Mr. Right Now (22 page)

Eddie glanced their way and blew Mags a kiss.

Maybe sometimes, but not this time. One thing was true: Mason was a rebound relationship.

But only in Casey’s fantasies.

Mason stood quietly just inside the meeting room door and smiled to himself when Eddie called out into the quiet room to ask when the next book would be out. He had been asking questions like that the whole cruise and she hadn’t listened. For that matter, so had a number of other passengers and fans. Maybe this time Casey would actually pay attention to the question.

They didn’t care about the break-up with Nate. The people in this room loved Casey because she entertained them and touched their hearts. They wouldn’t hold the fake romance with Tyler over her head, either.

Casey stepped off the podium, stopping every few feet to talk to one person or another.

“You look like a man on death row who’s been denied his last meal.”

Mason turned at the words, finding Tyler Cash standing only a few feet from him. He turned away without saying anything. The last thing he needed was more head-shrinking from the escort, or Casey seeing them together and going off the deep end.

“In my experience, running doesn’t work.” Tyler’s words stopped Mason cold. He wasn’t running away, he was letting Casey have her space. Tyler continued. “But if she’s really the one you want, a dramatic examination of everything that went wrong might. Throw yourself at her feet. Apologize.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Mason turned to stare at Tyler. “Really? You think Casey would go for that?”

“Don’t know many women who wouldn’t. Hell, my reason for being on this boat just died a quick death. Nothing to write about, nothing to share.”

“The BlackBerry was yours. The one about getting the girl and the story.”

Tyler nodded. “But no one is going to believe the story of an escort who couldn’t get the girl into bed. So, women like knowing they were right as much as they like knowing we're wrong.”

He was such a pompous ass. He didn’t know Casey at all.

“So telling her she was right and I was wrong will just fix everything, huh?”

Tyler shrugged. “I’d say so.”

“And how would you know? You shared a room with her and never got past first base. I’d say I know her just a little better than you do.” Mason wanted to yank the words back into his mouth. Why was he standing here arguing with an under-sexed escort about how to get Casey back? He already had a plan for that.

“You only slept with her. I lived with the woman for almost twelve hours. Plus, I’m a student of human nature.” Tyler mimicked Mason’s stance, crossing his arms over his chest, tapping his right index finger against his left bicep.

“Student of human nature, huh?” More like an imitator of human nature, Mason thought. Casey was still several tables away, gradually weaving her way toward the door. He had time to put this idiot in his place. “So if an apology is all Casey wants, why did she just bare everything about you to complete strangers? Seems to me a woman who believes people will turn on her at the hint of a scandal would need a little more reassurance than a simple apology.”

Tyler shook his head. “Highly unlikely. In my experience, the best way to assure a woman you know you were wrong is the apology.”

“But I wasn’t wrong.” And he was getting tired of this pseudo-advice given by a male escort. In Mason’s estimation, that was only a half-step above prostitution.

Casey turned from the last of the people packing the dance floor, and headed for the door. Mason’s heartbeat picked up when she looked directly at him. She made an about-face, turning to the opposite side of the room, turned back and started in his direction with a purposeful stride.

Tyler was so off-base. The woman was hurt, not mad. A simple apology, throwing himself at her mercy wouldn’t get her back in his bed.

“Well, wrong is really a set of variables in any situation and it can be changed depending on your viewpoint. For example, despots believe they have—”

Mason held up his hand to stop Tyler’s train of thought. “I really don’t care.”

“But it’s really very interesting. I’m basing my PhD on the differences between men and women regarding relationships—”

“I. Don’t. Care. Excuse me.” Mason turned from Tyler and hurried from the room, already punching numbers on the cell. He needed to be on the phone with Haynes by the time she caught up, or the plan wouldn’t work.

The signal was good, but who knew how long that would last. He might be twisting into a pretzel in a few minutes. Looking behind him, he saw Casey leave the meeting room. Mason continued toward the bow of the ship. Just in case he had to perform his circus act to get the phone to work, he wanted to be in the right place.

A couple of clicks sounded through the phone and then Randall Haynes picked up.

“Hello?” He barked into the phone.

“Glad I caught you at your desk—”

“It’s about time you called in, Drury. We go to press in three hours. I need that article on the writer for paste-up.”

This time Mason’s heartbeat ratcheted up for a different reason. He was either about to sink his career or make the best move he had ever made. Right now, he had no idea how it would go down.

“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 show.”

“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.”