by his invitation and then a bright smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Sure. I’d love a cup.”
Feeling as though the floor beneath his feet had just turned to air, he reached for the coat she was carrying. “Better let me help you with this,” he said. “I hear there’s bad weather coming tonight.”
Standing behind her, he held the coat so that she could slip her arms into it and Mason was immediately struck by her petite stature and the grace with which she moved. As always, she smelled like a cloud of sunny flowers and he longed to drop his face to the crown of her hair and draw in the subtle scent.
“Thanks,” she told him as she buttoned the coat and wrapped a dark purple scarf around her neck. “I hate being cold. I’ll be happy when three-digit temperatures get here.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. Summer will be here before you can say the rat ran over the cheese barrel.”
She shot him a quizzical look. “‘The rat ran over the cheese barrel.’ Where did you get that phrase?”
He grinned. “I made it up.”
She laughed then, and looped her arm through his. “You’re so funny, Mason. Thank you for making me laugh.”
Funny. How was he supposed to get any kind of serious swagger going when Sophie viewed him as some sort of standup comedian?
He didn’t know, but he had to get his new and improved Mason going soon or Thom Nichols was going to snare this sweet Fortune on his arm.
Bernie’s was five doors down from the Robinson Tech offices in an old building that had once been a pharmacy with a soda fountain. Down through the years, the medicinal side of the business had fallen by the wayside and the remaining space turned into a casual diner that catered to nearby office workers.
Sophie had always adored the place because of its homey, nostalgic feel and simple food that could be eaten with your fingers. Something their mother had never allowed her and her siblings to do while growing up on the Robinson estate.
“Where would you like to sit? The counter or a table?” Mason asked as they entered the eating establishment.
Sophie glanced from the Formica and chrome tables to the long wooden counter with red stools.
“Hmm. Let’s sit at the counter. I’m still a kid at heart. I like to swivel around. Don’t you?”
“Merry-go-rounds make me nauseous and bar stools make me even more drunk,” he joked.
She laughed. “I think that’s a result of the drink sitting in front of you rather than the swiveling bar stool.”
He grinned. “You might be right.”
He reached for her hand and as he led her around a group of tables to reach the counter, Sophie couldn’t help thinking how nice his hand felt against hers and how completely natural it was to be in his company. With Mason she didn’t have to worry about how she looked or the things she said. She didn’t have to work at impressing him. He liked her as she was and that was the reason she’d been so happy to see him a few minutes ago in the corridor outside her office. Talking with Mason always made her feel better.
After taking seats at one end of the counter, they removed their coats and draped them across their laps. Then a barrel-chested man wearing a white apron came over to take their orders.
“Good evening, Miss Sophie,” he greeted her with a toothy grin. “How are you tonight?”
“I’m fine, Leo. Thank you for asking. And you?”
“I’m cold,” he complained as he rubbed a hand over his bald head. “I want the sun to come out. The birds to sing. The bluebonnets to bloom.”
“From your lips to God’s ears, Leo,” she said. “I’m cold, too. So give me a cup of the strongest, hottest coffee you have. And do you have something good for dessert this evening?”
“Bread pudding with raisins and rum sauce.”
“I’ll take a dish.” She looked over at Mason to see he was arching a brow at her. “What? Is something wrong?”
“I didn’t know women ate rich desserts. I mean, women that look like you.”
Leo chortled and Sophie found herself blushing. She’d not ever thought about Mason looking at her figure in any form or fashion. But she needed to remember he was a man and a very nice looking one to boot. Something she’d not really noticed until recently.