by Amy Brent
Especially with regard to tall, handsome playboys with their crispy little grins.
I walked back into my dressing room and promptly sat down on the couch. My head was swimming with Mason’s sharp green eyes, even though I’d just conducted an interview with a local woman who had been adopting terminally ill children. He knew what he had done. The sly comments and the little grins in the interview yesterday. He knew he had been getting to me, and something about that excited me. There was something about a man with confidence who took what he wanted, no questions asked. I could sympathize because I was the same way. Bold. Blunt. Independent. Self-made. I had a talent and a passion, and I found a way to peddle that to the masses.
Just like he had.
A knock came at my door, and I simply didn’t answer it. My assistant knew that if I didn’t answer and it wasn’t important, to simply leave it be. Removing my glasses, I clasped the bridge of my nose, trying to rid myself of the beautiful way his body seemed to loom over me and the way his soothing voice ran down the edges of my skin and the way his hand had felt in the dip of my waist.
I heard my assistant slide a note underneath the door, and it caught my attention. It obviously wasn’t important, but it was pertinent enough for her to risk a note. I got up from the couch and strode over to the door, picking up the piece of paper off the floor. Expecting to find a note, I was shocked when I opened it up and saw eight numbers all in a row with Mason’s signature beneath it.
I was holding Mason Baker’s telephone number.
Why hadn’t she given this to me yesterday after the interview? When had she received it? If he called down here to leave his number, why didn’t he simply ask for me? If he had the money to get my assistant’s number, then he surely had the means to get mine.
Why the fuck did I care?
I honestly didn’t know what to do with it. I wasn’t an idiot, so I knew about the scandals from the woman who’d accused him of sexual harassment and the woman who claimed to be pregnant by him. The baby was shown not to be his and the sexual harassment lawsuit fell apart when it was found the woman was lying, but the man did have a great deal of money.
And money got you many things in the court system nowadays.
At any rate, why in the world was he trying to snag another woman? That fake pregnancy scandal was only, like, two fucking weeks old. How tacky was that? Oh, the baby’s not mine, time to hop on the train and fuck another bitch? What kind of game did he think he was playing?
On the other hand, he was beautiful. That was probably what got him all the attention from women anyway. That and his fervently deep pockets and his love of spoiling the women on his arm. He was well-known for treating his dime-a-dozen women to lavish things, buying them diamonds to drip off their bodies before casting them aside. The latest woman he dated was still being seen in the fully-loaded pink BMW convertible he’d bought for her.
I had to admit, a small part of me wanted to call him. He was into me during that interview, I could tell. And with that dick-swinging video of him running, two things were certain. He had a cock he would wield, and he kept his body fit for the taking.
I felt a shiver ricochet up my spine right before he jumped into my mind. My ex. My fucking ex sucking the face off my ex-host.
It had crumbled my walls when I’d seen him. That man had been everything to me. Tight, tailored suits, took care of his appearance. Never got on me for the time it took me to get ready. Had no issues waiting one, even two hours for me to put myself together. He always wanted to look his best, and he always cheered me on when I looked my best. We were successful, a rising power couple.
Until I caught him jamming his tongue down the throat of the person I usually did my show with.
Thankfully, I floated the show just fine. I started the show on my own, took on a co-host when the money started coming in, and didn’t look back. It was nice, volleying the show to someone every once in a while. We were able to add new segments, talk about new and exciting topics, and if there was ever a time I was sick, there was someone already standing in.
But I also had no issues firing her, and ever since, my show has taken off even more. I’m more successful than I’d ever been in the beginning, and it was because of the stance I took and the zero-tolerance policy I reigned down that garnered me that following.
I just happened to leave out the fact that I got her fired because I was fucking livid.
I stuffed the number into my pocket and grabbed my purse. I was meeting my best friend for dinner, and I didn’t want to be late. Emma Nelson was the only other person in Dallas besides Angie that I ever talked to. Being famous didn’t lend a lifestyle that allowed me to make friends easily. Most people either segued into my money, some sort of donation, or used my platform and following as a way to bolster their own social media campaigns and followings.
So, I stuck with my tried and true, Emma and Angie.
I had Emma for my outside world and Angie for my stardom world.
“Sarah!”
Emma flagged me down in the restaurant as I went rushing over to her. I embraced her tightly, holding her close as we hugged in the middle of a fine Italian restaurant. Italian was always my go-to comfort food in times of stress, so when Emma had suggested it, it was obvious she knew something was up.
“Oh my gosh, why don’t we see one another more often?” I asked as I released her.
“Because you’re too busy and hate me, that’s why,” she said.
“I could never hate you, Emma,” I said.
“I took the liberty of ordering. Penne noodles with shrimp and that asiago cheese alfredo sauce they have, garlic bread, and sweet tea. Tiramisu for dessert.”
“Why are you a woman?” I said, groaning. “We could be so good together.”
“Sorry, chica. Vaginas for life. Now, spill. What’s got you all in knots?”
“I talked to you once today. Through text message. How the hell did you know?”
“I always know. That’s what best friends do. What’s up?” she asked.
I picked up the sweet tea sat in front of me and took a huge gulp. Automatically, a wave of relief cascaded over my body as I sunk back into my chair.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that? I hate you.”
“Oooh. Deflection. It’s bad. Thanks, you’re beautiful, too. Obligatory compliments out of the way. Talk to me, Sarah. It’s what I’m here for.”
“No seriously. You’re tall. Slender. Blond hair almost the color of snow. Dead white skin that makes men want to cuddle you. Piercing green eyes.”
My mind slid back to Mason’s beautiful green eyes, and for a second, I got lost in my own train of thought.
“Shit, you met someone, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Why did that phrase start with shit?” I asked.
“Because you shouldn’t be rushing into another relationship. It’s only been a month since the whole Cody debacle.”
“But he’s so attractive. He gave me his number. Him. Giving me his number. That doesn’t happen to women like me. They ask me for it, or I ask them for it. Never like this,” I said.
“That doesn’t mean anything, Sarah.”
“Easy for you to say. Your chalky white legs draw in men willing to practically hand you their cocks,” I said.
“I’m still not sure if you’re complimenting me or not, but this really isn’t a good idea.”
“Aren’t you the one who said I needed to get under someone to get over Cody?” I asked.
“Yes, when you were wallowing in self-pity. You’re not any longer. You rose from your ashes. Fired that bitch and took back your territory. You had your fight, and now it’s time to heal.”
“I’m healed, Emma. I really am,” I said. “It’s nothing serious. Just a fun little night out. This guy, he’s not serious anyway. It would only be a date or two.”
“Is that really someone you want to get tangled up with anyway?” she asked.
“I’m not looking for someon
e to marry. I’m looking for some fun. Some spice. Some lovin’.”
I shook my tits in the restaurant as Emma giggled, snorting as she tried to cover up her face.
“You really don’t think this is a good idea, do you?” I asked.
“Look, you took a major stance against that on your social media. That shit was everywhere. And I was so proud of you. The women of the world stood with you. How’s it going to look if you’re caught out with someone who you say is a known playboy or something?” she asked.
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“That’s why we talk to each other,” she said. “Sarah, take this time for yourself. Post photos of you taking yourself to the spa. Taking yourself to the gym. Taking yourself on a trip to Ireland. Make it a series on your social media or something. Show women they don’t need a man to give them these things. They can just simply go out and do them because that’s what they want to do.”
“You sure you won’t let me hire you to be my social media expert?” I asked. “Because this shit’s exhausting, and that’s a fabulous idea.”
“I’m sure,” she said, giggling. “I enjoy the work I do.”
“You enjoy working with animals that hate you every second of every day?” I asked.
“They don’t hate me. And yes, I enjoy the doggie daycare I run. I’m expanding, you know.”
“Get out of here. What are you adding?” I asked.
“A second location,” she said.
“What the fuck, Emma? That’s great!”
“Yep. I finally have the money to do it, and I just hit a point where I’m turning clients away. I’m going to look at places tomorrow, and I’m looking to sign off on a place Friday.”
“This Friday?” I asked. “As in three days from now?”
“Yep. Been narrowing it down, and I have it between two places. I want it close enough to where I can send people there without it being an inconvenience to them. One place is three blocks down the road and one is two blocks up.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said. “Really.”
“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “And look. I know you’re lonely sometimes. I get it. I really do. Being the badass bitches we are doesn’t leave a lot of time for lovin’.”
I giggled and shook my head as she continued.
“But you know that’s how it always starts. You say it’s nothing serious, then pretty soon you’re into it like you were with Cody. Like you were with—”
“Don’t say his name.”
“Okay. I won’t. But you get my point, right?” she asked.
“All right. All right. I won’t call him. Got it,” I said.
“Thank you. Trust me, you thank me for it later.”
“I still wish you had a dick,” I said, grinning.
“We can always just move in together and Thelma and Louise it up for the rest of our lives.”
“Minus the driving off a cliff. Feet stay firmly planted,” I said.
“Skydiving?”
“Nope.”
“Bungee jumping?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Plunging over Niagara Falls?”
“I’d rather set myself on fire,” I said.
“Let’s get you a dildo,” she whispered just as our food came.
“Could I take a picture of that trip and put it on social media?”
We laughed through the rest of our dinner, Mason’s number quickly forgotten as I tossed my pants into the hamper once I got home.
Chapter 4
Mason
It’d been two days since I’d left my number with Sarah’s assistant, and I hadn’t heard a peep. Not a phone call. Not a text message. Not a voice mail.
Nothing.
This never happened. Women practically fell over themselves to call me. I honestly expected her to be on the phone with me that evening, but I gave her assistant the benefit of the doubt. But last night? I should’ve definitely heard from her. I should’ve already had a date set up with her somewhere nice. I should’ve already been picking out my suit, what car I’d pick her up in, as well as what present I’d drip across her skin before plowing between her legs later on that evening.
There was only one logical explanation for this bullshit.
She had an incompetent assistant.
The assistant probably lost the note or even kept it for herself. I had to admit, her assistant wasn’t too bad looking, but that wasn’t who I had my eye on. I had my eye on those luscious curves and those thick thighs. I had dreams of biting into the meat of her skin, marking her as my own before making her come onto my tongue. I had thoughts of denying her the pleasure she wanted so badly until tears of frustration rose to her eyes.
I thought about tying her to my bed with her legs spread open, ready and waiting for me to take her whenever my cock swelled and needed her.
I’d just have to go down to the studio myself. If her ignorant assistant couldn’t deliver a simple message, then I’d just have to do it myself. I left the hotel early and closed it down before I tossed myself into my convertible. I drove away from the paparazzi who were clamoring for a photo and a quote and quickly made my way downtown. For all the country Dallas choked down, it really was a city that was alive and well with beautiful women. Intricately designed cowgirl boots coupled with short skirts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
It was a man’s paradise, this city.
I parked right outside of the studio and saw Sarah leaving the building, and she looked absolutely delectable. She had on this tight, form-fitting onesie looking thing. All black except for an orange belt that wrapped around her waist. Her broad shoulders and tits were accentuated by the small of her waist while her thick legs clicked in black heels I wanted her to keep on in bed. I got out of my car and walked up beside her, startling her as her black-rimmed glasses turned up toward me.
The way her blue eyes sparkled made me want to kiss her right then and there.
“Mr. Baker. What in the world are you doing here?”
“Mason, please,” I said, grinning. “And I was stopping by to see if you’d received the information I’d left behind for you.”
“You mean, the note with your number on it,” she said.
“Yes. Did you receive it?” I asked.
“I did.”
“Oh. Well. I was simply wanting to ask you a question, and it just couldn’t wait much longer.”
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. Tell me, Sarah. Do you have a boyfriend or something?”
“Worse. I’ve got two terrible exes.”
She walked away from me in her heels and got into the car parked behind mine. It was a glistening SUV, no doubt making room for that beautiful body of hers to spread out any way she wanted.
I started wondering if her seats folded down in the back.
By the time I came to my senses, she was already driving off. I was absolutely beside myself. She blew me off. No woman ever blew me off. I’d chased after her and had tracked her down. She obviously wasn’t seeing anyone, and she was too bitter to get into another relationship. She was perfect for me.
Why couldn't she see that?
I heard a door behind me open and watched as people piled out of it. They looked over at me and stopped, the door being propped open with one of their hands as I buttoned my coat. I put on my best schmoozing smile and walked toward them and took a few pictures before I simply slipped into the building.
If I was going to seduce Sarah Williams, I was going to need a bit more information in order to do it.
I walked around for a while, simply looking like I knew what I was doing. There was a great deal you could get away with simply by looking and sounding confident, and that’s how I navigated the hallways of the studio. People who spotted me automatically assumed I was here on business and moved out of my way, but the moment I saw Sarah’s assistant, I darted my hand out to stop her.
“Hello there,” I said, smiling.
>
“Mr. Baker! Oh my gosh. Hi. Did Miss Williams ever call you?” she asked.
“No, she didn’t,” I said.
“Well, I gave her the note. I mean, I didn’t get it to her until Tuesday. She scurried out pretty quickly on Monday, but I gave it to her right after the show on Tuesday. Well, I slid it under her door, but I heard her get up and—”
“Slow down. Take a deep breath. No one’s angry with you,” I said, grinning. “Did I overstep by doing that? By offering her my number that way?”