January (Calendar Girl #1) Anthology Anthology (138 page)

“I don’t need to rest. I need the woman I love to listen to me!” He growled and both his Dad and I stayed very still and very quiet watching the entire thing unfold. For me, it was beautiful. For his Dad, confusing.

“Mason…” she lost her ability to speak.

He pulled her hand to him which brought her body closer. “That’s right. I love you. I have since that first night. I’d never, never fuck that up. Not in the way you think. What happened with Mia and I was innocent!” his voice rose and she placed two fingers over his lips.

“Mia already told me. And I believe you. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“You had your reasons. But baby, after that wreck today, it could have been so much worse and not having you by my side right now. I can’t even think it…” his voice turned thick with emotion. “I need you. Always. By my side.”

Rachel’s big blue eyes were glassy and soft, focused only on the man in front of her. “Then I’ll be there. Whatever you need. Because I love you, too.”

I wanted to shout from the rooftops and jump for joy, but instead had to settle for a giant grin.

“Son…” Mick said, coming up to the other side of the bed. “You’ve got some explaining to do.” He offered somewhat jovially.

“Dad, this is Rachel. She’s gonna be my full time publicist, if she’ll take the job.” She nodded grinning wide. “And on top of that, she’s my girlfriend. My
real
girlfriend.”

She smiled so brightly, it lit the dark room up just like it had from the moment I met her. “Hi, Mr. Murphy. I’m Rachel Denton and I’m in love with your son.”

Mick looked from Rachel, to his son, then to me. He hooked a thumb toward me standing behind them. “And what about her?”

“She’s an escort.” Mason responded simply.

I wanted to smash my head into the wall. His dad’s eyes got so wide you could see straight through to his brain.

“Oh, no, no. Not like that!” Rachel tried.

“Dad, no, we hired her to help my image. I needed a girlfriend and at the time, Rachel and I hadn’t gotten together. It was Mia who encouraged us, actually.” Now that was true.

“Sorry for not telling the whole truth, Mick, but it was part of my role. Can you forgive me?” I batted my eyelashes in a way I thought looked pretty pitiful.

“Us?” Mason added with his own puppy dog look.

Mick grumbled then slapped a hand at Mason’s shoulder. Supporting his son. Always supportive. “Son, if this pretty lady is your girl and you love her like you say, then I’m sure I’ll love her, too. But you lie to me again and I’ll tan your hide even worse than that car accident did. You hear?”

At that, both Rachel and I laughed. Mason scowled. “Yeah, Dad. I heard ya.”

***

It was early. The sun hadn’t yet broke on the horizon as I zipped up my suitcase and silently carried it down the stairs. Mason and Rachel were asleep in the master bedroom. After the doctors cleared Mason, we came back to the house and his father puttered around making a late dinner. Claimed that you needed to feed a cold. Of course, Mason didn’t have a cold; he was in a car accident, but none of us thought it prudent to make the distinction. I had a feeling his Dad needed to do something to help, mostly just to spend some time making sure his son was okay.

Once dinner was done, each one of his brothers stopped by. Shaun with his newest girlfriend. Not the same one he’d showed me a picture of last time we were at dinner, but teens were fickle like that. Hell, I was like that. Hopping from man to man each month, not knowing where I’d be and when. His brothers stayed long enough to rib him about the accident, about having two girlfriends, which made Rachel extremely uncomfortable, not yet used to the attention from the Murphy clan, but I knew eventually she’d fit right in. Ellie had a lot to do with that. With the way Rachel looked, Ellie believe Rachel was a Princess and not for pretend. Just like their mother Eleanor, Rachel was elegant, had a regal look about her, spoke softly, and was a classic beauty. I had a feeling these two would make it for the long haul and hoped even with everything that had happened toward the end of my stay, they’d be willing to keep the lines of communication open.

I walked through the dark house, made some coffee, and sipped at it while looking out the window. My time with Mason had been interesting to say the least. I had an amazing time watching his games front and center, meeting the players, getting to know the life of a WAG, but more than that, I saw the inner workings of a team. Men who supported one another through it all and played ball like a finely tuned instrument: each player no more important than the next, and utterly beautiful as a whole. I was even more in love with the Red Sox team than I had been before I got to Boston and I was a diehard fan then.

I’d miss the wives and girlfriends that I’d met as well. They had their own little clique and I very much enjoyed being a part of their girl club for the month. Sarah, Morgan, and, of course, little Kris would not easily be forgotten. They were fine women who supported their guys one hundred percent. Silently, I sent good will and love out to them.

More than anything though, I’d watched a couple fall in love. Two people who didn’t believe they were right for one another found that the only thing that didn’t work for them was being apart. In the end, Rachel and Mason complemented one another. They were their own yin and yang.

I couldn’t be happier that Mason had lost his piggish ways. Overall, I think maybe they were his way of putting up a wall. One that would deflect good women, perhaps because he didn’t feel worthy or good enough for a high caliber lady. Once he made those life changes, started living for himself, finding who he was in the grand scheme of things, it was easier for him to see that he didn’t have to put up a front. He could take a chance on being himself and when he did, it opened up an entire world of happiness, namely in the sweet little woman laying by his side prepared to take care of him in every way that matters: businesswise, physically, mentally and emotionally.

For Rachel, I think it took almost losing Mason to realize that who she was and what she had was enough for him. More than enough. The woman she showed to the world is the exact woman that Mason fell in love with, the one that I was certain he’d take down the aisle one day.

Finishing my coffee, I got out my stationery.

Mason,

Something you don’t know about me is that I don’t like goodbyes. They’re messy and uncomfortable, which is why I’m leaving you while you are sound asleep in the arms of the woman you love. The woman you were meant to love.

I’m honored that you chose me to be your pretend girlfriend. I had more fun this month than I’ve had in years. And I learned a few things. I’m going to take with me the knowledge that you should always put your best self forward and be open to the opportunities right in front of you. Taking chances toward finding your special happiness is important, and far too often people get stuck in the daily grind, or think that the life they are living just can’t get any better, even when they know they aren’t happy. You chose happiness and that came in the form of a sweet, beautiful blonde. Do right by her. She’s taking risks of her own by giving herself to you completely.

Rachel,

Take care of him. He needs a strong woman who won’t put up with his crap. I know you’re that woman.

I’ll miss you both and think of you often. Thank you for showing me how life could be if I’d only choose happiness. One day, I’m sure I will find what I’m meant to, and when I do, and the time is right, I’ll never let it go.

Don’t ever let one another go.

All my love,

~Mia

I left the note on the kitchen counter, rolled my suitcase out the door and down the stairs, where I met the taxi.

“Logan International Airport please.”

The city flew by as the sun started to slide up over the horizon lighting the sky in soft hues of blue and gold. It had been a good month. Between baseball games, hanging out with Mason, Rachel and the rest of the crew, I’d had a blast. I also had the opportunity to get my feet wet in planning a charity event. One that was beyond successful and would help a lot of women get the help they needed to fight breast cancer. Overall, I’d rate this month as one of many that I’d never forget.

The cabbie dropped me off at the airport, I checked into arrivals, went through security, and then found a Starbucks to sit at and have more coffee and a slice of lemon bread. Something kept nagging at me and the more I tried to push it away, the more the annoying thoughts crept up and prodded me.

I pulled out my phone and my heart stuttered to a halt. A text from Wes. We hadn’t spoken since I’d hung up on him over two weeks ago.

To: Mia Saunders

From: Wes Channing

Still friends?

For a long time I thought about those words. Still friends. Were Wes and I friends? Lovers, yes. Friends…before finding out that he was sleeping with Gina, I would have said yes. Definitely. Friends with benefits, absolutely. I thought about Gin and what made us friends. Trust. History. Commonalities. But ultimately, it came down to what would my life be like if she wasn’t in it. And that answer is horrible. I’d feel lost without the anchor of her friendship. Did I have that with Wes?

The answer unequivocally was yes. Yes I did. I knew for a fact that if I called Wes right now and told him I needed him, he’d drop everything, get on a plane, and be there for me. Same as Hector or Tony, or even Alec would. Definitely Mason. Because they were my friends. People I shared a portion of my life with that made an impression on my soul. They are now a foot print on the path in my life.

With quick fingers I typed back.

To: Wes Channing

From: Mia Saunders

Yes. We will always be friends. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.

I walked through the airport, picked out a magazine and then waited at the gate before my phone dinged with an incoming message.

To: Mia Saunders

From: Wes Channing

I feel the same. Is there still room for more or have I lost you?

To: Wes Channing

From: Mia Saunders

You could never lose me. For now we go our own way.

To: Mia Saunders

From: Wes Channing

Stick with the plan?

To: Wes Channing

From: Mia Saunders

Yes.

To: Mia Saunders

From: Wes Channing

When I can see you again?

To: Wes Channing

From: Mia Saunders

The next time you’re meant to see me.

With that last text, I turned off my phone and boarded the plane to Vegas. A quick couple days with my sister and best friend would be exactly what I needed to get me ready for a month in Hawaii. I could hardly wait. Sun, surf, and suntan lotion. Bring on the heat.

Mia’s journey continues in May (Calendar Girl).

Excerpt from May: Calendar Girl (Book 5)

Black tribal tattoos. Drool worthy, thick, corded muscles wrapped in intricate weaving designs, cascaded all over tanned, toned, male skin. From the top of his left shoulder, down his bulging bicep, over his ribcage, waist, dipped into the sarong that covered his male essence and beyond. The black ropes of ink scaled down from a tree-trunk sized thigh, along tight carved out calves, to stop bluntly at the ankle. I could barely feel the sand burning the soles of my feet as I stood there in awe of the magnificent creature before me. He turned sideways giving me a lick-able view of a strong well-formed back, one that could easily lift me and two friends, and toss us easily into the ocean just beyond where he stood. A camera clicked repeatedly and then he looked at me. No, he didn’t look at me. His eyes sought mine across the thirty foot expanse between us. Brown eyes, the color of the deepest, darkest cocoa bean sizzled as they took in every ounce of my form.

The stranger’s gaze slid over me like a burning caress, so heated I fanned my face trying to remove the searing feeling that encapsulated my skin. An Italian accented voice called out some commands and finally Mr. Tattoo looked away, releasing the hold he had over me. I was freed, but felt and odd niggling sense of loss instead. The way this man looked at me was a calling, a beacon of desire needling at my psyche. One I was all too familiar with as the space between my thighs swelled and softened. I stood and watched as the man behind the camera took a dozen more photos then abruptly made a slashing gesture with his hand.

“
Finito
!” he said then followed it up with a, “
Perfetto
.”

Ripping my eyes away from the overly delicious male, I watched as the photographer twisted around, his face turned toward me. He had on a woven brown fedora style sun hat, cargo shorts, a white linen shirt that was held together by a single button that did nothing to hide the svelte body underneath it. He smiled wide and trudged over to me, sand kicking up with each step. As he came closer, I could see a soft smile, white teeth, and small wrinkles at the edges of his eyes kind blue eyes and more around his mouth. It was a handsome face that showed he’d aged well, his salt and pepper hair spiking out from under the hat.

“
Bella donna
,” he said grasping my shoulders, leaning forward and air kissing both cheeks. “I am Angel D’Amico, and you are more beautiful than I anticipated when my wife said we must have you for our campaign.”

At the mention of his wife, a statuesque Latina exited a white tent, her brown skin glimmering in the sunlight. A fiery red sarong style halter dress wrapped around her curvaceous form and flapped in the breeze. Her dark hair was long and whisked out as if she had a personal fan blowing directly on her to accentuate her features. Talk about beauty. This woman had loads of it.  Angel clapped his hands as the woman headed our way. “Ah, my wife. Takes away breath, yes?” He asked me, and I nodded because she did steal my breath, she was that stunning.