Calendar Girl: November: Book 11 Page 4

  I breathed with him a few times until the truck lifted off my chest and I could finally take full, deep breaths.

  “Okay, there you are. Here, have some water.” He handed me a glass.

  I sipped at the frosty liquid and let the calm that came with it settle in my belly.

  “What happened, Mia?”

  Mason was behind me. I could feel his hand smoothing up and down my spine. “Sweetness, you need to take a chill pill. This wedding stuff can get the best of you, but really, it’s only about you and my new buddy, Wes, here. Everything else is just details.”

  I closed my eyes and felt Wes cup my cheeks. “Honey, do you not want a big wedding?”

  I shook my head. “Never did,” I said softly, getting myself back under control. For a moment there, I thought I was going to black out.

  “Okay, then. We’ll go small. Hell, we can elope if you’d like.”

  Again, I shook my head. “No, your mom would be so sad. I’d never want to take that from her.”

  “Well, what about something small, more quaint? Where’s a place that reminds you of one another?” Rachel spoke softly while I stared into Wes’s beautiful eyes.

  We both smiled, and at the same time said exactly the same thing. “The beach.”

  Rachel clapped. “That was so cute! Awww.”

  Mason groaned. “Beach wedding. Cool, guys. How’s that gonna work in January? Isn’t it cold?”

  Wes shook his head. “Nope. Actually, the weather in Malibu in January is usually really beautiful. Seventies, even eighties sometimes. Thought it can dip down into the sixties. Either way, it’s still perfect.”

  Our beach. Marrying the man I love, steps away from where we surfed, walked, cuddled, and watched the sunset with the waves and sun as our background.

  “Wes, it’s perfect. Let’s get married on our beach.”

  “And what about a reception?” he asked.

  And this is where I would probably score some serious points with my soon-to-be mother in law. “What about your parents’ estate?”

  His eyes gleamed, positively smiled in response. “She would love that. We can get married on our beach for us. Have our reception at my childhood home.” He held my cheeks. “Christ, I love you more and more each and every day.”

  “Rockin’,” I whispered as he laughed and kissed me sweetly. Nothing like his normally intense kisses, but definitely one to remember.

  “Well that’s settled. Now I know it’s going to be small, but can we come? Mason will be available in January, and we’d love to see Malibu.”

  “Of course. The more the merrier.” I repeated her earlier response.

  “Really?” Wes’s shocked expression probably meant he hadn’t heard the sarcasm in my tone.

  I shook my head. “No, not really. I can mentally make a list of twenty or less that I would invite. Can you get your list to twenty or less?”

  He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I don’t know. We’ll talk about it, though. I’ll make a list tonight.”

  Tonight. He’d make a list of who to invite to our wedding tonight. The man was dead set on this happening in seven weeks. Now I only needed to get to the bottom of why.

  * * *

  Lunch with Mason and Rachel turned into dinner as well. We had so much to catch up on that we hung out at the pub drinking beer, snacking, and talking about everything from their really involved wedding plans to the house they were buying. We also caught up on his family, hers, my experience with Max, and everything in between. I’d already given Mason the heads up not to talk about Wes’s captivity or the fact that I’d called him pretty regularly over the past month to hash out my feelings over some of the things Wes and I had dealt with. He was great at giving an unbiased male perspective and wasn’t the type of guy to hold it against Wes or tell him at all. We were friends, Mace and I. We’d formed a bond over the month I was there and again when he came to my rescue the last time we were in New York. My relationship with him felt very much like the relationship I had with my brother Maxwell—another person I needed to call and give a heads up about the wedding. Then again, we were due to hit Texas for Thanksgiving, so I’d see him in a couple weeks anyway. First and foremost, I needed to deal with Wes and his obsessive compulsion need to get married immediately.

  * * *

  “You know, I like Mason and Rachel. They’re a great couple. Good team, too,” Wes said as he pulled off his shirt.

  For a moment I lost all train of thought. Weston’s bare, muscled chest was on full display in front of me, and it deserved a moment of silent reflection. Reminded me of one of those famous paintings by Monet or Van Gogh. When they were on full display, the lighting just right, they put the observer in a trance, as did my man’s sexy ass body.

  Wes grinned. “Cat got your tongue?” He probably saw the drool sliding down my chin.

  I shook my head. Nope. Not gonna happen. Do not deviate from course. Need answers.

  “Wes, can I ask you something?” I asked at the same time that he pushed down his jeans and stood in only his briefs.

  Fight it, Mia. Fight! You can do this. Do not let the sexy bastard get you off your train of thought. This is important.

  I licked my lips as I took in the eye-candy that was my fiancé. Jesus, he could be a male model, only with some serious bulk. Those hours upon hours of surfing did wonders for his physique.

  “Of course, sweetheart.” Wes sat down next to me, grabbed my ankle, and ran his hand up my calf. It wasn’t a sexual caress, but my body couldn’t tell the difference. The instant his hand touched my skin, a warmth I couldn’t ignore spread from where his hand touched me and up through my entire body.

  Think, Mia. Okay. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what I wanted to say.

  “Honey, you’re scaring me. What is it?” Wes's tone held a nervous edge. His fingers dug into my chin, not hurting, but definitely bringing me back to the present moment.

  “Why are you so insistent on getting married so quickly?” My words released in a rush.

  Wes’s shoulders slumped. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands.

  “Wes, baby, what is it?” I crawled over to him on the bed and ran my hand along his back.

  “It’s not that we can’t wait. I know we could spend some time planning, but Mia, Jesus, after the time I spent locked up…the only thing that gave me hope was thinking of you. You were my constant. I had to survive. I just had to because I wanted to be there for you more than anything.”

  “Wes…” My voice cracked as I laid my forehead against his back and held him from behind. “I’m so glad you’re with me and that we have this time together to plan our future.”

  “So you see, it’s not that it needs to be rushed, I just don’t want to waste one more minute of my life than I have to with you not being mine. Marrying you, putting that ring on your finger was all I thought about when it got really bad. I imagined a hundred ways I could ask you. A hundred ways you’d respond, but in the end, in bed where it was me and you, away from all the therapy, the stress of my job, of my family, I knew it was the right time.”

  I kissed his back and let his words sink in. He didn’t want to waste another minute more without me. It wasn’t about jealousy or rushing into something. It was about commitment. Being with me. Me being with him. Us being one. A family.

  “Okay. So that’s it. We’ll get married on our beach in Malibu and head to your parents' place for the reception. You wanna make our lists of guests?”

  He flipped around, flung me onto my back, and was between my thighs in a flash. Talent was one of the many reasons I loved my guy.

  “We’ll make the lists after.”

  I waggled my brows at him. “After what?” I asked coyly.

  “After I fuck the hell out of my fiancée.”

  The words rippled through my chest and tingled all the way down to the heat between my thighs. “I think that’s doable,” I agreed and smiled, lifting up toward his m
outh so I could kiss him.

  “No, Mia. You’re doable,” he quipped, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth.

  I groaned and wrapped my legs around his waist, bringing him closer. “Then do me,” I said, breathless.

  “With pleasure.” He growled.

  “Who’s pleasure? Mine or yours?” I quipped, giggling, loving this light side to our passion.

  He grinned. “Ours, sweetheart. Always ours.”

  Chapter Four

  A week later, the studio team arrived at Anton’s penthouse at the crack of dawn. Anton wasn’t even awake yet. Apparently, he and Heather had torn up the town with a few other music industry folks. Still, he let me use his pad to film the segment and interview both him and Mason there. Heather was awake of course, looking rock star chic, even though I could see the tinge of purple under her pretty blues. Her make-up was dialed in and her outfit was on point as usual.

  I wore what I considered a very sexy black pinstriped pencil skirt, black knee-high boots, and a white silk blouse that had ties that wrapped around the neck. A chunky red bracelet and necklace completed the look. It must have looked pretty sexy. Wes practically assaulted me when I came out of the bedroom this morning before leaving the hotel. His hardened shaft was evidence enough that he desired me, not to mention the way he’d pulled me against his body and palmed my bum with both hands, grinding up against me like a sex-starved maniac. It took every ounce of control I possessed not to let him take me right there up against the wall in our suite. Alas, I was very determined to knock out this segment quickly, spend time with my friends, and head back to my personal o-trigger detonator. I swear, the way Wes looked at me half the time was enough to set my loins ablaze.

  Shaking off all thoughts of Wes naked and ready back at our hotel, I sucked in a calming breath, closed my eyes, and counted to ten. When I opened them, I felt more connected to the job and the task at hand.

  The crew bustled around me, setting up in the plush formal living room. It was decorated with a serious Puerto Rican flare that immediately reminded me of Anton. He’d taken his time with this room. I’d chosen it for the segment with Anton because it most reflected the man I believed Anton to be—the personal side, not the public persona. This room spoke of the richness and colorful diversity of the Puerto Rican culture, something I knew was very close to Anton’s heart.

  There were pieces of art hanging on the walls from local artists who lived there and statues made from wood whittlers in his hometown. The woven fabric blankets his mother had made were all lovingly placed with care across the deep burgundy leather couches. The furniture alone suggested that a guest should pull up a seat and stay awhile. That was Anton. With his true friends and family, he always lent a hand where he could and made sure to offer a comfy place for those he loved to be near him wherever he hung his hat.

  Kathy, my production assistant on this project, made her way to me. Her hair was long, midnight black, and down to her bum, though I’d never seen it lose and flowing. She always had it pulled back into a long French braid. I liked her a lot. The Woody Allen style glasses she wore were forever slipping down her long, pointed nose. When she stopped in front of someone, she’d push them up with one pale pink-painted fingernail. Every. Single. Damn. Time.

  It made me wonder if the glasses were for show or whether she needed them more to fit her hipster style. Either way, I chose not to say anything because she was amazing, and working with her was a dream. From what I understood from Wes, production assistants who weren’t annoying or clamoring for the spotlight were hard to come by. He also thought Kathy was an old soul in a young woman’s body. I’d yet to figure out what her future goals were, but for now, I hoped I made her happy enough to stay with me through however long the Living Beautiful segment lasted with Dr. Hoffman.

  “Ms. Saunders…“

  I rolled my eyes. I’d told Kathy a hundred times over to call me Mia, but she straight up refused. Found it disrespectful.

  “Mr. Murphy is here with Ms. Denton. I’ve got them both in makeup, which surprised Ms. Denton.” Kathy pressed her glasses up her nose even though they didn’t seem to be falling down.

  I grinned. “I know. Let her be mystified. She doesn’t know that Mason has it planned to announce her as his fiancé publicly on my show. It’s been on the down-low, apparently. I just found out myself, but he wants the world to know he’s off the market and no longer a confirmed bachelor.”

  Kathy’s eyes lit up with a little twinkle. “Love it. Dr. Hoffman will positively swoon, and Leona”—she shook her head at the mention of the big boss who ran the entire show—“she might kiss your feet!” She giggled, put her hand over her mouth, and looked around as if afraid someone might have heard her less than professional slip-up.

  I rested my hand on her bicep. “Kathy, it’s just you and me. And you’re right. Leona will laugh manically when the first announcement is made on our show. Sometimes it’s good to have friends in high places, right?” I nudged her shoulder, and her cheeks pinked as she nodded.

  “So do we know if the media room is almost set up? With Anton being out of commission for at least another couple hours, I’d like to move forward on Mason.”

  She nodded, pecked on her electronic device with one finger, and pursed her lips. “I’ll make sure. Should be ready to go by the time they are out of makeup.”

  I walked through the house and checked on the various spots we’d chosen to shoot for different parts of the segments. Wes and I decided we’d work together and knock out as much as possible on this trip because we needed a full month's worth of content. That way, I had the end of November and most of December free to be with my family.

  Max had made it clear that if he didn’t have his sisters at his ranch in Texas on Thanksgiving he’d be hurt. Of course Maxwell was far too manly to say it like that, but he’d definitely hinted that it would make his entire year if we were able to come. Full of new-baby hormones, Cyndi made it very clear that her husband would be broken up if Maddy and I couldn’t make it. Moreover, I desperately wanted to meet Jackson, my first nephew. Plus the fact that my brother had paid a few hundred thousand dollars of my father’s debt to save mine and my best friend’s ass back in September made me think that hitting Texas for Thanksgiving was the least I could do.

  I found Mace and Rachel in one of the large guest bathrooms. The thing was huge! That Anton had such a large house in the city for just him and Heather blew me away.

  Rachel and Mason were sitting facing the big mirror over the double sinks.

  “Hey, guys, they making you pretty for the cameras?”

  Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, but why am I getting my makeup done?”

  I tried to play dumb and just shrugged nonchalantly. “Just in case we end up having something that pans the area, or maybe we end up asking you a question or two.”

  Not wanting to ruin the surprise, I moved over to Mace. “Looking dead sexy there, bro.” I punched his arm as hard as I could.

  “Ouch!” He cringed and rubbed at his arm. “Love you too, Mia. See how she treats me, Rach? No respect. I should tell the papers something gross about my month with her, something like…” He scratched at his chin, pretending to think about it. He snapped his fingers and pointed at my reflection in the mirror. “Something like she picked her nose and wiped it on my wall.” He grinned manically.

  My eyes practically bugged out of my head. “That’s sick! You wouldn’t!”

  His eyes narrowed into slits. “I so would. Don’t tempt me, bruiser.” He rubbed at his arm, which couldn’t possibly be that sore. He’d had his best buddy, Junior, tag him a lot harder on multiple occasions.

  “Wuss!” I shot back, not caring about the consequences.

  “Stop it, you two. It’s time to get serious,” Rachel said. It would have sounded a lot more powerful if she didn’t have her mouth in a fishy-face pucker while the makeup artist applied lip gloss. “Mia, do you have your questions ready? I’d like to see them.”

/>   Oh, shit. That was not good. Trying to hide something from your PR representative wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. I glanced at Mason, and his eyebrows rose.

  “Um, yeah, but uh…”I tried to think of anything I could say to get her off the path as well as avoid wanting to see the questions I planned on asking Mason.

  “Rach, babe, I approved them already.”

  Her eyes turned into daggers. “You what? That’s my job. I can’t believe you’d do that.”

  “Babe…” His eyes turned soft, and he reached out and took her hand. “It’s Mia. She’s not asking anything inappropriate, and you were busy dealing with that pencil dick from PowerStrong drinks. Remember?”

  “Oh, that guy was such a tool. Do you know he wanted you to offer to be a spokesperson for their second line pro bono? And it wasn’t even for charity.” She shook her head and her cheeks pinked up in irritation. “They thought they were big enough to not have to pay for each promotion. Pig,” she whispered under her breath.

  Okay, that sounded like my cue. “See ya in the media room. Guys, how much longer until they’re ready?”

  “’Bout five minutes,” one of the makeup artists said while fluffing Mason’s hair into something stylish yet cool.

  “Me too,” the other one said. He held a large blush brush and was touching up Rachel’s face with powder to seal the job.

  “All right, let’s get you miked up.” Kathy gestured with a hand down the hall where the media room was located and where I planned to film first.

  * * *

  “Hello, and welcome to a very special segment of Living Beautiful we’re calling ‘Be Thankful.’ Today’s guest is none other than professional baseball player Mason Murphy.” I turned to look at Mason, who was sitting in the white leather love seat across from me looking cool as a cucumber. “Mason, thank you for joining us today.”

  “Anything for you, sweetness. You know that.” He winked.