He scowled. Typical. All women stuck together. “That’s not what you said last night. Or rather yelled.”
His mother whacked him on the side of the head. “That is not the way I raised my son. She’s a lady.”
“But Mom. You just called her a slut.”
“No buts. Apologize. Now.” She deliberately ignored the truth in his statement, much as she always ignored what wasn’t convenient for her argument. A mother’s prerogative, she always said.
Stacia grinned. “Celia, I hope you’re staying for a long visit.”
He scowled. “Speaking of that, how long are you staying? I assume you’re staying here, considering you weren’t invited,” he finished under his breath.
“Jason! Family never requires an invitation.” Stacia walked across the room and smacked him on the arm.
She was mimicking his mother’s bad habits and the whole conversation was sliding downward very rapidly. “I didn’t mean that. I just would have liked some warning. Would you want your father showing up on your doorstep?”
She paled immediately and looked stricken. He desperately wanted to take the words back, and did the only thing he could. He pulled her close and rubbed a hand up and down her arm, comforting her.
“Relax, Jason.” Celia waved a hand in the air. “This is a whirlwind visit. I have two new girls moving in Monday, but if I’m an inconvenience, I could stay at a hotel. I don’t need anything special. I hope it doesn’t throw out my bad hip, though.”
“Oh jeez. Put away the damn violin. You can stay here.” Jason rolled his eyes. “My mother, Stacia. The drama queen of Trenton, New Jersey. Mom works with pregnant teens. I send her money all the time, despite how she’s dressed right now. What the hellareyou wearing?”
She grinned. “I wanted to get on the level with your new girl. Dreadful, isn’t it? I can see that wasn’t necessary. Thank God. I hate this outfit.”
“Mom trots out this outfit every time she comes to visit.” Jason shook his head. “She thinks it scares people away.”
“Women, Jason. Scares women away.”
“How often do you have to do this, Celia?” Stacia refilled the coffee, placed some pastry on the counter and slid into the other chair.
“Not as often as you think. I did one thing right, making sure Jason always uses protection and watches out for gold diggers. At least I assume he always uses protection.” Celia took a Danish and pointed it at Stacia. “I like this one. She’s domesticated. Perfect for my grandchildren.” She glanced sideways at Jason, who choked on his coffee.
Stacia blushed and sipped hers, remaining silent and let Jason twist.
He glowered at her. “When did you buy pastry?”
“Your mother brought it. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Celia shook her head. “I knew you’d have nothing in your fridge. Honestly, you’d think I raised him in a barn. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
Jason jumped up, irritation at his lack of manners finally getting the better of him. “Okay, that’s enough bashing me. I didn’t ask her to do anything for me. She just barged in and took over, like someone else I know. Now, I’m going to take a shower and head to the stadium. You two, stop talking about me!”
Both women smiled at him. Celia waved to the hallway. “Go ahead. We have more coffee to finish and lots more to talk about.”
Jason stood, torn between wanting to drag Stacia away for a bout of hot shower sex or just away from his mother, and wanting to stay and stop his mother from sharing too much about his past. She didn’t need to know he was a poor kid, way out of her social league, anecdotes about his legions of women, most of which were exaggerated, and tales from his misspent youth. Thank God Mom hadn’t brought photo albums.
Celia leaned across the table. “How did his penis turn out? He has—”
“Oh my God, Mom!” Jason turned and fled, the sound of their laughter drifting after him.
*
“Now that he’sgone, we can talk.” Celia grabbed Stacia’s hand. “Are you really his image consultant or his girlfriend? Is this all a ruse?”
Stacia shifted in her seat, glancing away. In the cold light of day, reality intruded and asked a lot of questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. If it had been anyone else asking, she knew what to say. In fact, Michael, her boss, Cole Hammonds, and even Sophie would probably be calling, asking the same question soon and Stacia would have to say something. Answering them would be easier, but with this woman, whom she had met less than an hour ago and was her lover’s mother, the answer was much more difficult, much more personal, much more scary.
And she didn’t have one.
Celia’s eyes bore into hers, a silent demand.