Chapter 8
Lila
Iclutched the steering wheel as I navigated the bustling streets toward Mason’s condo.
My heart raced faster with each passing block, nerves and anticipation doing a frantic tango in my chest. I couldn’t shake the image of Mason from my mind: those chiseled features and that impossibly perfect body that haunted my dreams. And now I was about to face him, along with the disastrous decor debacle Gideon had orchestrated.
It was just a client meeting. No big deal.
Except it was with the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. And he’d caught me in his bed.
I pulled into the parking lot of the sleek high-rise, killed the engine, and took a deep breath.
I’ve got this. Just be professional.
Summoning every ounce of pageant-honed poise, I stepped out of the car. I’d spent way too much time getting ready for this appointment, but at least I knew I looked good.
The elevator ride stretched on forever. Each floor ticked by, ratcheting up my anxiety.
I smoothed down my carefully chosen outfit, a tailored white blazer over a sky-blue sheath dress that hugged me just right.
When the doors opened, I walked down the hallway toward Mason’s unit, forcing confidence in every step.
I had barely raised my hand to knock when the door swung open, revealing Mason in all his rugged perfection. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. How could he look even better than I remembered? And I’d been pretty damn obsessed with the memory.
“Hey, Lila.” His gaze met mine, intense and unflinching, and my knees nearly forgot their job. “Come on in.”
I stepped inside, and my designer instincts immediately recoiled.
The log cabin theme hit me like a wall, with kitschy antlers, an overload of plaid, and a sea of bears and moose.
Now that I knew Mason never wanted this, everything looked even more absurd.
I forced a smile, channeling my most professional self.
He nodded toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, voice low and rough enough to raise goosebumps.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, water?”
I sank into the rustic leather couch and crossed my legs. “A sweet tea would be lovely.”
“Sweet tea?” Mason frowned, like I’d asked for unicorn juice. “Sorry, fresh out. I can grab you some water.”
“Water’s fine,” I said quickly, wishing I could rewind the last ten seconds. Great start, Lila. Ask the Canadian for sweet tea.
As he headed to the kitchen, I let myself watch him move. The way his T-shirt clung to those muscles? Unfair.
Get it together, Lila. You’re here to fix the design, not fantasize about the client. But Lord, he wasn’t making it easy.
While Mason got my drink, I glanced around the space again. The log cabin theme was aggressive, but beneath it all, the condo had potential. The bones were beautiful. I placed my portfolio on the coffee table, determined to prove I was capable of more than cabin chic.
Mason returned and handed me a glass of water before sitting beside me. “So, about the decor…” he began, eyes sweeping the room with the smallest flicker of amusement.
Our knees brushed, and a spark shot up my spine. I tried to ignore it, to stay focused, but my thoughts kept straying to deeply inappropriate places. What would it feel like to have those hands on my hips? His mouth on my throat? Or to be tied up in that bed...
I shook my head, trying to banish the naughty thoughts. This was a client meeting, for heaven’s sake. But every accidental touch, every graze of skin on skin, only made restraint feel like a losing battle.
“I’m really sorry about the decor mix-up, Mr. Callahan—” I began.
“Mason,” he corrected quietly.
“Mason,” I repeated, savoring the way his name felt on my tongue.
“I want to start by apologizing for this… unfortunate situation.” I gestured vaguely at the plaid apocalypse around us.
“Gideon admitted he leaned into the theme a little too hard. I understand that this design wasn’t what you envisioned. ”
Mason’s lips curved in what might have been a half-smile. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s... a lot.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension easing just a bit. “That’s why I’m here. To rescue you from the plaid and the antlers and give you a space that actually feels like home.”
“That sounds good.” Mason leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Though I’ve got to ask, did none of this seem off to you while you were setting it up?”
“We thought maybe you were going for an ironic hip vibe…” I winced. “You know, so uncool it becomes cool?”
Mason studied me for a long moment, then chuckled. “Hip vibe, huh? Do I seem like a hipster to you?”
My eyes traced the lines of his muscular arms and firm jaw before I shook my head. “Not particularly. No.”
I flipped open my notebook, trying to focus. “So, Mason, tell me a bit about your style. What kind of vibe do you want your home to have?”
“My vibe, eh?” He leaned back, thoughtful. “Well, I grew up in rural Canada, so I always liked the comfortable, cabin look. But now that I’m in Miami, I think I want a different look. One that matches the view and the warm weather out there.”
“Got it,” I said, jotting down notes. “Less lumberjack-cabin chic, more coastal comfort.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he agreed, eyes softening just a fraction.
I straightened a little. Coastal comfort I could do. Finally, something that made sense. “Perfect. We can create a space that’s warm and welcoming without turning your condo into a literal cabin in the woods.”
He looked at me. “Where do we start?”
I did a quick scan of the room, cataloging offenders. “Well, for starters… what do you think about replacing the moose head with something more Miami?” My heart thudded, but I kept my voice steady, even though my brain was being spectacularly unhelpful.
Like wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Which was absolutely not part of the design plan.
Mason grunted, a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. “Do what you think is best.”
I cleared my throat, yanking my brain back to the job. “Right. I was thinking a large modern piece of art. Abstract, with blues and greens to echo the water and palm trees outside.”
As I gestured enthusiastically, my hand accidentally grazed his thigh. I jerked back like I’d been burned, but not before registering just how solid his muscles were beneath the denim.
Good Lord. What was wrong with me? I was here to redesign his living space, not daydream about tracing every inch of his body with my tongue.
Mason leaned in, brow furrowed. “You okay? You seem a little... flustered.”
Oh, if he only knew.
I brightened my expression. “I’m fine! Just excited about all the possibilities for this space.”
But as he shifted closer, I realized I needed to get it together before I did something truly embarrassing like climb into his lap and—
I subtly slid a few inches away and grabbed a color palette from my bag, spreading it across the coffee table.
My fingers skimmed the swatches, landing on a set of creams and soft blues.
“How about something like this? These colors would complement the view perfectly and keep the space light and fresh.”
Mason leaned in again, his shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt just enough to test my self-control. “I like those colors. I just don’t want the place to end up looking like… a fancy hotel or something.”
A whiff of his cologne hit me. Warm, woodsy, masculine. Focus, Lila. I shifted slightly, trying to add space between us, but it didn’t help. The man radiated presence.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll keep it personal. I’ll bring in textures and materials with that lived-in warmth. Think chunky knit throws, natural woods, maybe some greenery to bring the outside in. Comfortable, elevated, but still you.”
“I trust your judgment, Lila,” he said, his voice low and steady. A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Just nothing too fancy. I don’t want to feel like I’m walking into a showroom every time I come home.”
“I’ve got you covered,” I said, matching his easy expression. “We’ll make it stylish and welcoming. The kind of place you want to come home to.”
“Thanks, Lila.” His smile deepened. It was simple, but sincere, making my heart flutter.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, warmth blooming in my chest. “Now, let’s talk furniture. Any pieces you love? Or can’t stand?”
“Most of it can go,” he said, waving a hand at the oversized, overbearing furniture. “Especially if it doesn’t work with the new design.”
“What do you want me to do with all of it?” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I can return some of it, but not everything.”
Mason shrugged, casual and unreadable. “Do whatever you want. Sell it. Donate it. I don’t care.” Then he added with a crooked smile, “And obviously, send me the updated bill. I’ll happily pay to evict the wildlife.”
I nodded, trying to ignore the way his biceps flexed with every movement. Okay. Deep breath. Time to address the elephant-sized sex dungeon in the room.
“And what about the master bedroom?” I asked, mentally begging myself not to blush like an idiot.
“Master bedroom?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“Yeah, um,” I hesitated, instantly regretting the question. “Do you want anything changed there? It’s kind of... unique.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Unique?” Mason’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Honestly, my style doesn’t usually lean toward bondage and mirrored ceilings, but I’m getting used to it.”
Every mortifying detail of that room flashed through my brain.
“Actually, I kind of like Mr. Dick. The vanilla scent is great. It’s just the whole inflating-every-six-hours bit that creeps me out.”
“That’s understandable,” I managed, barely holding back a laugh. But the image of that ridiculous inflatable phallic object was too much, and I gave in to a fit of giggles.
He was joking, but somehow it put me at ease, even while discussing his hilariously unfortunate bedroom setup.
“So, you’re keeping the inflatable phallus?”
“Maybe,” he said with a grin. “The stripper pole’s growing on me too. Adds a little flair. And the motorized blackout blinds? Top-notch.”
“What about the mirrored ceiling?” I asked, trying hard not to smile.
Mason shrugged. “Might keep it. Could be interesting.” He threw me a playful wink.
An image of Mason putting all that equipment to use flashed in my mind, uninvited and far too vivid. The air between us was suddenly too thick as I shifted in my seat. I grabbed my ice water and took a long sip, hoping it would cool me down.
“I already removed the photo gallery from the wall,” Mason added, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Oh! Those photos were expensive to mount and frame,” I said, setting down my glass. “You shouldn’t just throw them away.”
“Do you want them?” His brow lifted in mock-seriousness. “You seemed pretty enamored by them when you were checking them out the other day.”
I froze, mortified. I had gawked at those nearly naked photos, totally unaware they were of Mason himself. How was I supposed to come back from that?
“I, uh...” I stammered. “I was just appreciating the, um, artistic merit of the photos.”
“Uh-huh.” A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“Okay, I have to admit something.” I twisted my fingers in my lap. “Gideon told me. That the photos were of you. I honestly had no idea. And, um, I might’ve said a few things about them that were... inappropriate. I’m sorry.”
Mason shifted slightly, but his tone was easy. “No harm done.”
I dropped my face into my hands. “God, this is so embarrassing. I’m really sorry for how I acted when you found me in your condo.” I groaned softly, peeking through my fingers. “It was totally unprofessional.”
To my surprise, Mason’s mouth curved, eyes crinkling. “Relax, Lila. We’re even.”
I lowered my hands, puzzled. “Even?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “You saw me in my underwear in those photos, and as I recall, you called my package ‘spectacular.’ And I saw you in yours. That little pink number, when you were lying on my bed, skirt all bunched up. So I figure we’re square.”
The heat rushed back to my face so fast I thought I might combust.
“Oh my God.” I slumped against the couch. “I can’t believe you saw that. That was so embarrassing.”
Mason’s laughter filled the room, rich and warm. “Relax, Lila. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not every day I come home to find a beautiful woman in my bed.”
Did he just call me beautiful?
I slowly lowered my hands, trying to regain some shred of composure. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Nope.” He popped the word with a grin.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I grumbled, though amusement crept into my voice.
“Seriously, it’s no big deal,” Mason said, his tone softening. “We’re good.”
I had to fight to keep my thoughts from straying to places they definitely shouldn’t go. Like picturing those broad shoulders hovering over me, muscles flexing as—
I shot up from the couch with more enthusiasm than necessary. “I already know exactly what I want to do in this space.”
“Yeah?” Mason rose too, towering over me. Lord have mercy, he was tall. And muscular. I had a sudden, wildly inappropriate urge to climb him like a tree.
I straightened my shoulders. “Absolutely. So, I’ll swing by in the next few days to box up most of this, uh, mountain lodge aesthetic. The moose head, antler chandelier—gone.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “What were you thinking of as a replacement?”
“I’ve got the perfect chandelier already picked out. Modern, sleek, but with an organic edge that’ll look amazing in here.” I gestured around the room, accidentally brushing his rock-hard chest in the process. Yowza.
I took a quick step back before I did something foolish, like lick him. “I’ll bring my handyman for the removal and install. And now that you’re living here, I’ll always call ahead to confirm visits and be here to supervise. Your place won’t be left unattended.”
He smiled, and I just about melted. “I appreciate that, Lila. I know I’m leaving my place in good hands.”
“Perfect. I’ll start evicting the wildlife ASAP,” I said as we made our way to the door. “And we can revisit the bedroom decor once you’ve lived with it for a bit. See how you like having Mist-a-Dick in there, spritzing his scent around.”
“Deal.” Mason’s chuckle was a low rumble that reverberated through me as he opened the door.
“Alright then.” I stepped outside, lingering for a moment. “I’ll see you soon. We’ll transform this place in no time. You’re going to love it. Trust me.”