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Dancing if you want, once your ankle feels better.”
    For the longest minute she simply stared up at him. “Would we go out of town?”
    “We could, sure.” Whatever she wanted to do, they’d have a great time. He could feel it.
    “I don’t think so, Mason.” She tugged on the door, forcing him to step aside or be whacked on the hip by a hunk of steel. It slammed and she lowered the window. “We both got what we wanted tonight. As much as I’d like to enjoy you again, I’m not interested in being anybody’s dirty little secret.” She nodded at his feet. “Watch your toes. I don’t want to be responsible for putting you on the DL. I’m sure your teammates wouldn’t be impressed by that , either.”
    He stepped back and she took off, leaving him scratching his head in a cloud of parking lot dust. There’d been times in his life when he was too smart for his own good. This was not one of those times.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Andie hated waking up in an empty house. Too quiet. A few years back she’d have traded anything for this kind of silence. Now it made the thoughts in her head seem extra loud. Mostly, her mind was on last night with Mason. She didn’t regret the sex part. No woman in her right mind would wish that away. The humiliation part, on the other hand, really sucked. Finding out he was embarrassed that his friends might see them together had nearly toppled her. Her guard had been safely in place until he pulled her into that alley. Mostly. Okay, only a little. Dammit.
    Enough with the self-pity. She threw off the sheet and tried out the ankle. A bit stiff, but otherwise fine. Good thing, she had five aqua bridesmaid dresses to make for the Palmer wedding three weeks from now. They’d come begging a few days ago, after the groom’s mother realized the job wasn’t as easy as it looked. Ha. Andie loved last-minute gigs like this. More money per dress and less whining from the clients because they didn’t hold the power. Being in control was nice.
    In the bathroom, she peeled off her pajamas and leaned over to start the shower. Her gaze snagged on the mirror. She’d seen the reflection of her ass thousands of times. Lord knows she checked it frequently enough, ever on the lookout for cottage cheese dimples and orange peel ripples. No sign of the above, but it was pink instead of the usual never-sees-the-light-of-day white. Had to be from rubbing the brick wall. She hopped onto the toilet seat for a better view in the vanity mirror. Oh, yes. Her knees were worse. Stained and scratched from when she’d lost control with Mason. Control she’d given to him or allowed him to take, the line kind of blurred between the two.
    She’d been fifteen the first time she truly made out, and that was…good god, twenty-five years ago. In all that time, she’d never had so much as a hickey. Look at her now. The woman in the mirror smiled back, full of smug satisfaction. She was officially ready for adult-grade dating.
    * * * * *
     
    Scott’s cell number lit the phone display around five-thirty. The Blue Jays had wrapped up their afternoon game with a victory fifteen minutes earlier. She hit the talk button, ready for Dylan’s recount. She already knew the details—she’d listened to every at-bat while working. But her baby boy always called to tell her about his day, and that’s what mattered.
    “Hey, how was the game?” she asked by way of answering. “I miss you.”
    “I miss you too, And.”
    Not Dylan, but his dad, his voice dripping with a sarcasm-desperation mix. As usual, he’d shortened her name to a single syllable—one of his habits that irked the crap out of her. One of many.
    “Hello, Scott. I hope you’re not talking while driving. It’s dangerous, illegal, and the fine is over one hundred dollars.”
    “Nice to know you still care, hon. Not driving. Dyl and I are waiting for a table at The Grindhouse.”
    She cringed. She was absolutely not his hon . “Put Dylan on, I’d like to