Aware that I was all but burrowing against him, I took a step back as I looked up into his warm eyes. That was a mistake. A connection seemed to jolt through us, and for a wild moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.
But that had to be just wishful thinking on my part. The helicopter tour he’d thoughtfully arranged had proven that we weren’t just from different worlds, we were from different universes. I stepped back and he let me go after making sure I was steady.
“Did you enjoy that?” Mason’s low voice made my pulse speed up in a way that not even the helicopter had.
“Very much so.”
“Good.” He took my hand and led me inside the building where, fortunately, there was a restroom to dart into. Granted, it looked like the restroom of a royal residence with the chandeliers and gleaming silver fixtures, but it gave me a chance to tame my hair and to check in with the sitter.
Nina assured me that Parker was in bed and that they’d had a fun time playing games and reading books before that. Her slight Polish accent, so common in the Chicago area, was matter of fact but kind. She sounded like she’d genuinely enjoyed spending time with my son.
That made two of us—three, if you counted Mason.
He was waiting for me in the lobby of the building which seemed to house a collection of upscale businesses. “Are you still up for a walk?” he asked as I neared.
“Sure.”
We headed out, side by side, but once we got to Michigan Avenue, Mason took my arm, guiding me through the crowds. We definitely weren’t the only ones looking at Christmas lights tonight though I doubted many of the rest of them had gotten an aerial tour.
The displays in the windows were fun to view though none had quite the effect of the windows at Macy’s that I remembered from my childhood. Watching the people was almost as much fun as the displays. Most were bundled up, but I didn’t see a single man who wore a dark coat and red scarf as well as Mason. I did, however, see quite a few women checking him out. It was half amusing and half annoying.
Mason put his arm around my shoulder and led me down a side street, stopping a block and a half later in front of an elegant wine bar complete with big stone columns out front. “Want to get a drink?”
I hesitated, looking at the posh exterior. There was no way the jeans and sweater I was wearing under my bulky coat were good enough for that place. Besides, I wasn’t much of a drinker—not that I got the chance to very often. Still… I wasn’t quite ready for this evening to end.
Mason seemed to sense my hesitation, because he turned me around. Directly across the street was an equally impressive place with a French name. The only word I recognized, which was in silver lights in one of the windows, was chocolat. “Your choice,” he prompted.
“My grandfather always used to buy me hot chocolate after we saw the lights.”
“My mother and I did, too. So why break tradition?”
He led me across the street and inside a warm, dark foyer with the most amazing aroma greeting us.
“It’s like the air itself is chocolate-scented.”
Mason breathed in deeply. “Looks like you made a good choice.” He took off his coat then waited while I unwrapped my scarves. As he helped me with my coat, his hands brushed down my shoulders and my arms. “Seems like we both did.”
8
Mason
The mug of hot chocolate in front of Callie was at least half the size of her head. She pressed her small hands against the side of the porcelain, seeking its warmth as she marveled over every detail. “I’ve never seen whipped cream this thick before. And real chocolate shavings, and cinnamon and I’m not even sure what all is in here. There’s something hot.” An adorable pink flush filled her creamy skin. “I mean, I know it’s hot chocolate, but there’s something spicy in there, too.”
“Mine, too.” I’d gotten a coffee-based drink. It still had rich, decadent flavors without having all the bells and whistles her drink had. I seriously doubted I’d look as cute as she did with a dollop of whipped cream on my nose. “Are you still cold?” She was bouncing around in her seat.
“No… just excited. I feel like I did when I was a kid.”
That gave me mixed feelings. On the one hand, she deserved a night off. A night just for fun. But my intentions for her weren’t just about having fun. I wasn’t sure if she’d realized that, but I was aching to show her. To touch her. Maybe I should’ve nudged her toward the more romantic setting of the wine bar across the street, but her eyes had lit up when I’d shown her this place.
Already, I was addicted to her smile.
Besides, this place wasn’t bad. The room was darker than usual so that patrons could observe the street beyond the windows. Soft jazz played in the background, and our booth had tall seatbacks that made it feel like we were the only ones there. She was certainly the only one I noticed.
Did Callie have any idea how gorgeous she was? It didn’t seem like she did. Most beautiful women I knew didn’t blush in the face of masculine desire. Didn’t startle at an innocent touch. In some ways, she seemed like an inexperienced young woman, but she wasn’t. She was a single mother. She worked two jobs, and she’d created the best life she could for her wonderful young son.
Asking questions about him seemed the safest way to put her at ease, so I asked about Parker’s school, his interests, and his hobbies.
Her delicate, almost elfin face radiated happiness as she spoke about him. It was clear Parker was her pride and joy, and when she talked about him, her self-consciousness seemed to slip away.
She took another sip of her drink and her mesmerizing, jade-colored eyes gleamed as she lifted the large cup to her soft, pink lips.
Partly to stop myself from staring, I made an off-hand comment. “I wonder if my mother had so many good things to say about me when I was in third grade.”
A small crease appeared on her brow, and I realized that what I’d said could be construed as saying she’d been boastful. But her tone was light when she answered. “Probably. Don’t all mothers like to brag about their children?”
“Probably,” I echoed. “But I meant that I don’t think I was quite as good of a student and as dutiful a son as Parker seems to be.”
“I might be a bit biased.” Her pink tongue slipped out to reach a smudge of white cream on her bottom lip.
Fascinated by the brief glimpse, it took me a moment to respond. “I’ve met him, though, so I can confirm he’s a good kid.”
“Thanks.”
“What does he want for Christmas?”
Her face fell, and I internally cursed myself again. Talking to a single mom was a minefield, though it shouldn’t have been for me. “I’ve got him a couple of things, but I still need to get him a racetrack.”
“Ah. That sounds like something a kid his age might like.” She still looked glum. “What’s wrong?”
She took a small sip of her drink and sighed. “The kids down the hall are really excited about something called the Turbo Track 4000, but Parker’s never asked for that.”
“But you think he wants it?”
“He mentioned that he’d like a racetrack set once, just like a generic one, but… I don’t know. Don’t you think he really wants the one his friends want, too?”