Changing Her Mind Read online

  Pulling away Mason swore and got out of the car. Smothering her disappointment, Rebecca allowed him to help her out and assist her into the house. Removing her coat, she struggled with getting herself into a chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Go and get ready for bed and I’ll make sure everything is secure for the night,” he told her gruffly, angry all over again as he watched her struggle.

  Not sure if it was habit or total exhaustion, Rebecca responded to the command in his voice and went meekly down the hall to her room, clasping her crutch firmly.

  Mason searched through the cupboards until he found some hot chocolate and proceeded to heat the water. He checked the lock on the back door and made sure the windows she normally opened were shut and locked. Hearing scuffling coming from her bedroom he proceeded down the carpeted hall, knocking softly at the door.

  “Can I come in?” he inquired, hearing muffled curses through the door.

  There was no response but still hearing what sounded to him the sounds of a struggle he opened the door, propriety be damned.

  The sight that met his eyes had a dual effect. Rebecca was half on, half off the bed, her jeans twisted impossible around her ankles. While he stood there torn between laughter and lust she finally managed to free her good leg but the material around her cast wouldn’t budge. Setting the cocoa down on the dresser he approached the bed.

  “You wouldn’t need me by any chance?” he inquired, trying not to laugh. Her tee shirt was twisted up above her breasts and the skimpy red thong panties left little to the imagination.

  He should have been warned by the narrowing of her hazel eyes, but blinded by the vision she presented, he wasn’t

  “Need you? No Mason, I don’t need you, about now any man would do.”

  “Fine, I hope you can find one,” He growled as he turned, fully intending to leave her to her own devices.

  Rebecca faced with swallowing her pride and apologizing or spending the night and possibly the next day stuck in a pair of jeans bit her tongue and quickly apologized.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him not sounding the least bit sincere.

  “No you’re not,” he shot back, approaching the bed, “but keep it up and you will be.”

  Grasping her under the arms he tried to remain impersonal as he lifted her up onto the bed.

  “Turn over,” he told her gruffly and with a humph she did as she was told.

  The sight of her lovely pale bottom, cheeks separated by a tiny strip of red satin, made his hands clumsy and it took several minutes to untangle her. Presented with what he considered a God given opportunity he then sat down next to her, tucked his arm tightly around her waist and pulled her snuggly against his hip. Figuring she was more comfortable than she deserved to be he began to crisply and sharply spank that beautiful bottom. Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack. Damn this feels good he thought, watching as her lovely butt turned pink and enjoying each and every squeal and gasp. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt more gratified.

  “That’s not helping!” Rebecca turned her head and screamed at him in indignation wiggling as best she could to get away from him.

  “It’s helping me”, Mason responded not missing a beat, continuing to toast her butt with hearty spanks.

  Rebecca was just about stuck. Her injured foot was on the bed and she was on her stomach in what would have been a comfortable position had he not been determined to make her decidedly uncomfortable. The arm around her holding her to his side was impossible to budge so she couldn’t squirm away from him. What she wanted to do, besides the obvious of course, was curse a blue streak but she didn’t think that was a good idea either considering the circumstances. So she took it. Each burning swat, as he worked from top to bottom and side to side on her poor throbbing bottom. Shoving her face deep into the fluffy comforter she squealed and moaned until the last few swats which caught her right where her cheeks met the thighs brought a few outright screams.

  “All done,” he told her cheerfully, his mood greatly improved.

  “You bet you are,” she told him, jaw clenched and completely mortified by his impromptu spanking. “You can get the hell out of here right now.”

  ‘Now sweetheart, don’t get your panties in a knot, pretty as they are,” he told her, sliding his arms under her and depositing her on her stinging backside despite her flailing arms and protests. After propping her foot on a pillow he continued fussing until he had her nicely situated. Mason got a nightshirt out of her drawer and retrieved the hot chocolate, setting both within her reach. Halfway to the door he turned and caught her rubbing her bottom.

  ‘You don’t have to thank me darling,” he told her grinning, not in the least ashamed of his action. “After all it’s only what any man would have done.”

  He heard the thump of a book hitting the door seconds after he’d closed it and was still smiling as he drove away.

  Chapter Five

  Rebecca got through the next few weeks with a lot of help from her friends. The insurance company settled her claim quickly and she was able to replace her car without too much shopping around. Sara took over the more physical aspect of the adult day group leaving Rebecca to handle mainly the crafts and paperwork. As a whole, her seniors were helpful and sympathetic, the healthier ones assisting the frailer. Mason was a Godsend, doing the grocery shopping and helping with the household chores she found difficult. They were on strange ground here. Not wanting to antagonize her, Mason kept his cool. He was around often but kept the conversations neutral and his hands to himself, much to Rebecca’s disappointment not that she wanted another spanking, but she sure could have enjoyed some of his other talents.

  While he seemed to have no difficulty reverting to their old relationship, she on the other hand, was in a constant state of emotional upheaval. In the last few weeks not once had he raised his voice, issued orders, or given her any opportunities to clear the air. He had also not kissed her, or touched her in any but the most impersonal way. Rebecca had fully expected him to use her dependence on him to make her see the ‘error of her ways’, so to speak. Suspecting that he would take every opportunity to convince her that marriage was the right thing to do she had braced herself for an onslaught of emotional arguments.

  Never once did he bring up his proposal. Ironically this infuriated Rebecca. Although she repeatedly told herself she wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship she was definitely not interested in a platonic one either.

  Being in the same room with him set her senses reeling. She constantly relived the one night they had been intimate and the need such memories produced kept her perpetually on edge and snappish.

  Mason never retaliated for her jibes and sarcastic remarks, nor did he respond with anything but soft spoken words when she attempted to pick a fight, hoping to get them back on more personal ground. If he’d been like a big brother before, he was now like a doting uncle, humoring her like she wasn’t quite right in the head. After a while, Rebecca began to wonder herself.

  *

  Mason amazed himself at the amount of restraint he possessed. How he kept himself from strangling her, spanking her silly, or carrying her off to bed he was to wonder for years. She had never been more difficult, infuriating or readable. He knew what was bothering her and that knowledge gave him the stamina to continue what he considered their courtship. Her desire for him gave him the only power he had right now and he wasn’t about it give it up no matter how enjoyable the prospect. His heart was convinced that marriage was preferable to a short, intense love affair. Mason had never settled for second best and he wasn’t about to start now. He intended to have fifty or sixty years with the woman he loved and that would be close enough to forever for him. If he had to beat her at her own game, then he was prepared to go the distance. He would prefer she give in gracefully, admitting their marriage would be much more than just a physical joining, that they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together, but whether gracefully or screaming in sexual
frustration, give in she would. Not only would they be joined in body, but in heart, mind and soul, for he could never be satisfied with less.

  Chapter Six

  As Christmas approached, Rebecca spent her time working with her seniors to get ready for the holiday. This year they were going to go caroling at a local nursing home with a group of students from the high school who were learning about community service. Her folks were very excited about the special treat, especially Mary Havens, whose husband was a resident of the home. The children came several times to practice and together they chose which songs they would sing. Rebecca got home each night tired but with a sense of accomplishment, knowing that she was able to make a difference in the quality of life for her special friends.

  Mason accompanied her to the doctor when it was time to have her cast removed, the week before Christmas. It felt wonderful to be without the heavy plaster and Rebecca was in a rare mood on the way home.

  “Why don’t you let me cook you dinner tonight Mace?” she asked happily, more pleased with her world than she’d been in a long time. “I could make that marinated chicken you like. I know I’ve been a wretch lately and I’d really like to show you how much I’ve appreciated the help you’ve given me since the accident,” she told him laying her hand innocently on his thigh.

  Heat shot through him at her touch and his voice, when he answered her, was harsh. “Not tonight,” he cleared his throat and continued. “I already promised Maggie that I’d take Jason to cut down a Christmas tree. She’s worried about him and thought maybe it would help if he spent some time with someone other than her or the younger kids. This time of year is especially hard on them.”

  Jealousy yanked Rebecca’s hand back as if she’d been burnt and fast on its heels came shame. Rebecca genuinely liked Maggie Cassidy. She was a good mother and had been a good wife. Maggie and Jim had occasionally included her in their family gatherings after her father had died. They had always been kind to her, Maggie often coming to her defense when Mason was on the warpath. After Jim died Maggie had become withdrawn and Rebecca, remembering her father’s grief, had understood. Although they didn’t see each other very often, Rebecca still considered her a close friend.

  “Maybe some other night,” she told him, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter if he was becoming an important part of Maggie’s life.

  Mason was glad he had plans. The touch of her hand after all this time was more than he could stand. Desire flashed through him like a bolt of lightning and gripping the steering wheel was the only way he could keep his head, and his hands off her. He wanted to stop the car right this minute and gather her into his arms. Wanted to feel her softness, slide his big hands under her soft sweater and tenderly cup her full breasts.

  Groaning he turned on the radio trying to distract himself. He found it amazing that a small touch from her could excite him so much. Sighing with relief he pulled up in front of her house.

  Rebecca was also glad to be home. She told herself she was happy that Mason was giving Maggie a hand, Lord knew she deserved it. Twisting in the seat she intended to thank him for the ride, but when her eyes met his, she no longer had the urge to speak. Blue fire warmed her to the bone. His strong jaw had slight stubble that only increased his masculinity. Rebecca studied him, heart pounding. A wave of black hair fell over his forehead. Her mouth went dry while other places in her body went damp and liquid. Deep inside sparks radiated and started flames she couldn’t put out. His strong hands still gripped the steering wheel and Rebecca stared at them remembering the feel of their velvet roughness caressing her. A pulse in her temple began to throb and unable to stop herself she leaned over, gently setting her lips at the corner of his mouth.

  Mason’s control snapped. Reaching out he pulled her onto his lap, twisting his head to claim her lips and brand them his. His beard scraped her soft cheek and she moaned into his mouth as his hand grasped the back of her head anchoring her in place.

  Rebecca felt surrounded by his hard male body. His hands spoke to her, telling her he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight, but there was no fight in her and as his tongue swept hotly into her mouth she surrendered to him completely.

  He spread his thighs and cradled her between them, his hard length making her mindless with longing. When he felt her body melt into his he loosened his hold and sighed raggedly. Hard hot hands roamed her eager flesh, slipping under her clothing.

  Neither were aware of the snow that was falling softly outside, blanketing the car in a layer of white, nor did they give any thought to the fact that they were parked on a public street.

  Breathing in her perfume Mason felt as though he were drowning in her sweet fragrance. His thumbs brushed her rigid nipples sending waves of pleasure through her body so intense that she began to tremble with the fierce pleasure. Her hands reached up and grasped his rough cheeks, and as she kissed him, tears, caused by weeks of tension, slipped out from between her lashes. Their saltiness penetrated Mason’s conscience as nothing else could and he forced himself to pull back, scattering light kisses over her delicate features and whispering words of love while he struggled with his raging passion.

  Rebecca’s head fell back against his shoulder, her face flushed with desire, her lungs gasping for breath. Feeling his withdrawal, she curled her nails into the palm of her hands, the pain nothing compared to the agony of wanting what she knew he would not give.

  Embarrassment flooded her. He was on his way to Maggie’s. Even in the throes of passion he had not mentioned marriage again and she told herself she was glad. Putting her hands on her cheeks to cool them she tried to laugh at the situation and failed miserably.

  “Don’t,” he told her harshly, grasping her shoulders and giving her a small shake. “There is nothing funny about this. I could take you right here. Strip you down in broad daylight and make you cry out loud enough to bring the neighbors running, but I won’t, damn you.”

  Running his hand through his hair he continued, tension making his voice harsh.

  “We seem to be at an impasse here Rebecca. You won’t marry me and I won’t make love to you unless you do. I thought I could bring you around by showing you what we could have together but I find I’m not the man I thought I was because I came damn close to giving in to you. I won’t be used Rebecca. You can call me old fashioned and I won’t deny it but I can’t have the kind of love affair you seem to want. I want a wife, a family, and if you’re not interested in the same thing you can damn well keep your hot little body away from me.”

  Bodily he lifted her from his lap and almost thrust her into the opposite seat. Determination set his jaw and he glared at her as if daring her to argue with him.

  Rebecca was hurt enough to do just that. When he’d said the word marriage, her heart had accelerated but as he continued that feeling was rapidly replaced by sheer fury. He had made her sound like some… tramp who was so hot for a man she couldn’t keep her hands off him. Well so be it. If that’s how he saw her she wouldn’t disappoint him.

  “Mason darlin’,” she cooed, getting to her knees on the seat and leaning toward him, lips pouting.

  “Don’t get yourself so worked up sugar,” she went on, using her sexiest voice in what she hoped was a convincing manner.

  Rebecca ran one hand through her hair, arching her back to thrust her breasts out temptingly. Appearing to stretch lazily she thrust her hands behind her back, one grasping the door handle.

  “I know you’re saving yourself for marriage, and I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of such a virtuous man,” she drawled.

  Mason’s mouth all but fell open.

  “Especially when there are so many ahh… shall we say more modern men available?”

  Mason’s mouth snapped shut.

  “You little witch,” he ground out, lunging across the small space that separated them.

  Rebecca was ready for him. Laughing now that she had gotten even she was out the door and running for the house before
his hands could touch her.

  Mason got out of the car and started toward her when a large snowball landed smack in the middle of his chest.

  “That should help you cool down,” she shouted to him before she slammed the door, “and I always aim to please.” It had certainly pleased her.

  *

  Mason let himself into the entryway at Maggie’s, took off his snow covered boots and shook his coat before hanging it up.

  “Maggie,” he called, padding across the thick carpet into the living room.

  “In the kitchen,” she called back.

  Eight year old Todd was at the dining room table making a dinosaur out of clay and ruffling his hair, Mason stopped to admire his creation. Walking through the swinging door he watched appreciatively as Maggie bent over to remove a cookie sheet from the oven.

  The jeans she was wearing accentuated her slim waist and nicely rounded bottom. Her long auburn hair was tied back with a black ribbon making her look much younger than her 34 years.

  Turning at just the right moment she caught his look and grinned cheekily.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she laughed. “You’d be bored in a month. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to look at a woman like that unless you’re prepared to change diapers and mow lawns? Cookie,” she offered, noting his embarrassment and enjoying it.

  “Sorry Maggie,” he told her almost sheepishly, reaching for a golden chocolate chip cookie. “I guess I’m not myself today.”

  “Problems?” she asked. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he responded while munching.

  Maggie laughed. “Ah, I sense male arrogance rearing its ugly head. You of all people should know I don’t buy that.”

  “Meaning?” he asked, pulling out a stool at the breakfast bar and sitting down.

  “Meaning I’ve known you for a long time and the look on your face is downright screaming frustration, which translates to ‘Rebecca’.”