Chapter Seven
Savannah turned down the temperature of the oven, looked around the kitchen, and then walked into the small dining room where the table was set for two. She reached up and nervously twirled a strand of hair. Had she made a mistake inviting Mason for dinner?
To be honest, she was still a bit shocked that she had. After the electrifying dance with him and her confession, she was in a bit of emotional shock that he’d even wanted to continue the lessons.
But he had, and the last three weeks had been the most exciting of her life. So far, he hadn’t kissed her again, but their dance sessions had turned into a sort of sensual journey. He had her try all sorts of different steps, most of them very sexy and requiring them to touch, not just press their bodies together, but actually put their hands on one another.
That was certainly no hardship, but she was trying to pretend it meant nothing more than where she placed her foot during a dance. Secretly, she cooked up one fantasy after another from those touches. Her book was practically writing itself, albeit was becoming a romance filled with far more sensuality than she had intended.
When he had asked her to dinner this afternoon after their class, it surprised her. She’d countered by asking him to come to the lake house. She hadn’t been in town long, but she’d darn sure been there long enough to know that Nellie Mae Baker was already concocting tall tales over what she’d seen. Savannah wasn’t ready to face the gossip that was already circulating, according to Cody.
The biggest question was whether she was ready to deal with the bombardment of lust Mason inspired in a setting other than a dance lesson. At least during the lessons she could pretend she was only interested in learning to dance. This hunger he inspired wasn’t something she was all that familiar with, and she was a bit stunned that she even possessed such strong feelings.
Strong didn’t really touch what she felt. There was no way she could adequately put it into words. And maybe for once in her life she wouldn’t try to explain, qualify, quantify, verify, authenticate, validate, substantiate, or rationalize. Maybe she would just allow herself to experience and see what happened.
That was a bit terrifying. It’d been so long since she’d been authentic, allowed herself to be spontaneous and genuine that she wasn’t sure she remembered how. But damn it all, she was going to try because Mason James pushed buttons she hadn’t known she possessed. He roused feelings she’d never before experienced and given the chance, she wanted to feel more.
Immediately following that bold thought came a case of the “oh shit what have I done” shakes. She decided to bolster her courage with a pre-dinner drink, downed a shot of tequila, which she was definitely developing a taste for, then dumped another shot into a glass, added a splash of orange juice and took the glass with her out onto the front porch.
Savannah settled into the front porch swing and sipped on her drink, looking over the yard to the lake. As she did, a scene for her book popped into her brain and she saw it play out on the screen of her mind. She was so caught up in it that she didn’t hear the vehicle approach. It wasn’t until the door slammed that she started back to attention, turned and looked in the direction of the driveway.
The sight of Mason crossing the yard had her getting up and setting her empty glass aside. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol or maybe it was just her natural inclination to fantasize and fictionalize, but in her head, she was running barefoot across the yard to be lifted in his arms and then lowered slowly until their faces were even and his lips could capture hers.
Savannah shook her head to snap herself out of the fantasy and to her surprise found reality every bit as appealing. Mason wore a pair of faded jeans, flip-flops, a white shirt that fit him like a glove, and had his left hand wrapped around the neck of a wine bottle.
He might not have dressed up for the date, but my God, what he did to that pair of jeans and t-shirt should be illegal. Savannah had always been a sucker for men built like him. Tall, and lean with the kind of build you see on swimmers. Mason was that and more because he had a dancer’s grace and rhythm.
It occurred to her that if she could have custom-ordered a fantasy man, he would be just like Mason.
“I hope you like chardonnay,” he said as he reached the bottom of the steps. “And wow.”
Savannah felt like someone who had stepped from the shade into the sun at the warmth that flooded her with his compliment. “I was just thinking the very same thing. And yes, I love chardonnay. Please, come in.”
She made it to the door without tripping over her own feet and they entered the house. Savannah accepted the bottle of wine. “Would you like a glass?”
“Actually, I’m not much of a wine drinker, but help yourself.”
She continued to the kitchen and put the bottle on the counter. “At the risk of making myself sound like a lush, I already started. Interested in a shot of tequila?”
“Hmm, tequila makes my clothes fall off.”
“Then have two.” Savannah felt the heat rushing to her face before the words were out of her mouth. Damn, tequila was dangerous.
Mason chuckled and moved closer. “Why, Ms. Harper, are you trying to seduce me?”
Ugly skinny girl syndrome reared its head and Savannah froze. At the same moment, his phone rang. He hesitated, then pulled out his phone. “Shit.” He looked at her. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s fine.”
He kept his eyes on her as he answered. “Why are you calling me, Mrs. Baker? Pardon? Yes, yes. Right away.”
Mason shoved the phone into his pocket. “I have to go back to Mrs. Baker’s.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to go. I’m sorry.”
When he turned and headed for the door, she followed. “Is there anything I can do?”
Mason took her hand. “Come with me.”
Savannah took a second to decide. “Let me turn off the stove.”
“Okay.”
She did that, grabbed her purse, and met him at the door. “Can you tell me what happened?” she asked as they headed for his car.
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“Well, it’s a half-hour drive.”
Mason cut a quick look at her and then turned his attention to the road. When he was silent for several minutes, she figured that he’d decided not to explain. Which left her wondering why he’d asked her to come and why she’d accepted.
Then he opened his mouth.
“Once upon a time, I thought I was a big deal. Maybe I was. A little. I was an in-demand guy and women were swarming around me like bees on a hive.
“I didn’t take any of it too seriously. The women were plentiful, as was the money so I took all I was offered and never thought about the future.”
He glanced at her and she could see the strain on his face. Whatever he had to say, it was obviously painful. She nodded, but didn’t speak and he continued.
“Five years ago, I fell from a rig during a rehearsal in a club in Berlin. Broke my back. God almighty, I’ve never felt anything like that agony. For six months, I wanted to die as much as I wanted to live. For another six months, I cried as much as I cursed, learning to walk again and suffering through two additional surgeries.
“It took two years and by the time I was what the doctor’s called ‘healed,’ I’d gone through almost everything I had and was facing a future of not knowing what the hell I was going to do to support myself. I couldn’t— couldn’t continue my career. While I was recuperating I got involved with a woman I had danced with once.”
“You fell in love?”
“No.” He looked directly at her. “But we lived together and for a while it was good. Until she came home one day and told me she was pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
“I was dead set against it and we fought about it for two days. Finally, I gave in and wrote her a check. The morning of the fourth day, I woke up and she was gone. She left all her stuff with a note that said ‘this is my life, my decision. You had your chance. Now it’s mine.’ And I never saw her again.”
Savannah blinked back the tears that threatened. How anyone could voluntarily end a pregnancy was beyond her comprehension. She’d give anything to have a child. “I’m sorry.” Without thinking, she reached over and put her hand on his thigh.
Mason looked at her and she saw the pain in his eyes. He blinked and looked away. “I got a call from her recently saying I needed to come to New York to see her and that if I didn’t, she’d come to me.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t go.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“But how did she find you?”
“I don’t know. I did tell her once I grew up here.”
“And she’s here? In Cotton Creek.”
“Yes.”
Savannah was stunned and more than a little uncomfortable. “Why in the world did you ask me to come with you?”
“I don’t know,” he said and then shook his head and continued. “No, that’s a lie. I wanted her to see you. I guess I wanted to hurt her.”
“By making her think you’re involved with someone else?”
“No, by making her think I’m involved with you. You don’t get it, do you? You’re a big deal.”
“I am not.” Savannah had never been able to buy into that.
“No? You’re on the New York Times list, your first book was made into a movie, and chances are you’ll hit with the new ones.”
“I got lucky.”
Mason looked at her longer this time. “Lucky?”
“Yes. Honestly, I never thought that first book I self-published would be so popular. I was bowled over when publishers started calling. I just was in the right place at the right time with the right story. I’m no better a writer than hundreds or thousands of others. My book just captured the attention of a publisher and a filmmaker.
“But I’m not a big deal. Nowhere near it. Just a woman with a failed marriage, no family, and one who doesn’t have much of a clue where life goes from here.”
“You’re so wrong about yourself.”
“You’re kind, but I’m pretty grounded, Mason. I know who I am.”
“Oh? Who?”
“That’s a tale for another day. Tell me, do you know why your ex is here?”
“Not a clue.”
“You think she wants you back?”
“It wouldn’t matter if she did. I told you, I didn’t love her.”
“Then why did you live with her?”
“I didn’t want to be alone.”
“That’s a sorry reason.” Savannah hated that his reason made her think less of him but it did.
“I know.”
“But maybe you would have come to love her—in time.”
He shook his head. “No.”
She didn’t know what to say to that so she remained silent. It wasn’t long before they pulled up in front of Mrs. Baker’s house. Nellie Mae was standing on the front porch and started yammering about the time they were halfway up the sidewalk.
“I tried to stop her, just so you know, but she wasn’t having any part of staying. She said to tell you that she did her part and now it’s all up to you since it’s what you wanted.”
“Hold on.” Mason held up both hands. “Just hold on, okay?”
Nellie Mae cut a look over her shoulder at the house. “You best come on inside.”
“Fine.” Mason gestured for her to precede him, which she did. He looked at Savannah.
“Right behind you.”
He followed Nellie Mae and she followed him, nearly running into him as he stopped short just inside the doorway. “What the—”
Savannah looked around him. There on Nellie Mae’s living room sofa sat a baby carrier, complete with infant. She looked up at Mason to see him staring at the baby.
Nellie Mae started back up. “She said she left you a note in the diaper bag.”
Mason didn’t appear to hear her. His gaze was locked on the baby. Savannah wasn’t sure what to do until the baby started to wail and Mason looked at her like a frightened puppy. “What do we do?”
Nellie Mae looked at her as well, both of them seemingly expecting her to solve the problem. As much as she wanted to fly across the room and gather that child into her arms, the thought of doing so nearly crippled her.
Savannah looked at Mason and the panic on his face had her forgetting her own. As if of their own accord, her legs started moving and the next thing she knew she had the infant cradled against her chest. She couldn’t resist putting her face against that downy hair and just breathing.
God help her, it made her weak. So much that she had to sit. The baby immediately stopped crying, but started gnawing its fist. “I think it’s hungry.” Savannah looked at Mason. “Check the diaper bag for a bottle.”
He grabbed the bag, opened it, and stuck his hand inside. It emerged holding a bottle with the nipple turned downward into the bottle. “You need to heat it.” Savannah said when he started toward her.
“How?”
“Microwave. About twenty seconds. When it’s done, shake a little on your wrist. It should be warm, not hot.”
“Okay, microwave, warm not hot.”
He hurried from the room and Savannah looked at Nellie Mae who was standing across the room, gripping the back of a chair and watching. “Mrs. Baker, why did someone leave this child with you?”
“Not with me. With him.” Nellie Mae jerked her head to one side, tilting her chin up in the direction of the kitchen.
“Mason? Why?”
“I’m betting the answer to that is in the note she said she left in the diaper bag.”
“Then find it.” Mason said as he returned with the bottle and handed it to Savannah.
Nellie Mae rifled through the bag and found the note. “It has your name on it.” She said and held it out toward Mason.
He took it, opened the envelope, and withdrew a single sheet of paper.
Savannah watched as his eyes moved over the page. “What does it say?”
He looked at her, and then back at the page. “Mason. I planned on getting rid of it. I made the appointment and even showed up. But I couldn’t. I know you don’t love me, but I did love you once and I couldn’t kill part of you. But I don’t want to be a mother. I never did. You know that. So, he’s yours. You take care of him. I did my part. He’s two months old and will be three months on the third of next month. His birth certificate is in the side pocket of the bag, along with his medical records. I gave him your last name. Good luck. Brittany.”
Savannah looked down at the baby who was sucking ferociously on the bottle. “Well, hello there—” She looked up at Mason. “What’s his name?”
“I—” He turned and picked up the diaper bag to go through it. Like the note promised, there was a folder in the side compartment. He leafed through it. “Thomas Morgan James. She named him after my grandfather.”
It was clear from the way he choked on the words that the gesture touched him. It was also clear that he was at a total loss. “Come hold your son,” Savannah said.
“I don’t know— I mean—“
“He won’t bite or break. Come hold him, Mason. He needs his father.”
That got Mason moving. He took a seat beside Savannah and she turned to put the baby in his arms. How tiny the child looked, but how perfect the two of them looked together.
He watched the baby as it finished the bottle. When he pulled it from the child’s mouth, a wail erupted. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. Just hold him against your chest and let him be upright for a bit. He may need to burp.””
“Burp?”
“Yeah, you know, belch. Babies suck in a lot of hair when they nurse and it can give them gas pains. You need to make sure he burps a couple of times after he has a bottle.”
“What do I do to make him burb?”
“You can jiggle him a bit, or rub or pat him gently on his back.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Well, I didn’t say pound him like a speed bag. Just a gentle pat.”
“Could you do it? I don’t want to screw up.”
Savannah didn’t really want to. Holding the baby roused feelings she had spent years trying firmly to tamp down. But she could see the sheen of perspiration on Mason’s face along with the pallor. The poor man was way out of his element.
“Okay, come here, little buddy.” She took him and cradled him against her chest, letting his little bottom rest on her forearm so that she could jiggle him gently and use her free hand to rub his back.
He let out a big burp and then made a cooing sound. Her heart nearly melted. How could anyone walk away from something so precious?
“What’s in the diaper bag?” She asked. “He’ll need to be fed several times before morning, and to be changed.”
Nellie Mae, who had been quiet up until now, went into motion and emptied the bag onto the coffee table. There was a container of dried mix to make formula, half a dozen diapers, and several changes of clothes along with another baby blanket.
“You’re going to need some things.” Savannah said to Morgan. “But he should be okay for tonight.” She felt the baby relax and shifted him a bit so that he was nestled in her right arm, sucking his fist and making small sounds as he drifted to sleep.
“Do you want me to put him in your bed?”
“No!” Mason’s answer was so forceful and abrupt that the baby started, flinging his little arms out and stiffening.
Savannah cuddled and cooed and within moments, he settled down. Mason looked at Nellie Mae. “Mrs. Baker, could Savannah and I have the room for a few minutes?”
“Oh, yes, yes of course. I’ll just pop into the kitchen and made a pot of tea.”
When she’d left the room, Mason turned to Savannah and spoke so softly she had to lean in close to hear.
“I don’t want him to stay here.”
She drew back in surprise. “But he’s your son, Mason.”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean I don’t want to be here, in Mrs. Baker’s house. She’s too nosey, can’t mind her own business and I don’t want her involved with my son. I have to find another place. Jayce’s company is working to renovate my grandparent’s old home but it’s going to take some time. Until then…” He looked down at Morgan and ran his hand gently over the child’s head.
“What am I going to do?” He looked at Savannah.
“You can stay with me.” The words were out before she could stop herself.
Mason looked at her in surprise. “Seriously?”
At that point, she didn’t see how she could gracefully retract the invitation. And the baby in her arms was making it almost impossible to do so. “Yes, of course. I have three bedrooms and only use one and the house essentially has two master suites so it’s perfect.”
“I accept and thank you. I’m going to go pack my things. It won’t take me long.” He got up and left the room. Savannah watched him go and then looked at the child in her arms.
What have I done?