Calendar Girl: November: Book 11

by Carlan, Audrey

I grinned and leaned back. “Still the charmer, I see.”

  “Only for you. Since you broke my heart.”

  This was part of the special I had not been expecting. Sure, as far as the public knew, I’d technically dated Mason Murphy for a month back in April. “I did not. You’re terrible.”

  He smirked. “Nah, we’re just good friends.”

  “That’s right. And as good friends, I’d like to share a bit about the side of Mason Murphy that your fans and the fans of the Dr. Hoffman show don’t already know about you. You game?” I teased.

  “Bring it on.” He sat back, arms spread wide over the back of the love seat, one ankle up on his opposite knee. His pose said casual and comfortable. Just the side we wanted the rest of the world to see. That part I knew Rachel agreed with.

  “Okay, my first question is: what are your plans for Thanksgiving?”

  He smoothed a hand along his rugged chin and smiled. “Gonna hang with the fam. My brothers and father are big on the holidays, and we do what we can to be together whenever we can.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “It is, but what’s better than that is I’ll be bringing my fiancée.”

  I knew my eyes lit up like Christmas trees and were paired with his eyes as he looked off to the side at Rachel, whose chin was hanging down to her chest.

  “Are you announcing that you are engaged?” I asked, leaning forward as if I were hearing this secret for the first time.

  Mason nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Well, you should know. You’re the woman who set us up!” He laughed and chuckled.

  “This is true, but you’ve been very private about your relationship since you and I dated back in April. The masses are probably pretty surprised by this information. I can almost hear the hearts breaking across the nation as we speak.”

  He slapped his knee and coughed into his closed fist. “I think it’s about time the world knew just how committed I am.” His words were confident and cocky, as usual.

  “Well, folks. You heard it here first. And as an extra special treat, Mason Murphy is going to introduce the world to his fiancée after this commercial break. Stay tuned!”

  “And cut,” said the director.

  I hopped up and whooped. “This is so fantastic!” I squealed, looking for Rachel among the crew to see how she reacted to him spilling the beans.

  “Rach, come here. Come sit down.”

  Rachel had been standing off to the side, watching nervously. I could tell she didn’t like how the segment started because I could feel the tension pouring from that side of the room. However, Mace and I agreed that it was time to make the world see that our time together wasn’t a big deal, plus he was very tired of keeping what they had more private. Sure, there was talk of her being his girlfriend, but they’d never confirmed it. The smut mags had some pictures from times they’d been out together but again, no official word had been given until now. It was easy to pawn any sightings off as him meeting with his PR team.

  “What are you doing?” She grabbed Mason’s outstretched hand as he pulled her down to sit on the couch next to him.

  “I’m tired of pretending. You’re going to be my wife next year. I want the world to know it. No more hiding. No more denying. I’m done with all that. A new year is on the horizon, and I want to spend the next season with every woman in the world knowing I’m yours. Better yet, I want every man knowing all of this”—he ran his hands down her back in a suggestive yet still not completely inappropriate way—“is all mine.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know about all this.” Rachel bit down on her lip, clearly worried about how the fans would take this new information about his personal life.

  He grinned and looped an arm around her waist, pulled her right up against his side, and kissed her cheek. “Well, I am. Let’s do this, Mia.”

  “You got it, Mace.”

  The cameras turned back on, and the camera guy held out his hand and counted down to one from five.

  “Welcome back to our special episode of Dr. Hoffman called ‘Be Thankful.’ I’m sitting here with Mason Murphy, recently called the best pitcher in the history of baseball, who has something to share with our audience. Mason, can you introduce the beautiful woman you have sitting next to you?” I suggested.

  The cameraman moved, and the spotlight shone brighter over my friends. “Of course. This here is my fiancée, Rachel Denton. She runs all my PR and works for my publicist firm. I gather right about now she’s probably pretty mad you and me for conspiring behind her back to make this announcement right now, but I don’t care.”

  I laughed. “Don’t be mad, Rachel. Mason wanted to surprise you.”

  Rachel smiled, and her cheeks turned a rosy pink as Mason squeezed her shoulder.

  “So Mason, the nation knows that you’ve been single for a while. How do you feel about finding the lucky woman at your side?”

  “You know, Mia, I feel thankful. Rachel is my perfect better half, and I can’t wait to make her my wife.”

  I licked my lips and watched as Mason wooed the world and his girl in an interview that would be broadcast on national television.

  “Okay, Mason, now that you’ve dropped a bomb so big that all the single women in the world will be crying into their Cheerios, let’s bring it back to topic. We’re finding out what our celebrity friends are thankful for. You’ve mentioned your fiancée already, which I totally agree with. Rachel is something to be thankful for! But what else?”

  Mason sat back and pursed his lips. “Good friends, my fans, the team, the sport as a whole. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t had a love for baseball. Most of all though, I’m thankful for my family—my dad, brothers, and niece. Aside from Rachel, they’re my world.”

  “Thank you, Mason, for sharing the news of your impending nuptials with the fans of the show. I wish you and Rachel a very long and happy marriage.”

  “What about you?” he added, and the cameras kept rolling.

  I looked around the room and back at Mason, who had a huge shit-eating grin on his face. The same one I’d offered to smack of his handsome face more than a time or two. “Um, what?”

  Rachel’s mouth twisted into a snarky grin. Yep, these two were definitely made for one another. Cockiness marries snarkiness. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that’s a very specific style ring on your finger there,” Rachel said, sweet as apple pie and just as sugary.

  “Yeah, Mia, share your news with the world!” Mason urged.

  Oh. My. God. That dog. Called my ass out!

  My underarms started to sweat, and I could feel moisture collecting at my hairline as the bright lights made me feel as if I were in an interrogation room with the Oakland PD.

  “Uh…” I grinned, looked down at my ring, and couldn’t find it in myself to deny the best thing that had ever happened to me. Just as I was contemplating how to respond, get my panic under control, and at the very least, stop the camera and re-film the ending, I glanced up as if an invisible tether had pulled my chin up. The air in the room became charged in a way that I was sure if I touched any surface I’d feel a shock. My eyes met the ones I planned on looking at for the rest of my life.

  As if on cue, Wes entered the frame and held his hands out to me. I put both of mine into his, and he tugged me up. Before I could respond, say anything really, he placed his hand on my cheek and his mouth over mine. He kissed me hard, long, and with intent. It wasn’t a wet kiss, but what it lacked in heat it made up for in heaps of love. All of this while the cameras kept rolling.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Wes said, his green eyes filled with humor. He was wearing a beautiful pair of dress slacks and crisp white dress shirt with a corduroy blazer. Positively scrump-didily-umptious.

  “Uh, everyone”—I inhaled and looked at the camera, a little stunned—“this is Weston Channing, my fiancé.” I smiled like a loon.

  Wes quirked his lips, looped his fingers with mine and waved at the camera with his other hand. S
uch a class act.

  That’s when I pretty much lost all control of my own show.

  “Now this just got interesting,” Mace said. “Tell us, Mia, what are you thankful for this year?”

  I couldn’t have torn my eyes away from the man I loved if my body had been set on fire. “Wes.” I sighed. “There’s so much to be thankful for. My sister, my brother, my dad, my best friend, and all the new friends I’ve made that make me feel as though, no matter where I am, I’m loved. Really, I think that’s what I’m thankful for this year. Love. In all its forms.”

  “I love you, Mia Saunders, and can’t wait to make you my wife,” Wes said as clear as day with a camera the size of a fridge right in front of our faces. All of the paparazzi that had been camping out around our Malibu home, the Century Production offices who were scrambling for any bit of information about Wes and his captivity, the millions in the movie that was being filmed that was currently just sitting, Gina DeLuca, and everything in between would be sorely upset about this newfound information blasted on my show and not in their smut rags.

  On top of all of that drama, this segment was set to air this Friday, which meant not only would the entire world know that we were getting hitched, his parents would find out as well. We’d better inform them of our pending nuptials immediately after we left here today.

  Wes turned me toward the cameras. I responded, jerked back to reality into the middle of the show. I gasped out my ending dialogue in an attempt to make it sound good enough that we wouldn't need to film this again. There was no way I was going through all of this twice.

  “Thanks again to our guest, Mason Murphy, and his fiancée, Rachel, for sharing their news with us. I’m sure I can speak for Dr. Hoffman when I say you’re welcome on our show any time you want to make an announcement.” I glanced at the camera and grinned. “And well, folks, be thankful for your blessings because they are plenty. I sure know mine are.” On that note, I wrapped my arms around the man of my dreams, laid my forehead against his, and heard the director say cut just before Wes's lips sealed over mine.

  My man had claimed me on national television. How the hell did one profess his love after that?

  Chapter Five

  “What are you doing here, and what the hell did you just do?” I scolded Wes while molding my body to his. Even mad, I couldn’t help wanting to plaster my body against his larger, much sexier muscled form. Yum.

  He chuckled against my neck and placed a soft, warm kiss there. “Mia, relax. Mason told me about the plan for him to announce to the world that he was marrying the love of his life, and I thought…hell, I want to jump on that bandwagon too. No sense in it remaining a secret.”

  I worried my lip and stared into his beautiful green eyes. “But, but, what about the blood-sucking paparazzi? They’ve been after you for weeks. Won’t this give them more ammunition to sling at you?” I frowned, nervous that Wes had made a whopping mistake. I could change it, by not airing the end of the show, even if it would put our ratings into the stratosphere. Wes’s health and happiness were not worth an extra couple million viewers.

  Wes shook his head. “Mia, this is going to do the opposite. It will give the paps something happier to focus on than all the deaths and the shitstorm that went with what happened oversees. Gina is barely hanging on by a thread. You know why?”

  Even the simple mention of Gina DeLuca’s name sent a shiver of dread rippling up my spine and made gooseflesh appear on my arms. I clenched my teeth and tried to pretend it didn’t bother me. “No. Why?”

  He cupped my cheek. “Because she doesn’t have something beautiful to hold onto every night. I do, and I want the world to know it. Give those flesh eaters something more powerful to cling to. I have no problem talking all day long about how much I love you and my plan to make you my wife.”

  I sighed. So different than the way he’d been in January. Ten months ago, he’d been laser-focused on work and the movie. Now, it was all about me. “If you think this will help you heal, I’m right there with you, holding out my left hand for everyone to see.”

  He grinned. “Good, because we have an interview set up with People Magazine.”

  My eyes widened.

  “I’m not going to talk all about us.” He waggled his eyebrows to try to lighten my instant fear. The man knew me too well. “I also plan on talking a little about what happened over there, how I’m getting help, and maybe it will give some others who are fighting PTSD another reminder that people really do care and what they experienced isn’t who they are. It’s something that happened to them.”

  A lock of his hair fell into his eyes, so I pushed it back. Flickers of that time without him prodded at my mind, bringing with them a gush of horrible memories. God, I didn’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t come home. I wouldn’t be where I was today without him, that’s for sure. I definitely wouldn’t be this happy. I was surprised every day by how much I loved my life and how my luck had changed exponentially from when I started this journey almost a full year ago.

  I leaned up and kissed him, wanting to put everything I had into that kiss. The pride I had in him for every step he took toward healing, for the magic I believed we had in our relationship, and most importantly, the love I held for him. Sometimes it felt so powerful I didn’t know what to do with it. But right then, in front of the crew, Mason and Rachel, and everyone else, I kissed my man for all he was worth. He growled into my mouth and dipped me over his leg. The applause throughout the room was deafening.

  “Damn, lucita, I’m late for the party! Is there a line I should stand in? You dolling out besos? If so, I’m next!”

  Anton’s booming voice startled me enough that I broke the kiss and laughed into my man’s mouth. Wes scowled and then smiled, showing me he was getting past Anton’s incorrigible nature towards all women.

  “You are late, as in by two full hours. What did you do last night?”

  He grinned that sexy smile that set panties to the soak setting. “I think the better question would be, what didn’t I do last night?” He clucked his tongue and lifted his eyebrows.

  Sighing, I shook my head. “Come on. Let’s get Kathy to mic you up so we can start your first segment.”

  “So no beso then?” He pouted dreamily.

  I rolled my eyes and cast a glance at Wes.

  “No fucking beso. If you want to keep your lips intact, buddy, you’ll keep your comments to yourself,” Wes growled in Anton’s direction.

  That made Anton stop, cross his hands over his chest, tip his head back, and crack up laughing. Full-on hyena action happening right in front of us. “Sorry, amigo, no offense. I love how protective you are of our Mia.”

  Wes cringed. “You mean my Mia, Anton. You’re skating on thin ice with me as it is. Now, I’ve been cool with you, but seriously, you need to keep your shit in check if you don’t intend to start something.” Wes’s voice was cutting and abrasive. There was absolutely no reason for him to be so harsh.

  “Wes…really. Anton’s just messin’ around. Relax.” I went over to his side, and he tugged me closer. I kept forgetting that since his captivity he had this new jealousy trigger that I was not used to or particularly fond of. It positively irked me to no end that he suspected every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the near vicinity to be making a play for my attention, which really wasn’t the case. Not even close. Even last night, he’d gotten into it with the waiter at dinner because, according to Wes, the guy had sized up my chest. Surprise, surprise. I have huge knockers. Most men size up my breasts. I’m so used to it that I notice it more when a man doesn’t talk directly to my chest when he first meets me than when he does.

  Anton came over to both of us. “Weston, amigo, I am happy for you and Mia. It fills my heart with extreme joy to hear that she has found her forever. I can see, too, that you are taken with her. As am I. As an amiga. Nothing more, nothing less. I say these things, how you say, piloto automatico? Mia is a hermosa mujer.”

  I remembered Heathe
r telling me that hermosa mujer meant “beautiful woman.”

  “Your fiancée, she brings out the silly side. You understand? Si?"

  Wes exhaled slowly, and his shoulders visibly relaxed to a normal position. He closed his eyes and tipped his chin down as if in supplication. “I’m sorry, Anton. I don’t know what’s going on. Even her friends are bringing out a fierce side in me. Please, forgive me, okay?” Wes’s request was sincere, and I could tell that, with Anton, it would be immediately forgiven. He was not the type to hold on to trivial misunderstandings.

  “Ah, no problemo. Now, muñeca, where do you want me for this interview?”

  “Um, let's start with the room with all the Puerto Rican art.”

  Anton grinned. “See you there.”

  I waited until Anton was out of the room, grabbed Wes’s hand, and took him down the hall to the back of the penthouse where I knew Anton’s den was located. The second we got there, I held the door open so that Wes could precede me.

  A million emotions were storming through my system, and there was only one way I knew to get them out fast. Between him spilling his love for me on national television all the way to the caveman macho man threats, my entire body was tingling with excitement, happiness, anger, fear, anxiety, and everything in between.

  The second I got through the door I closed it, spun on a heel, and threw my arms around Wes. Before he could speak, my mouth was on his and my tongue down his throat. Thank. God. He tasted like a thousand tiny Pop Rocks candies sizzling over my tongue. I moaned into his mouth as he palmed my ass. I sucked his bottom lip at the same time I pushed against his chest until he fell onto a long padded bench. The thing could have been used for sitting in front of the fireplace or as a footrest. I had no flipping clue, but I knew exactly what I’d be using it for right now, and if I knew Anton well, which I thought I did, he’d give me one helluva slow clap.

  “Whoa, sweetheart, what’s going on? I thought you were going to ream me for going all alpha asshole on your friend. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me.”