record.”
That sexy half-smile formed on Mason’s lips again. “Jada and I can be civilized to each other. Can’t we, Jada?” He winked at her. “Have fun at the party,” he said before turning for the door.
Jada tried not to stare as he made his way out of the house, but it was as if her brain had decided to rebel. She could not drag her eyes away. After Mason closed the door behind him, she turned to find Kiera staring her down with a probing, curious glint in her eyes.
“I guess we need to get back to work,” Jada said. “We don’t have much time before guests start arriving.”
Kiera just continued to stare.
Jada pointed toward the dining room. “I’ll…uh…I’ll get back to it.”
She got out of there before Kiera could ask any more questions.
***
Mason entered Emile’s, located on Main Street in the heart of Gauthier, about twenty minutes from Maplesville. Not only was the food at Emile’s some of the finest in south Louisiana, but it was the only restaurant within a thirty-mile radius that used cloth napkins. Everyone in Maplesville knew that if you were looking for anything more than casual dining, you had to make the drive to Gauthier.
There had been some bad blood between the neighboring towns in recent months. A growing number of Gauthier’s residents felt that the new retail and eating establishments in Maplesville were encroaching on the family-owned businesses here in Gauthier. But if the crowded sidewalks he had to navigate through on his way to Emile’s was any indication, Gauthier’s residents had nothing to worry about. Main Street seemed more popular than ever.
As he made his way through the elegant dining room, Mason spotted Matthew Gauthier already seated at a table. As he approached, Matt stood, greeting him with a handshake and one-armed hug. The two of them had attended law school together. This area didn’t boast many attorneys, so they tended to get together now and then to talk shop.
“Haven’t heard from you in a couple of months,” Matt said. “That big firm keeping you busy?”
“It’s tax season,” Mason answered, figuring it was answer enough.
Matt nodded, swirling the amber liquid around his highball glass before taking a sip. He tilted the glass toward Mason. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
“Forgive me. I forgot only a thousand-dollars-a-bottle scotch touches those lips.”
Mason shrugged off his friend’s remark. “I don’t drink much. When I do, I want it to be good.”
The waiter came over to their table, and they both placed orders for Emile’s famous crawfish etouffee. When the waiter left them, Matt folded his hands on the table and shot Mason a direct look. “Okay, what’s going on? You said you needed to run something by me.”
Mason let out a sigh, and for a minute, reconsidered that drink. He gave Matt the condensed version of his dilemma over Oscar Davis’s tax havens.
“The CPA sounds like a prick,” Matt remarked.
“He’s been the biggest pain in my ass,” Mason said. “The thing is, I brought this client in expecting him to be my ticket to a partnership.”
“But…?”
Mason glanced up at his friend, then brought his eyes back to the fleur de lis napkin ring he’d been fingering. “I’m not sure I can look past the gray areas, and it’s driving me crazy,” he admitted. “Remember when I vowed to be this cutthroat attorney back when we were in law school? What happened to that guy?”
“You were never that guy,” Matt said. “Being cutthroat just isn’t in you. And contrary to popular opinion, you and I both know that lawyers actually do possess souls.”
Mason nodded. He looked over at his friend, his brow quirked in inquiry. “What about politicians?”
“Some of them do.” Matt tipped his head back and emptied his highball. “And I haven’t decided about the senate race, so don’t ask.”
Mason rolled his eyes. He knew Matt was holding out on him, but he had too much on his own
That sexy half-smile formed on Mason’s lips again. “Jada and I can be civilized to each other. Can’t we, Jada?” He winked at her. “Have fun at the party,” he said before turning for the door.
Jada tried not to stare as he made his way out of the house, but it was as if her brain had decided to rebel. She could not drag her eyes away. After Mason closed the door behind him, she turned to find Kiera staring her down with a probing, curious glint in her eyes.
“I guess we need to get back to work,” Jada said. “We don’t have much time before guests start arriving.”
Kiera just continued to stare.
Jada pointed toward the dining room. “I’ll…uh…I’ll get back to it.”
She got out of there before Kiera could ask any more questions.
***
Mason entered Emile’s, located on Main Street in the heart of Gauthier, about twenty minutes from Maplesville. Not only was the food at Emile’s some of the finest in south Louisiana, but it was the only restaurant within a thirty-mile radius that used cloth napkins. Everyone in Maplesville knew that if you were looking for anything more than casual dining, you had to make the drive to Gauthier.
There had been some bad blood between the neighboring towns in recent months. A growing number of Gauthier’s residents felt that the new retail and eating establishments in Maplesville were encroaching on the family-owned businesses here in Gauthier. But if the crowded sidewalks he had to navigate through on his way to Emile’s was any indication, Gauthier’s residents had nothing to worry about. Main Street seemed more popular than ever.
As he made his way through the elegant dining room, Mason spotted Matthew Gauthier already seated at a table. As he approached, Matt stood, greeting him with a handshake and one-armed hug. The two of them had attended law school together. This area didn’t boast many attorneys, so they tended to get together now and then to talk shop.
“Haven’t heard from you in a couple of months,” Matt said. “That big firm keeping you busy?”
“It’s tax season,” Mason answered, figuring it was answer enough.
Matt nodded, swirling the amber liquid around his highball glass before taking a sip. He tilted the glass toward Mason. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
“Forgive me. I forgot only a thousand-dollars-a-bottle scotch touches those lips.”
Mason shrugged off his friend’s remark. “I don’t drink much. When I do, I want it to be good.”
The waiter came over to their table, and they both placed orders for Emile’s famous crawfish etouffee. When the waiter left them, Matt folded his hands on the table and shot Mason a direct look. “Okay, what’s going on? You said you needed to run something by me.”
Mason let out a sigh, and for a minute, reconsidered that drink. He gave Matt the condensed version of his dilemma over Oscar Davis’s tax havens.
“The CPA sounds like a prick,” Matt remarked.
“He’s been the biggest pain in my ass,” Mason said. “The thing is, I brought this client in expecting him to be my ticket to a partnership.”
“But…?”
Mason glanced up at his friend, then brought his eyes back to the fleur de lis napkin ring he’d been fingering. “I’m not sure I can look past the gray areas, and it’s driving me crazy,” he admitted. “Remember when I vowed to be this cutthroat attorney back when we were in law school? What happened to that guy?”
“You were never that guy,” Matt said. “Being cutthroat just isn’t in you. And contrary to popular opinion, you and I both know that lawyers actually do possess souls.”
Mason nodded. He looked over at his friend, his brow quirked in inquiry. “What about politicians?”
“Some of them do.” Matt tipped his head back and emptied his highball. “And I haven’t decided about the senate race, so don’t ask.”
Mason rolled his eyes. He knew Matt was holding out on him, but he had too much on his own
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