Mr. Right Now

by Kristina Knight

  She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, and her body began to quake. His hands tightened on her hips and he barked his release.

  They rested for a few seconds, still connected in the most intimate of ways. He rested his forehead against hers and their breathing returned to normal.

  “Sweet lord, you’re going to kill me,” he said.

  She smiled, thinking the same thing. “But it will be a beautiful death,” she replied.

  The moist air of the sauna kept Mason’s body temperature in the warmer-than-normal range, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If he had to, he could spend the rest of his life right here. The room felt nice. Better than nice. He shifted to a more comfortable position, allowing Casey’s head to rest on his shoulder.

  What the hell was he doing?

  Making love to a beautiful woman, that’s what. Curled around Casey’s body on the narrow bench in the sauna, he knew exactly what he was doing. When her head had fallen forward to rest on his shoulder, he’d carried her across the room and settled there. What he couldn’t figure out was why.

  He was either sleeping with a married woman or a liar. Mason Drury didn’t normally do either. To top that off, he was lying to her, too.

  There was no reason for it. Sure, he was a reporter, but he wasn’t writing the story on her. He wouldn’t be allowed to write obituaries once he talked to Haynes. If he just came clean, he could explain about the white flashes she was running from. The flash wasn’t high-powered enough for the cameras professional photographers used. Most likely, some of her fans had seen her in the casino and decided to get a few snapshots, sending Casey into a panic.

  But he didn’t tell her that. He acted like he hadn’t seen anything unusual at all. He was digging a hole he wasn’t sure he could escape.

  Casey slept soundly with his arms tight around her midsection. Her back pressed to his chest, using his arm as a pillow, she looked so peaceful, the haunted look gone completely for the first time since he’d seen her in the boarding line. His heart softened a bit.

  He was sabotaging this...whatever it was with her.

  Adding her to his list of lovers-turned-friends had seemed fine earlier. Why was he having doubts about it now? This was a love cruise. People were supposed to do crazy things with practically perfect strangers.

  She snuggled closer into his arms, her bottom burrowing into his pelvis, and he immediately hardened.

  “Hey,” she said, the word barely registering in his mind. The tap on his forearm registered more. She twisted around to look at him, her hair falling away over his arm.

  He smiled. “Hey, yourself.”

  “I, um,” she said, licking her lips. “I guess I owe you that explanation now, huh?” She shifted her hips.

  Three times in one day? What was he, a college kid again? He was going to kill himself. Or Casey.

  “Explain?” He pushed the word from his mouth. Explain what, again? Every time she moved, more blood rushed from his brain to his penis. Much more and he was going to blow.

  “I don’t normally do things like this,” she said, sitting up and giving him some much-needed breathing room. He looked at the opposite wall, concentrating on calming the blood pulsing through his body. His muscles relaxed minutely.

  Stepping into her skirt, she began to dress with her back to him. She talked as she put on first one piece of clothing then another. He followed suit. Maybe if they were both fully dressed, they could finally talk like grown-ups instead of hormonal teenagers.

  “You see, I have this case of writer’s block," she was saying.

  With the world focused on her next book, reporters hounding her about a bad break-up, it was no wonder she couldn’t write. Sometimes he couldn’t write his stories simply because of a looming five o’clock deadline. Imagine that deadline compounded by ugly headlines. He’d have a hell of a case of writer’s block.

  She smiled over her shoulder at him. “Yeah. I don’t think we ever got around to formal introductions, but I write self-help books. Anyway, I have this deadline in a few months and I haven’t been able to write a word.”

  Now they were getting into familiar territory. The break-up. That was probably causing her writer’s block more than the deadline.

  * * * *

  “So my agent convinced me to come on this cruise.” Straightening the hem of the t-shirt, Casey turned. She felt better fully dressed. Like she was back in control. “Only I met you, and then there’s this random guy in my room and coincidentally we share the last name. The ship’s employees got the wrong idea, and everyone on board threw us a honeymoon party.” She held up a hand before he could say anything. From the anger in his posture to the clenching of his hands, she could see he didn’t believe her. How could she make him understand that she was telling him the truth, just not all of it?

  “I’m not married. I’m telling you all this because the ship apparently sent invitations to all the guests and I don’t want you to think I...well, that I would—” She gestured between them, but didn’t finish the sentence. “I didn’t even know the other guy until earlier today, but I can’t throw him out of the room because there is no place else for him to sleep.” She shrugged her right shoulder and sat down heavily. None of this made her seem discriminating. What must Mason think of her? And why did she care? He was just another random guy, after all. “He gets nosebleeds when he’s under stress.”

  “So you’re torturing him.” The words sounded flat to her ears.

  She squinted her eyes in anger. “I am not torturing him. There’s no place else for him to stay, so I have no choice but to share the room with him. I’m trying to stay away from him as much as possible, but then when he’s alone everyone on board comes up to congratulate him about us—”

  “And more stress,” Mason finished the sentence for her.

  “Exactly.” She shouldn’t have had sex with Mason again; that was making this so much worse. She had to drop him. Thanks for the orgasms, please don’t call me. Wasn’t that every man’s dream? “And that’s why it would be better if we just avoided each other the rest of the cruise.” Rising, she moved to the door.

  Staying away from him was the last thing she wanted. Her life was out of control, but he had a way of making it seem alright. Like she could take control back.

  That was the nuttiest part of it all. She couldn’t take control. The reporter on board the ship had all the control, the people who bought her books, her editor. Agent.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Mason’s words stopped her cold at the door. He stood behind her, hands resting loosely on her shoulders. “There’s a strange man in your room, and everyone on board the ship thinks you’re a newlywed.” He turned her around to face him. “But that doesn’t explain why we ran from the casino, through two different floors, before coming to the sauna to make love again. What else are you running from?”

  Crap. He wasn’t going to take her half-truths for the gospel. She might as well tell him the whole thing. At least then he would see why they needed to keep their distance. He would probably go running in the opposite direction. She took a deep breath.

  “There’s a reporter following me around.”

  The color in his face drained away, leaving a pallor beneath his tanned skin. The pulse at his temple beat faster and his hands tightened on her upper arms. “A reporter?”

  She nodded, and then another lie flew from her lips. “People like what I have to say. You know the American press—build someone up just so you can bring them down.” Shut up, shut up, shut up and tell the truth.

  “And finding out you’re sharing a room with a perfect stranger and sleeping with another one wouldn’t be good P.R.?” He dropped his hands, shoving them deep in his pockets.

  He probably thought she was ashamed to be seen with a plumber. If only he knew.

  She didn’t care about his business. It was enough that she saw kindness and friendship in his eyes when he looked at her. As if he could see inside her. He would ha
te her if she kept dragging him through the muck of her life, and that was something she didn’t think she could handle.

  Casey barely stopped herself from reaching out to him. “You don’t want to deal with this. They’re maniacs. They pry into your background, pull out a black-and-white incident and make it look gray. You’d be better off to just stay away from me.”

  She turned her back on him and reached for the door just as it rattled from the other side.

  “Somebody in there?”

  She froze. Who was out there? It was a man’s voice, but she didn’t recognize it. Damn it, why did she choose a room without a window? At least then she could look out and see if it was a ship employee or a passenger. Or see if there really was a hidden camera show taping this cruise of humiliation.

  Whoever was on the other side banged two more times. “Hey! Open up. Locking the door isn’t allowed.” The door rattled as the man twisted the knob.

  Panicked, she looked from Mason to the door and back again. Mason stepped forward, opening the door just a crack and peeking his head around the corner. He kept his body between whoever was on the other side of the door and her. Protecting her. She didn’t deserve this, and he deserved so much better.

  “Maintenance. The temperature gauge is off. We’re just checking it out.”

  “Oh. You should put up a sign,” the man said.

  “Come back tomorrow morning.” Mason kept his body between the partially open door and the hall. She flattened her back against the wall. What a wimp she was. Finally Mason closed and locked the door. Turning, he positioned his body in front of the door.

  Eyeing her warily, he said, “Now, I think we were discussing what was best for me.”

  She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. Not what was best for him. She didn’t think of him like a child. She was only thinking of cutting things off before either of them got hurt.

  Liar.

  He ran his index finger down the side of her face. “There are other alternatives, you know.” His voice was barely above a whisper but still seemed loud in the quiet room. She shook her head. There were no alternatives. Not once the tabloids got involved. Stand, fight or run. Those were the options. All of them would be twisted into something ugly.

  “You could find a reporter who isn’t interested in the rumors. Someone who would write about your book, the deal and ignore the rest.”

  Yeah. Then pink elephants and orange pigs would start pulling Santa’s sleigh on Easter.

  “Not likely. It’s all about headlines and ratings, and gossip feeds both. Just forget about me. Keep your life sane.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. Mason took Casey’s arms in his hands and squeezed. “Then let them print what they want and ignore it. Your fans don’t care about the headlines. Everyone I saw at the party tonight cared about you. Your books. That’s it.” He stopped talking abruptly when Casey turned her face to his. He knew? He knew, and had pretended he didn’t.

  “You were there? You keep asking me what’s wrong, like you don’t know, but you were there?”

  He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. Casey read the invitation and felt another piece of her world crumble. He knew? He read the invitation, thought she was married and still tracked her down? What kind of man did that?

  “How long have you had this? Was it part of your plan? Sleep with the married woman. Put another notch on your belt?”

  Mason shook his head and squeezed her arms. “It wasn’t like that. I found the invitation when I went back to my room this evening. I went to the party to find out why a married woman slept with me, and saw you hustling from the room. Then you dragged me out of the casino and here we are.”

  “Nice little package you put it into. ‘And here we are,’” Casey mocked him. It was easier than focusing on the fact that he thought she was married and still tracked her down. Had he also known she was a writer? Was part of his plan to tell the papers he’d slept with her on her honeymoon? Mind racing, she pushed against his chest.

  Moving quickly, she hurried around him to the door. “Just stay away from me. It’s the best option I can think of,” she said and closed the door behind her.

  Instead of leaving down the hallway, Casey ducked inside the weight room. She was right—there were a lot of places to hide. The sauna door opened a few minutes after she left and Mason’s footsteps echoed down the passage. She had hidden out like a child, but it was for the best.

  Casey watched the hand on the wall clock move from one to two to three. Fifteen minutes. Surely fifteen minutes was long enough to wait. The only problem with hiding in the weight room was, if she moved even a little bit, anyone on the other side of that big glass door would see her. If she didn’t move, she wouldn’t know if it was safe to come out.

  She had to move. Her legs cramped. Sooner or later, someone would come in and wonder why she was crouched down behind the inner- and outer-thigh machine.

  She had to deal with Tyler. At the thought of the escort, her muscles bunched, tightening into knots throughout her back. She tried to visualize the knots loosening. It didn’t work. She would have to get the problem out of her life if she wanted the knots to go away, too.

  The most likely place to find Tyler was their room. Casey started down the passageway to her floor. The dining room was empty except for a few stragglers eating a very late dinner. Casey skirted the area and, feeling like a jerk for avoiding everyone in the room, she hurried past. Despite the fact that the fans at the party only seemed interested in her happiness, Casey needed to avoid as many people as possible. Her judgment sucked; just look at the fiasco with Nate.

  The hall was mostly empty. Now and again, someone left one of the rooms, but most continued past without giving her a second glance. She walked past the disco, the casino and the hall where she’d learned she was married. Pushing against the door, she looked inside. Empty.

  The decorations were gone, the banner folded in a corner. Not even a stray piece of confetti remained. She should feel grateful, but sadness was the emotion closest to the surface.

  You’re lying to everyone. Wasn’t it for the best? She would straighten everything out, but a little bit at a time. Not because she enjoyed the subterfuge, but because she wasn’t sure even her most faithful readers would understand that the past day had been one gigantic misunderstanding.

  She sighed, let the door swing closed and continued down the hall.

  So why this let-down feeling? Tyler was a perfectly nice man, but he wasn’t for her. He was for everyone and anyone with a few thousand extra dollars lying around. Still, he’d been decent to her. Hadn’t made a move since she’d told him that his being hired was a mistake. A decent gigolo. Who would have guessed?

  Mason’s face appeared in her mind. He was the perfect man for her. Or at least, she was turning him into the perfect man in her head. She didn’t really know anything about him.

  She knocked once on the stateroom door, then used her key to go inside. Tyler lay on the couch, his feet hanging over one end and a cold pack resting under his neck. Beside him, bits of tissue poked from the trash bin and an empty tissue box sat on the floor.

  Empathy flooded her heart. She’d bolted before making sure the nosebleed was over. What kind of person was she turning into? Lying to everyone around her, leaving a sick man to fend for himself. Sleeping with a virtual stranger.

  “Hasn’t let up, huh?”

  “Dope.”

  Dropping her bag on a chair, Casey grabbed a fresh box of tissue from the closet and returned to Tyler’s side.

  “Here,” she said, shoving the box into his hands. Then she picked up the phone and called for the doctor. This nosebleeding was out of hand.

  Tyler removed the tissue from his nose, blotted, pulled it away and looked. No blood. He sat up, a half-smile on his face, and reached across the bed. “You look...bad.”

  That wasn’t the half of it. Casey just shrugged a shoulder. She had arranged her clothes and ch
ecked herself in the weight room mirror before returning to the room. Obviously her female superpowers were on the blink. She decided not to contradict his observation. He was right anyhow.

  “I’m tired,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “This day feels like a week, and I’ve got six more in front of me.” Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, she considered just lying back, pulling an afghan over her head and sleeping through the rest of the cruise.

  Wouldn’t work. Sooner or later she would have to come out for food or water. Tyler, Mason and the reporter would be right there when she did. Better to get one of them off her back now.

  “We need to figure some kind of system as long as we’re sharing this room. I stopped at the desk on my way back and asked for a rollaway bed. Are you an early morning person, or late?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Tyler shifted on the bed, leaning against the headboard. “We’re adults. Why do we need a schedule?”

  “Bathroom, getting dressed, relaxing. Just because we’re stuck here together doesn’t mean we have to be uncomfortable. I know you were hired for me, but that was a mistake,” she said. She pulled a notebook from her bag and walked across the room to the sofa. Making a schedule was something she was actually good at. She pulled her legs under her and started writing. “I have work I need to get done on this cruise. If you don’t care, I’d like to have mornings in the cabin. You can have afternoons, and we’ll come and go as we please at night. Sound good?”

  Tyler walked slowly across the room, positioning his body on her right side and working his hands through the knots in her shoulders.

  “Whatever you want. You’re the boss.”

  Damn, he was good at his job. She should be annoyed at his comment. She wasn’t his boss. But she couldn’t dredge up the energy. He kneaded the heels of his palms on either side of her spine between the shoulder blades and she moaned.