by Anthology
He was only here because of the fucking PR consultant.
He didn’t need a fucking PR consultant. He didn’t need anyone telling him that insulting the Vice President of the United States was a bad idea. But Lauren had hired someone to do it anyway. And thanks to that person, he was now getting ready to speak at a press conference.
Wonderful.
And he was paying this person. Quite well according to Lauren.
Even better.
Mason rolled his head and shoulders, listening to the pops and cracks. He was tense. He knew it. He didn’t need a health consultant to tell him that—or that it was lack of sleep, lack of exercise, lack of giving a fuck about anything that was doing it to him.
Instead of tense, he should be excited. He should want this trip to Haiti. He’d wanted it for months, years really. He’d been working for it for a long damned time.
And now he didn’t care.
It wasn’t about this circus around the White House. Though he hated it, he understood this was smoothing the way. The team would be more effective and efficient with the White House behind them. That was a no brainer.
His irritation was not about where he was—but where he’d rather be.
Though he planned to return to Sapphire Falls the minute he touched US soil again, every hour he was away was a heavier and heavier weight on his heart.
She still wasn’t answering her phone, even at her office. According to everyone, she was out of town.
They were all lying for her.
He needed to be in Sapphire Falls. He needed to be with her. He’d be there this minute if he didn’t have to go to Haiti.
But he had to go to Haiti. It wasn’t guilt, it wasn’t interest. He had to go. It was a pre-visit visit for the public relations and media angle of the story. According to the new PR consultant, it would keep the reporters away when the rest of the team showed up, which meant they could get right to work.
That was the only reason he was here. The sooner they got to work down there, the sooner he could come back.
That and the fact that Lauren had threatened to put him in charge of their Facebook page and Twitter account if he no-showed.
He knew the Facebook and Twitter thing were because of this PR woman too. What the hell did they need Facebook and Twitter for?
Rebelliously, he’d left his suit jacket and tie in the car. No denim, she’d said. How had she known he’d considered blue jeans? He’d only started wearing jeans again regularly since Sapphire Falls.
Also, to show this PR nut who was really in charge, he intended to use the term zoonotic diseases during the Q and A. It wouldn’t be relevant to anything but he was going to throw it in so that everyone would scramble to look it up.
That would show her.
“Dr. Riley?”
Mason tuned back in as the questions started.
“Larry Chilver, The Examiner. Wondering how you answer the questions about the importance of this project?”
“No one’s asking me about the importance of the project,” Mason said. “I guess the people I hang out with get it.”
Larry didn’t seem to find that funny. “Some say that the Haitian people have bigger, more immediate concerns in light of the housing situation and cholera epidemic sweeping the country.”
This was exactly what annoyed Mason most about these press conferences. He didn’t want to answer questions about if they should go, not go, what it meant socially or psychologically. What was he, an idiot? Of course there were questions and issues, but that wasn’t his deal. He had the science and the Haitian government and Outreach America wanted it. It was up to everyone else to work out the political, economic and cultural issues.
“That’s not my problem,” Mason said into the mic. “Talk to Ryan here about how this impacts them socially and what their agenda and priorities are. Ask me about what we’re going to do when we get there.”
“So IAS doesn’t care about the living conditions or health conditions in Haiti?” Larry returned.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I said,” Mason answered sarcastically. “All we care about are plants that will allow this country not just to eat but to stabilize economically and socially—”
“Of IAS cares about every aspect of life in Haiti,” a woman said, stepping forward and pushing Mason away from the microphone. “Really, Larry, what kind of question is that?”
She laughed lightly and Larry even smiled.
“You know that Dr. Riley knows and understands every aspect of what life’s like in Haiti. But feeding this country, giving them back the opportunity for economic stability, are huge priorities of the Haitian government—who have asked Dr. Riley to come and share his work.”
The woman was dressed in a red suit and heels and she obviously knew not only what she was talking about, but how to work a crowd. The reporters were smiling and nodding, listening raptly and taking notes as she went on about how the local Haitian farm economy depended on viable crops. That grassroots stability, of course, spread to form a foundation for the entire country to build on, including their exports. In time, with the right help from Outreach America, the US government and IAS, Haiti would be able to truly recover.
Mason realized that having a PR person on his side might not be such a bad thing.
Especially if she looked like that and so obviously believed in what they were doing.
Especially if it was Adrianne.
Adrianne was here. Surprisingly, it took that fact a while to sink in. She loved him. He’d known it all along.
As she stepped away from the podium, turning a question over to Ryan McDonald, Mason pulled her up against his side and said in her ear, “No denim, huh?”
“You have to admit,” she said with a smile, still facing the reporters, “I look damned good in this suit.”
“I have to admit I want to see you out of that suit ASAP.” He knew they had to keep facing forward with friendly, composed expressions and mannerisms as if they were discussing nothing more than work. Mason didn’t want the media in his work and he definitely didn’t want them in his love life. But it was damned hard not to grab her and kiss her right there in front of them all.
An incredible sense of relief and rightness swept over him as her scent drifted up to him and he breathed deep. She was here. She’d gotten on a plane—
“You got on a plane?” he demanded, turning toward her with a frown.
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Smile, Mason.”
Gritting his teeth, he faced the reporters and relaxed his face. He wasn’t quite able to pull off a smile. “You flew to get here?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“I know about your heart. I know that—”
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
He turned toward her. “What happened?” He was thrilled, of course. But this was big. Something had changed her mind.
“You happened, Mason.” She glanced up at him with a smile. “You’re worth every risk. Without you, my heart wouldn’t be whole anyway.”
No one had ever said something like that to him before. He started to reach for her, but she nudged him. “Answer the question.”
The question…
Mason turned to the reporters and answered a question about the shortened growing season for his seeds. Then Adrianne kept him from losing his cool when asked about the skeptics who wondered if IAS was playing God.
His response was that those skeptics would be praying to him for help if an earthquake took their homes, friends and livelihoods.
Adrianne’s response was much better. “Innovative Agricultural Solutions is still, of course, working within the confines of the natural world. While what they do certainly seems miraculous, Dr. Riley and his team still answer to Mother Nature. Soil, water, light, pests all still play a role.”
That might have been the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.
That the love of his life not only understood and supported him, but was willing an
d able to go on record with it…that was the miracle.
“As a layperson myself, I understand that it’s hard to grasp what they’re doing, but I am smart enough to know that I should be thankful—to IAS and to God for giving them the brains to do this wonderful thing.”
Adrianne stepped back next to him as Ryan moved to the podium again.
“You know it’s killing me to stand here next to you and not touch you,” Mason said.
She reached out and hooked her pinky finger with his.
“You always broadcast everything you feel for me. Wish you were broadcasting right now,” he added.
She kept her face toward the crowd. “My feelings right now are that this is a hell of a project and neither of us is going to mess it up. If I have to keep the fact that I’m madly in love with you under wraps for a few minutes, I can do it.”
“I don’t care what these reporters think,” Mason said.
“I do. I want them to make you look really, really good. Because you are really, really good. But,” she added after a pause, “the minute we’re alone, I’m going to be very outgoing about how I feel.”
He tightened his finger on hers and fought to keep from putting his hand on her butt. At least.
“You could have told me about your fear of flying,” he whispered.
“No, I couldn’t.”
He opened his mouth to reply and then shut it. She could have but it would have changed everything—exactly what she didn’t want.
“And now?” he asked. She was here. Something had happened.
“I told Lauren I wanted to do this and she helped me find a way to get over my fear.”
“How?”
She gave him a mischievous smile. “I’ll show you later.”
He frowned. Adrianne and Lauren as allies should make him happy. Instead, it made him nervous. The only two women in the world who really knew him were teaming up…that could only be trouble.
“Smile, Mason.”
He tried.
“I love you, you know,” she said conversationally, smiling at the small crowd before them.
Pleasure and want seemed to explode in his gut. It was the first time she’d said it directly and he was standing in front of a crowd of reporters trying to act professional and intelligent. He groaned. “Not fair, Ad. Do you have any idea what I want to do right now?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do.” She smiled but kept her eyes forward. “We have all night and then it’s a long flight to Haiti. You can show me later. Repeatedly.”
“Long flight?” he repeated. “But—”
“I’m going with you to Haiti tomorrow,” she confirmed.
“No.”
She glanced at him and he realized he’d said it loudly.
“No scowling, Mason.”
He consciously relaxed his face. “You’re not going.”
“Yes, I am.” She faced their audience again.
“Your heart—”
“Is fine.”
“But your doctor—”
“Practically wrote me a prescription for the trip and for the sex,” she said. “And I met the physicians for the team. Neither are concerned. And Mason,” she said, turning to him as the last question was answered and the reporters began gathering their stuff. “It’ll be harder on my heart to be away from you anyway.”
“Cheesy,” he said. “But I appreciate the sentiment. And feel the same, by the way. But I’m only going to Haiti for the first week and then I’ll be back in Sapphire Falls. At least for a while until I need to go check on things.” But he couldn’t deny that the idea of having her with him was tempting.
“Then I’ll go with you for a week and we’ll go back to Sapphire Falls together after that.”
“I don’t want this to be too much,” he said, pulling her closer.
“I know. Me either. But I’ve already dealt with the press, the Vice President of the United States and Lauren, Phoebe and Hailey ganging up on me. I can handle anything after all of that.”
Mason pulled her in and hugged her, awed, grateful and completely in love.
And like that the answer to the fertilizer mix came to him.
“Do you have a pen?” he asked.
She pulled back, not looking a bit surprised. She reached into her jacket pocket and handed him a felt tip. Then she pushed her sleeve up.
He grinned at her and quickly jotted down the notation.
“Hey, Lauren,” Mason said as his friend joined them. “You’re going to have to grab a cab.”
“You’re going to have sex in the limo?” she asked with a groan. “Come on. It’s only like twenty minutes to the hotel.”
“That’s twenty minutes I don’t want to waste talking with you about the press conference and Haiti,” Mason told her.
“I am a very good friend,” she informed them both. Then she gave them a wink and headed after Ryan McDonald. No doubt to talk the young press secretary into giving her a ride home.
“Please tell me you’re not wearing panties,” Mason told Adrianne as they slid into the backseat of the limo.
“A thong,” she told him with a giggle.
“I can work with that.”
“I brought you a present though,” she said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a jar of caramel sauce.
He went from aroused to ready in three seconds. “I didn’t think I could love you any more than I already did.” He took the jar from her. “But in this moment, I do.” He unscrewed the top and dipped a finger in. “Let’s see some skin, babe.”
She shrugged out of her jacket and started to unbutton her shirt. A minute later, he was pulling the cup away from her breast—where he fully intended to start with the caramel—when an entirely new equation popped into his head.
“No,” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the seat.
Adrianne laughed lightly. “It’s been a few days. There’s a lot to shake loose.”
“Where’s the pen?” he asked, licking the caramel sauce off his finger so he could write.
She held it up. He took it with a sigh and uncapped it. “You better keep undressing. This is a big one.”
She shifted and moved to straddle his lap. “I know.”
He couldn’t believe it was all coming together like this. Except that he could.
He started writing as she undressed, scribbling notations he hoped he could read later over her stomach. She unhooked her bra and let it slide down her arms, obstructing his view. He switched locations to her right breast.
“Good enough,” he said when he had the basic idea down. He’d remember the rest. Or not. He really didn’t care once Adrianne dipped her finger into the caramel and swirled it around her nipple. He took the hard, sweet tip in his mouth and in that moment wasn’t sure he could even remember how to spell Haiti.
Adrianne got rid of the caramel jar and tangled her fingers in his hair as he sucked harder, arching into him and moaning.
“I love you so damned much,” he told her gruffly.
“Show me.”
She lifted up off of his lap and quickly undid his belt buckle, pants button and zipper. She pulled his throbbing erection from his underwear, rolled on a condom and then reached under her skirt to move the thong to the side. As she sank down on him, their groans were almost loud enough to rattle the partition between them and the driver. She was hot and wet for him, as ready as he was.
“I love you, Mason,” Adrianne gasped as he shifted, causing sweet friction and intense heat.
“I’m going to need reminding of that for the next sixty years or so.” He held her hips as he thrust upward.
“My pleasure,” she gasped, lifting and lowering herself in rhythm with his thrusts.
He was in the midst of making love to her and he was hungry for her. Unbelievable. Giving her pleasure, making her make those sounds he’d never get enough of, causing that look of love and lust on her face, would now forever be a part of what he needed too.
Mason pulled
her down for a deep, slow kiss and then held her gaze as he surged up into her. “You’re mine. Tell me you know that.”
She barely had breath but managed, “You know, being demanding and possessive isn’t very nerdy.”
He thrust up hard and she groaned.
“Maybe you’ve saved me from my nerdiness again,” he told her. “Because I intend to be very demanding and possessive.” He thrust again to show her. “Come for me, Ad.”
She groaned. “Yes, Mason.”
“Yes, you’re mine or yes, you’re about to come for me?”
“Both,” she gasped.
And she did. Right along with him. Just as they pulled up in front of the hotel.
Mason tipped the maid extra the next day when they checked out. He was sure the caramel sauce made the sheets pretty sticky.
The week in Haiti wasn’t easy—physically or emotionally. The devastation was still clear and the living conditions were far from ideal.
But Adrianne loved it.
Watching Mason in action was inspiring and made her positive that with him, wherever that was, was exactly where she wanted and needed to be.
She ate strange food, had a very weird routine and certainly hadn’t seen a treadmill, but she was sleeping wonderfully next to Mason every night and feeling better than ever.
Her chest hadn’t hurt since seeing him in DC.
They met with local farmers, talked with relief workers and discussed their plans with scientists from other countries.
They also posed for pictures, gave interviews and basically let the reporters follow them around for three days.
Finally though, Adrianne could tell Mason had had enough.
“Julia, I have someone you have to meet,” Adrianne said to the reporter who had cornered Mason by one of the trucks. She took the other woman’s arm and started walking her away from Mason. “There’s this woman who’s been making hats for all the children since the earthquake. Each hat is unique and enables each child to have something that is their very own that’s different from everyone else’s. She believes this gives them hope that they haven’t been forgotten and that they matter.”
It was a true story and Adrianne felt it was one that should be told. Julia was one of many reporters who should be picking up on these human-interest stories—and leaving Mason alone to get some work done.