April (Calendar Girl #4) Read online

  April: Calendar Girl

  Book 4

  By Audrey Carlan

  Text copyright © 2015 Audrey Carlan

  ISBN Electronic

  ISBN-10: 0-9909143-9-9

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9909143-9-6

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic format without expressed permission by the author.

  Editing: Red Quill Editing, LLC

  Senior Editor - Ekaterina Sayanova

  Editor - Rebecca Cartee

  www.redquillingediting.net

  Cover Design: Tibbs Design

  Graphics Designer - Valerie Tibbs

  www.tibbsdesign.com

  Dedication

  Anita Scott Shofner

  Mia’s journey in Boston is for you my sweet.

  Like Mia, you recently started over.

  I’m proud of you…for choosing you.

  I think every person in this world needs

  to choose themselves once and awhile.

  I cannot begin to thank you,

  Not only for being an incredible beta, which you are,

  But also for being a lovely and supportive friend.

  Namaste my friend.

  Chapter 1

  “Well, hey there, sweet thang,” were the first words out of his sexy assed mouth. Too bad the words, along with the way his eyes traced over me sent my temperature rising…and not in a good way. Mason Murphy leaned against a limo. He had aviator sunglasses, coppery brown hair, and a smirk that probably melted panties of all his baseball fans. Fortunately for me, I’d been around several hotter than hot men the last few months and wasn’t impressed.

  I held out my hand. He pursed his lips, pushed his glasses on top of his head, gracing me with stunning green eyes. They were as dark as emeralds and just as pretty.

  “What, no kiss?”

  I narrowed my brows, cocked a hip, and crossed my arms over one another. “Seriously? You’re going with that?”

  His head shot back and he pulled his glasses off his head than proceeded to dangle the end of one side in his mouth. Again, he looked me up and down. “Feisty. I like a girl that’s a bit of a challenge.”

  I closed my eyes blinked several times to see if I was still asleep from the Benadryl I’d taken on the plane. Flying always made me jittery. Nothing like what I was feeling right now though. “You’re a real piece of work aren’t you?”

  His eyes opened wide and a huge grin slipped across his distractingly well-sculpted face. High cheekbones, a little dent at the chin and those sparkling eyes looked wicked.

  He moved close to me, hung an arm around my neck, and kissed the side of my temple. It took everything I had not to turn and plant one on him…a punch to the face, that is.

  “You’re going to remove your arm from me and back away. Have you no manners?”

  Mason planted his feet in front of me and leaned close as if to whisper. “I know what you are and I’m totally okay with it. Very, very okay with it. We’re going to have some fun together.”

  I pushed his chest enough to get him out of my face. “Look, Mr. Murphy…”

  “Mr. Murphy,” he said, mockingly. “Ooh, I like that.”

  Sucking in a breath, I clenched down on my teeth. If I bit my tongue, I might have bitten it straight in half with how much this guy irritated me.

  “What I was trying to say before you interrupted me was that you’ve got the wrong idea about me. I’m an escort. Meaning, I escort you to things. Provide you with companionship in a friendly manner.”

  Again he got close, grabbed my hips, and slammed them against his. “I can’t wait to get more friendly with you,” he rubbed his pelvis against mine. I could just barely feel the outline of something coming to life.

  I sighed. Letting it go, I pushed him away again. “Just take my bags.”

  He whistled at the driver. Yes, whistled at him. Like a fucking dog. He may as well have said, “Come here boy, good driver.” I cringed and removed myself from his grasp.

  “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get into the swing of things,” he mock swung a baseball bat. I, on the other hand, rolled my eyes and opened the limo door crawling in. He maneuvered his long body into the spacious vehicle and clapped his hands. “Want a drink?”

  I’m pretty sure I looked at him as if he’d grown a tail. “It’s not even noon.”

  He shrugged. “It is somewhere in the world,” he said with a saucy wink. Mason pulled out a bottle of champagne. His tongue came out and wet his full bottom lip. The space between my legs took notice instantly, twinging delightfully. I shook my head and crossed my legs. He was a bastard, yet I couldn’t help but notice that he was a good-looking one. Mason Murphy was tall, probably six feet or so, had a body that could grace magazines and did, often. The muscles in his biceps bulged delectably and his quads flexed as he shoved the bottle between his legs and twisted the top off with a plop. No foam. Pretty good, I’d give him that.

  “Now sweetness, let’s get a couple things straight.”

  I opened my eyes wide, my eyebrows going straight into my hairline. He handed me a glass of champagne. Even though it was barely ten in the morning, I took the glass figuring I’d need something to take the edge off my annoyance.

  “You were sent here to be my girlfriend. That means, in order to have my fans, prospective sponsors, and the media at large believe it, you and I are going to have to get friendly, very quickly. And looking at you…” he licked his lips again as his eyes traced my form from my booted feet up my jean clad legs and stopped directly at my bosom. Pig. “I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of it.”

  This guy was going to be challenging. He was smug, sexy as hell, irritating, sexy as hell, downright crass, sexy as hell, and immature. Did I forget anything? Oh yeah, sexy as hell.

  He leaned back, displaying his body for me against the opposite seat. He smirked and downed the champagne in one go. I wasn’t about to let this schmuck best me so I lifted the glass to my lips and swallowed the entire lot back. His eyebrows lifted and his eyes sparkled in appreciation.

  “Woman after my own heart,” he clutched at his chest in mock chivalry.

  I leaned over, grabbed the bottle, and filled my glass then gestured with a chin lift for his. He presented it and I filled it too.

  “Okay, look we need to firm up a few things.”

  His face made a gesture that indicated that he was about to crack a joke, but I cut his words with a pair of green daggers in his direction. He leaned back and lifted his chin.

  I smiled knowing I won that round. “I may have been hired to be your girlfriend for the month, but I’m not your whore.” His eyebrows drew together. “Having sex with a client is optional on my part and not part of my contract. You should have read the fine print, buddy because you’re about to find out what a month of celibacy looks like.”

  His mouth dropped open, shock the prevailing response. “You’re fucking kidding?” he smirked.

  I shook my head. “’Fraid not. So you might want to get used to that there hand because you’re going to be using a lot of it. If the press sees you outside, trolling along with any harlot you can get to give you a second glance, they’ll know this,” I pointed a finger between the two of us, “is a sham and the effort and the hundred thousand you’ve paid me will be wasted.” Mason ruffled a hand through his hair. “It also wouldn’t look so good to your prospective sponsors that you can’t even hold onto your pretty new girlfriend for longer than a day. Remember, my fee is non-refundable.”

  At this point I leaned back, crossed my legs over one another, and sipped my champagne, letting the bitter bubbles dance along my tongue, awakening my senses once
more.

  Mason looked at me, an unidentifiable expression on his handsome face. “Then what do you propose we do sweetness?” He grinned, his eyes glancing along my legs and up over my chest to finally land on my face. The words were nice but lacked sincerity.

  “First, you stop calling me sweetness.”

  He jumped in before I could continue. “Shouldn’t a man have a nickname for his girl?”

  I pinched my lips together to think about it. I supposed he was right. “Perhaps, if the way you said it didn’t sound so douchey.”

  Mason tipped his head back and laughed. The sound reverberated through the car and lightened the mood. If I could hear that laugh every day, maybe this month wouldn’t suck. He licked his lips and again, that sensitive space between my thighs that still hadn’t forgotten how good it was to have a man’s perfect pout all over the tender flesh thrummed in response. Down, girl! I wanted to chastise my libido. Ever since my fuck-fest with Wes two weeks ago, I’ve been needy, horny as hell, with no hope for relief. And now that my current client is definitely off the list of prospective bedmates, it looked like I’d be attempting celibacy right alongside him. Fun…not.

  “Look, I guess it’s fine. I think the next step would be to learn a little more about one another. Tell me about yourself?”

  He curled a hand around one of his big, jean-clad knees and looked out the window. “Not much to tell. Came from an Irish family. Dad works as a garbage man even though I told him he could quit working for the rest of his life. He won’t. Too proud.”

  “Sounds like a good man.” Unlike my own father. Well, technically that’s not true. He tried. Under the circumstances, after handling the blow of my mom leaving, he lost his way. I’m not sure anyone truly knows how to handle losing the love of their life.

  Mason smiled, revealing white teeth mostly straight. His eyetooth crooked in just enough to give his smile character. “My dad’s the best, still a hardass. Works too hard though. Always did, providing for me and my brothers.”

  “How many brothers do you have?” I asked actually finding this line of conversation interesting.

  He held up three fingers as he sipped his champagne this time. “My brothers are all crazy bastards but I love ‘em,” he said, his Bostonian accent popping to the surface. Sexy fucking accents. Damn, it would be hard to keep my hands off him if he was going to turn nice.

  His eyes narrowed on me, the green turning dark. “They’ll fuckin’ love that I’m shacking up with such a hot piece of ass.” And then the douchecanoe comes to life once again. I shook my head and took a slow, deep breath.

  “Okay, three brothers. Younger, older?”

  “All younger. Brayden is twenty one, Conner is nineteen, and my baby brother Shaun is seventeen and still in high school.”

  I leaned forward and set my empty glass into the holder. “Wow, four boys.”

  Mason nodded. “Yeah, Brayden bartends and goes to community college during the day. Got a chick knocked up right out of high school.” I cringed. “Bitch left the kid with him and ran off.” My mouth dropped open and I gasped. How could a woman abandon her own flesh and blood? Then again, Mom did the same thing. Still, hearing it happened to some other child boils my blood. “So Bray lives with Dad and his daughter Eleanor.”

  Eleanor. “That’s an old-fashioned name,” I offered.

  He smiled and looked out the window wistfully. “Yeah, it was after our mom.”

  “Are your parents separated?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, Mom died ten years back. Breast cancer took her young. So it’s just been us guys for a long time.”

  I leaned forward and placed my hand on his knee. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

  With a flick of his hand, he brushed off the gesture. “It was a long time ago. No matter. Then Connor is attending Boston U, and Shaun has his hands in teenage snatch all day.”

  Scowling, I groan.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I left out the part about any grown man referring to a woman’s privates as a “snatch” in the company of a female lacked maturity since that was a losing battle. “So what ads and sponsors are you up for?”

  ***

  When we arrived at his “pad” as he called it, I was surprised to be met by a pretty, waiflike blonde. I was not a small woman, more average for early twenties, but this chick was model thin. Only she looked like Corporate Barbie, all blonde golden hair pulled back in a twist, sparkling sky blue eyes, a perfectly pink pout, tall, and rocking a suit that fit her thin frame to perfection. It spoke of money and professionalism, both of which went against the way she looked at Mason.

  “Um, Mr. Murphy,” the woman pointed a finger up as he brushed past her and into the building. Her lips turned into an instant pout when he passed by her without so much as a glance.

  I stopped on the step in front of the woman. When she finally stopped watching Mason’s ass as he rummaged around in the entryway, her eyes flashed to mine. I grinned. “Hey rudeness, the pretty blonde in a suit was trying to get your attention,” I called to Mason while keeping my eyes on her. “And you forgot to get my bags.” I shook my head and mumbled asshole under my breath.

  “Excuse me,” she dipped her ear toward me.

  I shook my head and held out my hand. “Mia Saunders, I’m Mason’s girlfriend.”

  The blonde woman closed her eyes and took a breath, seeming to steal herself against something. “I know who you are Mia; we suggested he hire you. I’m Rachel Denton, his public relations representative. I’ve been assigned to work with the two of you on fooling the public. Usually, his publicist would work with him, but I offered to help,” she bit her lip and looked away.

  “Well, then we’ll get through this together I assume. He’s a real a character,” I smiled just as Mason showed up at the door.

  “Get lost, hot stuff?” His eyes were laughing, but his words grated. I rolled my eyes and grabbed Rachel’s shoulder and brought her to my side.

  Mason seemed to notice her for the first time and when I say notice her, I mean he looked her up and down…twice. “Rachel, what are you doing here? I thought Val would be working this job?”

  She shook her head and blushed. Interesting. “No, Val’s really busy securing the sponsors and ad lineups for you to interview with. I offered,” she preened as he continued to eye-fuck her.

  “Can’t say that I’m going to miss Val,” he said in a way that actually didn’t sound condescending or skeevy. Also interesting. Rachel giggled, yes giggled. His eyes seemed to soften when he looked at Rachel’s face he then opened the door wide for the both of us to enter.

  “Um, slacker, the bags?” I nodded to the car.

  “Oh right,” he stopped, looked at Rachel then backed up, knocked into the door that hadn’t latched properly and grinned. “I’ll just uh, get the bags.”

  I stared as the over-confident, womanizer, douchecanoe fumbled over himself while in the presence of his PR chick who wasn’t doing much better hiding her own interest. Rachel’s cheeks were a rosy red and her teeth were permanently biting into her bottom lip.

  I flicked a thumb over my shoulder. “You into him?” I asked.

  She nodded mutely and then her eyes widened suddenly. “No! What? Um you have the wrong impression. I merely have a professional relationship with Mr. Murphy.” She ended her verbal diatribe with a firm crossing of her arms and mighty pursing of her lips.

  Snorting, failing at hiding my laughter under my breath, I moved into the house. “Whatever you say.” I’d have to dig into that a bit more later, just for the hell of it. If I wasn’t going to be getting any on this trip, the least I could do was have a little fun.

  Mason dumped the bags in the foyer and ushered us into the living quarters. The room was a long rectangle as would make sense for a standard brownstone in Boston with multiple levels going up and possibly one going down. I looked forward to having the grand tour.

  In the center of the living room was a black, le
ather sectional. Opposite the sectional was at least a sixty plus inch flat screen television hanging on the wall. There was baseball paraphernalia here and there. Some framed jerseys and a line of signed baseballs sat over the mantle. Each was within its own protective square glass or plastic case. Proved he took care of the things he cherished. Maybe there were two sides to Mason Murphy. If I had to spend a month pretending to be his girlfriend, I sure as hell hoped there was.

  “So what brings you here, Rach?” He asked, his body turned completely towards her, even though it didn’t need to be. Rach. Her name was shortened. When people shortened other’s name, it connoted familiarity or a small intimacy.

  She crossed her legs, her skirt riding up her thigh. Mason zeroed in on the movement, his eyes following the small slip of fabric. I snickered, but neither one heard me or was paying attention to the fact that I was even in the room.

  “I just wanted to make sure that you both were briefed for tomorrow. It will be your first public appearance as a,” she cleared her throat and pushed a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear. It didn’t stay, slipping delicately down her jawline once more. Again, Mason’s eyes were riveted to her, to that piece of hair as if he wanted to touch it, be the one to push it back, caress her skin. His hands gripped into the meat of his thighs. “As uh, a couple,” she finished. “You’ll need to make it look realistic. Hand holding when outside of the stands, small touches, smiling…erm,” she cleared her throat and winced as if it pained her to finish. “Kissing, that kind of thing. Do you have any problems with that, Ms. Saunders?” she asked.

  I looked at her with widened eyes. “Do you have a problem with it?” I asked ,honest to God not believing I was watching these two. It was obvious to me and I’d seen them together for a total of ten minutes, that they wanted one another. What the hell was keeping them from moving on it?

  Rachel’s head slammed back as if punched. “Excuse me?” she clutched her chest and gasped. “Why would I have a problem with it?”