“Really?” I shook my head.
“What Mia is probably trying to ask is whether or not us having public displays of affection will be a problem with the sponsors or the agency?”
No, that is not at all what Mia was suggesting. What planet did I land on when I got off that plane? Were these two for real? I sighed and decided it was best to play along until I figured out what was going on. “Yeah, what he said.”
Rachel’s lips twitched and the tension seemed to ebb out of her shoulders. It was like watching a morning glory close up for the evening. Slowly relaxing, curling its petals inward to rest until the morning sun brought it back up again, or in this case, a nosey escort originally from Vegas with very little filter. “The team has spent long hours planning this. We understand it’s an unconventional approach, but Mr. Murphy has not presented the public with an idol people look up to. Along with some other things, he’ll need to change the frequent bar brawls, excessive drinking, even the occasional cigarette is a no-go. The team believes that the horde of women he’s paraded around all last season, never being seen with the same woman twice did very little to help his image. We’re committed to turning that around and you’re step one.”
Finally, I chanced a glance at Mason. His elbows were on his knees and his head was in his hands. A defeated posture if I’d ever seen one. I got up and sat right next to him placing a hand on his back then rubbing up and down. He turned his head toward me. “Man, I’ve fucked up.”
“We all fuck up. At least you’ve hired Rachel, and your publicist thinks you’re worthy of turning it all around.” I continued to smooth a hand up and down his strong back until he lifted his head. He adjusted his shoulders, pushing them back, leading with his chest.
“Okay, so you want PDA?” he asked Rachel and she nodded.
“You got it.” He turned to me with a fierce expression and a laser focus to his gaze. “Let’s do this.” Then his hands were clasping the side of my head and his lips were on mine. I gasped, opening my mouth by accident. Instead, he took it as an invitation. Initially, it wasn’t one, but then the taste of champagne still lingered on his tongue as he flicked over mine, and I hadn’t been kissed in what felt like forever, but was really only two weeks. Couple that with the yummy cologne that wafted over his body and I was gone. Lost to his kiss. His tongue dipped in, demanding yet playful. I licked back, leaned forward, clasped the front of his shirt, and held him in place while slanting my head for more. More of his kiss, more of him. Fuck. This was not part of the plan.
When we finally pulled away, both of us were panting, gasping for breath.
“How was that?” Mason turned around to where Rachel was sitting, but she was gone. I could hear her heels clicking on the tile. “Rachel?” he called out.
“See you tomorrow. Great job!” she called out through the house two seconds before the door slammed shut.
Mason slumped against the back of the couch. “Fuck me.”
I shook my head and leaned back. “Not gonna happen.” He chuckled. “What was that?”
“That was me kissing a seriously hot escort.” His eyes glinted with a hint of lust, but I knew better. It was body mechanics. Sure he was drop dead gorgeous, and I can’t say that kissing him didn’t get my juices flowing, but attraction and genuine interest are two totally different things.
“You like her,” I offered him an olive branch.
His lips pinched together and he closed his eyes. “Of course I do. She’s nice and I pay them well. We’re all happy. What’s not to like?”
“That not what I mean and you know it.”
“Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry and you need to get settled. There’s a bunch of shit, in bags, that Rachel or Val purchased as part of the deal. I didn’t put it away; I just set it on the bed. Pizza okay?”
He stood quickly and started to walk away and then must have thought better of it. He turned and offered his hand. “Thanks for taking the job,” he said as he pulled me to my feet. “Your room is the first door on the right, unless you want to share mine,” he waggled his eyebrows and thrust his hips. I blew out a fast breath and shook my head. As I started walking, he smacked me hard on the ass.
“That’s a mighty fine ass ya got there, Mia.”
I stopped, cocked a hip, and put my hand on it. “If you want to keep that hand, you’ll keep it off my ass.”
He backed away with two hands up. “Okay, okay, just getting a little practice in for tomorrow’s game. No harm, no foul, right?”
“Save it for the game. You’re going to need it.” I sauntered to the stairs thinking I’d gotten the last word when I heard him respond just as I got to the top of the stairs.
“Honey, don’t you know I always play to win?”
Oh brother.
Chapter 2
The moment a girl like me finds bliss in clothing, it should be treated like a national holiday, highlighted, and circled on the calendar with a giant red Sharpie pen. Tugging on a sleek new pair of True Religion jeans, followed by a tight, Red Sox t-shirt, had me wanting to bow down to Aunt Millie for scoring me this gig. I was spending a month with a famous baseball pitcher. Sure, he was rough around the edges, immature, and needed a spanking…and not the good kind, but you couldn’t beat a job where you got to rock jeans and t-shirts. I slipped on a pair of red converse and just about melted.
I looked at myself in the mirror, sliding a hand over my rounded ass. Yep, still looking pretty tight. I hadn’t put on any weight since this started; I was still a good size eight, but felt tight where I needed and soft where I wanted. The overall picture seemed to be booking me gigs, and I was getting closer and closer to paying off Blaine. Four payments down, six to go. If I booked every month, I could leave this life before the holidays. Though who am I kidding? I was making a hundred grand a month, sometimes with an additional twenty thousand. Why give it up?
As I pulled my long black waves into cute pigtails, another thing I found out men like Mason dig on, and placed a baseball cap on my head, my thoughts trailed to Wes. Out of anyone, he’s the one thing I’d like to pursue. When we’re together, it’s everything. Apart, I find it too easy to come up with reasons that we’re not meant to be or that our connection isn’t as strong as I wanted to think it was. Basically, I figured out that I was really good at protecting my heart, but I missed him. It had been a couple weeks. Wouldn’t hurt to reach out…
I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. It rang a few times before a female voice I didn’t recognize answered. “Hello,” she giggled.
“Um, Hi, I think I may have got the wrong number.”
She laughed, and I could hear feet slapping noisily against wood floors. Booming laughter rang out which I knew for a fact belonged to Wes.
“Are you calling for Weston?” she cooed and that sultry sound of her voice tinged the recesses of my memory. I knew that voice. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Gina DeLuca, one of the most beautiful, sought after, Hollywood starlets alive. The woman was currently playing the lead in Wes’s movie Honor Code.
More rustling came through the line. “Gina…girl, you are so going to get it!” Weston’s voice was rough yet playful. “Come here, sexy,” Wes said breathily, obviously chasing after her.
“Sorry to cut you off, but Wes will have to call you back. He’s very busy,” she squealed.
“Gotcha!” I heard Wes say and then the unmistakable sound of kissing noises followed by a female throaty moan. “Get off the phone,” he growled and she mewled, obviously not paying attention to the phone. A jagged edged knife dug deep into my heart, but, even with the fiery pain, I couldn’t hang up. I was glued to the spot, an onlooker staring in awe at the site of a car accident, only by phone. I had absolutely no right to be hurt, none at all, but it didn’t change the facts. I felt gutted listening to Wes carry on with another woman.
Is this what he felt knowing I was going to a new man every month? Probably not anymore if the noises of wet lips meeting flesh
were any indication.
“It’s your phone! Not mine. Some chick. Here.” I heard her say and then time stopped. My heart beat like a heavy drum almost counting the mere seconds before he realized who called and what I’d heard.
“Fuck.” I heard him curse as the phone probably changed hands.
“What’s the matter baby? Okay, you win. Come back to bed.” Her voice was distant as if she was getting farther away and riddled in apology.
A groan split the space between us. “Mia,” his voice was a pained rumble in my ear. “I’m sorry, that, uh, that shouldn’t have happened.”
I shook my head, but he couldn’t see me. Tears pooled at the surface but there was no way I was going to allow them to fall. If I did, I’d be a pile of mush on the bed and incapable of pulling off the happy, pretend girlfriend to hot shot Red Sox pitcher Mason Murphy. “Hey, no, it’s okay. I just uh, called to say hi. So, hi.”
“Hi,” he responded sadly. “Fuck, Mia. It’s not…um, technically, it’s just. Jesus Christ!” I could hear a door shut in the background and birds chirping in the distance. He was probably looking out over Malibu as far as the eye could see. If I were there, I’d be holding him around the waist and doing the same. Not now. No, now he’s got Gina to do that for him. “This doesn’t change anything,” he choked out.
I snorted. “Really? It changes everything.”
His voice was a growl when he responded. “How so? We’re still friends.”
“That’s true. We are friends.”
“And this thing with Gina, it’s totally casual, you know, we’re letting off some steam. She knows I’m not the relationship type. Well, at least not for her.”
“So you are for me?”
He let out a slow breath. “If I answer that honestly are you going to do something about it? I’ve given you that chance more than once. You’ve not taken it. We both agreed to take this year. Are you reneging on that now?”
A traitorous tear slipped down my cheek. Fucking hormones. “No, I’m not Wes. I just,” I let out a breath. “I guess I just didn’t expect you to move on.”
“What makes you think I have? Fucking Gina? Tell me you and Frenchie didn’t spend a month fucking after you left me?”
“Wes,” I warned and he cut me off.
“It’s true. This is no different. We’re not together officially, but you know I’d drop anything and anyone to be with you, but as cliché as it sounds…a man has needs too. I think it’s best we not discuss those.”
I bit down on my lip and sat on the bed. “No, you’re right. It’s incredibly unfair for me to have any claim over you when I’m not willing to give the same, but, Wes,” my voice broke and I couldn’t finish.
“Sweetheart tell me…please fuck, Mia. I’ll do anything to stay in your heart. Nothing has changed.”
He says that, but it’s not true. It’s like starting over again, my heart locked up tight in Pandora’s little box. “Just, I don’t want to lose you.”
“Mia, you’re always going to be on my mind, and when you’re ready for more and this thing between us gets a real chance…we’ll deal with it. You and me.”
“Yeah okay. Just one thing, Wes.”
“Anything sweetheart.”
“Remember me.” I said and hung up and powered down my phone. There was absolutely no way I could talk to him for one more second. I had a job to do and needed to put all my baggage in its case in the closet so that I could focus.
Mason Murphy, you better watch out. You’re about to get one helluva show.
***
Instantly, I was assaulted by the scents of hotdogs, popcorn, beer, and the ball field. For a girl like me, this was as close to Heaven as I’d ever been. Mason held my hand and led me through the underground tunnels of the ballpark. It was almost impossible to play the cool-card when he walked me through the locker room. Yes, the fucking locker room. Half naked, and some completely naked drool-worthy men were standing around shooting the shit, preparing for the game. If I was a different girl, I’d have covered my eyes or at the very least tried to play modest. Nope. Not this girl. I ogled like a pervy pubescent teen watching the older sexy neighbor girl changing clothes with a pair of binoculars through a set of blinds.
“Hey, Junior, I want you to meet my girlfriend,” Mason said to Junior Gonzalez, the starting catcher for the Boston Red Sox. I had a small fan-girl moment squeezing Mason’s rock hard bicep like I was ringing water out of a towel trying to keep my cool. He placed his hand over mine and patted it, looked down at me and gave me a wink. “Buddy, I think you’ve got a fan.”
The Hispanic man was big and muscular. The pants he was wearing stretched over tree-trunk sized thighs sending a wild flutter to the sensitive space between my legs. Junior’s hair was thick, black, and cropped short on top. His eyes were a chocolate brown, a stark contrast to the white of his smiling grin and mocha colored skin. “Hey, Mama, what’s shakin’?” he waggled his eyebrows, and I swooned. Straight up leaned into Mason’s side and sighed. They both laughed, but I just stared in perfect silence at the magnificence that was Junior Gonzalez. Best catcher known to baseball and one beefcake piece of perfection I call man.
“You’re amazing,” I finally stuttered. He looked me up and down then glanced over at his friend.
“You’re not so bad yourself. You want to skip right on over this schmuck and hang with a real man, sweetheart?” he joked. I knew he was teasing, because he didn’t make a move or gesture to bring me closer to him. Mason laughed.
I shook my head but wanted to do the opposite. Junior Gonzalez would be a nice distraction from my conversation and feelings over a certain blond haired movie-making surfer who was currently fucking a goddess with a body that men would fall onto a sword for.
“Mace tells me you’re uh, with us for the month?” His voice dropped and he tilted his head, those chocolate eyes sharing the knowledge of my true reason for being here.
“Yep, all month long.” I smacked Mason’s chest then rubbed it, pretending to be playful but really was anything but.
He winced and rubbed at the spot. “Easy there, tiger. I swear, the hottest chick they had at the escort service as luck would have it, isn’t an easy lay.” I wanted to him again at hearing those words.
Junior closed his eyes, dropped his head, and shook it from left to right. “Man, when are you ever going to learn you can’t treat a lady like a piece of ass? Girl,” he emphasized the word, “I hope you teach this boy a lesson.”
I winked and pushed Mason to move on. “I plan to.”
“Shee-it,” Junior snickered and turned away. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
“Lady Luck has never worked for me in the past. I can’t imagine she will magically start now,” I threw over my shoulder.
Mason scoffed. “Who needs luck when she’s got me?”
“Come on, honey, show me to my seat.” I said this saccharine sweet while rubbing along his side. He looped an arm across my shoulder and kissed my temple.
***
There is an interesting thing about baseball most of the general public doesn’t know about. A secret elite clique called the WAGs. Which stands for “Wives and Girlfriends.” Since we were running a tad behind, Mason dropped me off at the WAG section and bailed, putting a wad of twenties in my hand. Nothing says whore like dropping a handful of Jackson’s in her palm. Just for that, he wasn’t getting a penny back. I planned on burning all two hundred bucks on beer, brats, and trinkets.
I found my seat and sat down carefully, not wanting to bump into the gaggle of geese that were chatting a mile a minute. Even so, they made no bones about looking me over. Each chick was around my age, some a few years older or younger but no more than a five to seven year gap between us.
“Hey,” I waved to the line. Four heads swung to me. “I’m Mia,” I tried the friendly approach.
One girl, who I assumed to be the ringleader, leaned forward. “You Mace’s girl for the night?”
My ey
ebrows narrowed. “Um, no I’ll be with him all month. I flew in from Vegas. We’re old friends but working on more. This month will let us know whether we can go long term or not.”
A blonde sitting two seats over choked back a laugh. “Long term?”
The brunette ringleader twisted her lips. “We’ve never seen Mace in a relationship before. You know, he’s been the type to go the route of the three F’s.” She picked at her fingernail and then looked my way bored. “You know, finger ‘em, fuck ‘em, and flick ‘em off.”
“Wow. Well, that’s gotta suck for the bitches he’s fucked in the past.” I said nonchalantly, not letting her jab win.
A sweet-looking strawberry blonde with her hair in an adorable ponytail put her hand on my knee “Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know Mace. I know him pretty well, and I have faith he can be committed to the right girl. I’m sure you’re probably her.” Her smile and voice reminded me of an angel. Kind pretty brown eyes.
I held out my hand. “I’m Mia Saunders.”
She took my hand and shook it. “Kristine but you can call me Kris. I’m with Junior,” her cheeks instantly turned a rosy pink. “We’ve only been dating for three months, but I’m head over heels for him.” She clasped her hands together on her lap and smiled shyly. “That’s why I know Mace. They’re like brothers. Well, except for Mace’s other brothers and Junior’s clan.”
I laughed. “Junior has a lot of family.”
“A lot doesn’t begin to describe it. Junior is one of nine siblings.”
“Wow,” I offered then saw a food vendor coming our way. “Hey, over here. I’m starved. Brat and a beer?” I asked.
Kris’s entire face lit up as if the sun had just shined directly on her. I could see the appeal for Junior. She was angelic and sweet. “Sure, thank you. That’s so nice. See, guys, Mia’s not a hoochie, she’s cool,” she noted to the other girls in our section.
“Jury’s still out.” The brunette said to the two women on her left.
I shrugged. “Whatever, I’m not here for them. I’m here to see my man kick some ass on the ball field. Between him pitching and Junior catching…we got this. Am I right?” I said to Kris, holding out my hand. She smacked it and whooped.
April (Calendar Girl #4) Page 2