What Lies Within Page 8

  EIGHT

  “Nothing is easier than self-deceit.”

  DEMOSTHENES

  “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us.”

  HEBREWS 12:1

  Good heavens, I really have gone crazy.

  Kyla couldn’t believe she’d just scampered out of the coffee shop like a mouse with a tomcat on its tail. Her breathing didn’t return to normal until she pulled into the garage of her town house and hit the remote button to lower the door. She sat for a moment, letting the silence infuse her and still the shaking deep within.

  What’s wrong with me, God? Why did I act that way?

  “Kyla?”

  She jumped, then felt herself relax when she saw the man standing in the light of the doorway to her home. She tucked the sleeping kitten into her inner jacket pocket, opened the car door, and stepped out.

  “Mason, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

  He stood aside as she passed through the doorway, then followed her into the kitchen. “Is everything okay? I tried your cell and it went right to voice mail.”

  She bit her lip. Oh yes, her cell. It was still in the backseat of her car.

  “Then I called your office, and they said you were still at the opening of the mall.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Did something go wrong?”

  Kyla put her hand over his—See there? She could touch a man without her knees nearly buckling—and patted it. “No, Mason. Everything’s fine. I just …” She stopped, letting her breath out on a huff. “Do you like cats?”

  Mason angled a look at her. “Do I …? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Like cats? Or more to the point, kittens. Do you like kittens?”

  The deepening crease on his brow showed his confusion was downshifting to frustration. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mason, it’s a simple question.”

  He looked like he wanted to shake her. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. No.”

  Her heart dropped to her stomach. “No?”

  “No. I don’t like cats. Or kittens, considering that they become cats. In fact, I detest the creatures.”

  “Detest them?” Past the stomach, straight to the floor.

  “Precisely. Now, your turn. Where on earth have you been?”

  “I … uh, I had an errand to run.” She finished the explanation in a rush, then hurried to her bedroom. “I’ll be right out.”

  Once there, she slipped free of her coat, letting it fold onto the bed, becoming a makeshift cushion for the kitten. She went into her master bath, gathered several large, fluffy towels, and came back to use the towels and her bed pillows to create a warm nest for the animal.

  The vet had fed the kitten a bottle of formula and supplied Kyla with enough cans of the stuff to get her through the next few days. She lifted the now-drowsy kitten from her jacket, settled it in the middle of the nest, and stroked its soft fur.

  “Now, you just sleep and be quiet, okay? Not a peep.”

  The last thing she needed was for Mason to see she’d brought an animal home. And a cat at that.

  Mason detested cats.

  How could she not have known that?

  Because you never asked.

  She frowned, thinking hard. It was true. She’d never asked what he thought about cats or dogs or even children, for that matter. In fact, she hadn’t asked him a lot of things.

  Why do you suppose that is?

  She brushed the nagging question aside. She didn’t have time to think about it now. He was waiting for her. Exiting the bedroom, she smoothed her clothes to remove any remnants of cat hair and returned to the dining room, where she exclaimed over the exquisitely laid table. Fortunately, Mason didn’t ask for further details on why she’d shown up late. And why should he? He trusted her.

  The thought sent a pang of guilt zinging through her, but she brushed it aside. So she stopped for a coffee. So what? She just wanted to show Rafael her kitten.

  Rafael. You wanted to show Rafael … and not Mason.

  That made her pause, but only for a heartbeat. Never mind. Mason would be fine once he had a chance to warm up to the idea of her having a cat. After all, he loved her. And if she wanted a cat, he’d be fine with it.

  Eventually.

  Anyway, she was home now, where she belonged. With Mason Rawlins, the man who was even this moment in her kitchen, fixing her a wonderful celebration meal.

  She studied him as he prepared two tall glasses of iced tea. His trim, sandy hair showed touches of white at the temples. He had everything laid out just so in the kitchen, perfectly placed for when he needed it. Annot would call him rigid—had done so, in fact.

  But his propensity for order was what drew Kyla to him. He was the only person she’d ever met who did more preparation and planning than she. That and the fact that his construction company was as successful as hers.

  Well … nearly.

  Though they’d known each other on a professional level for years, it wasn’t until last Christmas that something else grew between them. She’d been at the stunning Hotel Vintage Plaza—rated as one of the “Top 500 Hotels in the World” by Travel + Leisure—attending a Christmas gathering thrown by a client. Kyla had done her duty, talking and schmoozing with the appropriate people, and had just made her way to the coatroom. She was so relieved to be free of the crowded room that she didn’t realize she’d cut in front of someone until the coat check woman gave her a stern look.

  Cheeks burning, she turned to the man she now saw standing beside her. Good grief. Bad enough to shove in front of someone. Even worse to have it be one of her top competitors. “Oh, Mr. Rawlins! I’m so sorry.”

  His forgiveness was as immediate as his smile. He held his hand toward the woman. “Please, Miss Justice. Be my guest.”

  Miss, not Ms. She liked that. “No, really, you were here first. I just didn’t see you.”

  He plucked the ticket from her fingers and held it out, along with his own, to the coat check woman. As she went to retrieve their coats, he gave Kyla another smile. “Believe me, Miss Justice. I understand wanting to get out of here.”

  The heat in her cheeks went up a notch. “Nothing of the sort.”

  Fortunately, the woman returned with their coats. Mason took Kyla’s and held it out for her.

  “Please don’t misunderstand me”—his voice spoke close to her ear—“I’m not making a judgment. You see, I’m in the same boat.”

  She stepped away and turned. His smile really was quite nice. “How so?”

  He picked up his coat and shrugged it on. “I realize these kinds of gatherings are a necessity for good business, but given my druthers, I’d be at home.”

  Her lips twitched. “Sitting on the couch.”

  “With a good book and an even better cup of coffee.”

  Her brows arched. “Decaf, of course.”

  Now his lips lifted. “This time of night? Of course.”

  They fell into step as they headed for the spacious lobby.

  “I have an idea.”

  She glanced up at him. “Oh?”

  He motioned her to exit the front doors before him. “Did you taste the coffee in there?”

  She almost giggled at that. “It was … passable.”

  “Exactly. We’ve clearly been deprived, and I’d suggest, since we were so good about performing our professional duty this evening, that we treat ourselves.”

  She nodded to the uniformed doorman, who raised an arm to signal a taxi. Then she turned to study Mason Rawlins. “What do you suggest?”

  “I know a wonderful little coffee place not far from here.” His smile widened. “Might I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  The taxi pulled up to the curb, but
Kyla hesitated.

  “Good coffee.”

  The doorman opened the taxi door, and Kyla handed him a dollar. But she paused, hand on the open door.

  “Even extraordinary coff—”

  “Yes.”

  One word. That’s all it took, and she was on her way. Not just to coffee, but to a relationship. Funny how life could take a one-eighty when you least expected it.

  “My dear?”

  She shook herself from her thoughts of the past six months to take the tall glass of iced tea Mason offered. He lowered himself to the overstuffed chair beside her, took a long drink, then leaned back. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

  He was so sweet to fix her a celebratory meal. This was what she wanted in a man. Someone who understood the intricacies of her work. Who wasn’t in the least bothered when she was late or distracted or even had to cancel their dates. Nothing ruffled the man.

  And nothing about him ruffled her.

  He held out a hand, and she placed hers in it. Who needed sparks? This was better. Calm and serene and—

  Boring.

  Before she could tell that irritating inner voice to take a leap, Mason tugged at her hand.

  “So tell me about your day.”

  She did so, giving him all the pertinent details. Oh, none of the emotional stuff, of course. They never burdened each other with such things. Still, that dull ache within her grew. She did her best not to let it show, but the crease in Mason’s normally smooth forehead told her she was failing. Miserably.

  For a moment she thought he would ask what was going on behind the story she gave him. He even opened his mouth, but then his reserve slipped back into place and he looked down.

  The forehead crease deepened.

  Never mind. Don’t get into it. Just focus on being together.

  “What’s wrong, Mason?” Oh well. So much for not getting into it.

  He contemplated the ice in his tea for a moment, then set the glass on the table and contemplated her. “That’s what I was just wondering.” He tipped his head. “Why do I have the sense you’re not telling me everything? Maybe even the most important thing?”

  His acuity should have pleased her, but it was just so … uncharacteristic.

  “Kyla, please, what aren’t you telling me?”

  She looked at their joined hands, the relaxed way they rested together. It was the perfect symbol for what she and Mason were together. Tranquil. Controlled.

  Dispassionate.

  She shifted in her chair. We are not. There’s plenty of passion between us. She looked at Mason, searched the smooth blue depths of his eyes for a ripple of emotion.

  Nothing.

  Well, so what? We’re just more reserved than most couples.

  Her inner voice actually snorted at that. Yeah. Right. Reserved. Whatever.

  Fine. You want passion? I’ll show you passion.

  In one smooth move, she was out of her chair and plunked down next to Mason in the easy chair. He turned to her, eyes wide, but before he could say anything, she planted her hands at the side of his face and kissed him.

  Hard.

  His hands came up to grip her arms—and Kyla tensed. Was he going to push her away? But he didn’t. His fingers relaxed, then spread against the backs of her arms, pulling her even closer as the kiss deepened. Triumph danced through her. For a whole second. Then Mason stiffened and pushed himself away from her. In one fluid motion he was up and out of the chair.

  They stood there, staring at each other. Unadulterated shock painted Mason’s features, and he spun away from her. In three long strides he reached the glass doors leading out to the deck, jerked them open, and went outside.

  “Ohhh, what an idiot!” Kyla slumped back against the chair, covering her burning face with her hands. What must Mason think of her? She’d never been like this before. Emotional upheaval was her younger sister’s forte, not hers. Annot had never met an emotion she didn’t embrace and, at some point, express.

  If only Annot were here now to tell Kyla what to do. How to deal with the lunacy that was human emotions. Because Kyla didn’t have a clue. As evidenced by this moment of insanity. And the fact that she’d just sent Mason skittering.

  It’s not like this is your first such moment, though, is it? Of course, you like to forget those other moments ever happened …

  Kyla brushed the thoughts away. This wasn’t about the past. That was over and done with. This was about here and now. Which would also be over and done with if she didn’t get a grip.

  With a deep sigh, she stood and went outside.

  Mason leaned against the deck rail, looking out over the Columbia River. Kyla moved to stand beside him, careful not to touch him. When the silence grew so heavy she thought she would scream, he lowered his head and spoke.

  “Don’t … ever do that again.”

  She’d thought she couldn’t be more humiliated. She was wrong. Heat surged into her cheeks. “Mason, I’m so sorry.”

  He lifted his head and turned to her, and any words she’d been about to utter dissolved in the face of the smoldering emotion in his eyes. She’d never seen him look that way.

  Never.

  He gripped the railing with one hand, as though the solid contact helped center him. Restrain him. “I’ve always treated you with the utmost respect. With care and consideration.”

  She swallowed at the vehement words. “Yes, you have.”

  “I’ve never presumed to take our relationship a direction we weren’t ready for.” His gaze burned into her. “That you weren’t ready for.”

  “Mason, please—” She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away.

  “I’m only human, Kyla.”

  The hoarse quality of those words stunned her. How had she ever been so foolish as to think this man dispassionate?

  Because you mistook control for not caring.

  On the heels of that truth, came another.

  And because you mistook your emotion—or lack thereof—for his.

  She cringed. Wanted to deny it. And couldn’t. Her gaze lowered to the deck rail. Had she ever felt this miserable?

  Oh, yes. She had. But not in a very, very long time.

  Berto.

  Kyla’s fingers dug into the railing. No! She would not go there. Would not think of him. Would not allow those memories to taunt her now.

  You loved him.

  It took all her will to hold back a bitter laugh. She’d been young. An utter fool controlled by her emotions. Controlled—and destroyed.

  Memories started to flow. Images of faces she hadn’t allowed herself to recall for years.

  No. Stop! She gritted her teeth, forcing the scenes away, back into the recesses of her mind. Berto was in the past. She was done with him. With the mistakes. With being a fool.

  Tears slipped free, despite her best efforts to restrain them. Fine, let them fall. But she wasn’t giving way to the memories. Not for a second. They were over and done with. That the merest hint of them made her cry only firmed Kyla’s resolve.

  Nothing would ever hurt her like that again.

  NINE

  “All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.”

  GALILEO

  “Lord, when doubts fill my mind, when my heart is in turmoil, quiet me.”

  PSALM 94:19 (TLB)

  Kyla, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, don’t cry.”

  Mason’s voice, so remorseful, so astonished, gripped her, making it hard to choke out words. “I’m sorry. Oh, Mason. I’m so sorry.”

  At her wretched whisper, gentle hands closed on her arms. She let him pull her close against his chest, cradle her there, stroke the back of her head. “It’s all right, Kyla. It’s all right.”

  His voice was familiar again, even and calm. She burrowed her face into his chest. “Mason, what’s wrong with me?”

  He slid an arm around her shoulders and led her back inside. They sat on the cou
ch, his arm still around her. She leaned into him. If only she could close her eyes and erase the evening. The day. The month.

  The year.

  “Are you really so unhappy?”

  She snuffled against him. “I don’t know. I’m just so … weary.”

  “I’ve seen that, for weeks. Maybe even months.” His arm tightened, as though to shelter her. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  She pulled back at that and looked up at him. “You have? But you never said anything.”

  The smile that tugged at his lips was as ironic as it was brief. “Would it have done any good?”

  They both knew the answer to that.

  “Kyla.” Lines appeared in his forehead, and she could tell he chose his words with care. “Have you ever considered—” He looked away. “No, never mind.”

  Kyla tugged at his shirt front. “What?”

  “It’s not fair of me to even suggest it.”

  She watched the play of emotions on his face, disquiet wrestling with deference. Kyla’s heart warmed. She really didn’t deserve this man. “Mason, please. Tell me. What’s on your mind?”

  “Why don’t you just give it up?”

  Her lips twitched. “What? Stress? Sure, but how does one go about doing that?”

  The warmth in his gaze dimmed, and he eased his hands free of hers. “Like I said, never mind.”

  Quick alarm shot through her. She started to lay a hand on his arm but stopped. Instead, she pinched at his sleeve. “No, wait. I’m sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

  He stood and paced to the open doorway out to the deck, looking at the wide river beyond them. “Kyla, it’s not my place to tell you how to live your life.”

  She held her silence. He had more to say, and she’d give him time to sort through it.

  “It’s just …” He turned back, and there was no denying the concern weighing his face and his words. “I worry about you. You seem more and more on edge lately. You don’t laugh or smile nearly as often as you used to.”

  Kyla frowned. Was that true? She hadn’t realized—

  “And I hardly ever hear you say anything positive about your work.”

  She leaned back in her chair, thinking over the last few months. “I think that’s because it’s become just that, Mason. Work.”