An image of Mason in board shorts, waiting in a cabana and with an umbrella drink in hand, distracted her again.
“And the Serenity Deck is…”
“Just one floor above your deck. If you’d like me to show you around…”
Casey pocketed the key card. “No, thank you.” Mason Drury fit the mold of cruise ship tour guide. To a T. It was settled, then. Six o’clock was a long way away. Why waste the time?
* * * *
Mason slowed as he walked down the passageway. Pulling his BlackBerry from his bag, he texted his editor. This job was going to be quick and easy. He’d get the interview with Cassandra Cash tonight, and then enjoy the next week getting to know the real woman. A few seconds after he sent the message to Randall Haynes, the phone rang.
“News Daily ran a story that Cassandra Cash’s ex is gay.” Haynes’s voice boomed through the phone. “Forget the fluff-pitch for her new book deal. Get the dirt.”
Mason stopped, leaned against the wall and squeezed the bridge of his nose. God, his career was going down the toilet fast. He’d gone from dirty politicians to a dirty Hollywood break-up in the space of a month.
“Don’t softball this, Drury, you’re already on thin ice. Get it right.”
Shit. He didn’t need that thrown in his face. His story on the mayor’s ties to mob money had been right on. But his source had flipped, and now Mason was on the outside of the tight circle he used to run. Sidelined to report gossip, not the news that really mattered.
“You really think our readers care why Miss Romance and the actor-slash-radio guy broke up?” He wanted the paper to back the original story. At least it wasn’t hyped-up gossip. Sure it was boring, but he could recover from a fluff piece. Mason didn’t know if his tattered reputation could stand the tabloid-gossip-writer hit.
“If they don’t, we’ll make them. Her readers deserve to know everything about her, not just the pretty stuff.”
Right. Living in the public eye meant everyone needed to know what kind of toilet paper Cassandra Cash used—or why she broke things off with her latest boyfriend. He held in a sigh, knowing Haynes would read it the wrong way. He was willing to do the story; he just didn’t like it.
“Your message says you’ve already met with her. I want to go to press with the real story yesterday. And don’t expect this to be easy. She was a pro at avoiding the press even before this broke. Now that it has, she’ll be even harder to nail down.” Haynes clicked off, leaving Mason staring at the BlackBerry.
Great. He had the feeling the Cassandra Cash he’d met in line wouldn’t be thrilled to spend time with him after he asked about the break-up. This cruise sucked.
It was his fault. He hadn’t officially met with her, had only flirted with her in line. Crap on a cracker. His life had turned to crap on a cracker.
“Hey, stranger.” The words sent his body into alert mode.
Casey stood in the middle of the hall, a bellboy close on her heels with several bags on a cart. She motioned the kid ahead of her and turned to Mason.
“I thought we decided on six o’clock?”
She smiled and trailed her hand down his arm. “You don’t look like the waiting around type. I’m surprised.”
Damn, but she was good. Mason took a breath. He had to tell her who he was, that he needed an interview. Who knew? Maybe her reputation as a reporter-eater was overblown.
“Six o’clock’s a long way away. What do you say we get that drink now?” Mason asked.
She stepped closer, and he stared at the play of muscles on her tanned legs. Perched on three-inch heels, her calf muscles were taut. He imagined that if he reached around her, her butt would be tight under his fingers, too.
Clamping down on his libido, he dragged his brain off her body and back to the present. Maybe she’d give him the information, and they could continue this...whatever it was.
And maybe Haynes hadn’t demoted him to gossip for the politician snafu.
The elevator at his back dinged, reinforcing his doubt that Casey would save him from being drawn and quartered, much less continue this attraction if he trashed her reputation more than Nate Henderson already had.
Highly doubtful.
They both stepped into the elevator. “Going down?” He tried not to think how apt those words could turn out to be.
She shook her head and pressed a button on the panel. “Actually, going up.”
Screw it. He had a life to get back to. A job to save. That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a little time with her before she found out who he really was.
Pressing the hold button, he pushed her against the wall. He bracketed her head with his hands, watching her expression carefully. If she pulled back even a little, he would force himself to the other side of the car. If she didn’t...
Blue eyes invited him closer. He tilted his head and moved in. Her bag plopped to the floor as she reached her arms around his neck, and when he waited a beat too long, she pulled his head to hers.
Her lips felt like silk. Nipping at the edges, he placed mini-kisses along her mouth, teasing it open. Her tongue met his, drawing it into her sweet mouth. She tasted like apples and champagne.
He wanted to go slower. To enjoy the taste of her mouth for hours, but if this was the only kiss he’d have with her, he had to make it good. He wanted to feel her body under his hands.
Wanted to hear her moan. Scream.
Burying his hands in her hair, he pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest. The orbs tightened until her nipples pressed through her t-shirt and into his ribs.
God, but she felt good.
Wrapping one hand in her long tresses, he allowed the other to roam her body. With his thumb, he massaged the pulse beating madly at the base of her throat, and he quickly replaced his thumb with his mouth.
* * * *
Casey moaned. The man was a master. He seemed to be touching all the right places at exactly the right moment.
Battery-powered stimulation had nothing on Mason Drury. The next seven nights were going to be heavenly.
When his hand journeyed from neck to breast, she arched her back to allow him better access. But it wasn’t enough.
She couldn’t just let him touch her. She needed to touch him. His hand slipped in to the scooped neck of her t-shirt, to play with the lace of her bra, and she had enough of only being fondled.
Trailing her hands from the back of his neck and around to his chest, she reveled in the feel of his tightening muscles. With her fingertips, she played the hard edges of his six-pack. When his breath quickened, mirroring her short gasps, she pushed her hands into his waistband.
Breep.
She pulled t-shirt from jeans, running her hands beneath the cool cotton to feel the hot flesh beneath. His muscles tightened even more with the skin-to-skin contact.
Breeep. Breeep. Breeep.
“What the hell?” Mason pulled back, and the breeze of air from his movement cooled her fevered skin. Dazed, she looked around. What was that noise?
A flashing light on the elevator console caught her eye. The loud breep and the flashing light seemed to be in sync.
“Shit.” He looked from the console to her and back again. “They must think it’s broken.” He flashed a wry smile. “I guess we’ll have to continue this somewhere else.” He flicked his index finger against the hold button, effectively shutting off the breeping light and sending the elevator into motion.
Continue, definitely. But first she needed an inch of breathing room. This was going too fast. She ran a hand through her hair, wondering just what she would look like when she stepped off the elevator. She needed a moment. Just one.
Maybe two.
Picking up her bag from the floor, she straightened her skirt, wondering how it had become twisted around her waist. His hands had stayed above that area. Hadn’t they? The thought had her sneaking a look at his package. It bulged against the zipper of his jeans. So she wasn’t the only one turned on. Not t
hat she needed to see his arousal to know how she affected him. She could feel it in his touch.
The elevator slowed, a tinny pinging noise announcing their arrival at her floor.
He pulled her into his arms, hugged her close, and then released her only long enough to take her hand in his.
“Should we continue this in my room or yours?”
Space. Just a little space. Her cell phone rang and she quickly wrestled it out of her bag. She made an apologetic face and shrugged one shoulder.
“Six o’clock. Upper deck.” The words sounded husky to her ears.
Mason raised one eyebrow, and then released her hand. “That’s a long time to wait.” When she stepped from the elevator, he stepped to the back of the car.
The elevator doors closed. Why had space seemed so important just a few moments ago?
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Mr. Right Now by Kristina Knight
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Table of Contents
Cooking Up Love
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About Gemma Brocato
Copyright
Sample - Mr. Right Now by Kristina Knight
Lyrical Press Find Your Hero
Cooking Up Love Page 29