Meeting Madison

by Regina Wade

  Finally, we drop the last of them off in their accommodations.

  “Thank you, young lady,” Mr. Callahan’s bushy eyebrows are more animated than I’ve seen all day. There’s trail dust on his suit, bits of fresh strawberry and local wine on his silk tie. “Today has been a revelation.”

  I turn back to Mason once we’re back on the trail. It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since our in-room shopping spree at dawn. Over his shoulder, the sun is kissing the horizon behind the water.

  God, had that really just been this morning?

  I feel like a different person.

  “You were incredible.” There’s energy crackling off of Mason. The grin on his face is bigger than I’ve ever seen. “Let’s celebrate?”

  His smile is wide, genuine. Illuminated by the glow of the warm sunset behind him, Mason is so handsome it almost hurts to look at him. High on our success, I slip my hand into his as we begin to wind our way back towards the cliff house.

  “Oh? What did you have in mind?” I can think of a dozen different ways I want to celebrate the win with Mason Black, and only six of them involve keeping our clothes on.

  “Why don’t you let me take you out for lunch tomorrow?” He gives my fingers a good-natured squeeze with his. “Any place you want.”

  The butterflies in my stomach flap themselves into a frenzy at the intimacy of the contact.

  “I know just the place,” I grin at him. “Come on. I don’t care how expensive these shoes are, being cooped up in them all day is finally catching up to me, and I can’t wait to get back and peel them off.

  “Right now, I just want to go climb into your jacuzzi tub and use all the jets.”

  Chapter 6

  Mason

  If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.

  If you’re going to San Francisco, you’re going to meet some gentle people there. — Scott McKenzie, ‘San Francisco’

  I’m glad that I can’t see my own face because I’m certain it’s stuck in a rictus of utter disbelief.

  “You can’t be serious.” I shake my head at Maddie in confusion.

  After another restless night on the couch, I was up and out of the cliff house before her alarm this morning. Somehow, even after spending all day in her presence yesterday, I woke up craving more of Madison like strong espresso by first light. Even a hard run along the shoreline and an icy shower at the gym hadn’t been enough to shake the cobwebs of Maddie from my head.

  Everything about my new assistant is intoxicating. I love the fire in her dark eyes, the brilliance of her sharp wit. Her dazzling smile and killer performance yesterday is something I’ll never forget. The image of her in that dress and those heels is forever imprinted in my mind. Even the way she challenges me at every turn is a breath of fresh air.

  Case in point: Madison could have picked literally any place in the Golden State to celebrate our excellent teamwork yesterday. But here we are, still on the hotel grounds.

  “It won’t kill you, Mason,” Maddie’s eyes flash with a mixture of exasperation and humor as she nudges me forward. “Some people are happy to eat here. I think it’ll do you some good.”

  She’s dressed much more casually for our celebratory lunch date today. The curve-hugging jeans and deep red top are part of the California casual work wardrobe I had the designers leave in her possession. I can’t help but notice she’s paired the look with another set of sky-high heels.

  No complaints from me.

  “No, no. I know the food is good,” I give her a placating look, holding open the door to the small wooden bungalow that serves as the employee lunchroom. “I hired everyone in here, remember? I wouldn’t have anyone working at the Pine if they weren’t the best.”

  I take off my Ray-Bans, waiting for her to walk in. It allows me to be a gentleman and gives me the added bonus of checking out Maddie’s generous ass as she saunters in ahead of me.

  “It’s just… a cafeteria?” I rock back, making a show of taking in the place for the first time. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at one. Ever.”

  Maddie’s eyes narrow, as if she can’t decide whether to be amused or horrified.

  “What about school?” She finally asks, realizing I’m not pulling her leg.

  “Private catered lunches. Each of us had our own chef. Please stop glaring at me, Mads. It’s not like I had a choice. I was a kid.”

  Each word out my mouth seems to be igniting a new reaction in the center of her gorgeous brown eyes. Disbelief. Indignation. Irritation.

  There’s something in me that wants to poke at her. I like that Maddie challenges me. So few people ever have. It’s why I knew she’d be perfect for this job, and it’s why I knew she was perfect for me from the first moment I stumbled across her in my shower.

  The truth is, even if I was able to stop winding her up, I’m not sure I want to.. I want to keep twisting her up tighter and tighter until the terrible tension makes her break.

  “Well,” she finally blows out a breath that sends a strand of dark hair flying off her face. “Mr. Black, today you’re going to have to dine with the commoners. I hope you don’t find the peasants too revolting.”

  I laugh at that, grabbing a warm tray off the nearest pile.

  “The peasants can be as revolting as they want, as long as they aren’t rebelling, love.”

  Madison’s nose turns up in the most endearing way when I’m driving her crazy.

  It’s too early in the day for lunch crowds to be an issue, though the smells coming out of the kitchen are admittedly pretty enticing.

  “So, what’s good?” I ask casually as Madison joins me at the end of the line.

  “It’s hard to go wrong with pizza,” she offers helpfully. Her fingers are curled tightly around the edges of her slick white tray, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Ah, good.” I turn to the woman behind the counter. Robust and red-headed, the bright silver nameplate on her starched green uniform reads GRETA.

  Does she hate the uniform too?

  If Greta is at all awestruck by the appearance of the owner of the hotel, she isn’t showing it.

  “One pizza, please.” I give the woman across the counter a dramatic wink, inflecting my voice with as much upper-crust rich kid inflection as I can. Leaning against the shiny stainless steel, I make a show of inspecting the different types of cheesy pie like they’re a strange alien species I’ve never encountered before. “Do you think one will be enough, dear?”

  From behind me, Madison makes a sound of strangled frustration.

  I manage to get a half a laugh out before she shoves me forcibly aside.

  “Sorry, Greta. Mason is an idiot that doesn’t realize people are busy with—” She whirls around, pinning me in place with those fiery bourbon eyes. She’s ready to let me have it until she sees the grin splitting my face. She manages to catch the shared look of amusement between me and her fellow employee. From behind the counter, Greta lets out a small chuckle of her own, arresting Maddie mid finger-wag.

  “We’ll have two slices of pepperoni, one with pineapple, please and thank you.” Twin spots of color rise to Madison’s cheeks.

  “Don’t be too hard on the boy, lass.” Greta’s soft lilt is soft and grandmotherly.

  “You’re a big jerk, Mason.” Maddie huffs quietly, crossing her arms. It still does fantastic things for her breasts, which hardly need any help to be mesmerizing. It’s hard not to stare, but I manage.

  Despite what she might think, I’m not a complete asshole.

  “Yes, but I’m not completely out of touch with reality.” I shrug one shoulder before reaching over her to take the plates from Greta. “Just mostly. Also.”

  I wait until Maddie looks back up at me. She bites down on her bottom lip, clearly trying not to laugh.

  “Pineapple? On pizza? And you’re worried that I’m the weird one?” I give her a mock shudder, tsking at the fiery brunette.

  “Oh, bite me.”
Despite herself, Maddie lets out a laugh. I love it when I can get under her defenses.

  “I might if you’re lucky.” I know it’s terrible, but I can’t stop egging her on.

  Yesterday went better than I could have expected— better than I ever could have dreamed. Madison has it in her to run the entire Black Hotel empire some day. I should be holed up in my office, going over every possible outcome, poring over every scenario. It’s what Tuck and I would be doing.

  Instead, Madison has me eating lunch in the employee lodge, out of my element. She’s maddening in the best way. I just want to crack that good southern girl exterior. Maddie wears such a hard-earned facade. But, every once in awhile, I can get her just hot enough under the collar enough to slip.

  “Come on, Richie Rich,” she leads us out into the seating area.

  Whenever she shows me that ghost of a sad smile, or bites her lip, or— god help me— every time she drags the tip of her pink tongue across her full bottom lip, something in me snaps. Maddie has driven me completely mad, and now I need to drag her off the cliffs of insanity along with me.

  Maddie settles down at the far end of a long table, already half-crowded with chattering people in various versions of the Pine Bluff employee uniform.

  Her coworkers, I assume.

  “For your trouble.” I pull out my wallet and slide across twice the cost of lunch. Hopefully, my charming smile goes a long way with Greta. “Sorry if we disturbed your day.”

  “Oh no, this is the highlight of my day,” She cackles delightedly. “Maddie’s a sweet girl, but when she gets the bit between her teeth, ain’t no taming her.”

  “Well, pity me then.” I chuckle. “I can’t back down from a challenge.”

  “Let me know who to send flowers to, for the funeral” Greta grins.

  I follow Maddie over to the table.

  She’s the center of her own orbit, a constant force around which at least three different conversations rotate. How she manages to keep everything straight I have no idea, but she juggles everything with the grace of a verbal gymnast.

  “Mason, sit,” She waves me over without looking up from the pizza she’s munching.” It’s all endearingly cute.

  I contemplate telling her but realize interrupting to do so right now would be tantamount to suicide.

  “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” I take a seat on the bench opposite her and help myself to a non-offensive slice of my own.

  Maddie takes her time, thoughtfully chewing and swallowing before looking in my direction. She isn’t angry, but I’ve never felt so pinned in place by a stare before in my life.

  “Shouldn’t you know them?” Maddie’s tone is casual, her voice even. There’s a soft ice to her tone, and I’m not entirely sure where I went wrong. “You hired them, remember?”

  “Mads—”

  “This is Adele,” Maddie motions to the dark-haired girl sitting to her right. “Her mom is the head of housekeeping. That’s Brad. He works at the front desk overnight. And this is Eduardo.”

  There’s a palpable tension across the table.

  “Hi, I’m Mason.” I offer a hand to the man sitting next to me. He’s a young teen with a very sharp haircut. His eyes are big and growing bigger by the second, alarmed at being the first to be caught in the obvious crossfire.

  “Eduardo is a valet.” Maddie’s eyes never shift from mine. There’s something bright and unreadable in them. I’m not sure when I lost the advantage, but I may have to reevaluate the address I gave to Greta.

  “Eduardo. It’s a pleasure. Do you like cars?”

  “Eduardo likes art. He’s a photographer.” Maddie answers for him. Her voice is tight, with a waver that I never heard for even a moment yesterday.

  “I thought you said he’s a valet,” I respond. Neither of us is looking at Eduardo anymore.

  “Eddie parks cars to survive. He takes pictures for fun.” Emotion colors her voice, thickening the southern accent that rolls off her tongue.

  “I like driving the nice cars, though.” Eduardo finally manages to get a word in edgewise.

  I give his shoulder a clap.

  “Who wouldn’t? They’re nice.” I smile at the kid, trying to mentally send thanks for trying vibes.

  Maddie rolls her eyes and takes another listless bite of fruit-laden pizza. One at a time, the rest of our table takes the break in our heated verbal spat to flee. There’s a lot of mumbling about getting back to work as people make themselves scarce.

  Then it’s just the two of us once more. I don’t know when things went sideways, but I do know that she isn’t the same Madison that walked in here with me an hour ago.

  “What did I do?” I ask, pointing my fork at her to accentuate my question.

  “You didn’t do anything. At least nothing you can help.” Maddie bites down on her lip, looking everywhere but at me. Despite what she says, it sounds very much like I did something.

  “We’re just different, Mason. You’re like Callahan and his friends. I’m like Eduardo and Adele and Greta and everyone else here.” She says it quietly, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You were just born lucky.”

  “Don’t compare me to those old blowhards, Mads.” I snap back at her. Damn it, this is not how today was supposed to go.

  I’d meant to keep pushing Maddie’s boundaries, keep drawing her out of her shell. But I wasn’t expecting her to push my own right back.

  “You’re right. I didn’t ask to be born with a silver spoon in my mouth. But I didn’t ask for that. And I work hard. I could have sat on my ass for the rest of my life.” I push my own unfinished lunch back, heat and emotion of my own boiling up to the surface. “I built this place from the ground up. It’s not some cookie cutter five-star concrete playground.”

  Maddie rocks back on her heels, surprised by my sudden outburst. She rallies, though.

  “What do you know about hard work, Mason?” Gorgeous eyes the color of scotch with just enough melted ice in it glare back at me, refusing to budge an inch.

  “You don’t build something like this without a lot of it, sweetheart,” I scoff. “Trust me.”

  “All I see is a lot of Daddy’s money.” She snarls back, slamming both hands on the table in front of her. The pizza sits forgotten, growing cold, even as I feel my blood heating up. I stand too, leaning in. Our faces are inches apart.

  I know this is a bad idea, too many people watching the boss lose his temper with the new hire. But I can’t resist Maddie. She pushes my buttons like no one else.

  “All I see is a scared little virgin, pushing someone away because she’s afraid of getting hurt.” I look down, at the full curves of her mouth. I can’t physically not look. “Or worse, actually feeling something.”

  There’s a sweet, sick joy as her eyes go wide. My barb strikes home, but she doesn’t collapse. She’s far too tough for that.

  “Fuck you, Black,” Madison growls. She’s so close I can smell her shampoo. No doubt it’s cheap, but she’s not, and that makes all the difference.

  “Don’t you wish I would?” I lean in closer, so close that I know she’s thinking about how easy it would be for me to kiss her. I know she’s thinking about it because I can’t think of anything else.

  “Not in a million years.” Her voice shakes, trembles. Maddie is great in a fight, but I’m learning she’s a terrible liar.

  “Is that why I can see your pulse in your throat?” I whisper, my lips close enough I know she can feel the brush of them against her own.

  “You’re awful.” She murmurs, her lids fluttering close as she leans in.

  I respond without words, leaning in the rest of the way to press my lips to hers. It’s a searing first kiss, easily the strangest and most wonderful I’ve ever had.

  I already know it will be my last.

  Madison is a blazing inferno. I can’t imagine ever letting her go. Even her kiss is just right; sweet, with just a hint of something spicier, a promise of something more.

 
; Both of us are committed now to our impromptu game of chicken. Too proud, too stubborn to back down even one inch.

  “You’re right, you know.” She whispers against my lips.

  “About what?” I ask.

  “What you said. About me. I am scared. I am a virgin.” She presses her lips against mine, and this time, her teeth scrape my bottom lip as she pulls away, her eyes shining with fire. “And I do wish you’d fuck me.”

  With one last taunt delivered, she turns and walks away. The swing in her hips is almost enough to make me burst in my pants right there.

  Chapter 7

  Madison

  She stood there bright as the coast on that California coast. He was a midwestern boy on his own. — Bob Segar, ‘Hollywood Nights’

  I locked the bedroom door for the first time that night.

  Not out of any fear for my safety, but out of concern for keeping my virginity intact. Oh, I wasn’t worried about Mason.

  Just myself.

  I can’t believe how quickly I threw myself at him, not even twenty-four hours after promising myself I’d do no such thing no matter how much money he offered me. It’s a betrayal of all of my principles.

  But god damn can that man kiss.

  A shiver passes through me as my mind wanders back to the feeling of his lips on mine. The spark that seemed to leap between us as we kissed for the first time. I can feel my body reacting to the memory, feel the engine of my desire revving up between my legs.

  With a stifled groan, I roll out of bed. I can’t allow myself to be swept up in this current. Can’t lose myself in Mason’s wake. I know if I do, I’ll be lost, drowned beneath a whirlpool of lust.

  “Come on, Madison. Get your shit together.” I say to myself.

  The racks of brand new designer clothing in the room taunt me.

  All of this and more could be yours if the price is right.