“No. Why do you love me?” I clarified, walking around the bed getting closer.
Wes’s eyes seemed to follow every step. “Because you take it away?”
That desperate tone broke me down to my own base level where the mushy side usually won over.
At least we were getting somewhere. Sweat trickled along his skin, toward his chiseled torso, and along the highway of muscles making up his fine abdomen.
“And how do I take it away?” I cocked a naked hip to the side. His eyes traced the movement. “Because you’re not being hurt, right? Not here in our bed.”
He flinched and shook his head.
“Wes?”
His head jerked and he winced.
“Do I look hurt to you?”
He needed to see the truth. Connect with reality once more.
He raked his gaze over my naked body lustfully but with that hint of familiarity, connection. He was coming back, slowly but surely. I’d done my job. If anything, I’d always bring him back to me.
“No. You look good enough to fuck.” The vulgar word arrowed its way right to my core where I softened, readying for him. I had to be strong, get to the end of this before I pounced the same way he wanted to.
“And why do you want to fuck me?” I countered.
“Because you’re everything good and right in the world. I can breathe near you.” His voice was gritty and untamed, all man.
My heart split wide open and tears threatened to fall, but I stayed solid. For him. For me. For us.
“And why can you breathe near me? Is it because you’re safe at home, in our bed?”
The words seamed to resonate deep within his mind because he blinked several times and the blackness dissipated. Green, the color of fresh shamrocks, rose to the surface, swallowing all the darkness. “Mia, sweetheart, come here.” Wes was speaking in a tone that I adored. One I’d go a long way to hear each and every day.
I swayed my hips with extra oomph as I got on the bed, crawled up his legs, and straddled him. His cock was as hard as granite against my thigh. “This for me?” I asked while wrapping a hand around the base.
“You know it is.” He smirked. From night terrors to a smirk?
Pat, pat, pat. Thank you very much. Good job, Mia.
“And what should I do with it?” I asked coyly, licking my lips, debating between my mouth or the throbbing heat between my thighs.
I expected a joking retort, but he lifted his hands and threaded his fingers through the hair at my nape as he cupped my face, soft thumbs centering my jaw as he looked directly into my eyes. “You’re going to love me. Any way you want. For as long as you want. Until it all goes away. Because that’s what you do. My Mia. My everything. You take away all the horrid memories and replace with them new ones.”
Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, but I held them at bay. Now was the time for love, for reunion, not sorrow and sadness.
“Make love to me,” I pleaded softly.
“Christ, I thought you’d never ask.”
I giggled as he took my mouth, the laughter turning into moans, which turned into cries of the pleasurable variety long into the night.
* * *
Bizz. Bizz. Bizz.
I swatted near my face and snuffled back into Wes’s warmth.
Bizz. Bizz. Bizz.
Fuck me. Slowly opening bleary eyes, I checked the clock. Five in the morning. Seriously? Wes and I just barely finished our fuck-a-thon some time near three a.m.
I figured the phone would eventually stop as I attempted to go back into dreamland. Wrong.
Bizz. Bizz. Bizz.
Do Not Disturb mode. That’s what normal people did. They set their phones on do not disturb or charged those things in another room. Stupid me, I had to have the blasted thing right next to my frickin’ head. It sounded like a horde of angry bees as it vibrated against the wooden end table. Performing a stretch, reach, grab that would make Olympic gymnasts proud, I clasped the phone and dragged it under the covers.
Wes had half of my body pinned, as was his way after a night terror. It was as if he used his entire body as a shield. Pushing him, attempting to move subtly, only made him cling tighter. I learned that the hard way. And since I wanted to be in that same bed with my man, I dealt with the weight and the heat and plain got used to it. I’d take his weight locking me down over him being left for dead in a third world country any day.
“Hullo,” I mumbled into the phone.
“Mia, sugar, he’s here!” Max’s ecstatic voice roared through the line. “He’s so big. A brute, my boy! Check your phone, darlin’. I sent you a picture.”
I laughed and blinked a few times pushing the phone out, going to the text messages and opening the first of twelve messages from Max.
The weight pushing me into the mattress changed. Wes leaned back, pulled the covers off my hidey-hole, and burrowed his face into my neck so he could see. The scruff that had grown overnight grated along my neck pleasurably. I hummed as I scanned each picture. The newest more beautiful than the last.
“That Max?” Wes asked, his voice a low rumble.
My throat was clogged up, filled to the brim with emotion as I stared at baby Jackson. Only it wasn’t the cherub mini-giant that caught my attention. Well, first it did. However, one of the images showed a picture of him swaddled, lying in his clear plastic hospital bassinet. There was a card over his head that had “BOY” in big letters. That wasn’t what had tears trailing silently down my cheeks. No, it was the name.
Maxwell and Cyndi had given me and Maddy a gift today. One that I knew would connect us for life. Above the most adorable baby’s head was his name. In neat, perfect script the card clearly said:
First Name: Jackson
Middle Name: Saunders
Last Name: Cunningham
Weight: 10lbs, 7 oz.
Length: 22.5 inches
“Max…” I said his name, but I think it came out as a garbled cough.
Wes traced the name on the screen and kissed my cheek. “Good guy,” he whispered to me as I stared at my namesake.
“The best,” I croaked to Wes and then brought the phone to my ear.
“Did you see it? Did you see your surprise?” Max asked with more pride and love than I could handle. My heart was filled to bursting.
I licked my lips and wiped my runny nose on the sheet. Good thing Ms. Croft changed them regularly. Though she probably did that because she knew how much sex we were having in them.
“Max I don’t know what to say…” And I didn’t. No person had ever given me such a gift.
“Aw, Sis, you don’t have to say anything aside from that he’s perfect.”
I stared at Jackson’s little face, the blond tuffs a halo around the crown of his head. “Oh, he is. So perfect. And his name…thank you.”
Max breathed heavy into the phone. “Mia, having you and Maddy in our lives now, I can’t tell you what it means to me. I was so lost after my dad…” His voice deepened. “To find you’re my sister, and Maddy. Shoot, sugar, this is just one way Cyndi and I can show you that we’re in it for life. You hear me? For life. You women are my sisters and Saunders is a part of you. I want there to be nothing between us. This is my way of saying nothing ever will be again.”
“I love you, Max. You really are the best big brother. And Jackson Saunders Cunningham is an impeccable name. Strong, handsome, just like his dad. I can’t wait to see him.”
Max chuckled. “Fancy you mention that. Cyndi and I figured all of you could maybe come out to the ranch for Thanksgiving. If, uh, you’re not workin’?”
Thanksgiving. The holidays. Things I’d never worried about until right then. We were closing in on the holidays. What would the show demand? If they kept me on for November, which was a big if, I could still bust ass and do a segment in a few days so I could head to Texas for the holiday.
A real family Thanksgiving. Then again, Wes might want us to be with his family. Shit, I didn’t know. These were thin
gs one usually worked out with their mate.
“Um, it sounds fun, but no promises, okay? I need to hash it out with Wes and see what happens with the show. Is it, uh, okay if I say I need a little time to figure out where we’ll be?”
Max laughed. Not one of those simpering little chick laughs, but a full-bellied laugh that rumbled through the phone and straight into my chest. “Of course, sugar. You need to work it out with your fella and Maddy. I imagine she’ll have to figure it out with Matt’s family. They’re good people. Maybe I’ll see about inviting them all out.”
“Easy, killer. You all just had a baby. Cyndi might not want a house full of people just over a month after having a child.” I thought that was important to mention. Not that I knew what all was involved with a new baby, but all the TV shows and movies I’d watched made it seem like the first few months were exhausting.
“Cyndi’s the one who suggested it!” he said.
“Consider it the pregnancy talking. Hey, enjoy baby Jack. And definitely keep sending me pics. I want a mailbox full of images of the world’s cutest boy to pour over.”
“I heard that!” Max said happily. The joy in his voice was unmatched. I wished I could have been there and could hug him and tell him how happy I was for him. Being a couple thousand miles away right then sucked rotten eggs.
“Give Cyndi my love and tell her great job! That boy is a moose! Over ten pounds. Jeez, Louise!”
“Hey, runs in the family. Dad said I was close to ten pounds, too. You and your fella better watch out.” He laughed into the phone.
I wanted to reach through the line and pinch him! “You’re evil. I take back everything I ever said,” I huffed.
“Spoil sport! Glad you like the surprise. I love you, Sis.”
And the waterworks were back. Jesus, I felt like my life had become a series of Hallmark greeting cards. Every new card I picked up was a water fight. “I love you too, Maximus. Take care.”
“Will do. Go back to bed. What are you doing on the phone so early anyway?”
Before I could come up with a wicked retort he hung up. Damn, first Gin won the phone battle and now Max. I was off my game.
I sighed just as two arms spun me around, and I nuzzled into Wes’s chest. “Hey.” I snuggled into his warmth like a baby kitten and found the comfy spot. He stroked my hair and hummed.
“Your family okay?”
I nodded into his chest. “Yep. Cyndi is good, baby has an epically cool name, and I’m an auntie twice over.”
“How’s that feel?” Wes murmured, but it sounded really far away. The exhaustion had taken its toll. Even though the news was good and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, I was nodding off.
“It feels…it feels perfect.”
Chapter Nine
An assistant led me through the door of the office of the show’s executive producer at Century Productions. Leona Markham looked young for her age, but I kept that thought to myself. In order to have the position she held, she was probably well into her forties but didn’t look a day over thirty. Her hair was a thick mane of brown curls down to her shoulders that complimented her butterscotch eyes. She rocked a pristine white suit with devastatingly sharp black patent leather stilettos. Her skirt was so tight it molded to her toned frame like a second skin. From her solid calves to her sleek jawline, this woman had spent some time putting herself together, and it worked for her. Boy, did it work for her. She was smokin’ hot. I could only hope to look that good at her age.
As I sat down, she cast a gaze over my simple A-line skirt, silk tank, and wedge sandals. I wasn’t due to tape today, so I’d left the fancy duds at home. Actually, Wes and I had just finished the third editing session for the newest segment for Living Beautiful. It was about a firehouse in East LA that took in rescue puppies and trained them to serve as working animals for the physically and mentally handicapped and wounded warriors. The firemen took turns training the dogs to pick up things, open doors, get help, watch out for safety obstacles, and most importantly, provide love. They’d shown me in a scant couple days how much the dogs they’d trained affected the lives of the people they gifted the dogs to. It was a win-win for everyone.
“Ms. Saunders—” she started, but I stopped her.
“Mia’s fine.” I smiled, took a seat, and clasped my hands together on my lap.
“Thank you, Mia. Leona is fine as well.”
I nodded and waited to find out why I was here. Before she could say anything, the door burst open and Dr. Hoffman and his starry-eyed assistant, Shandi, entered.
“Sorry I’m late. Shandi and I were just looking over the initial notes on the fireman/rescue dog piece Mia just edited with her fiancé, Mr. Channing.”
The bravado with which he said Wes’s name made me roll my eyes. Of course, Leona was watching my reaction, not the good doctor’s. Her lips curved into a smirk, and I chuckled under my breath.
“Mia, darling, the piece”—he lifted his fingers to his mouth and kissed them the way an Italian mother straight from Sicily would—“ is magnificent. Brilliant. I knew, I just knew, you’d be a great addition to the show. Was I wrong, Leona?”
Leona sat down behind her monstrous desk, placed her elbows on the top of her calendar, and held her hands under her chin. “No. You were not. As a matter of fact, that’s what you’re here today to talk about, Mia.” Before she spoke, she pressed a couple buttons on her phone. “Ms. Milan, are you there?”
My aunt’s voice rang through crisp and clear on the speaker phone. “I am. Thank you for having me. Now, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
This time, I looked down and tried to breathe through my desire to snort with laughter. Millie only talked with a high-handed tone when she wanted something or wanted to impress someone. I had a feeling it was the latter.
“I called you both here alongside Dr. Hoffman because we have some news and a proposition we’d like to make the two of you.”
Wes had said this might happen. I held my breath, not wanting to hope. Heck, I was too afraid to hope. On pins and needles, I sat up straighter and waited.
“In case you haven’t noticed, the show is doing extremely well. Since Mia’s first segment for Living Beautiful, our audience has increased by twenty-five percent. We figured the first segment was so well received not only because of the content but also the fact that you and Mr. Channing have been recently in the news. The press surrounding his captivity and the speculation around the movie being scrapped could have been the reason for the first airing going well. However, the second added an additional ten percent to our daily viewers. The day your second segment aired, we had an additional five million viewers.”
I frowned. “So what does that mean in English?” I asked, not wanting to sound stupid, but it could be a lot, or it could mean that I wasn’t getting enough new viewers. Honestly, I would have no idea one way or the other. There were over three hundred million people living in the United States. I had no way to gauge if five million more viewers were enough.
Leona sat back in her chair, her eyes wide as she shook her head. “That means when you’re on, fifteen million people are watching you, as opposed to Dr. Hoffman’s average daily viewership of nine to ten million.”
“Wow!” I let the single word say it all. Now that definitely meant I was kicking some serious ass.
Dr. Hoffman beamed and sat down in the chair next to me. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the sideboard that held an array of drinks. Shandi popped away from the wall she was leaning against to get him whatever his silent request was.
Without even thinking, I snarled and made a gag noise.
“What?” he looked at me indifferently.
I scowled. “Really? You just snapped your fingers at your assistant. Totally rude!” I shook my head and locked gazes with Leona. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
She chuckled. “No, you were right. He was out of line.” She hooked a thumb towards Drew. “Unfortunately, that’s also part of his charm.
The unknowing bastard.” The way she said it made it seem complimentary, though it was anything but.
Drew huffed and smirked as Shandi handed him a tumbler of what I gathered was rum and coke since the Malibu was still out and an opened can of Coca-Cola sat next to it. “Thank you, dear one,” Drew cooed at Shandi, and like a proud kitty that had caught a bird and laid the dead carcass at his feet, she radiated her happiness.
Wanting to get back to the editing room to a decidedly more attractive man, who was teaching me everything about forming a great story and waiting patiently, I clapped my hands on my thighs, getting both their attention. “Was there more?”
“In a hurry?” Leona asked while sitting back in her leather chair. She was a queen on her throne and the studio her castle.
I could have lied, but I’d been working on that. Wes was teaching me that honesty truly was the best policy in all things. “Yeah, kind of. Wes is waiting back in editing. We’re finalizing the Service is Beautiful segment for Friday’s show.”
Leona nodded. “I’m sure it will be a hit. Are you still there, Ms. Milan?” she asked randomly.
My aunt’s voice crackled through the phone. “Barely. You’re lucky I’ve got paperwork to do while the three of you dribble along. Can we get to the point? I’ve got things to attend to in the next fifteen minutes.” Her words were direct, and I liked that about my auntie. When she was in business mode, she never minced words or wasted time. It was a quality I appreciated in general.
Leona smiled and tapped her desk. “Well, to the point, your ratings and those of the show are increasing exponentially. We obviously want to capitalize on that. So what Dr. Hoffman and Century Productions have agreed upon is that we’d like to offer you a regular spot on the show. You will continue the weekly Living Beautiful segment, but starting in November, we’d like to shift your time on the show up considerably.”
Calendar Girl: October: Book 10 Page 9