April (Calendar Girl Book 4)

by Audrey Carlan

  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.

  “Hey, my guy kills it on first!” said one of the women. “I’m Chrissy by the way,” the sexy redhead added.

  “Good to meet ya, Chrissy.”

  “And I’m Morgan!” A lovely light-brown haired gal added. The brunette grumbled, but obviously saw she was in a losing battle. I was winning over the WAGs. “This is Sarah,” Morgan hooked a thumb to her side. “She’s pissy because she and her guy, Brett, had a tiff over a groupie last night. He plays second base.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, you’re guy, he’s hot. I could see how groupies would want to be all over him.”

  Her bravado slipped away and her shoulders slumped. “This stupid skank had the nerve to come over and sit in his lap when I left to go to the bathroom. He didn’t do anything…well, much. He played around like it was all fun and games and held her hips and everything!” She scowled and then let out a screechy sound like an animal dying.

  Apparently, connecting with a woman was easier than I thought. I only had Gin and Maddy, but my chick arsenal was growing. I now added Jennifer back in Malibu who was happily pregnant and of course Tony’s sister, Angie who was also happily pregnant, but this type of experience was new. Seems, if you talked shit about your man, you were all of a sudden in the clique. Hmmm. I took note of this strange behavior, let her complain, bitch, and then cry about how much of an asshole her guy was. By the end of the first inning, I was her new best friend. I plied them all with beers and brats with my free two hundred bucks and purchased myself a big red foam finger! It was an awesome finger. I was taking this sucker with me wherever I went. I loved it.

  On the first strike out of the second inning, I jumped up and shouted at the top of my lungs with my foam finger. “Mason, you go BABY! That’s my man over there. Mason Murphy, striking ‘em out left and right,” I roared. And that’s when I heard the clicking. Several photographers had their big black cameras pointing in my direction. Show time. I blew kisses to Mason, and at one point, he took off his cap and put it over his heart then put it back on and struck out the next player. Had to admit, we were already good at this.

  During the 7th inning stretch, Mason went back to the dugout only a few rows down from where I sat. The WAGs got damn good seats. I clomped my way down to where the dugout was just out of reach. Mason rose up on one of the wooden sides, and leaned over the railing. He clasped me around the neck and looked over at the cameras. He grinned and crushed his lips over mine. Again, he was a damn good kisser. We made it look good for the photographers, but in all honesty, there was no excitement, no twinge of heat, no wetting of the panties, just a nice kiss to a hot guy.

  When I pulled away, his eyebrows narrowed. “This is doing fucking nothing for you huh? Way to wound a man, sweetness,” he purred into my ear and then pulled back, his green eyes focused on mine. They weren’t the green eyes I wanted to be drowning in right now.

  I smiled wide, draped my hands over his broad shoulders, and clung to his neck. Then he flipped my hat backward, and I leaned against his forehead. “I’m sorry. It’s just I keep thinking about Rachel.” Which wasn’t all together true. I was sad for the shy blonde who obviously lusted after Mason, and there was definitely something between the two of them, but mostly I was heartbroken over Wes.

  Mason cupped the nape of my neck, kissed my forehead, and pulled back. With a wink and smirk, he said, “Don’t think about her. I don’t.” His tone was full of bravado and lacked sincerity. “Later, sweetness.” I watched him go, pretending to pine after my hot baseball star and usually, I would. But I wasn’t feeling like myself. Ever since hearing Gina DeLuca’s voice on the other end of Wes’s phone, I’d lost a piece of myself. The drive I usually had bustling under the surface had fizzled to a dull ping, pushing me through the motions of my job.

  It was unfair, completely ridiculous, to assume he’d wait for me especially while I was fucking whomever I wanted to. For me, though, when he came to Chicago on that whim, something had changed, and I thought perhaps I could wait for him. Sex was sex. I liked sex, every red-blooded American woman did. Sex with Wes though was more than an experience. It was life changing. Alec was amazing in bed; it was fun, sensual, exotic, and great at the time. I enjoyed my time with him immensely, but my emotions weren’t involved the way they were with Wes, and I feared that even though he said things with Gina were causal that she’d learn quickly what a catch he was and ultimately, I’d come out the loser. I guess it was in my cards. Doing what I had to do for my family had to take priority.

  In the meantime, I’d focus on the job and maybe make someone else’s life better. Starting with Mason. He wasn’t a lost cause. I could see a gentleman hiding under all that swagger. Life had taught him to live in the present, and the money being thrown at him hadn’t taught him a thing about how to respect the people in his life. I wondered if he was truly happy. He couldn’t be if he had to hire an escort to pretend to be his steady girlfriend. I mean, there was a horde of women screaming his name, begging for his attention. I needed to find out more about young Mason. What made him tick, what made him the womanizer he’d been or, perhaps, pretended to be? Either way, I was here for the better part of a month, and I wasn’t going to squander that time away crying in my beer. No, I’d spend it slugging that beer back with a hot baseball player and his sexy as hell baseball friends.

  Game on!

  Chapter 3

  Week one of pretending to be Mason “Mace” Murphy’s girlfriend had ended up being a blast. I felt like I was on vacation all week. I went to four home games, three of which they won, and I gotta admit that being the girlfriend of a winning baseball player was awesome! We partied like it was 1999, only this time, all the reports of Mason showed him hanging all over the same girl, namely me, never smoking, and keeping his drinking under control. No sloppy drunkard pictures for the press this time. He was on his best behavior, and it showed with all the smut rags promoting the good news, yet still speculating when he was going to fall off his pedestal and be the bad boy they knew him to be. Well, they could just keep waiting because it wasn’t going to happen on my watch.

  Over the past week, I’d also had some time to reflect on my feelings over Wes and Gina which I lovingly now refer to as “Wesina” just to keep the fire in my belly burning. It wasn’t fair, but I’d been avoiding Wes’s calls and texts. I’d receive one call and one text per day since last week when I found out he was banging perfect Hollywood hottie Gina DeLuca. I knew if I wanted to stay close with Wes, even as friends, I needed to respond. That’s why when a text buzzed through from Wes, I didn’t immediately ignore it or delete it.

  To: Mia Saunders

  From: Wes Channing

  Was thinking about you while on location. This reminded me of you. It always will. Please talk to me.

  Under his text was a picture of a beautiful ocean. In the sand was a single surfboard. Man, I missed surfing. By the time I got back to California, I would be so out of practice, that he’d need to reteach me. That thought made me snicker.

  Without thinking too much about it, I shot off a text.

  To: Wes Channing

  From: Mia Saunders

  That view looks like Heaven. Catch a few waves for me will ya? I miss surfing with you.

  Before I could put my phone in my purse, it dinged with an incoming message.

  To: Mia Saunders

  From: Wes Channing

  She lives! Damn sweetheart. You had me worried you’d never talk to me again. Glad that’s not the case. How are you?

  To: Wes Channing

  From: Mia Saunders

  Baseball, beer, brats, Boston…couldn’t be better.

  To: Mia Saunders

  From: Wes Channing

  Sounds like a dream come true for you. What about all the other
letters of the alphabet?

  I rolled my eyes and began typing furiously. It had been too long and the tension too high between Wes and I. We needed to find something that could work for us both. The truth was, we both cared deeply for one another, but we’re not in a position to be together, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t care. And it didn’t mean we shouldn’t find a way to get over the fact that both of us are going to have relations with the opposite sex. I can’t expect him to be celibate when I’m not offering the same.

  To: Wes Channing

  From: Mia Saunders

  Who needs the other letters when I’m enjoying the B’s?

  Of course, he’d have to take me off kilter and bring the serious back into play just as I was enjoying our causal banter.

  To: Mia Saunders

  From: Wes Channing

  The letter C is pretty nice, too. California, Cuddling, Caring, Commitment, Channing…Cock.

  I laughed out loud. Leave it to him to sandwich the serious shit in with a joke.

  To: Wes Channing

  From: Mia Saunders

  If my memory serves, I’ve already had Channing Cock and it was pretty fucking fantastic.

  I know I responded a bit boldly, but I was determined to bring things back to the light, fun, nature of our relationship. If I was going to hold onto him in any way, we had to keep that above all else. Yes, knowing he was fucking Gina hit me hard, but I’d had a week to think about it and as much as I wanted to drop everything, head to California on the first flight out, and claim my man, that just wasn’t in the cards for me. I had to hope Wes would keep things casual with Gina and if he didn’t, there was no other option but to be okay with that decision. I’d made it clear that our time wasn’t now. I stood by that decision as much as it gutted me.

  To: Mia Saunders

  From: Wes Channing

  It will be waiting the second you want another go-round, sweetheart.

  To: Wes Channing

  From: Mia Saunders

  Crazy man! Go surf; don’t let those waves pass you by. We’ll chat more in a couple days. Duty calls.

  To: Mia Saunders

  From: Wes Channing

  Crazy for you.

  That was the last thing he texted before radio silence. Crazy for me. I was crazy about him, too, but I wasn’t about to put things back on a serious tone. We needed time, lots of it to get past the blow. He knew I was fucking other men, I knew he was fucking Gina. That was reality.

  “What’s got your face lit up, sweetness?” Mace asked, entering my side of the hotel suite in a stunning three piece suit. Damn, the man looked good in his uniform, and in a pair of raggy jeans with a hole in the knee, but in a suit, he exuded a powerful air that I liked…a lot. Mason smiled and waggled his eyebrows and slowly turned around, giving me the entire view. “You like?”

  I nodded. “You know I do. I can’t wait until Rachel sees you. She’s been hiding out all week.”

  Mason’s lips turned down into a scowl at the mention of her name. “You’ve got the wrong idea ‘bout Rach and me. You need to get that outta your head.”

  This time I shook my head. “No way. I saw the way you two looked at each other last week. She’s into you, but I don’t know why she’s hiding out.”

  “She’s not. She’ll be here to drive us over to Power Up.”

  That’s when we both heard a knock on the door. I smiled wide and rushed to the door as quickly as my stilettos would take me. I swung open the door and there she was in another smart suit, only in gray. A soft pink blouse highlighted the pink in her cheeks and glow to her skin. This time her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. She had it done in this cool way where the rubber band was covered with her own hair so it was magically holding itself back. I should find out how she did that. It would be a neat trick to learn, something I could teach Gin and Maddy, too.

  “Hey Rachel, how are you,” I swung the door open wide. She looked me up and down. I was wearing a leather pencil skirt and a flowing white blouse. This skirt hugged my ass and the billowy blouse gave a dose of cleavage that I found alluring. Definitely something a pro ball player’s hot young girlfriend would rock.

  She cringed. “That outfit is overtly sexy. That skirt was supposed to go with a button up.” Her lips pursed prettily but were still accusatory and for the first time, I felt lacking.

  “Um, okay, I didn’t bring any of the button up shirts because I thought they went with the trousers.”

  That’s when Mace made his appearance. Just him entering the room stole her breath. I heard her take an audible breath and hold it. Her eyes widened and her teeth sunk sexily into her bottom lip. The girl was gonzo over the guy. Why the hell did he not see it? I turned and watched as Mason made a slow circle, showing off for the second time this morning, only really making a big deal about it for Rachel’s benefit.

  His grin was wide when he made it all the way around. “Does this say, responsible spokesperson for Power Up sports drink and Quick Runners?”

  Rachel nodded mutely.

  “Apparently, you’re perfect and I look like a sexy ho,” I mumbled but grabbed my purse. Mason’s eyes narrowed and he swung an arm around my waist and brought me close to him. I slammed into his chest and he looked down at me, eyes showing his concern. I glanced at Rachel and she instantly looked away.

  “Hey, you look perfect. Sexy as hell. The media has seen you in jeans and t-shirts all week. Now it’s time to see you looking posh and young. Exactly how I like my women. Besides, do you think the big wigs would think I’d be with some stuck up professional with a stick up her ass?” At that comment, I saw Rachel’s shoulders slump. In her mind, she was the very definition of a stuck up professional and right now, I could see her squeezing those cheeks so tight she could shit diamonds. This did not bode well for my plan “Operation Hook Rachel and Mason Up.” New tactics would have to be drafted and carried out if I had any hope of succeeding.

  I kissed Mason’s cheek then wiped away the lipstick left on his clean-shaven jaw. “Speaking of sexy, doesn’t Rachel look hot in her suit?” I gestured with a head tilt in Rachel’s direction.

  Mason’s lip curled up at each corner showing those drop dead sexy dimples. “I’d do her,” were the stupid words that came out of his mouth. You could take the player out of Boston but you couldn’t take the player out of the man. At this, I punched his arm.

  “How many conversations have we had about you being a jack-ass?” I put up both hands and marked off each finger.

  He rubbed his shoulder. “Sorry, Rach, but I’d totally fuck you.” I punched him again. “Ouch, stop fucking hitting me.”

  “Stop being a dick!”

  That’s when Rachel waded in. “Both of you, stop! Mia, it’s fine. I’m used to Mason’s crass behavior by now.”

  Cringing, I put a hand to my hip. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s immature and tasteless.”

  Rachel laughed and it sounded like bells jingling. Even her laugh was sweet. “True, but thank you for the compliment, Mr. Murphy.”

  An intense heat hit me like a wall of flames. Mason practically growled a response to her. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Mason or Mace, Rachel? We’ve known each other for two years. We’re beyond the professional. At least, I’d like to think we are.”

  Her eyes jumped up to meet his and she clasped her hands together and knotted her fingers. “Yes, uh, you’re right. We are. I apologize. Old habits and all that. Shall we go?”

  “Should I change?” I said dryly, really needing to know. I was here to make his image better. I thought I was rocking a kick ass outfit but apparently I needed to be schooled.

  Rachel looked at me once more. “You do look really beautiful, Mia. You always do. I’m sorry, I didn’t respond well. Everything’s fine. Let’s not keep our prospective sponsors waiting.” She opened the door and the three of us stepped through.

  ***

  The Power Up team was surpris
ingly boring. For a company that owned a sports drink geared toward young athletes, you couldn’t have found a duller group. The offices were all white and black with pictures of the drink standing on a white backdrop lining their walls. There weren’t any fun pics of men doing wicked sports activities like rock climbing, swimming, motor sports, holding up a Power Up bottle as I would have expected. If you asked me, and they didn’t, of course, so I stayed quiet, they needed Mace more than Mace needed them. If they had any hope of going against the big guys like Gatorade, they needed their own image change.

  Rachel, however, spoke her mind and made it very clear why she could afford perfectly tailored suits and whatever fee Mason was paying her. She worked that room and had a room full of men eating out of her hand. She promised the Power Up executives that not only would Mason be in the media a whole lot more, his baseball record was proof positive that he was in the Majors to stay, as well as how young people loved a bad boy turned good guy. She even spun different ways the team could work with Mason to improve their own image and how her firm would be happy to work with their marketing team to come up with the best possible campaigns to successfully launch both companies to a new plane. And then his agent spoke money.

  Apparently, being a spokesperson for a sports drink company was worth millions. When they started throwing around figures that were in the tens of millions, I almost lost my breakfast. I couldn’t imagine that a few commercials, some photo shoots, and some meet and greets were worth that kind of money. Then again, I was being paid a hundred G’s to sit here and look pretty. People were bat shit crazy everywhere. This is just how the other half lives and now that I was the arm candy, I got to see it live and in living color.

  Once we were done with Power Up, who said they would consider all that was discussed and make a decision within the next week, we took a limo over to the folks at Quick Runners. They were in line to be the next Reebok or Nike and just needed that extra bit of pizazz to push them over the edge. Mason Murphy, the best pitcher in baseball today was their ace in the hole. Rachel made sure the team knew that to be true. This office was the exact opposite of Power Up. Where that team was all staunch businessmen in suits, this office seemed to be filled with just out of college grads wearing jeans, polo’s and tennis shoes. We left that office with a verbal commitment for another bucket-o-millions, and, as long as Mason kept his image squeaky clean, they would remain on board.