Текст книги "Playing Pretend"

Автор книги: Juliana Haygert

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Seven

Charlotte

An involuntary pang of jealousy took hold of me each time I saw Liana working on a project for one of her art classes. This time was no different.

I sat in a chair across the kitchen table, playing with the box of pastels while Liana leaned over a large piece of paper, drawing away. My fingers itched to help, to work on an art project of my own.

With great effort¸ I stood and refilled my coffee mug. I inhaled deeply, savoring the strong scent. Since we had become friends, during an art class in middle school in Washington, before I left the public system to go to a fancy prep school, I nicknamed her mother’s kitchen coffeeland—the most perfect place in the world. Coffee was always ready, as was some kind of cookie or cake. The mismatching colorful cushions of the kitchen’s chairs added a happy note, and the tiny bay window let the sun shine through, bringing even more warmth to the place. Most importantly, her mother and her father were always around. Liana’s older sister lived in Texas now, but she had been a big part of this place too.

I certainly felt much better here than in my house’s kitchen, with the industrial stainless steel appliances and stark white cabinets, two cooks, and a server.

“What do you think?” Liana held the paper up, showing the pretty landscape drawing. She had used only black pastel and still the texture and shadows seemed lifelike.

“It’s amazing,” I whispered.

“It really is,” said Joan, Liana’s mother, as she entered the kitchen.

Liana pointed to four silhouettes on the corner of the paper. “It’s the four of us—MaryAnn, Becca, you, and me—in Cali.”

Oh, I saw it now. The rocks surrounding the beach were on the opposite corner. It was perfect. Almost as perfect as being there with Mason.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “It looks awesome.”

“Thanks,” Liana said, smiling.

Liana went back to the drawing’s touch-ups as Joan grabbed a few plates from the cabinets and headed outside, where Liana’s father was preparing the grill for the barbecue.

I glanced at the clock on my cell phone. Five in the afternoon of a Saturday. MaryAnn couldn’t be sleeping at this hour, could she? Well, if MaryAnn and Becca didn’t arrive soon, I would have to leave without seeing them.

“Where do you think MaryAnn and Becca are?” I leaned against the counter and sipped from my coffee.

Liana stood and stared at her drawing. “MaryAnn is flirting with the new guy working at the auto shop one block from here. They are probably there now, pretending there’s something wrong with MaryAnn’s car.”

I laughed. Typical. MaryAnn threw her charms left and right, and she usually had her basket full.

Liana’s eyes found mine. “Speaking of flirting, won’t you tell me more about Mason? I still can’t believe he was at the ball.”

I groaned. “Me neither.”

“Come on. Tell me more!”

“What’s there to tell?” I set my mug down and crossed my arms, irritated for feeling nervous just thinking of Mason. Five days had passed, and I still couldn’t stop thinking about him. “He was there. Just like that.”

Liana sighed. “It sounds like a fairy tale.”

“What?”

“Think about it. He’s here, in Washington! It can’t be coincidence.”

Yeah, that was one of the things that crossed my mind. It couldn’t be coincidence. Mason must have found out who I was and had come to torment me. “It has to be,” I whispered. The last thing I wanted was to find out he was a psycho, or a serial killer.

“What if it isn’t?” Liana said. “He was pretty great during spring break and he did tell you he was happy to see you again.”

Why had I told Liana that? “Well, you know it’s not that simple.”

“I know, but nothing in life is simple.”

I rolled my eyes, tired of the subject. I glanced at the clock—5:30 p.m.—and pushed away from the counter. “I can’t wait any longer.” I picked my bag from the floor. “Can I go to your room?”

Liana gave me an are-you-crazy look. “As if you needed to ask.”

With a smile, I made my way into the house, trying to clear my mind of anything that could remind me of Mason.

At Liana’s bedroom, I closed the door, settled my bag over my friend’s bed, and opened the zipper. I took a backless burgundy dress I had chosen because the material didn’t wrinkle, and my black pumps out of the bag. Feeling as if I was peeling off my true skin, I slipped from the jean skirt, the tank top, and my sandals, and put on the clothes my mother would approve.

I brushed my hair aside, leaving my back naked, and sat down in front of the vanity to apply more makeup when Joan entered.

“I wish you could stay for dinner with us for once,” Joan said.

I met her eyes through the mirror. “I wish I could to.”

Joan stood behind me and squeezed my shoulders. “Liana told me you aren’t feeling too good about the way you lead your life anymore. She said you’re complaining about having to hide more than a couple of months ago. Is there something bothering you? Did something change?”

I sighed. “I … I guess going on spring break with the girls spoiled me. But it’s stupid, isn’t it? Deep down I always envied people with normal lives, but spring break isn’t it either.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t only the trip. Perhaps it was the fact that your mother wasn’t there to tell you what to do, what to wear, what to say?” She shook her head. “Sorry. It isn’t my place to question these things.”

“No, it’s okay. I think you’re on to something.”

She smiled. “You know I like you the way you are when you’re with us, when you’re with the girls, but as a mother, I have to say it. Be honest with your mother. If you have changed, tell her how you really feel about your life now. She deserves to know.”

“I wish it was that easy.” I gazed down at the makeup kit in front of me. “Even if I told her about my real friends and my drawings and about roller skating, nothing would change. It would be worse, because then she would monitor me every second and I wouldn’t be able to sneak out, like now, and see my real friends. I would only have time for the friends she wants me to hang out with.”

Joan sighed. “I know. It’s just … I can’t imagine if Liana had a secret life from me.”

That was what set her apart from my mother. Joan cared. Peyton didn’t.

“Liana is blessed.”

“No, I am.” Joan leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I have two real daughters, and three adoptive ones.”

Joan patted my shoulder and exited the bedroom, leaving me alone with my unshed tears. A strong feeling of shame and sadness assaulted my chest, but I refused to give in. All my life, I was able to lock away my feelings and I would do it again.

I wiped away the tears and finished with the makeup.

Liana walked with me to the driveway, just as MaryAnn parked her car beside mine, with Becca in the passenger seat.

“You’re going?” MaryAnn asked as she slid out of her car. “Already?”

“You should have been here at least half an hour ago,” I said, trying not to be mad at her.

Becca walked around the car. “You have a party? I forgot.”

“Sorry,” MaryAnn said. “I didn’t realized your schedule was tight.”

I smiled, but it was a sarcastic smile. “When isn’t my schedule tight?”

MaryAnn averted her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “I gotta go. You girls have fun.”

Becca hugged me. “It would be more fun if you could stay.”

MaryAnn stepped in beside me. “Are you sure you can’t be a little late?”

I laughed. “Only if I want to have my head decapitated.”

“Ugh, that mother of yours. We should get together and riot,” MaryAnn said.

“I would be up for that,” Liana said. I shot her a don’t-give-MaryAnn-any-ideas look. “What? It would be fun to defeat the evil queen.”

I flinched. Damn, I hated that nickname.

MaryAnn giggled. “Oh, it would.”

Becca stepped in, always knowing when to save the day or change subjects. “Well, take care.”

“Try and have some fun,” Liana said as I slipped into my car.

Waving, I backed out my car and drove away. I stepped on the gas, and turned the volume of the stereo loud and sang along, hoping my frustration would evaporate.

Thirty minutes later, I was on the other side of Washington, driving past the gates of Tracy Graham’s house. My mother loved Tracy, a rich girl, the daughter of a successful CEO of a large multinational, whose money always ended up in Peyton’s campaign fund.

I stopped the car before the steps leading to the front door. A valet opened my door and guided me to the host, before turning to my car and taking it away.

“Good evening, Miss McClain,” the host said, opening the front door for me. “Miss Graham is in the backyard with her guests.”

He led me through the foyer and then down a long corridor that opened to a solarium, and through French doors to a white porch.

Tracy, two other girls, and five guys were seated around a round fireplace, all dressed in suits and cocktail dresses, crystal flutes in their hands, and smiles on their faces. Too picture perfect.

“Charlotte!” Tracy squealed, flipping her long red hair. She stood to greet me. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” I said, then greeted the others. I knew everyone. It was hard not to when the elite preferred to hang around together all the time.

“I called the club earlier.” Tracy sat down and patted a spot on the sofa for me to sit. “They confirmed the VIP area is going to be waiting for us.”

“Great,” I said, forcing my voice to sound enthusiastic.

A second later, a waiter showed up with a flute for me and offered me some appetizers.

In the next fifteen minutes, Tracy told them about her latest shopping trip to Milan, and eleven more guests arrived. They all stayed where they were all night, seated as if they were nailed to the sofas and chairs, eating expensive finger food and sipping expensive champagne, keeping up polite conversation and trying to find out who had spent more money the last month.

I looked at the stars. The sky was the same one from above Liana, Becca, and MaryAnn’s heads. Maybe if I closed my eyes, I could pretend to be there with them.

* * *

Mason

I buttoned up my black shirt and shoved on my shoes with determination. I was going out and I was going to get Charlotte out of my mind.

Since seeing her at that damned ball five days ago, I had been thinking about her nonstop. I even thought about going to the Executive Mansion, hiding on the other side of the street, waiting for her to come out, and begging her to talk to me.

But why? I had promised myself I wouldn’t have another serious relationship. At least, not so soon. Besides, she was out of my league. I didn’t need to waste my time thinking about her. It would never work.

A knock rattled through my bedroom door.

“Come in,” I said.

David stuck his head inside. “Ready? We should be going if we don’t want to be late.”

I glanced at the mirror. My hair was a mess. But who cared? Girls liked it like that, and oh, I intended to get Charlotte out of my mind the same way I forgot Tamara—finding some other girl. Although, this time, I would make sure it was a one-night stand. I didn’t have the heart to suffer another betrayal or separation.

I grabbed my wallet from my nightstand and spied into it to make sure there was a condom. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

David’s colleague was having a birthday party at a club, and he assured me it was okay to come with. The place should be huge and would have lots of people anyway. Besides, I needed the distraction. Working at clubs and bars wasn’t the same as being at them as a customer. It would be a nice change.

We arrived at the club a little after ten, and it was crowded. The place was huge, all right, with several thematic rooms, long bars, a gallery upstairs, and large glass doors that led to an open balcony.

David introduced me to his friends, and soon we were immersed in the group, talking, laughing, and drinking.

The birthday girl, Allie, was pretty and laughed easily. Given an opportunity, I started a conversation with her.

“David is a good friend,” she said, batting her lashes at me. She was totally flirting. “I’ve known him for over four years.”

She flipped her blond hair and told me about the research she worked on with David. Not interested in this type of engineering, I slapped a smile on my face and nodded accordingly, encouraging the woman to keep talking. Although, I hoped she would give me an opening soon, or I wouldn’t be kissing anyone tonight.

Maybe if I got her drunk, she would be quieter and more sensual.

I pointed to her empty glass. “Want a refill?”

“Yes, please.”

I took the glass from her and weaved my way to the bar. She was having some cheap red drink with almost no alcohol. I asked the bartender to put more vodka in it this time.

With the drink in hand, I turned my back to the bar, but didn’t move. Why was I doing this again? Allie was pretty, but not my type. She was also talkative and too excited about her work. Maybe the alcohol would make her talk even more. I was sure I could get her into bed one way or another, but did I want to? Sure, sex was always great, but after Charlotte, it would be hard to top.

With a sigh, I tipped the bartender to send the drink to Allie, and then leaned against the bar. Without a care in the world, I scanned the crowd. It was easy being as tall as I was. Most people here seemed to be college students, or a little older, but there were a few people who appeared to be in their forties or fifties.

I shuddered, hoping I wasn’t this desperate to be laid at that age. Well, I hadn’t actually thought about it. I was so convinced staying alone was the best solution for heartbreak, but I didn’t consider I would really be alone. I had never imagined growing old alone, and right now, I still couldn’t.

However, I didn’t need to solve that tonight. Tonight, I just wanted to relax and enjoy my night out.

My gaze shifted to the VIP area on the second floor. Red velvet couches and champagnes on the tables. The women wore elegant dresses and too much jewelry. The men wore fancy shirts and probably designer jeans or slacks. Even from here, they emanated power and affluence. Ugh, rich people.

A redhead entered one of the reserved areas, raising her arms and cheering with the friends already there. She looked right at home. Then she stepped to the side and another girl appeared from behind her.

Charlotte.

My heartbeat went up a few notches.

How incredible she was in a tight, dark red dress. Her hair was pulled to the side and, when she whirled to greet a guy, I gasped, realizing why: the dress was backless. My fingers itched to touch her skin again. Christ. I glared at no one. If I was drooling over her from here, the men around her would be eating her alive.

I wanted to charge there and prevent her from seducing one of them as she had me.

But she was quiet, almost too quiet. She seemed shy. With a flute in her hand, she retreated to the back of the closed area, avoiding everyone, even the redhead she came with. Then it clicked. The redhead was the girl from the picture. Tracy something. She was supposed to be Charlotte’s best friend, according to Wikipedia. Then why was she so aloof? Hiding wasn’t like Charlotte. At least, not the Charlotte I met. No, that Charlotte was determined, decided, seductive, and demanding. She had won me over with her contagious smile, her free spirit, her hungry gazes, and made me crazy in bed. She was loud, happy, and carefree. The girl I was watching most definitely wasn’t Charlotte.

I shouldn’t, but I wanted to go up to her, whisk her away, take her to my apartment, and beg her to be the same girl I met during spring break. I really shouldn’t but I wanted to.

I shut down the reasonable part of my brain and headed to the stairs. I stepped into the wide corridor leading to the VIP area, and saw Charlotte walking away from her friends. She was in a hurry and I dashed after her.

Charlotte took a right at the end of the hallway. I reached the corner and found another hallway, but this one was smaller and darker, with two doors—the ladies’ and the gentlemen’s restrooms.

I leaned against the wall directly before the ladies’ room and waited.

Ten minutes passed and she hadn’t come out yet. I had seen a few girls coming in and out, and I was starting to worry about her.

Fifteen minutes and I thought I had paid enough attention to comers and goers to know she should be alone in there.

Holding my breath, I pushed the door opened and stuck my head in. “Charlotte?”

She stood in front of the mirror, her head down. “Mason!” She whirled toward me. “What are you doing here?”

Christ, she really was beautiful. She didn’t have too much makeup on and she looked perfect. Although, I did like her natural do too.

I stepped inside and let the door close behind me. “I should ask you that. You’ve been in here for over fifteen minutes.”

“What … you’ve been following me?”

“What? I came with my roommate. I saw you entering the restroom and waited outside, but you were taking too long.”

“Sorry. I was just …” She pressed her lips in a thin line.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She beckoned to the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I was worried.”

She crossed her arms and stared into my eyes. She looked mad, but damn that didn’t stop me from wanting to back her up to the wall and attack her right here.

“Why?”

I didn’t know the answer to that, but I knew I wanted some answers myself. “Where’s your boyfriend. I didn’t see him out there.”

“Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Then who was that guy—?”

Two giggling girls entered the restroom and they stopped dead when they saw me.

I raised my palms. “Sorry.”

“He was leaving,” Charlotte said, pushing me past the girls and out the door.

I could feel her hands on my arms and I relished the brief contact, until we were outside and she kept walking away from me.

I held her arm and pulled her back into the dark hallway. “Wait.”

“Why are you doing this?”

I didn’t let go of her arm. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just … I guess I miss you.”

A small smile appeared on her lips. “Do you miss all the girls you hook up with during spring breaks? Oh, there’s summer too, right? Busy town during summers, right?”

Annoyance was making its way into me. “For your information, I am not that kind of guy.” Wasn’t I? That was what I said I would do. “I had the same girlfriend for three years before you.”

Her smile faded. “Please, Mason …”

“What?” I slid my hands up her arms, pulling her closer. “Tell me about it.” But she didn’t. She averted her eyes. “Why are you acting so stiff and reserved?”

She jerked away from me. “That’s who I am. I call it refined and educated. Or even elegant.”

She was certainly refined, educated, and elegant, but that wasn’t it. “No, no. You’re not like that. Come on. I saw you.”

“Who you saw is someone I cannot be.”

So, that was it. She couldn’t be like that here.

“But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” I walked up to her, towering over her, pushing her against the wall. “That’s who you have to be.”

Her eyes grew wide and she looked side to side, as if trying to find a way out of my trap.

“What are you going to do? Tell the world what a slut I am?” Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “What do you want? Will you ask for money to stay quiet?”

I gave one step in her direction, bumping my legs onto hers—only a few inches separated my body from hers now—and reached around her, brushing my fingertips along the bare skin of her back.

“I want you,” I whispered in her ear. Her breath hitched, and I took pleasure in feeling her back arching with my touch, her body shivering with my breath.

Her hands grasped my arms. “Please,” she gasped.

I loved when she begged. “I want the real you. The one that spent six wonderful days with me.” I slid my tongue along her jaw and her nails dug into the skin of my arms. Damn, her scent was like drugs. I was addicted. “The one I know is in there. Let her out. For me.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. Then she pushed me back and, in tears, she dashed away.

Stunned, I watched as she stopped by the VIP area, said something to Tracy, and then ran downstairs.

I hurried after her, but when I got to the dance floor, I lost her.

Chapter Eight

Charlotte

Being the governor’s daughter was serious business. I had to attend several balls, meetings, and fundraisers, and visited nonprofit organizations. Before, it was a pastime. Now it was boring. The people were always smiling as if they had perfect lives, they dressed as if they were on runways, and they wasted fine food as if there was no hunger in the world. It was not only boring, but also disgusting.

“Are you going to keep frowning when we get there?” my mother asked from beside me on the Lincoln’s backseat.

I made sure my forehead wasn’t wrinkled and glanced her way. Peyton McClain looked regal in her indigo suit and pearls, her legs crossed and her back stiff.

I barely slept after leaving Mason behind at that club in Washington last night. I had gone with the friends my mother approved of, because I had promised I would, but it had all been an act. I showed up, played pretty, coy, and innocent, and then left. That was the plan, until Mason marched in the bathroom and took my breath away. How was I supposed to know I would meet him like that again?

I tried to sleep, but how could I when every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mason in front of me, teasing his fingertips on my bare skin, his mouth on my neck? I shivered just remembering. Tired of fighting with sleep that didn’t come, I got up early and was literally thrown into work with my mother. It was a goddamn Sunday and I wanted rest and peace, but my mother’s political career couldn’t wait.

“No,” I whispered. “I’ll smile, as I always do.”

Peyton narrowed her eyes. “I don’t expect anything less of you.”

Of course not.

The Lincoln rolled to a stop before a white building, and the chauffer helped us out. The only bright side of this outing was that Donnie had commitments with his father and couldn’t be with us.

Soon after our arrival, I was surprised to find this event wasn’t as bad as I first thought. My mother and I strolled through the big conference room, meeting families who had lost someone they loved because of the war. Most were wives and kids who had lost their fathers—soldiers in the Army.

Just like my mother and I had lost my father to terrorists.

Times like this I believed I could go through with this. I could try. I could even make a difference. Not being a politician. God, no. But being the wife of a politician. Organizing these events, bringing hope and comfort to people in need. It wasn’t all bad.

After I had spent a half hour circulating and talking and hugging, a small girl tugged on my pencil skirt. She was probably seven years old. Her blond hair fell down her back in tight curls and her big blue eyes shone with unshed tears.

“Is it true you lost your father too?” the girl asked.

I crouched before the girl. “Yes.”

A woman, with blond curls and bright hazel eyes, caught up with us. She held a toddler in her arms. “I’m so sorry. She just wandered off, saying she had to speak with you. I’m so, so sorry.” The woman held the girl’s arm.

“No, it’s fine,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Natalia,” the girl said. “This is my mom, Jennie, and my little brother, Jacob.”

I shook Jennie’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” I stood, noticing my mom was right behind me. I stepped aside. “This is my mom, Peyton.”

“Hello,” Natalia said with a small smile.

When Peyton said nothing, I nudged her back.

“Oh, hello—” She shot me a confused look.

“Natalia,” I whispered.

“Hello, Natalia,” my mother said, regaining her composure. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, governor,” the girl said. “Charlotte was telling me she lost her father too.”

Peyton glanced at me, her eyes soft for the first time in a long time. I smiled.

“Yes, she did,” Peyton said. “She was only twelve when George was killed.”

“Honey,” Jennie hissed. “You’re bothering them.”

“It’s okay,” Peyton said, surprising me.

Natalia stared at me. “My mom always says we’ll be fine, that it’ll hurt less someday, but I never believe her. But you’re okay, and you’re pretty and like a princess. You turned out okay. I hope to be like you someday.”

I felt the tears building behind my eyes. I glanced at my mother, before taking Natalia’s hand. “I loved my father and he’ll always be a part of me, but yes, it does hurt less now.” She kissed Natalia’s cheek. “You can be whatever you want to be, as long as you don’t disrespect others and do it from your heart. I promise you, you’ll be okay.”

Natalia beamed. “Thank you.”

Peyton wiped a tear from her eye and said, “If you turn out like Charlotte, I’m sure your mother will be proud of you.”

What? I gaped at my mother.

After several goodbyes and thanks, Jennie was able to pull Natalia away, but I couldn’t stop gaping at my mother.

Peyton linked her arm through mine and guided me through the crowd, to talk to other families and finish our social agenda.

“I still can’t believe it,” I said. “Can you please repeat that?”

Peyton shot me an annoyed look. “Why the surprise? Despite our differences and arguments, you’re mostly a good daughter.”

Mostly. Of course, my mother would never think I was good enough. Still, mostly was better than nothing.

As we mingled with the other families, I noticed my mother had relaxed a bit. She even shook more hands and hugged a few kids.

Perhaps Governor Peyton McClain’s heart wasn’t as cold-hearted as it first appeared.

* * *

Charlotte

One week later, my mother informed me of another friendly outing during breakfast.

“Donnie is back in town. Tonight, you’ll take him out to dinner.”

The knife I had been holding to spread jam on my toast fell from my hand, and it landed on the floor with a loud thud.

My mother stared me, her wide eyes stern. “What was that?”

“N-nothing. I just … got distracted.” I crouched to get the knife, but a maid had already approached me with a clean one. “Thanks,” I said, taking the knife.

“As I was saying,” my mother continued, her hands closed around a steaming cup of coffee. “He likes Indian food. Take him to an Indian restaurant, even if you have to drive to Washington to find one.”

Indian food? I hated Indian food, especially because it made me sick to my stomach. But did my mother care? My mother didn’t even know. In fact, she knew nothing about me. Blind to what was right under her nose, Peyton pretended I was exactly as she wanted me to be, in front of and behind her.

It dawned on me that the way my mother acted during that event for military families, the way my mother talked to the little girl about me, was nothing more than an act. Another disgusting act.

If I missed another hangout time with my friends because of her, Liana would kill me. More important than Liana killing me, I missed spending time with the girls.

An idea bloomed in my mind. It was worth a shot.

I bit the inside of my cheek for a second. “My summer classes just started, Mother, and I already have a big project to work on.”

The brown in my mother’s eyes became flames of indignation. “I’m sure you can work on your project today, before dinner and before your classes during the week.” After depositing the empty cup over the table, my mother stood, her incensed gaze still on my eyes. “Charlotte, you can’t deny it. Donnie is a great young man, and your father would approve of him.”

I didn’t know whom my father would approve or not. I didn’t get a chance to get to know him that well, to have a sense of the man he was. I was too young to pay attention to details. To me, he had been a good father and a good man. Strict most of the time, but with his sweet moments. However, I knew he would want me to choose someone like Donnie.

“You don’t know that,” I whispered.

My mother’s eyes hardened. “You are going to take Donnie out to dinner and you are going to have a good time with him.” The hard tone in her voice brought goose bumps to my arms.

I lowered my head, my stomach sinking. “Yes, Mother.”

* * *

Charlotte

I descended the stairs with a fake smile on my face. In the foyer, I greeted my mother and Donnie.

Donnie’s smile was real. “You look beautiful.”

The same compliment every time he saw me. Could he change the record? I knew I looked okay. I had gotten ready to look good. I even chose an elegant cocktail dress my mother approved for me to wear. I was politician-taste appropriate.

“Thanks,” I said.

He offered me his arm. I took it and walked outside with him.

“Have a good night,” my mother said from the top of the stairs.

My stomach still revolved each time I thought about what I was doing, so I tried to focus my attention on something else—like the fountain before my house and its glistening water. Or how shiny Donnie’s Mercedes looked under the moonlight.

Anything, everything not to think I was going out with Donnie, while all I wanted to do was find Mason and kiss him senseless.

Damn, I was so lost.

I pushed Mason from my thoughts. I had been raised to be a perfect lady. At least on the outside. No one in the world knew what was going on inside.

The smile never left my face as Donnie led me to the car, opened the door, and helped me in. I still smiled as we rode to the restaurant and sat down at our reserved table.

“You look happy today,” Donnie said, his pale blue eyes shining.

Wow, I had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were. True, I hadn’t noticed much of him at all.

“Yes,” I lied. I picked up the menu and ran my eyes over it, even though I already knew what I would order.

Okay, this wasn’t right. I had agreed to this date so I could give him a chance, so he could sweep me off my feet, so I could forget Mason, and so I could live the life my mother wanted me to.

I set down the menu. “How have you been?”

His face brightened. “I’m great. I’m here with you. Work has been great too.” He launched into a detailed retelling of his week and what he was working on with his father.

All the while, I nodded and made sounds like uh and ah whenever it seemed appropriate. Like my mother, Donnie seemed all too happy to talk about politics. He easily got carried away, and I had to endure it. Like everything else in my life. Just endure it.

During dessert, I tried finding out more about him. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“I play golf.”