Mr. Right Now

by Kristina Knight

  “I thought you liked things old-fashioned.” Yeah, like screwing a guy she just met was old-fashioned. She was called Miss Romance, not Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. “Pulling the arm is half the fun.”

  She didn’t look at him, just kept pressing the Bet Credits button. “Using the arm will turn your palms black,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Using the button is more sanitary.” She punched the button one more time and three cherries rolled onto the screen.

  The credit counter started rolling and Mason looked at the read-out.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, sounding more annoyed than excited. “Aw, crap.”

  The credits rolled. They passed the four hundred mark and kept going up. Three cherries was the second-highest roll. She’d betted one credit with the roll, and would pull in a nice chunk of change. He pulled the arm and busted. The credits on her machine finally stopped at nine-hundred-fifty. Not bad.

  “This is just what I need,” she mumbled.

  Mason expected her to hit the Cash Out button. Instead, Casey increased her betting credits to three per spin. He shook his head.

  What a waste. He covered her hand with his, stopping her from throwing away her winnings.

  “What are you doing? You just won. You should cash out and change machines.”

  “I didn’t want to win,” she said, pulling her hand from his. When Mason lifted his hand from the button, Casey punched it and threw away three more credits. “I didn’t come down here to win money.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. She was still running away. From whatever made her run to him, and away from the party downstairs. Nate and whoever this new guy was.

  “So why did you come in here? Gambling is a pretty tough way to win, but if you wanted to throw money away you could’ve just tossed it overboard.”

  She returned her attention to the slot machine, pushing the button to throw more money back into the bandit.

  He didn’t think she would answer, but finally she said, “I just wanted to get away. Think.”

  “The only thing most people think about in a casino is winning money.”

  A slight smile crossed her face. “The noise and the repeated motion of betting help me clear my head. I felt like I was drowning, so I came here.”

  “To think.”

  She nodded and shrugged one shoulder. “It works for me.”

  Inhaling slowly, he wondered how noise and repetitive motion helped her think. Which brought him to the reason he followed her over here.

  “Why did you leave me exposed up on the deck?”

  “I didn’t.” She shook her head. “I covered you with your t-shirt. And I left the curtains closed.”

  “And I was still at half-mast.” Leaning toward her, Mason lowered his voice. “Little old ladies could have circled me and gone in for the kill.”

  Casey’s face went white before a blush heated her cheeks. “Whatever. Everyone was busy with the Vegas show and dinner. You weren’t sexually attacked by a roving band of little old ladies.”

  “But I could have been.”

  A chuckle escaped her. “Are you really afraid the Grandma Brigade would have made you their boy-toy?”

  He placed a hand on her thigh and, reaching around, turned her so she had to look at him. “I was more worried about why you left like that.”

  A white flash lit the casino, blinding Mason for a second. When he could see again, Casey was looking at him with terrified eyes. Her breathing was ragged and she gripped his left hand with hers.

  She jumped from the chair as if she needed to escape the gambling hall.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  When Mason remained in his seat, she tugged on his hand, urging him up.

  “We have to go,” she said as he rose to his feet. “Now.”

  Mason had no choice but to follow her zigzagging route through the casino and out the back entrance.

  “What the hell are we running from?” Anger edged Mason’s voice. Casey supposed she couldn’t blame him. She’d yanked him from his slot machine when he still had money to lose. He probably hadn’t had time to grab that stupid card the casino handed out to everyone either. Great. The reporter would know who he was.

  Another white flash glared in the corner of her eye as the door closed. Damn it. They were getting closer.

  “That,” she said, inclining her head toward the area that kept flashing behind her. She pulled on his hand and kept moving. She couldn’t leave Mason to the wolves. He was a plumber. He’d probably never dealt with well-meaning reporters, much less the vultures hired by tabloids. “Trust me, you don’t want to deal with that.” She didn’t stop long enough to look at him, just grabbed his hand and ran.

  She turned left down a short passageway, climbed a set of five stairs and turned right. Glancing behind them, she couldn’t see anyone following. But that could mean anything. The paparazzi made kamikazes look like trained pigeons. When she’d dumped Tyler in the stateroom, she’d decided to hide out in the crowd at the casino.

  Face it, Casey, you’re not safe anywhere.

  “I think we’re okay,” she said, leading Mason down the hall.

  Just how had the reporter found her? Probably dumb luck. That, and there really weren’t any hiding places on the ship, not even her room. So far Tyler was alternating between belligerent and whiny and was giving her a headache.

  Weren’t escorts supposed to be calm, cool and able to roll with anything?

  Of course, she wasn’t the perfect client. So far she had ditched him three times—twice when he was bleeding—and left him to deal with over-zealous fans and honeymoon wishes. In his shoes, Casey wouldn’t deal with it well, either.

  The clear glass door of the weight room loomed in front of them. Probably a hundred things to hide behind in there, but the glass door would also make them vulnerable. A smaller door on the right led to the indoor whirlpool, the door on the left to the sauna. She checked the door. It locked from the inside. No glass. That was the one. Making up her mind, Casey stepped inside. Mason followed.

  A wave of heat escaped the room.

  “Explain to me again why we just ran from the casino, leaving behind several thousand dollars in the process?”

  “Huh?” She tried the door, making sure it was locked. What was he talking about? Several thousand dollars?

  “The jackpot?” He raised his eyebrows and held his hands, palm up, between them. “Three cherries popped up on your slot. Nine hundred and some credits, each worth five dollars, and you bet three credits on that roll so it triples.”

  “I hit a jackpot?” A jackpot worth at least thirteen thousand dollars. Had she been that distracted? She couldn’t breathe. If she’d missed hitting a jackpot, what else did she miss while aimlessly playing the slots?

  He only nodded.

  Casey gasped and sat down on the wooden bench. Hard. She hit a jackpot? “Did I cash out?”

  “Do either of us have a slip worth thirteen thousand tokens?”

  Of course not. Lungs feeling like they were about to burst, she tried to take in a deep breath. A tiny wisp of air passed her lips, barely enough to cool her tongue.

  “You let me...leave the casino...with...thousands of dollars still in my slot?” Fanning her face, she slumped against the wall.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  Only, no matter how deeply she tried to get the air into her lungs, it barely registered. The room started to spin and go black around the edges. She had to get to the door.

  “I didn’t have much choice.” Was that Mason’s voice? He sounded so far away.

  She turned her head.

  Pacing by the door. Didn’t he realize she was dying here?

  Two steps and she was at the door. Leaning against the handle, she slid forward as the door opened, cool air bathing her face. She gulped in a deep breath, then another.

  “You grabbed my hand and took off. I’m fond of my arm, and I’d like to keep it attached to my body a few more years.” He turned around
, alarm registering on his face when he focused his gaze on her. She must look bad for him to look that scared.

  In a second he was beside her, pushing her down on the floor with her head between her knees. “Breathe,” he said. “Just breathe.”

  When Casey felt her lungs re-inflate, she sat up and breathed deeply. He pushed her head back between her knees. “Take a few more breaths,” he said.

  “I left thirteen thousand dollars in a slot machine?” she said to no one in particular. The words sounded breathless to her own ears. A bead of sweat rolled along her jaw, stopping where her face met her leg. From the sauna, the mad dash from the casino or the realization that she left thousands of dollars behind, she wasn’t sure.

  “I keep telling you, yes.” The pressure on her neck eased and she sat up. Mason looked into her eyes for several seconds. “Come on, there’s still too much heat coming out of the sauna. You need to cool down,” he said, standing and moving toward the door. She caught his hand with her own and when he looked back at her, she shook her head.

  “I’m fine. It’s knowing I left behind the money more than the heat in the room.” At least, she thought that was why the room still had a slight curve. She raised her left hand to her lips. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  Mason grunted. “Me either. You could have left me behind with the cash, you know. It’s not every day someone leaves me thirteen thousand dollars.” Then, he posed a question of his own. “Are you going to tell me why we just ran through this ship like people fleeing the Titanic?”

  How much did he really want to know? She looked into his sea green eyes, seeing a lot of curiosity and a hint of...was that compassion?

  Couldn’t be. Curiosity was the length of his involvement. It must seem ridiculous that she would leave all that money in a slot machine. Whoever sat at the machine next would get one hell of a surprise. She shook her head and began to laugh. This whole situation was absurd. If she didn’t know any better, she would think the ship was outfitted with hidden cameras and she was the focus of some television show.

  “Casey?” He smoothed his hand down her arm, and the heat inside her body ratcheted up a notch. He probably thought she was crazy. Really, had she done one sane thing since meeting him in the boarding line?

  “What are you running from?” The words were quiet. Gentle sounding. Concerned. He spoke as if afraid she would break if he let a harsh word enter the room.

  That only made her laugh louder. The real question was what wasn’t she running from? A big fat nothing.

  How much did she want to tell him?

  Her heart told her to trust the man. Tell him everything. Maybe if she let the story out, it would make more sense.

  The laughter slowed to a few hiccups.

  Her head told her she didn’t know him. He would never understand. She needed to get his plumber-psychology out of her life.

  Moving back inside the room, Casey shut and locked the door again. “How long have you worked with your family?”

  For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Her skin cooled when he removed his hand from her arm. Sitting beside her on the wooden bench, he folded his hands together. She watched as one thumb worked against the other.

  She remembered how his hands felt against her body. For a man who worked with his hands, they were so smooth. Some woman somewhere must have taught him the benefits of lotion. The bitch.

  With one touch of those hands he could stop her mind from thinking about anything but him. Only, she didn’t want him for that reason this time. She wanted him because he was Mason, and he made her feel alive.

  “Worked with my family?” No hint of emotion. Just flat words.

  She nodded, finally daring to look him in the eye. Curiosity was the only expression she saw this time. Pulling the card from her bag, she handed it over.

  “This got mixed up with my clothes...earlier.” She shrugged her shoulder. “It must be interesting, working in the family business.”

  Her own father hunted termites for a living. Her brothers, too. She had run as far and fast as she could from their life. Only lately she wondered if she made the right choice.

  Her life was out of control. She couldn’t write. Would it have made a difference if she’d stayed in their small town instead of moving to New York City?

  She wouldn’t have met Nate. Wouldn’t be avoiding reporters on a cruise ship. Wouldn’t be making the one man in the world who seemed to be interested in Casey instead of Cassandra think she was certifiable.

  She stepped toward him, wanting to be in his space more than anything else at that moment. “My family is in the bug business. As the only girl I was not expected to de-termite a house once I was out of school. Do you like working with your family?”

  He held the small rectangle of paper between his thumb and index finger, unmoving. Finally he said, “My dad, two of my brothers and one brother-in-law all work together. Sometimes I think that’s a little too much family in a confined space.”

  Was that sadness in his voice? She reached out, taking his hand in her own. “Did you always want to be a plumber?” Or did he have other dreams? Did he wonder about that other road he could have taken?

  Twining their fingers together, he pocketed the card. “I never wanted to be a plumber.”

  She thought there was more to his answer than what he said. Family issues were hard to deal with. His problems could probably dwarf hers. She needed to turn her pop-psychology mind off. He wasn’t asking for therapy; he was just talking. “What was your dream?”

  “Why did you leave thirteen thousand dollars in the casino?” He stood, walked to the door and turned around. “Thirteen grand. That’s rent for a couple months in New York. A nice cushion in your bank account, and you left it behind. What for?”

  His eyes burned into hers, and still, she didn’t know how much of the truth to tell him. She didn’t want him to think she was nuts, or run screaming off the ship. How did she tell him her secrets without that happening?

  “Why do you keep seeking me out?”

  “I’m not.” But she could see the lie reflected in his eyes.

  The heat inside the room magnified, causing a catch in Casey’s throat. “You came on to me like a freight train earlier.” She placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Sought out my stateroom.” She increased the pressure on his mouth this time, flicked her tongue against closed lips. “Had some pretty amazing sex with me on deck and then mysteriously bumped into me in the casino. And you could have left this room a hundred times already, but you haven’t. Why not?”

  Mason stepped back, putting a fragment of space between their bodies. “Look, I know there’s something going on with you. Up on the deck earlier you were...different,” he said, running his hands through her hair. They were only inches apart. “What are you running from?”

  “Maybe I just wanted to be alone with you.”

  This time, he nipped at her lips. “Liar.”

  Everything faded away. He was so close she could smell the soap he used in the shower. The scent of his cologne, and underneath it all, him.

  “I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” she said against his mouth. She knew there was something he wasn’t telling her. Something about his own past that he was keeping from her. It really shouldn’t be this important to know his secrets, at least not yet. She was jumping in too far and too fast.

  She couldn’t stop.

  Casey pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and pushed it over his shoulders.

  His hands lifted her t-shirt from her body as he backed them into the sauna again. Hot air touched her skin, made her nipples pucker.

  “Who says I’ve got a secret?” He stood, pulling her with him. He went to work on the button and zip enclosure on her hip. In a second, she stood before him, naked. His eyes burned as he looked at her.

  She felt the air suck from her lungs. The room was too hot or he was; she couldn’t decide which.

  “Everybody has at least one se
cret,” she said, concentrating on bringing air to her lungs and reaching out to open his zipper. She was not going to pass out. She was going to enjoy the moment. And this time, she was going to look at him.

  Pushing his pants over his hips, she took a step back.

  Holy Mary, Mother of God.

  She had had that inside her before? He speared out from the black hair between his thighs, looking nearly as long as her forearm.

  Pulling a condom from the pocket of his pants, he said, “Like what you see?”

  She felt her cheeks burn.

  Definitely she liked what she saw. Nodding, she turned to the bench but before she could relax her gelatin-filled legs, he wrapped his hands around her arms and pushed her against the wall.

  He found her breast, taking it in his mouth like he was starving. Her nipple pebbled as he teased the distended tip with his tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

  She buried her hands in his hair as a slow groan escaped her.

  “Casey.”

  Vaguely, she heard her name. “Mmm?”

  Raising his mouth from her breast, he smiled and kissed her mouth. “Nothing. I just like saying your name.” Then his tongue plunged inside her mouth, matching her own thrust for thrust.

  He trailed his fingers from her neck, down her torso and finally to the soft flesh of her thighs, making every muscle in her body come alive with the soft touch. Her belly quivered. Another touch, no matter how innocuous, and she would be lost.

  His fingers caught in the cotton around her hips and he tugged it down, pushing her feet to the floor. He followed the movement with his mouth down her body. His tongue found her moist center and feasted. She clutched his shoulders as waves of pleasure radiated through her.

  “Mason, now.” She wasn’t sure if she said the words aloud, but he stood, pulling her legs to lock around his hips and thrust inside her. For a few seconds he was still, and then slowly began to move.

  Inch by inch, he withdrew and then pressed into her body. With every movement, the pressure inside her began to grow until they were riding the wave together. She wanted more. More time to forget. More time to get to know him. They had a week, technically, but this really had to be the end. She couldn’t avoid the reporter by banging Mason in any open room on the ship. This was it. Their encore.