Forever a Stallion

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  Mason smiled as he brushed the backs of his fingers along the profile of her face. She shifted ever so slightly beneath his light touch. He slowly drew back his hand, mindful about not disturbing her rest. She’d been sleeping soundly in the leather seat beside him since they’d stopped to refuel in Tokyo. They’d been in the air for twelve-plus hours and it had taken most of that time for her to finally calm down and relax.

  It had been a long and tedious twenty-four hours for them both. Mason had taken Phaedra to Houston for her DNA test, meeting the brothers on-site. And despite their best efforts, just as they had been the day before, John had been reserved, his quiet stance unnerving her. Mark had still been resentful, unreasonably cold and annoyed by the inconvenience of it all. And Matthew had been in full lawyer mode, mindful that there was an appropriate and legal chain of custody to ensure that there would be no tampering with the results.

  All of them had to be properly identified and their DNA samples collected with a documented paper trail, and everyone involved, from the specimen collector to the DNA analyst, needed to guarantee that they had no interest in the outcome of the test. It had been an emotional roller coaster for them all.

  Mason had held Phaedra’s hand through all of it, sensing that she desperately needed a shoulder to lean on. She fought not to show it, but losing her mother and finding brothers while trying to pretend life was normal had shaken her foundation. Mason was determined to keep her upright and moving until she regained her sense of balance. The circumstances of their coming together were well out of the norm, but he was certain that given enough time, normalcy together would be exactly what the two could find. And if he were really moving fast, it was only because he really wanted to know her and he really wanted her to know him.

  * * *

  Mason’s laugh was like pure honey, Phaedra thought to herself as she lay with her eyes closed tight, pretending to be asleep. It had to be the thickest, richest, sweetest sound that she’d ever heard. And he enjoyed laughing, easily moving her to laugh with him.

  The flight attendant was flirting with him shamelessly, the statuesque woman whispering loudly as she tried to impress him. Phaedra was clearly entertained as Mason struggled to be polite all the while avoiding the overt innuendos the woman was throwing his way. He was cool as a cucumber, but she could hear in his voice that Mason would have liked to be anywhere but in the midst of that conversation with her sitting so close to his side.

  She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, stretching her body against the length of her seat. She sat up as she rubbed her eyes, yawning as if to pull herself from the pretend slumber. Mason smiled excitedly as the flight attendant turned away in a huff, retreating to the plane’s galley.

  Mason smiled down at Phaedra, his grin spread from ear to ear. “Hey, sleepyhead! Are you feeling better?”

  Phaedra nodded. “Much. I needed a good nap,” she answered. “How about you?”

  “I feel good. Ready to be back on the ground, though.”

  “What time is it? Are we close?”

  “Yes,” Mason said. “In fact, the stewardess was just saying that the pilot will probably be preparing us for landing in the next thirty minutes.”

  “And what else was she saying?” Phaedra asked, one eyebrow raised as she stared in his direction.

  Mason laughed, that syrupy sound caressing her eardrums. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean. The way she was tossing her sugar cookies at you, it sounded like she had some serious plans for you two,” Phaedra whispered, tossing a glance in the direction of the galley.

  “Were you eavesdropping, Ms. Parrish?”

  Phaedra nodded. “I most certainly was, and from what I heard, she had plans and you weren’t going along willingly.”

  Mason shook his head, grinning widely. “No, I wasn’t,” he said, a smirk painted across his expression. “Were you jealous?”

  Phaedra laughed. “Do I look like I was jealous?”

  “You look a little jealous,” he teased.

  She leaned closer to him, her smile titillating every nerve ending in his body. “I don’t do jealous, Mr. Boudreaux.”

  Mason leaned in, as well. “Good, because no one has my attention right now except you. You have no reason to be jealous.”

  Phaedra’s smiled brightened as she shook her head. “You are such a man,” she said, laughing.

  Mason laughed with her. “Woman, you just don’t know!”

  Chapter 9

  Lying in the heart of Southeast Asia, roughly equidistant between India and China, Thailand is distinguished by its breathtaking scenery, featuring spectacular green mountains, white tropical beaches and sparkling blue seas. Within twenty-four hours of her arrival in the capital of Bangkok, Phaedra was so in awe of the culture and her surroundings that she had changed the venue for her shoot, hired new models and was completely immersed in the job she’d been hired to do. She was moving nonstop, barely pausing to rest her eyes.

  Like a fly on a wall, Mason disappeared into the background, in awe of her commanding presence. Phaedra knew what she wanted to capture for posterity and what she needed to do to make that happen. Neither the creative director for the project nor the client representative was happy with her, but it was clear that Phaedra was going to give them far more than they’d even begun to imagine.

  Mason had taken control that first day, helping Phaedra to acclimate to her new environment. Within hours of arriving he had treated her to a Thai massage at Madara Spa to alleviate the stress of the lengthy trip. Afterward Phaedra had insisted on a quick excursion to Wang Lang Market to try the street food. She’d not been satisfied until she’d had her fill of muu daeng yan, a spicy roasted Thai pork with a plateful of springy wheat noodles peppered with chopped scallions. Her meal had been complete when she’d polished off a serving of kanom krok, tiny Thai cupcakes baked in a hot metal mold, and more of the crispy tacolike wafers, kanom buang maprow, filled with meringue and sweet coconut, than he’d been able to count.

  “You have a healthy appetite,” Mason said as he passed her a napkin, in awe of the amount of food she’d managed to consume.

  “I do like to eat,” she said, “and I make no apologies for it.”

  “I like a woman with a healthy appetite. But as tiny as you are, I’m just trying to figure out where you’re putting all that food.” Mason laughed.

  “That just sounds like another pastry moment to me!” Phaedra said with a wink as she downed her umpteenth wafer dessert.

  By the second day Mason was pasted on that wall, an observer in a world that was completely ruled by Phaedra Parrish. The only thing he was allowed to suggest was a ride in a tuk-tuk, a rickshaw taxi, that skirted them from one point to another as Phaedra finalized the plans for her assignment.

  On day three he followed her to northern Thailand and the Red Karen Village where an indigenous tribe of people known as the Padaung thrived. The Padaung women were renowned for the brass coils they wore around their necks, elongating them for a giraffelike appearance. The extra-long neck was considered a sign of great beauty and wealth and it was thought that such would enable them to better attract a husband.

  Women of the tribe identified themselves by their different forms of dress: white robes for single women seeking partners and the brighter colors for married women. Phaedra had been enamored after their guide had explained the coiling process, the brass rings first applied to young girls when they were as young as five years old. As the girls matured, each coil was replaced with a longer coil, the weight of the brass pushing the collarbone down and compressing the rib cage. The illusion of their stretched necks was created by the deformation of their clavicles.

  With help from an interpreter, their guide and the permission of a village elder, Phaedra secured the village for her photo shoot. Against the backdro
p of a rising sun, the lush greenery of the paddy fields and twelve Padaung girls and teens, Phaedra captured the beauty of high-priced European stilettos, the likes of which had never been done before. When she was finished, no one was more in awe of her than Mason.

  Their fourth day in Thailand, after the CEO of that shoe company himself called to express his gratitude for her outstanding work, Phaedra laid her head down on a plush pillow in the luxury suite of their five-star hotel and slept for eighteen straight hours.

  * * *

  Mason tapped lightly on the door between their adjoining bedrooms. When he got no answer he opened the door slowly and let himself inside. “Rise and shine,” Mason said as he tapped the covers atop Phaedra’s comatose body. “Time to get up, sleepyhead!”

  Phaedra jumped, startled from a very pleasant dream. For a brief moment she had no recollection of where she was or who was talking. Recognition came slowly as Mason stood at the foot of the bed, smiling down at her.

  “You’re missing all the sunshine,” Mason said softly, his hand gently caressing her foot.

  Phaedra yawned, stretching her body against the too-comfortable mattress. As she did, the soft covers caressing her skin, she realized that she was naked beneath the sheets. Her eyes widened as she suddenly clutched the covers beneath her chin. “What time is it?” she asked.

  “A better question would be, what day is it?” Mason said with a hearty chuckle.

  “Have I been asleep that long?”

  Mason nodded. “You’ve missed a whole day. And I’ve missed you,” he added.

  Heat suddenly radiated from Phaedra’s core, searing everything that made her feminine. She was suddenly feeling very exposed.

  “Well,” Phaedra said softly, Mason still staring.

  He laughed as he winked his eye at her. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said. He pointed to a collection of plates resting against the table in the center of the room. “Breakfast is there. It’s fresh fruit, coffee, juice, those pastry things you liked and a few traditional Thai dishes. If you want something different just let me know,” he said as he moved in the direction of the door.

  Phaedra nodded. “So, are we headed to your island today?” she asked, curiosity pulling at her.

  Mason shrugged his broad shoulders as he exited the room. “Maybe,” he said as he tossed her one last look, “and then again, maybe not!”

  “So, what should I wear?” she called after him.

  Mason laughed. “I like what you have on now,” he answered, the door closing behind him.

  Phaedra lifted the edge of the comforter and peered beneath it. What had he seen? Phaedra pondered. She shook her head as she tossed back the covers and slid her body from the bed. She tried to convince herself that he couldn’t possibly have seen anything at all.

  She paused to savor the assortment of goodies laid out for her to eat, pouring herself a large glass of orange juice and popping a fruit tart into her month, taking note that Mason had started the day nicely.

  As she stepped into the glass shower, a warm spray of water raining down over her head and shoulders, she thought about the man, reminiscing about the time they’d shared since meeting at the wedding.

  Mason had been solid as a rock. He was intelligent, magnetic, charming and unpretentious. He’d been sweet and caring, sensitive to her needs and most important, he made her laugh. Making her laugh when she couldn’t begin to think of anything to even smile about had been the surest way to win her over, and Phaedra was feeling as if she’d struck gold in a landfill. She suddenly realized she was grinning like the Cheshire cat as she rinsed lavender-scented suds from her arms and back. She liked Mason. She liked him a lot and the thought brought more smiles to her face.

  * * *

  Two hours later a private biplane transported them from Bangkok to the coast of Phuket. Mason had teased her, saying that they would be meeting one of his favorite friends, and there she was, moored to the docks at Chalong Bay. His favorite friend was a private sailing yacht, some ninety-one feet long with a striking polished mahogany hull and the most dazzling royal-blue sails that Phaedra had ever seen. The sailboat was named My Mistress and she was elegant, a thing of sheer beauty. Reaching for the camera hanging around her neck, Phaedra couldn’t resist taking a few photos.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Mason said, a hint of pride in his tone.

  “Incredible,” Phaedra said in agreement. “Is it yours?”

  Mason smiled, a slight shrug to his shoulders his only response. He gestured for one of the crew members to come collect their belongings and guided her aboard.

  “So, you named her My Mistress?” Phaedra questioned, her eyebrows raised.

  He laughed heartily. “I was married to my business and when I could sneak away for some necessary R & R, I liked to go sailing. It seemed appropriate at the time.”

  Phaedra laughed with him. “That’s so funny,” she said as he led her on a quick tour of the luxury accommodations, a glass of champagne in hand.

  Later, when Phaedra stepped out on deck in a pale yellow bikini that complemented the warm tones of her complexion, Mason had to fight not to stare. With her hair piled into a loose chignon atop her head, the woman was stunning, her hourglass figure stirring a low fire deep in him. The sudden rush of excitement threw him completely off guard, the muscles in his body reacting with a mind of their own. Mason guzzled the last of his drink, thinking that he might have to dive ocean-deep to stall the rise of wanting that would give his desire away. He took a seat, dropping swiftly into a deck chair as he crossed a leg over his lap.

  As if she could sense his discomfort, Phaedra tossed him a wink, slowly adjusted the line of her bikini bottom, draped a towel beneath her and stretched the length of her frame across the deck chair beside him. She laughed softly as she took a slow sip of her own drink.

  Mason didn’t miss the crew eyeing her with appreciation and him with envy. Even the captain gave him two thumbs-up as Phaedra made herself comfortable, clearly relishing the cool ocean breeze and the bright midday sun. Before the afternoon was through they set sail, shadowing the Thai shoreline on a course to paradise. As they skimmed the crystal-blue waters in the direction of several islands off the coast of Thailand near the Malaysian sea border, Mason and Phaedra became deadly serious about doing absolutely nothing.

  “I could get used to this,” Phaedra said, tossing a hand over her eyes to block the sunlight blinding her view. She sat up to stare in Mason’s direction.

  “Then you should do it as often as you can,” Mason answered, opening one eye to meet her gaze.

  Phaedra reached for her champagne glass and took another sip. “So, explain to me again why it might take as long as two weeks to get the results back from the DNA tests.”

  “Two weeks is the maximum amount of time that it should take,” Mason responded as he spun his legs off the side of the lounger and sat upright. “According to John, the results should actually be back within the week. But they’ve requested a full DNA profile be done on all of you, and that takes some time.”

  “And DNA profiling is where they identify the DNA markers for accurate genetic identity or something like that, right?”

  “Yes. Your markers are the short DNA sequences that make up who you are. You get two copies, one inherited from your mother and one inherited from your father. Every person inherits a unique combination of genetic markers from his biological parents. Thus the DNA profile can serve as a permanent biological record of your identity. They have to identify and ensure that you have the same paternal markers they have, which will prove you all have the same father. The techniques and statistical calculations they will use to calculate the probability of your biological relationship just takes time.”

  “Technology at its finest,” Phaedra said facetiously. “What would we do without it?”


  “John will call as soon as they know, so stop worrying about it.”

  “We’re on a boat. I don’t see too many phone lines floating on that water.”

  Mason laughed. “John will call,” he repeated. “You need to relax.”

  Phaedra blew a deep sigh.

  Mason sat staring at her, the woman struggling not to meet his gaze. He smiled, the seductive gesture moving Phaedra to squirm ever so slightly in her seat. The electricity between them seemed to give the boat more speed as it glided through the glassy waters.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said suddenly.

  “Like what?”

  “Like the way you’re looking at me. I feel naked.”

  He laughed again. “I’m looking at you because you’re so beautiful and if I’m honest, I wish you were naked,” he said casually.

  “Aren’t you the pervert?” Phaedra responded as she rolled her eyes.

  “Come here,” Mason said, a crooked index finger waving her toward him.

  “What?”

  “Come here,” Mason said, his voice dropping low, the seductive tone like a sweet caress against Phaedra’s ears.

  Intrigued, Phaedra rose from her seat, the string bikini she wore, more string than bikini, looking like wet paint against her toned form. As she moved to his side, Mason lifted his legs to straddle the cushioned lounger he was seated on. He patted the seat between his legs.

  “Sit here,” he said, holding up a hand to guide her down to the seat.

  Turning her back to his chest Phaedra sat down between his legs, stretching the length of her own legs outward. Mason wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, nestling the round of her buttocks against his pelvis. Phaedra inhaled swiftly, the warmth of his touch startling. He gently pressed his fingers against the back of her neck, slowly kneading the soft flesh beneath his fingertips.