Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce Read Online Free Page B

for Amy, but this was so much more.
    She wore a soft teal dress that danced around her knees as she moved. It wrapped around her body, hugging her breasts and her hips, tied with a small bow on the left side of her waist. The open front showcased a mouthwatering glimpse of cleavage, and her shoulders were barely covered in one-inch strips of fabric. Her hair had been pulled up, leaving her long neck bare and begging to be licked. The ensemble was complete with a pair of black strappy heels.
    Frustration simmered inside him. He’d wanted Amy so much before, wanted her even more after having a taste. And now he had to give her up. Damn.
    She paused and stumbled when she looked at him. He lunged forward, but his mother grabbed Amy’s arm, helping to steady her. James pounded his open palm on Mason’s back.
    “Breathe, son.”
    Mason gasped for air, coughing. He hid his face behind his hand as he coughed again, trying to regain his composure. He was toast.

Chapter Four
    Amy was grateful for Martha’s soft hand on her forearm. She wasn’t used to spike heels. How the hell had she let Martha talk her into this? She couldn’t take her eyes off Mason as he coughed into his hand and then looked up at her. The heat shining in his gaze reminded her why she’d allowed Martha to primp and polish her for the last hour. She shivered and tried to calm her slamming heart.
    He looked amazing in the silk shirt that was almost the same color as her dress. It made his blue eyes shimmer, even in the dim light of the restaurant.
    “Rider, table for four,” a woman in black announced, standing behind Mason. He blinked, as if suddenly remembering they weren’t the only two people in the room, and then he turned away from her. She wanted to hate him for being so angry with her presence in his home, but she couldn’t help admiring the way his tight jeans cupped his ass and wondering what it would feel like beneath her hands. Martha let go and took Dad’s arm instead, following Mason and the hostess onto the main floor of the restaurant. Taking a deep breath, Amy followed. She was getting used to walking in the heels and managed not to wind up breaking her ass for the second time that night.
    She caught a few heated looks from men as she passed, feeling exposed. Their attention made her uncomfortable. But remembering the searing blue eyes staring back at her gave her confidence to keep her head high, even in this foreign outfit. It also made her stomach flip. The hostess stopped in front of a small round table. Martha and her dad sat beside each other, holding hands like teenagers. Mason sat next to his mom, leaving the only open chair beside him. Great. Dinner was going to be difficult enough, but now she had to sit next to Mason.
    Weren’t Southern boys supposed to be all gentlemanly and everything? She’d kind of expected him to pull out the chair for her. Her bare leg brushed against his soft jeans as she sat, and he pulled his leg away as if shocked by electricity. She looked down.
    “Sorry,” she mumbled.
    “What, honey?” Martha said.
    She looked up and smiled. “Nothing.” She had to play it cool. She still couldn’t believe her dad had bought Mason’s “I tripped” explanation of the kitchen kiss. She had to talk to him about it. But first she had to decide what the hell she wanted. The thought of him kissing her again made her entire body tingle, not just her lips. She’d never felt such an instant and consuming attraction. Especially to someone who presented himself as sweet but got right in her face the second he got flustered.
    She opened her menu and looked through each item and its description as slowly as she could, avoiding Mason’s hot gaze. Just sitting beside to him was enough to pebble her skin with goose bumps. He shifted closer to her, and she bit her lip to keep from gasping. She looked up from the menu to find Martha and Dad staring at her.
    “I’m sorry, what?” she asked.
    “What would you like