Finding Mr. Right Now

by Meg Benjamin

  “Right.” Monica sighed. “Look, don’t worry about me, Ronnie. Just think about who should be your Mr. Right.” She felt like she was spinning her mental wheels, trying to fit this new information into the World According to Ronnie, as least as Monica had known it up to then. Maybe she hadn’t given Ronnie enough credit—she was really a lot sharper than she seemed sometimes. “Ronnie, I hope you didn’t send off anybody you liked just so you could keep Paul around for me.”

  Ronnie studied her manicure. “No. I mean, I wouldn’t have done that. None of those other guys would have been right.”

  “Right for you?”

  Ronnie smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “Sure. Right for me.”

  Sid knocked on the open door, leaning his head inside. “We’re ready to go ahead and get started. Everything okay?”

  Monica took one more look at Ronnie, trying to decide if anything else was going on in that pretty golden head she needed to know about. But if there was, it didn’t show on Ronnie’s face. “I guess we’re ready. Ronnie?”

  “Sure.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Showtime.”

  Monica blinked. Showtime? That didn’t sound like the Sweetheart Diva at all. “Do you need me to get you more water or something to eat?”

  Ronnie shook her head. “No. I’m fine. You can go…do something else.” She tottered toward the cabin door, then turned back. “I’m glad you’re not mad at him, Monica. He really is cute.”

  Monica stood in the doorway watching Ronnie sidle down toward the hot springs pool where Glenn had the cameras set up. She should probably go down there too. Or something. She gathered up her clipboard and pen and started out the door.

  “Monica?”

  Paul stood in the alcove next to the door. Like Ronnie, he was wearing a swimsuit. Unlike Ronnie, he didn’t look like wardrobe had purchased it at the local big box store. The muscles of his chest and arms were outlined in shadow, his skin dark olive in the shade. His abs weren’t quite a six-pack, but they were close. Apparently, even writers worked out in Hollywood.

  Monica licked her lips. Nobody should look that good with goosebumps. “We shouldn’t be talking to each other, Paul. Glenn won’t like it.”

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

  She licked her lips again. “Sorry?”

  “About last night.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “It was male pattern dumbness. Or something.”

  “Last night.” She managed not to let the corners of her mouth creep up. Suffering was good for him.

  “I was worried.” He sighed, his hand dropping to his side. “I didn’t know what happened to you. And then I took it out on you because I was worried. So…I’m sorry.”

  She blew out a breath. “Okay.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Is that okay you accept my apology or okay you’ll think about it?”

  “Okay, your apology is accepted.” She let the smile widen now. “But we still shouldn’t be talking to each other. Glenn’s been in a really shitty mood the last couple of days.”

  “I have to get down there anyway.” He nodded toward the hot spring pools below. “Want to get together after we’re done here?”

  “Maybe. If there’s time.”

  He stepped closer. “I have a wagon.”

  “You have a wagon.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to catch up. Was that some kind of euphemism she hadn’t heard yet? “You mean a Radio Flyer kind of wagon?”

  “No I mean a gypsy wagon. Which they rent out here. To campers.” His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “Want to camp, lady?”

  Her temperature immediately spiked a couple of degrees. “You’ll probably have interviews to do after this.”

  He brought his hand to her cheek, running his fingers through the edge of her hair. “They’ll probably do them tomorrow instead of having us stand around shivering. And Sid said Ronnie wouldn’t make any decisions until tomorrow night. Gypsy wagon? Tonight?”

  Her heart thumped almost painfully. This was a really dumb thing to consider doing. On the other hand, being smart hadn’t gotten her all that far lately. “Where should we meet?”

  He nodded toward the far end of the pond. “Down there after they finish shooting. I’m using the wagon to change.”

  “Paul?” Sid stood at the bottom of the path looking back at them dubiously. “You ready?”

  He sighed. “Ready.” His fingers brushed her hand as he walked by, smiling. “See you,” he murmured.

  Monica watched him walk down the path, telling herself she really wasn’t paying that much attention to his ass. Then telling herself to knock it off because of course she was. Then, once he blended into the crowd at the pool, telling herself to go down and join the crew.

  Her heart gave another of those quick thumps as she did. Apparently, she could kid her mind but not her body.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A couple of hours later, Monica stood with the rest of the crew, watching the conclusion of the group date. Nobody seemed all that comfortable in the water, even though it was warm, considering that the evening air was chilling everything that wasn’t submerged. Ronnie blathered on about how wonderful it was here in the Rockies, but she didn’t look like she believed it. Darryl’s script had provided her with cues, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  Paul leaned on the bar and looked like he was pretending to listen. Brendan and Billy Joe really were listening, they just didn’t seem to care what Ronnie said.

  “Oh yeah,” Monica muttered. “This should be a terrific episode.”

  Glenn tried different angles. He had the announcer do a couple of impromptu interviews. He even had Faisal do a quick pan of the people floating in the “suits optional” section, or at least those people in the section who were floating on their stomachs. Monica figured they’d fuzz everything over later.

  Finally he pulled off his earphones, striding away along the side of the pool without a word. The more knowledgeable members of the crew were careful to stay out of his way.

  “That’s it, people,” Sid called. “We’re done for the night. Get changed and we’ll drive you back to the resort.”

  Brendan and Billy Joe escorted Ronnie to the steps out of the pool. One of the wardrobe girls rushed over with a terrycloth robe. Monica watched Paul.

  He swam easily to the far side of the pool where he climbed out, pulling a towel out from under one of the benches. As he glanced up, his dark eyes met hers.

  Monica felt his gaze all the way to her toes, which promptly curled. “Oh man,” she breathed. “Trouble on a stick.”

  His lips curved up into a faint grin. Then he nodded toward the trees behind him, rubbing the towel across his wet hair.

  Billy Joe and Brendan both headed in the opposite direction toward the cabin the company had rented for the men to change in.

  Monica glanced back at the others. Ronnie was wrapped in her terrycloth robe, her hair loose across her shoulders. The wardrobe people were walking with her. Sid was watching the crew pack up. Glenn had disappeared.

  She took a quick survey of the pool area to make sure no one was watching. Now that the television lights had been turned off and the cameras removed, more people were pulling off their suits, which seemed to be drawing most of the crew’s attention for obvious reasons. Monica kept her gaze on her feet as she moved around the pool. Why was it always the people you didn’t want to see naked who stripped off their clothes so quickly?

  The path where Paul had disappeared was a wide swath of white gravel between tall pines and aspen. A couple of electric lanterns glowed ineffectually along the sides, creating small halos of light but leaving most of the path in darkness. She moved her feet carefully over the gravel, trying not to slide or trip.

  “Monica?” Paul’s voice came from somewhere ahead of her.

  “Where are you?” she murmured.

  “Just keep coming this way. You’re almost here.”

  He stepped forward at the end of the canopy of trees
, extending his hand. He’d changed out of his swimsuit into jeans and T-shirt, but he still looked like trouble. Monica drew a deep breath, then blew it out and moved into the clearing beside him.

  He took her hand, pulling her gently along. “The wagon’s over here.”

  Monica blinked. The gypsy wagon looked like something out of a western movie. Warm brown wood with a curved tin roof. There was a narrow front door a few feet above the ground with a small ladder leading up. The spoked wheels had blocks to hold them in place. “Wow,” she murmured.

  Paul reached up and opened the door, grinning. “Sort of makes you appreciate what it was like to drive one of these babies cross country. Of course, it’s not exactly palatial.”

  She glanced in as she climbed the ladder. An electric camping lantern illuminated one end, and windows in the sides provided views of the stars. Still, the interior was so dim she found herself shuffling.

  “Careful,” he said behind her. “It’s kind of narrow.”

  She reached down to feel the benches on either side running to the end. Or rather, running to the shelf at the end that served as a bed.

  Paul closed the door behind them. “The management doesn’t provide a whole lot in the way of amenities with these things. There’s a mattress, but God only knows how many people have slept on it. That’s a new sleeping bag on top. I bought it this afternoon.”

  Monica stood staring, suddenly overcome with shyness. She wasn’t sure she was quite ready to dive into bed as soon as she stepped inside. Maybe she still had a few ounces of propriety left after all.

  “It’s okay, Monica,” he said gently. “Just have a seat. I’ve got some cheese and wine if you want.”

  “I think I do,” she stammered. “Want it, that is. I’m hungry.” She sank down on the bench at the side.

  After a moment, Paul sat down on the sleeping bag spread across from her, pulling a bottle of wine from a duffle bag on the floor. “It’s still sort of cold,” he said, pouring her a glass.

  “It’s fine.” She took a deep breath, glancing around the wagon. “This is really…interesting.”

  He stared at her for a moment before his lips edged up in a grin. “Interesting. Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “How did you find out about it?”

  He shrugged. “I had a conversation with Nona Monteith. She told me about them.”

  “You talked about this with Nona?” Monica tried to keep the consternation out of her voice. Nona was a perfectly nice woman. She just didn’t necessarily want Nona monitoring her sex life.

  “She told me about Carter’s Falls and what it had to offer.” Paul was still grinning. “I didn’t exactly discuss this particular plan with her.”

  “Oh hell.” She placed the glass on the bench beside her. “I’m nervous, okay? I’m not sure why, but I am. So I’m going to say something stupid fairly soon. Just be ready for it.”

  He reached across, taking her hand in his. “You don’t need to be nervous, Monica. And by the way, Ronnie says she’s definitely cutting me tomorrow. She also says she thinks we look cute together.”

  Monica grimaced. “Terrific.”

  His finger moved along the slope of her nose, lightly. “I think so too, if it matters. At least in your case.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, smiling at the warmth of his touch. “That’s good to know.”

  “Monica?”

  He paused, long enough that she opened her eyes. “Yes?”

  “What are you going to do when this all finishes up?”

  She blinked, trying to see his face more clearly in the darkness. “Go back home. Help put the final shows together. Get ready for the next season of Finding Miss Right.” She ignored the slightly hollow feeling in her chest. It was as good a plan as any. Even if she had a hard time working up any enthusiasm about it. “Why? Aren’t you going to work on Miss Right too?”

  He shrugged. “They haven’t offered me a contract yet, but they probably will. Particularly if Harriet’s still in charge.”

  She frowned. He didn’t sound all that enthusiastic. “Don’t you want to go on working for Fairstein?”

  He looked down at the floor for a moment, then shrugged again. “I may have to.”

  “But you don’t want to.”

  The corners of his mouth curved up slightly. “Not really, no. I’ve got a script in at El Capitan. Something I wrote with a friend. If they take it, I’ll get creator credit and with any luck we’ll write the rest of the scripts for the series, or at least some of them.”

  Monica licked her lips. “El Capitan. They’re really…prestigious. If you were to get it, you’d be at a level way beyond anything Fairstein could offer you. You’d be up in premium cable territory.”

  “If I were to get it. That’s the tough part.” He stared out the window at the night sky. “We still haven’t heard back from them. But my agent thinks there’s a good chance they’ll make me an offer.”

  “That’s wonderful. I mean, that will be wonderful. Congratulations.” The hollow feeling in her chest seemed to have increased. She went on ignoring it.

  He leaned back on his elbows. “Have you ever thought about leaving Fairstein?”

  “You mean within the last five minutes?” She grimaced. “I think about it a lot. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to do it. Or where I’d go if I did.”

  He turned back from the window to watch her face, his eyes dark in the moonlight. “You’re too good for them, Monica. They work you like hell and then they don’t give you credit for what you do. My guess is they probably don’t pay you a hell of a lot either, considering what they pay me.”

  What else is new? She took a quick sip of her wine. “A lot of production companies are like that. I’m not sure I’d be that much better off anywhere else.”

  “A lot of production companies, but not all of them,” he said quietly. “With your experience, you could find something somewhere else. Somewhere better.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “Believe me, I know. I’ve thought about it. I just need to get myself together and make that step.” She stared down at her wine again. How exactly had a hot date turned into a bitch session about Fairstein? Looked like her luck was running true to form. “Could we not talk about this right now? It gives me a stomach ache.”

  “We don’t really have to talk at all if you don’t want to.” He reached across, taking the glass from her hand and placing it on the opposite bench. “Come here.”

  She slid across to sit beside him on the sleeping bag. “Not much of a mattress, is it?”

  “It’ll do.” He brushed his palm along her throat, his breath warm against her cheek.

  “It’s sort of amazing they provide mattresses at all,” she stammered. “I mean, you’d think it would be against the public health laws or something.”

  He paused, his hand resting against her collarbone. “Monica?”

  She swallowed hard, trying to get her pulse to slow down. “Yeah?”

  “Remember how you said you were going to say something stupid?”

  She blew out a breath. “Oh yeah.”

  “Nice call.” He grinned again, then brushed his lips across hers, his tongue sliding along the seam.

  She turned toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck, then pulling herself tighter against his chest, feeling the muscles of his back flex beneath her fingertips. His tongue slid deeper as he angled his mouth over hers, his hands pulling the bottom of her shirt loose from her jeans so that he could move them underneath. Raw heat seemed to kindle inside her, spreading from her lips to her breasts to her core.

  She brought her hands to cup his face, letting her tongue rub over his. Then her fingers skimmed across his shoulders and down, gliding along his spine. Her skin tingled with sensations, another kind of burning.

  His hands dropped to her breasts, unfastening her bra and pushing it aside along with her shirt. He caught her nipples between his fingers, pulling them to hard points.

  She pushed him b
ack until he lay full-length on the sleeping bag and she was staring down at him, her hands braced against his chest.

  “What do you have in mind?” His voice sounded hoarse in the silence of the wagon.

  She let her lips edge into a grin. “I’m going to have my way with you. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He grinned back, dropping his hands to his sides. “Be my guest.”

  She reached for the button at his waist, pulling down the zipper, then pushing jeans and underwear down his hips so that his erection sprang free. His eyes were dark now in the dusk of the wagon, his breath rasping as he watched her.

  She slid her hands to the top of his thighs, then dipped her mouth to follow, running her tongue along the delicate skin, tasting salt and musk. She cupped his sac, then circled the base of his shaft with her fingers, taking the head in her mouth.

  His breath exhaled in a hiss, and his hands bunched in the sleeping bag beside his body. “Monica.”

  “Sssh.” She plunged deeper, running the tip of her tongue along the ridge beneath his shaft, sucking and licking her way down.

  “Monica!” His voice was more urgent now.

  She paid no attention. The taste of him, the feel of him was intoxicating, like the champagne Ronnie chugged last night, only better. She gripped his thighs as she moved up and down, pushing him beneath her.

  “Monica, now!” His voice rasped. “I need to be inside you now.”

  Strong hands gripped her shoulders suddenly, pushing her to the side, spreading her legs. His arms looped beneath her knees, pulling them up to his shoulders, then he was plunging into her body. He stared down at her, his face rigid with strain, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders.

  The depth and violence of his thrusts shook her. He seemed impossibly thick, stretching her as he struck deep within her. The pressure in her core bloomed hot and red, filling her with an ache that was almost pain, but more pleasure. He brought his thumb to her clit, rubbing back and forth until she cried out, locking her legs around his waist as the storm washed over her.

  She felt him peak at almost the same time, his body becoming taut, then plunging into hers again wildly. He gasped for breath and then plunged hard again and again until he finally lay against her, his forehead resting on her shoulder.