Mason entered the house, but the combination of irritation and s****l frustration was eroding his personal discipline.
"Something got your shorts in a bunch?"
Martina DeRosa, his housekeeper, was setting up the big coffee pot in the kitchen. She raised one eyebrow.
"Sorry. It flew out of my hands."
"Uh-huh." She gave him one of her up and down looks. "The expression on your face says different. Don't tell me it's that female out there."
"I'm not telling you a thing. Anyway, she's got nothing to do with anything. She's here to do a job. Period."
Martina snorted. "Fine. Whatever you say. But you've got the same expression on your face you had when you came back from Dallas a year ago. And you had it all through dinner. You better hope I'm the only one who noticed you've got a stick up
