I reached past him and shut the pantry door firmly behind us. "Thereisno lock so you must be joking."
His lips twitched, and he looked dangerously close to smiling. "Me? Nah."
I hadn't flicked on the pantry light, because I hadn't needed to. The pantry, like the kitchen, was equipped with low-level lighting of the motion sensor variety.
The light wasn't much brighter than candlelight, but it was still just enough to catch the amusement in Mason's eyes when I told him, "Either that, or you're crazy."
In a low voice, he said, "Am I?"
My pulse quickened.He was definitely something.
By now, I was pretty sure I was molesting him with my eyes. Trying to salvage some dignity, I broke eye-contact and glanced around the pantry.
As far as pantries went, it was shockingly clean and organized. It had nothing on the floor – no stacks of cans or stray water bottles. The entire space was clean and tidy, with food arranged on the shelves according to its type – soup in one section, pasta in another, cereal to my right.
On impulse, I grabbed a box of oat puffs and shoved it toward him. "Here."
He looked down at the box, but made no move to take it. "What's that for?"
With a smug smile, I said, "Cereal. So you don't starve."
"What, no cannibalism?"
"Well, you're not gonna eatme,that's for sure."
I froze.Oh, God.That came out so very wrong. And judging from Mason's expression, the double meaning hadn't escaped him.
Talk about embarrassing.
His voice was quiet in the near darkness. "You sure about that?"
I felt myself swallow. "Pretty sure."
Good grief. What was I saying?
His gaze grew speculative. "Uh-huh."
Dang it.He was standing so close, I swear, I could feel the energy pulsing between us, fueling my fantasies of catching him alone.
And now wewerealone, which meant that I'd be smart to get out of herefast, before I did something truly asinine – like hurtle myself into his arms and beg for him to take me, right here in the pantry.
How humiliating would that be?
Almost too late, I recalled my reason for insisting on privacy.Lunk-blaster.He'd wanted to know what it meant. And if I didn't tell him soon and get the heck out of here, I was in serious danger of forgetting myself.
In a near panic, I whispered, "It's a mother-fucker, okay?" My hands flew to my mouth. "Shit! I mean, shoot!" I almost groaned out loud. "This is all your fault, you know."
With obvious amusement, he said, "Is it?"
"Yes, because I meant tospellit out, not blurt it out. And, as we'vealreadyestablished, you're the only person I curse around."
"So you say."
"What, you think I’m lying?"
His gaze held mine, and his voice softened. "I don't know what you're doing."
At something in his tone, I gave a hard swallow. "What does that mean?"
