by J. A. Coffey
"There's a problem with the story, boss. See, the real story down here isn't the writer, it's the director--" Haynes cut him off again.
"You're getting soft on us, Drury. What'd she do, bat those pretty blue eyes at you and beg you to be on her side?" Not really. There had been batting of eyes, but that was mostly foreplay. And even when she told him the whole story, she didn't ask him to be on her side. Hell, she made it clear even she wasn't on her side. For a successful person, Cassandra Cash needed a strong dose of self-esteem. Mason planned to be the one giving it to her.
He heard soft footsteps approach behind him. Time to make it good. "Doesn't matter what happened down here. The fact is, this story isn't a story no matter how you try to slice it. The real story is with the ex. He's telling lies and rumors all over New York and LA so he can sell his movie."
"You have gone soft on me. What happened to that kill-'em-all mentality you used to have? We don't care about the ex. He can be gay, bi-sexual or a cross-dressing lesbian. Sexual orientation isn't the paper seller it used to be. Everyone's gone PC on us." Haynes took a deep breath, releasing it into the phone. Mason pulled the cell from his ear and winced. A few papers were shuffled on the other end of the line, then Haynes was back on the line.
"We can cover tonight. A few concerned parents are trying to get some books banned at the junior high in Somerset. Nazi bastards. Get me that story on the writer tomorrow. Or you're fired." The words boomed through the cell, echoing a little in the clear night. Mason tried one last time. "The writer isn't the story. The ex is the story. I've got that one ready to go now."
"I want the writer, Drury. On a platter, damn it."
Mason shook his head, even though Haynes couldn't see it. "I won't write that story."
"Good luck finding another job, then. Your name won't get you hired at the Podunk City Paper."
"Sorry you feel that way, boss."
Fired from two jobs in as many months. That had to be some kind of record. A weight lifted off Mason's shoulders. Fired, but at least for his principles this time and not because a source flipped on him. Haynes drew in a hissing breath. Yep, the man was pissed. "And don't you think about filing for unemployment. You wouldn't do your job. That's quitting, not getting fired."
Before Mason could say anything to that, the phone was ripped from him hands.
"What are you doing?" Casey looked from Mason to the phone and back and rolled her eyes. "Setting the stage for an apology? I swear you men are all alike. You think telling us you were wrong fixes everything. Well, it doesn't fix anything."
"Who the hell is this?" The words rocketed from the phone and Casey stepped back, holding the phone like a skunk in her hands. "Put Drury back on the phone!"
Casey shoved the phone toward Mason and it squirted from her hands. It crashed against the rail and bounced to the deck, but before either of them could grab it, it spun over the side.
Casey and Mason held tightly to the rail, watching as the Blackberry flipped end over end over end, finally splashing into the ocean.
Leaning his elbow against the rail, Mason turned to Casey. "Well, I guess you showed him. Wonder how long he'll keep talking to me from the bottom of the ocean?"
"Oh, crap! I'm sorry. Your boss won't fire you because of me, will he?"
"He already did that. Can't fire me twice in the same day. My job was at the bottom of the ocean before you sent my phone there." He sent a worried look over the side of the ship. "Of course, it's going to be really hard to job hunt now."
Casey's eyes widened. "You mean you...he...you were really getting fired? That whole conversation wasn't an act?" She waved a hand at the deck and Mason shook his head. "Technically, you could say the conversation was set up, but it was real enough. I told him I wasn't writing the story on you and I meant it. He fired me, and he meant it."
"Oh." Casey was quiet for a few minutes, staring over the railing at the water below. "I'm sorry you got fired over me. You should have just written the story. Like my agent always says, all publicity is good publicity." She chewed on her bottom lip, trying hard to believe the phrase.
But all publicity could still hurt a person, even when it helped a career. He reached out, running his thumb down the side of her face. "That's a good rule, but it doesn't count the effect that publicity will have on you."
Casey shrugged. "Public figure. No privacy. Goes with the territory."
"If you really think that, would you give me a quote?"
She straightened from the railing, fire shooting from her eyes. "Go to hell, Mason."
He ignored her and continued. "Because I just found out that Nate has been tipping the papers. He's the anonymous source they're using for the stories."
She froze, hands spread wide in front of her chest. "How do you know that?"
Mason shrugged. "I have friends. Not everyone thinks I'm evil."
Her arms dropped, slapping against her hips. "I don't think you're evil."
"But you won't give me a quote either, will you?"
Casey shook her head. Mason waited for her to say something. Anything. But she simply turned and walked away.
*****
Casey woke up with a pounding headache and the theme from Bonanza running through her head. Jane to the rescue. She reached across the bed, picked her phone from the table and flipped it open. "What?"
"What, what? Why haven't you been answering the phone?" Jane asked. "You tell me it's urgent, that you have to get off the ship and then nothing for hours and hours. I was worried about you."
Casey sat up. "Sorry. It was..." She thought back to the dinner, Mason and everything that followed. "An eventful night. Did you get me off the ship?"
"You've got a flight out of Jamaica at two-thirty this afternoon, but are you sure you want to do this?"
"I can't stay on this boat, Jane."
Not with Mason on board. He would keep pulling stunts like last night, and she couldn't tell when he was being serious or playing around. Casey still couldn't believe he got himself fired and then asked her for a quote for another story. What kind of idiot did he think she was? That could have been his boss or a good friend on the phone. At least she had accomplished something. His phone and his story on her were at the bottom of the ocean. She would definitely beat him back to New York. "I'll see you back in New York."
She clicked off the phone, then picked up the ship's phone to call the front desk. The purser connected her with January and Casey told her she was leaving the ship.
"So Tyler can get out of the crew quarters this afternoon. The stateroom is his free and clear."
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
Why did people keep asking her that? What, did she have an I'm In Love With A Jerk tattoo across her forehead? In love? She wasn't in love. Certainly not with Mason. She loathed him. He was everything she hated. No compassion. No integrity. A bottom feeder.
A man who went out of his way to get fired so he wouldn't hurt her feelings. That phone call wasn't a set up; that level of anger couldn't be acted out over the phone.
Damn. Maybe she wasn't in love with him, but damn, she liked him an awful lot. He had compassion and integrity. Otherwise he would have written the story about her.
"Ms. Cash?" January said quietly into the phone. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
No. She wasn't sure. "Yes. I'll leave the ship when we port."
"We already have," she said.
"We got in before dawn this morning. Favorable winds."
She looked out the window to see brightly painted buildings and palm trees lining a white sand beach. Favorable winds everywhere but in her love life. "Oh. I'll be ready to go in a few minutes then. Go ahead and send the steward down."
"If you're sure."
Would people stop asking her that? Of course she was sure. She wouldn't leave the ship is she wasn't sure. "Yes, I'll be ready in a few minutes." She hung up before January could ask any more are-you-sure questions. When the steward arrived a half an ho
ur later, Casey was ready to go. Her belongings would need serious dry cleaning to survive, but she was ready. "All of those," she said, pointing to two suitcases and a smaller bag. She pulled her purse and a carry-on onto her shoulder. "I'll take these."
"This way, ma'am."
She followed him out the door and down the hall.
They took a small boat to the dock, and as January promised, a taxi was waiting to take her to the airport. Casey didn't recognize any of the people on the boat. Probably everyone she'd met was already sightseeing in town.
She wouldn't get to say goodbye to Mags and Eddie or any of the others. Although, she supposed she had said goodbye in a way last night.
She sighed, staring out the window of the cab. She didn't mind the heat anymore. Didn't mind the glaring sun or the questions from people she didn't know. Taking a cruise for all the wrong reasons had at least helped her people skills.
They passed a roadside stall selling floppy hats and silly sunglasses with parrots and cockatiels on the frames. Another selling iced drinks. A Jeep cruised by, the driver and passengers tanned and whooping it up. Having fun. That's what this cruise was supposed to be, until she messed it up. The driver stopped for a traffic light and she saw an old man with stooped shoulders came out the door of a souvenir shop, holding the hand of a tall woman with graying hair. Mags and Eddie. She smiled.
Sometimes the rebound is the real thing. The words echoed in Casey's head. And maybe sometimes you just had to take a chance. But who said Mason was a rebound relationship? Or even a relationship. He was a mistake. Not Mr. Right. Not even Mr. Right Now. Except he did get himself fired for her.
"Driver, could you go back to the ship?" What was she doing? Shut up, Casey. Tell the man to keep going. But she couldn't. "Please, I need to get back to the ship."
"You da boss, lady," he drawled. "I take wherever you want to go." He turned right instead of going straight and they curved back around to the docks.
What was she doing? She'd given up her room. January would think she was nuts if she showed back up. Tyler probably wouldn't want to room with her, either.
The driver tossed her bags on the carrier. "Anything else, lady?"
"No," she said, pulling money from her wallet. "Thank you for bringing me back."
The cabbie shrugged. "You da boss, lady."
The steward who helped her leave the ship was waiting to help her board.
"You're back," he said, smiling as he lifted the bags from to a carrier. "I'll take these to your room."
"Actually, could you leave them here? I may not be back for very long." And she would likely be stranded in Jamaica, because her flight was set to leave in ten minutes. Mason could turn her away.
"Oookay."
"Thanks." Casey waved a hand and started off down the passageway. Mason was a deck below her, toward the back of the ship. When he'd given her his room number, she'd never expected to use it. His turf. Too much control.
Casey gathered her courage and knocked. The door swung open and Mason stood there, a towel draped over his shoulder and his room in a shambles. Clothes covered the bed, floor and chairs. He needed a maid.
Taking a deep breath, Casey stepped forward. "There must be some mistake. This is supposed to be my stateroom. Why are you here?" Please, Mason. Go along for the ride.
"No mistake, ma'am. I'm assigned to this room." His expression was a combination of hope and fear. No anger. No annoyance. She looked around, tut-tutting at the state of the room. "Well this just will not do. This room needs a maid. I am not prepared to spend this cruise in a pigsty."
"I was packing to leave--"
She wiped a hand across her forehead, pretending relief. "Well, that's a relief." She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. "People might get the wrong idea."
He continued, "But now I think I'll stay."
She bit down on her cheek to keep from smiling. "No, I'm sorry. I can't be found shacking up with a virtual stranger. Again."
"Well then you're in luck. Plumbers are the most trusted strangers in America. Probably Jamaica, too."
The words caught her off guard. "Plumber?"
He shrugged. "The family business is looking better and better. I have it on good authority that a certain writer hates reporters, and since I've been fired from two jobs in two months I figure it might be time for a fresh start."
Casey ran a hand down his chest. "You don't have to quit your job because of me. You can't quit your job because of me."
He shrugged and leaned against the doorjamb. "Don't know that I have much choice. My reputation is about as shattered as you thought yours was."
"But you have a story. Nate's."
"You threw my Blackberry overboard. I can't send it in." He raised his hands in defeat. "By the time I get back to New York, no paper in the city will want to talk to me."
She stepped farther into the room, pulling him with her. "I'll make you a deal. You can use my phone to send in your story."
"If?"
"If I can use you as the hero in my next book."
A wicked smile lit his face. "Can I get a quote from you for the story?"
"Wouldn't that be ethically wrong?" She smiled back, raising up on her tiptoes to look him in the eye. "Wouldn't it be ethically wrong to turn a real person into a fictional character?"
"Okay, here's what I have to say about the story." Casey put her arms around his neck, and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "No. Comment."
Mason's arms slipped around her waist. "And here's what I have to say about being your next hero." He lowered his mouth to hers.
His lips pressed into hers, teeth nibbling around the edges of her mouth. Heat burned in her belly, and her knees went weak. Mason pulled back, keeping his arms firmly around her waist. Casey was glad for the extra support.
"You didn't say anything," she said.
"I'll say plenty in just--" He kicked the door closed. "A minute."
Casey closed her eyes, leaning her head against Mason's chest. "You know, I have it on good authority that sometimes rebound relationships turn into the real thing."
"You're not going to get scared if it does, are you?"
Casey smiled and leaned her head against Mason's chest. As far as she could tell, this already was the real thing.
The End
Author Biography
Once upon a time, Kristina Knight spent her days running from car crash to fire to meetings with local police - no, she wasn't a troublemaker, she was a journalist. When the opportunity to focus a bit of energy on the stories in her head, she jumped at it. And she's never looked back. Now she writes magazine articles by day and romance novels with spice by night - and any kid-free, fiveminute span she has. She lives on Lake Erie with her very own romantic hero and daughter. Happily ever after.
Other Works by Kristina Knight
What a Texas Girl Wants
What a Texas Girl Needs
What a Texas Girl Dreams
The Saint's Devilish Deal
The Daughter He Wanted
Light My Fire
Start Me Up
Call Me
What Reviewers Are Saying:
"Kristina Knight delivers a fun romp from Mexico, through Texas, and straight into true love." - Kelsey Browning, author of Personal Assets and cofounder of Romance University
"Kristina Knight did a fabulous job with this story, it had the right amount of Sexy & emotional to keep me engaged to the end." - HarlequinJunkie Book Reviews
"The characters are fresh, Ms Knight's voice is exciting and engaging." - StormGoddess Book Reviews
"What A Texas Girl Wants is a lighthearted and passionate love story that will carry you away to rich West Texas countryside. Romance fans, if you want a fast-paced story that has a mixture of steamy passion, family drama and suspense, then this is the book for you!" - JerseyGirl Book Reviews
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