It was a pointed change of subject, and he allowed it only because he really was famished, and he didn’t want to push her in case she clammed up. As it was he was just grateful she hadn’t again started talking about how going ahead with her plan was a bad idea.
He waved Thandiwe over, and they placed their orders—pasta arrabbiata for Daisy and a rare steak with baked potato for him—before he turned his attention back to his dinner companion. Her hair was starting to slip out of that knot and beginning to resemble a soft cloud around her face. The heat from the place added a becoming flush to her cheeks.
“What about you?” she asked, and he blinked, startled out of his perusal of her pretty face.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you do for fun? Especially now that you’re back in our boring little town. I can’t imagine you’d find it that interesting being back.”
“You’d be surprised,” he muttered under his breath. He was finding her more and more fascinating with every passing moment, but he didn’t think she was quite ready to hear or believe that. “I haven’t been in town long enough to get bored yet. I’ve been on the go for the last year. I like camping, hiking, off-roading, parasailing, and I do a bit of surfing when it’s not fucking freezing.” He paused and then winced. “Sorry, all those years in the military with a bunch of crude guys didn’t do much for the vocabulary.”
“And what are your plans now that you’re home? Do you intend to settle down here? Stay permanently?”
He fiddled with the stem of his glass as he considered the question.
“Not entirely sure, really.”
His answer surprised Daisy. Mason Carlisle struck her as a man who always knew what he wanted and when he wanted it. The indecisiveness seemed out of character. “After selling my half of the company, I thought I’d try something I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Which is?” she asked, lifting her glass for a sip of wine.
“Nothing.”
She choked on her drink and squinted at him.
“What?”
“I’ve always dreamt of being rich enough to do absolutely nothing,” he elaborated with a sheepish grin. “Granted, I was about seventeen and working those aforementioned three jobs when I wished for this, but I thought I’d give it a go.”
“And how’s it working out for you? Doing absolutely nothing, that is?”
“Honestly?” he asked, dipping his head and looking up at her through those gorgeous eyelashes of his. She found the almost shy gesture incredibly appealing and fought back another one of her embarrassing blushes.
“Yep.”
“It’s boring as hell. I’ve always had something to do, and all this leisure time is driving me crazy.”
“Well, you’ve kept yourself busy with the hiking and climbing and stuff, so you haven’t been completely idle.”
“But that was fun and unproductive, and for someone like me, it’s damned near decadent to be able to do anything I want, without any sort of regimen. I’ve lived my entire life according to a schedule, sometimes mine, mostly someone else’s—so this just feels”—he stopped as he searched for the correct word—“wrong. It feels wrong. And I feel selfish.”
“You’ve spent your life helping others, Mason. Cut yourself some slack.” She would have continued if Thandiwe hadn’t chosen that moment to bring their food. Mason looked a little relieved by the interruption, and once their bubbly server had left, he very determinedly changed the subject.
“Ah, now this is one thing I’m happy remained the same,” he said with an appreciative sigh, after giving his steak a long and lusty look. “The food at MJ’s has always been awesome, despite the lack of variation in the menu.”
“Or maybe because of it,” Daisy suggested. “Why change something that’s working perfectly fine in the first place?”
“Touché,” he said, before slicing off a sizable chunk of the—much-too-rare-for-Daisy’s-liking—meat and shoving it into his mouth. He groaned, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes as he chewed on his meat. He looked incredibly sexy and—quite uncharacteristically—Daisy found herself wondering if he showed this much enthusiasm and sensual appreciation during sex. She would assume so. Mason Carlisle just seemed like the type of man who did nothing by half measures. He enjoyed every sensual, physical, and cerebral aspect of life. The type of man who took action and went after the things he wanted, rather than standing on the sidelines watching all the important experiences in life pass him by.
He opened his eyes and caught her staring, her fork halfway to her open mouth, and Daisy quickly averted her eyes, despite knowing that it was already much too late to pretend she wasn’t completely riveted by him.
“Sorry, I appreciate good food a little too much sometimes. Bad table manners, I know.” He was smiling as he spoke, inviting her to share his self-deprecating humor. She forced an answering feeble smile in return, but her expression froze at his next words. “I’ll be on my best behavior at your sister’s wedding, though. I promise not to act like a starving man at a banquet and embarrass you.”
Embarrass her? A man of Mason Carlisle’s caliber couldn’t even begin to grasp the concept of embarrassment. But, that aside, it was time to address the elephant in the room, and Daisy sighed as she placed her fork neatly on the side of her plate.
“Mason, I really appreciate the fact that you were—are—willing to help me out like this, but the inherent dishonesty of it is making me feel really uncomfortable, and I don’t think I can, or even want to, go through with it.”
He said nothing, kept his focus on his plate as he sliced off another piece of steak and speared some steaming potato along the way as well. He shoveled the contents of the overburdened fork into his mouth and watched her closely while he chewed. He ate like a man, no delicacy or artifice about him. He washed the food down with some wine and sucked at his teeth before finally making a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. It sounded like a lion’s purr and unsettled Daisy more than she was willing to let on.
“So you’re uninviting me?”