A Sneak Peek

 

My Best Friend’s Brother (Sneak Peek)

 

 

Chapter 1

Sarah

 

“Good afternoon, Dallas. Today, we have a very special guest here with us. Mason Baker, branded in the media as the second-coming of Steve Jobs, will be here with us today sharing his story, his success, and his secrets. Stick around because it’s going to be a doozy.”

“Sounds good to me,” my makeup artist said.

“You think so, Ang? I wasn’t sure if I should use his media persona in the opening or not,” I said.

“It’s what all the newspapers and magazines are saying about him. Can you believe his success? I think he made a deal with the devil,” she said and gave me a look.

“Have you seen his looks? I think he definitely made a deal with the devil.” I tried to hide the smirk playing at the edge of my mouth. Anyone with a pulse knew how fucking hot Mason was. Hell, he knew it too.

Angie and I giggled while she put on my makeup. In the three years I’d hosted my talk show in Dallas, she was the only veteran still here. ‘Does This Affect Dallas?’ was a show premise I had rolling around in the back of my mind for years before I finally pitched it to someone. All the talk shows nowadays were glorified gossip tables. I wanted something that would inform as well as entertain, a show that would dive into things that affected our beautiful city, breaking them down in entertaining ways to educate as well as distract.

And Mason Baker was just that.

“I can’t get over his dimples. I wanna poke my fingers in them,” Angie said.

“I could swim in those beautiful peridot eyes all day,” I said.

“And that thick, dark hair of his? Kill me in the face, please. I’d pay so much money to run my fingers through it.”

“His hair? I’d give anything to run my hands up those meaty arms of his. Did you see that picture of him in the media last week? Jogging around like he didn’t know the entire world was watching him?”

“Did you see the fucking video?” Angie asked. “The guy needs a damn jock strap.”

“There’s a video? Let me see.”

Angie put down the makeup and pulled her phone from her pocket. I watched the video and practically salivated, watching that cock swinging between his legs. The man was doing this on purpose. He had to be. No one made a hundred and fifty-seven million dollars in revenue their first year in business and didn’t understand he was being watched.

Then again, he wasn’t only known for his quickly-rising technology company.

“No wonder he’s a playboy,” I said, smirking. “That swinging cock could satisfy an entire block.”

“Then come back around for dessert,” Angie said, mumbling.

Out of all the interviews I’d done, I’d never been nervous. I had scored daily interviews with scandalous senators and had video interviews with some of the hottest names in Hollywood so they could talk about their charities. Anything that could educate Dallas and get them off their asses to help the world is what I focused on.

And Mason Baker’s product was no different.

His idea started with a social media campaign and the premise was simple, a device you could adhere to any surface to keep track of something. It came with an application you could put on your phone, tablet, or computer, and from there you could track up to thirty different devices. Thirty. You could stick it on the inside of your phone. You could wrap it around the keyring of your keys. It was pliable, bendable, waterproof, fireproof, and you couldn’t ruin it if you stepped on it.

The original campaign was set to raise two hundred thousand dollars, and it ended up raising almost four million fucking dollars.

All from donations.

The applications of this item were endless. You could put it on your car and track your car. You could put it on your children’s electronic toys and track where they were. Hell, you could put it on your fucking kid and track where they were.

The moment the product launched, it flew off the shelves, and it was Baker’s customer service setup that took the prize for that one. Complaints came flying in immediately from people who used it, and they used those complaints to tweak the product further. An updated product hit the shelves while those who complained about problems got a free upgraded replacement, and the product went viral.

Eight months into their official launch, they were trying to figure out how to ship overseas, and from there the rest is history. One hundred and fifty-seven million in flat-out revenue for their first year, and they’d only begun to scratch the surface.

It was absolutely incredible, and it was something that most definitely affected Dallas.

But those piercing green eyes and that muscular body. It was almost disarming how sexy this man was. Angie was finishing up my makeup while everyone started bustling around me, and that’s when I heard someone say it in the distance.

I heard them whisper that Mason Baker was here.

I knew I was going to nail this interview. I always did. But never had I found anyone I’d interviewed this hot. I mean, I could feel my pussy heating up for crying out loud. That was beyond unprofessional, and it wasn’t a road I was willing to travel down again, not after I’d caught my ex-boyfriend making out with who was now my ex-host.

It really wasn’t a big deal. I’d gotten the bitch fired within five minutes of figuring it out. Then, I took to kindly blasting them on social media. I made it apparent that the show does not tolerate unprofessional behavior of any kind, especially when it hurts multiple people involved. I told my fans that I’d interviewed senators and mayors and governors caught in scandals where they’d cheated on their spouses, and I took those accusations seriously. I used the moment as a platform to take a stand against men who manipulated, abused, cheated, and otherwise dealt anything else less than full respect to women they claimed to love.

Especially after what I’d endured in high school.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah, Ang?”

“You’ve got about ten minutes. You okay?” she asked.

I double-checked my makeup in the mirror before I gave her a confident smile. I stood from my chair and embraced her, pulling her close to me. She was the closest thing I had to a friend in this town, and I would always respect her and love her for allowing me to talk to her before every single show I did.

“You know I appreciate you, right?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. I know,” she said. “I just have to remember not to make out with your boyfriends. I quite like my job.”

We giggled one last time before I shook my head at her. I walked out of the room and down the hallway, smoothing out my outfit one last time. I got to the entrance of the stage as they were running the intro to the show, and then it was time for me to take my place on stage.

I walked up to the middle of the stage as the crowd cheered. Cameras panned around me, and I waved to the audience. Then, I made eyes with Camera 3 as it panned around me. I waved to my at-home audience and blew them a kiss like I did every show. I drew in a deep breath and started the opening I’d rehearsed in the makeup room.

“Good afternoon, Dallas. How’s everybody doing?”

The crowd of people erupted into cheers as I clapped for joy.

“Today, we have a very special guest here with us. Mason Baker, branded in the media as the second-coming of Steve Jobs himself, will be here with us today sharing his story, his success, and his secrets. Stick around because it’s going to be a doozy.”

I walked back to my chair and took a sip of water while the credits for our sponsors rolled, and it gave me just enough time to fluff my hair before the camera was back on me.

“I could go on and on about the man standing backstage, but something tells me he wants to do that himself,” I said, winking. “Without further delay, welcome into your homes Mason Baker.”

I stood from my chair as I watched him come out from behind the screen. He was even taller in person, standing at a looming six-foot-four. His beaming white smile contrasted with his tan skin wonderfully, making his peridot eyes sparkle more than ever. His thick, luscious mane of dark hair was parted to one side, combed back expertly as his gray suit tailored itself to every curve and dip of his strong, throbbing muscles. He shook my hand, his palm dwarfing me, and for a second, I could’ve sworn he winked at me.

“Mr. Baker, thank you for your time. I’m so glad you could be with us,” I said as I sat down.

“It’s a pleasure. Anything I can do to educate the city of Dallas is all right by me,” he said.

The crowd whooped and hollered at his statement while I simply shook my head.

“So, tell us a bit about this product. How in the world did you come up with a concept like this?” I asked.

“To be honest, I can never find my wallet. Ever. And I got sick and tired of hunting it down at the last minute only for it to make me late. I tried going online and finding something that could work, but everything on the market was subpar.”

“Define subpar,” I said.

“Products were either not reliable, only detected a product within fifty feet of the base, or was simply too bulky to do anything with,” he said.

“Never in my life did I ever think too bulky could be a bad thing,” I said, grinning.

“Depends on where the bulk sits, I suppose,” he said.

I felt his eyes heavily on me, and it took everything I had to keep pushing through the interview. I could feel a flush creeping up my neck, threatening to burst forth on my cheeks and destroy the professionalism of this interview.

“So you created a social media campaign,” I said. “Did you have a prototype when you created it?”

“Nope. Just some designs, schematics, and an incredibly detailed professional video of how the technology was supposed to work.”

“And by professional you mean …?”

“Me sitting in front of a camera and stuttering out my idea,” he said, grinning.

Laughter trickled through the audience again as I shook my head.

“Mr. Baker—”

“Please, call me Mason,” he said.

“Mason,” I corrected, “did you ever think it could become this big of a success?”

“No. Not in a million years. I just wanted to find my wallet, and that was it. Even if I made this product and was the only one who used it, at least I’d solved my problem. But apparently, people lose things all the time.”

“Have you ever gotten any reviews about the product where someone had stuck your product on something odd?” I asked.

“Define odd,” he said, smirking.

“You have a list of items on the back of the packaging. Everything from phones to children’s backpacks. Anything not on this list you’ve heard of your product being used on?” I asked.

“Yes, but I’m not sure they’re very appropriate for a daytime talk show,” he said.

I quirked my eyebrow, wholly curious as to what he was talking about.

“Sounds mysterious.”

“I think you’d enjoy it. Maybe I could tell you after the show,” he said, grinning.

“What do you attribute your success to?” I wasn’t about to travel down that road. I’d sworn off men the moment I caught my ex-host slobbering all over the man I had been dating at the time. I was over playboys and their innocent facades. Mason didn’t even make the attempt to be innocent. His playboy ways were known, especially the scandals that were already surfacing in the media.

“Myself and Tony,” he said.

“You mean Anthony Thomas,” I said.

“Yes. He and I co-own the company. I went to many people with the idea, and he was the only one who supported it,” he said.

“What about your parents?” I asked.

For a split second, he paused. It was a blip on the radar. A momentary lapse where I realized I’d asked a question that delved into a part of his life he probably didn’t want to talk about.

But now the question was out there, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

“My father supported it like he’s supported all things in my life, but Tony was the one willing to get in on the action and help me do something about it.”

I knew enough about bad familial situations to not press why he didn’t mention his own mother. Though I had to admit, I was curious.

“So, the infamous question. Does this affect Dallas?” I asked.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” he asked as he crossed one long leg over the other.

“I think it most certainly does. Texas is in the heart of child abduction country. We are surrounded by states known for trafficking children, both into Mexico and back up into the States. It’s a rampant problem that doesn’t get enough attention, and I believe your product could really raise awareness about it.”

“I didn’t know that about this area of the country,” he said. “I’ll definitely have to look into it.”

“You should. This is why I think your product is brilliant.”

“Brilliant, huh?” he asked, grinning.

“Yes. Because of the way the technology radios out to cell towers, you can clock wherever this device goes so long as you have it programmed into the application you download. I could see hundreds of uses for this product in law enforcement, the military, and in general, keeping the public safe. Especially our children.”

I felt his eyes hard on me as I leaned back into my seat. I was getting too personal. Too emotional. I had to reign it in before we took our last commercial break.

“Mason Baker, thank you so much for being here with us,” I said as I stuck out my hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, I can assure you,” he said as he took my hand.

The electricity that shot up my arm made me grateful that I was wearing a jacket.

 

Chapter 2

Mason

Holy fuck, Sarah Williams was much hotter in person. Those perfectly pouty lips and that cute little button nose and those dark-rimmed glasses that framed those dark blue eyes. Hell, I had a very hard time focusing on that interview. Her legs were long and thick, the way I liked them on a woman. I wanted a woman who enjoyed her cheeseburger before she burned off the calories riding my cock. And that shoulder-length black hair? Fucking hell, I had to take deep breaths during all the commercial breaks to keep my cock at bay.

I could tell the way she was staring at me all through the interview, and while she thought she held her blush back perfectly, she really didn’t. I got the perfect glimpse of her milky skin reddening at my little comment at the beginning of the show. The more I talked and the more her eyes raked over me, the more her pupils dilated, and it only confirmed that the lust I felt for her was reciprocated.

I wanted her, and I always got what I wanted.

She shook my hand after the show, taking a picture with me she would no doubt use to promote the show when it aired. My hand descended into the slope of her waist, my fingertips pressing into the slight excess that coated her body. She was soft underneath my fingertips. Warm to the touch. Her head barely came up to my chest, the perfect height for getting down on those powerful knees of hers and sucking the life out of my cock.

I thanked her for her time, bringing her hand to my lips to kiss before I watched her hips sway in her skirt as she walked off.

Fuck, that woman was sexy.

I left my information with her assistant. I knew I’d hear from her. They always called. Once they felt the brush of Mason Baker’s lips against their skin, all they wanted to know was what they would feel like pressing against their bodies. She was probably wondering what my lips would feel like in between her legs as her thick thighs glistened with her luscious juices.

She didn’t have to worry, though, because I wanted to taste her on the tip of my tongue.

No woman had denied me before, but they certainly didn’t deny me now. I was known for the size of my cock as well as my attentiveness in bed. When you’re good at something, you do it to the best of your ability. My father had taught me that. He told me growing up that I wouldn’t get anywhere in life being mediocre at a talent I was given. At the time, I was good with my tongue, so I used it. Then my cock grew, a gift given to me by the gods themselves, so I learned how to use it well.

Then, I found my passion in technology and programming, so I studied to be the best.

And now? I was rich. Filthy rich. And famous. Disgustingly famous. Now, women could have it all with me. Money. Cars. Jewelry. Vacation homes. Pussy-licking orgasms that rendered them speechless as well as a cock they could feel in their throat the moment I staked their hips onto mine.

Yep. I’d be hearing from Sarah Williams very soon indeed.

I buttoned my coat up and waved to the paparazzi waiting for me at the door. I climbed into my car and told the driver to take me to Al Biernat’s. I was meeting Tony for a decent lunch so we could talk about the interview and where we were going from here. Tony and I tag-teamed the interviews. I did some so he could rest, then he did some so I could rest. I did the more high-end and upscale interviews, and the lower-level ones that simply wanted information on the product Tony did. He didn’t want to be the face of the company, which was fine with me.

I adored being the ever-so-handsome face of our growing technological empire.

I walked into the restaurant and found Tony, watching him rise from his seat as we embraced one another in a hug. I heard a few people gasping and snapping pictures, but the general manager soon came over and told them to cut it out.

“Let’s make a donation to this place, shall we?” I asked.

“You liked that the men told them to shut up, didn’t you?” Tony asked.

“We need some privacy somewhere. They should be rewarded for going over the top,” I said.

“Donation noted. How did the interview go?”

“It went really well. It wasn’t a live interview, so I’m not sure what’ll be edited out, but Sarah Williams isn’t known for doctoring up her interviews to meet a specific agenda,” I said.

“That’s good. We’ve run into a few issues with that, especially with the syndicates that are harping on your lawsuits.”

“Are we really talking about those again? Look, the woman who accused me of harassment was lying. We proved that. The other woman, the one I supposedly had gotten pregnant? Never even seen her. She submitted to a paternity test. I went along with it to prove my innocence, and the charges were dropped because the kid’s not mine. What gives?” I asked.

“You know there are people out there who don’t care that the charges were dismissed. We have to do damage control on your image as much as we can.”

“If you’re asking me to not date in the public eye, sorry,” I said.

“If you could tone it down a bit, that would be nice,” he said.

“Not a chance. Look, there are three things in life I love, a good slab of steak, a good slab of technology, and a good slab of woman. We didn’t work our asses off for a hundred and fifty-seven million in revenue to hide and cower away. We’re working hard, and we deserve to play hard.”

“Even at the risk of tanking your image?” he asked.

“What image? Look, all of this is going to blow over. We’re going to go these interviews, we’re going to tell the truth, we’re going to let our beautiful P.R. woman handle the bad press, and we’re going to keep making our product better than ever. Which reminds me, we need to look into the child abduction rates in this part of the country.”

“Why? Thinking about branching out into child protection?” he asked.

“It was just something Sarah brought up in the interview,” I said. “Have someone look into it.”

“Uh huh,” he said. “So, we’re on a first-name basis now?”

“Anyone who’s that hot in person is automatically on a first name basis,” I said, winking.

“And there it is,” Tony said.

“What? What did I do?”

“You left your information with her assistant, didn’t you?” he asked.

“So what if I did?”

“Dude. Mason. All right. That’s the first decent interview you’ve given in three weeks. She didn’t ask you about the lawsuits, right?”

“Nope. Not one peep about ‘em,” I said.

“Then don’t cock it up.”

“But cocking women up is so much fun,” I said, grinning.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. I was waiting for the two of you to finish up, so I wanted to bring an appetizer the chef’s trying out for the new summer menu. Enjoy,” the waiter said.

“Well, tell the chef I said thank you, and we’re ready to order. You ready to order?” I asked.

“Yes. I would like the six-ounce lunch steak, medium rare, with freshly steamed broccoli and the mushroom risotto,” Tony said.

“And I would like the filet mignon, rare, with the steamed broccoli as well and what the hell the chef’s macaroni and cheese. Haven’t had a decent one in quite a while.”

“The chef’s macaroni is excellent. I believe you will enjoy it,” the waiter said. “Would the two of you care for another glass of red wine?”

“I think I’ll just stick with water now, thank you,” I said.

“And I wouldn’t mind a sweet tea,” Tony said.

“Sweet tea? Really?”

“You gotta try it. It’s awesome,” he said.

“Coming right up,” the waiter said.

“So, anyway, back to cocking up women.”

“No. No, you maniac,” he said. “The dude in me is going ‘hell yeah. Get it, dude.’ But the professional in me is telling you to cool your pipes until we can restore your image a bit.”

“What if I’m not seen in public with her? How does that sound?”

“That’s what I’m trying to get you to do, Mason. Stop being seen in public with a new woman every damn day. Dick around all you want, but stop flaunting it until the media cools down,” he said.

“Fine, fine, fine.”

“That fake pregnancy scandal was only resolved, like, two weeks ago, man,” he said.

“I hear you. I get it. I’ll keep it out of the limelight for now,” I said.

“You’re not going to do a damn thing I say, are you?” he asked.

“I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

“Said the overgrown man-child who can’t keep his dick in check.”

“I’m not going to ruin my image any further, I promise. And if it happens, we’re paying that PR woman a very nice salary to keep her on retainer. What’s the point if we don’t use her?”

A grin crossed my face as my thoughts flew back to those long, slender legs. Not really enough meat for me, but she’d been good for one little desperate romp.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Tony said. “Staff and people we employ are off limits.”

“That your way of saying you approve of Sarah and me, Daddy?” I asked mockingly.

“Eat your fucking food and shut up,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said, grinning.

 

Chapter 3

Sarah

I took a few pictures with Mason Baker that would eventually be used to promote his segment. The fans loved seeing this type of backstage stuff on my social media accounts, and anything I could do to cater to them, I would. I felt like we touched on a wide variety of topics that would help promote a product in the Dallas area I thought could do this part of the country some good, so I wanted people to watch.

I wanted people to be educated.

I went home and fell asleep with nothing more on my mind. A few images of Mason popped into my head but nothing substantial. I woke up that morning ready for my next interview and looking forward to my next talk show.

That was my life, really. Sleeping, eating, promoting, talking, then destressing after a long day. I didn’t have time for much.

Especially with regard to tall, handsome playboys with their crispy little grins.

I walked back into my dressing room and promptly sat down on the couch. My head was swimming with Mason’s sharp green eyes, even though I’d just conducted an interview with a local woman who had been adopting terminally ill children. He knew what he had done. The sly comments and the little grins in the interview yesterday. He knew he had been getting to me, and something about that excited me. There was something about a man with confidence who took what he wanted, no questions asked. I could sympathize because I was the same way. Bold. Blunt. Independent. Self-made. I had a talent and a passion, and I found a way to peddle that to the masses.

Just like he had.

A knock came at my door, and I simply didn’t answer it. My assistant knew that if I didn’t answer and it wasn’t important, to simply leave it be. Removing my glasses, I clasped the bridge of my nose, trying to rid myself of the beautiful way his body seemed to loom over me and the way his soothing voice ran down the edges of my skin and the way his hand had felt in the dip of my waist.

I heard my assistant slide a note underneath the door, and it caught my attention. It obviously wasn’t important, but it was pertinent enough for her to risk a note. I got up from the couch and strode over to the door, picking up the piece of paper off the floor. Expecting to find a note, I was shocked when I opened it up and saw eight numbers all in a row with Mason’s signature beneath it.

I was holding Mason Baker’s telephone number.

Why hadn’t she given this to me yesterday after the interview? When had she received it? If he called down here to leave his number, why didn’t he simply ask for me? If he had the money to get my assistant’s number, then he surely had the means to get mine.

Why the fuck did I care?

I honestly didn’t know what to do with it. I wasn’t an idiot, so I knew about the scandals from the woman who’d accused him of sexual harassment and the woman who claimed to be pregnant by him. The baby was shown not to be his and the sexual harassment lawsuit fell apart when it was found the woman was lying, but the man did have a great deal of money.

And money got you many things in the court system nowadays.

At any rate, why in the world was he trying to snag another woman? That fake pregnancy scandal was only, like, two fucking weeks old. How tacky was that? Oh, the baby’s not mine, time to hop on the train and fuck another bitch? What kind of game did he think he was playing?

On the other hand, he was beautiful. That was probably what got him all the attention from women anyway. That and his fervently deep pockets and his love of spoiling the women on his arm. He was well-known for treating his dime-a-dozen women to lavish things, buying them diamonds to drip off their bodies before casting them aside. The latest woman he dated was still being seen in the fully-loaded pink BMW convertible he’d bought for her.

I had to admit, a small part of me wanted to call him. He was into me during that interview, I could tell. And with that dick-swinging video of him running, two things were certain. He had a cock he would wield, and he kept his body fit for the taking.

I felt a shiver ricochet up my spine right before he jumped into my mind. My ex. My fucking ex sucking the face off my ex-host.

It had crumbled my walls when I’d seen him. That man had been everything to me. Tight, tailored suits, took care of his appearance. Never got on me for the time it took me to get ready. Had no issues waiting one, even two hours for me to put myself together. He always wanted to look his best, and he always cheered me on when I looked my best. We were successful, a rising power couple.

Until I caught him jamming his tongue down the throat of the person I usually did my show with.

Thankfully, I floated the show just fine. I started the show on my own, took on a co-host when the money started coming in, and didn’t look back. It was nice, volleying the show to someone every once in a while. We were able to add new segments, talk about new and exciting topics, and if there was ever a time I was sick, there was someone already standing in.

But I also had no issues firing her, and ever since, my show has taken off even more. I’m more successful than I’d ever been in the beginning, and it was because of the stance I took and the zero-tolerance policy I reigned down that garnered me that following.

I just happened to leave out the fact that I got her fired because I was fucking livid.

I stuffed the number into my pocket and grabbed my purse. I was meeting my best friend for dinner, and I didn’t want to be late. Emma Nelson was the only other person in Dallas besides Angie that I ever talked to. Being famous didn’t lend a lifestyle that allowed me to make friends easily. Most people either segued into my money, some sort of donation, or used my platform and following as a way to bolster their own social media campaigns and followings.

So, I stuck with my tried and true, Emma and Angie.

I had Emma for my outside world and Angie for my stardom world.

“Sarah!”

Emma flagged me down in the restaurant as I went rushing over to her. I embraced her tightly, holding her close as we hugged in the middle of a fine Italian restaurant. Italian was always my go-to comfort food in times of stress, so when Emma had suggested it, it was obvious she knew something was up.

“Oh my gosh, why don’t we see one another more often?” I asked as I released her.

“Because you’re too busy and hate me, that’s why,” she said.

“I could never hate you, Emma,” I said.

“I took the liberty of ordering. Penne noodles with shrimp and that asiago cheese alfredo sauce they have, garlic bread, and sweet tea. Tiramisu for dessert.”

“Why are you a woman?” I said, groaning. “We could be so good together.”

“Sorry, chica. Vaginas for life. Now, spill. What’s got you all in knots?”

“I talked to you once today. Through text message. How the hell did you know?”

“I always know. That’s what best friends do. What’s up?” she asked.

I picked up the sweet tea sat in front of me and took a huge gulp. Automatically, a wave of relief cascaded over my body as I sunk back into my chair.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? I hate you.”

“Oooh. Deflection. It’s bad. Thanks, you’re beautiful, too. Obligatory compliments out of the way. Talk to me, Sarah. It’s what I’m here for.”

“No seriously. You’re tall. Slender. Blond hair almost the color of snow. Dead white skin that makes men want to cuddle you. Piercing green eyes.”

My mind slid back to Mason’s beautiful green eyes, and for a second, I got lost in my own train of thought.

“Shit, you met someone, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Why did that phrase start with shit?” I asked.

“Because you shouldn’t be rushing into another relationship. It’s only been a month since the whole Cody debacle.”

“But he’s so attractive. He gave me his number. Him. Giving me his number. That doesn’t happen to women like me. They ask me for it, or I ask them for it. Never like this,” I said.

“That doesn’t mean anything, Sarah.”

“Easy for you to say. Your chalky white legs draw in men willing to practically hand you their cocks,” I said.

“I’m still not sure if you’re complimenting me or not, but this really isn’t a good idea.”

“Aren’t you the one who said I needed to get under someone to get over Cody?” I asked.

“Yes, when you were wallowing in self-pity. You’re not any longer. You rose from your ashes. Fired that bitch and took back your territory. You had your fight, and now it’s time to heal.”

“I’m healed, Emma. I really am,” I said. “It’s nothing serious. Just a fun little night out. This guy, he’s not serious anyway. It would only be a date or two.”

“Is that really someone you want to get tangled up with anyway?” she asked.

“I’m not looking for someone to marry. I’m looking for some fun. Some spice. Some lovin’.”

I shook my tits in the restaurant as Emma giggled, snorting as she tried to cover up her face.

“You really don’t think this is a good idea, do you?” I asked.

“Look, you took a major stance against that on your social media. That shit was everywhere. And I was so proud of you. The women of the world stood with you. How’s it going to look if you’re caught out with someone who you say is a known playboy or something?” she asked.

“I didn’t think of it that way.”

“That’s why we talk to each other,” she said. “Sarah, take this time for yourself. Post photos of you taking yourself to the spa. Taking yourself to the gym. Taking yourself on a trip to Ireland. Make it a series on your social media or something. Show women they don’t need a man to give them these things. They can just simply go out and do them because that’s what they want to do.”

“You sure you won’t let me hire you to be my social media expert?” I asked. “Because this shit’s exhausting, and that’s a fabulous idea.”

“I’m sure,” she said, giggling. “I enjoy the work I do.”

“You enjoy working with animals that hate you every second of every day?” I asked.

“They don’t hate me. And yes, I enjoy the doggie daycare I run. I’m expanding, you know.”

“Get out of here. What are you adding?” I asked.

“A second location,” she said.

“What the fuck, Emma? That’s great!”

“Yep. I finally have the money to do it, and I just hit a point where I’m turning clients away. I’m going to look at places tomorrow, and I’m looking to sign off on a place Friday.”

“This Friday?” I asked. “As in three days from now?”

“Yep. Been narrowing it down, and I have it between two places. I want it close enough to where I can send people there without it being an inconvenience to them. One place is three blocks down the road and one is two blocks up.”

“I’m so happy for you,” I said. “Really.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “And look. I know you’re lonely sometimes. I get it. I really do. Being the badass bitches we are doesn’t leave a lot of time for lovin’.”

I giggled and shook my head as she continued.

“But you know that’s how it always starts. You say it’s nothing serious, then pretty soon you’re into it like you were with Cody. Like you were with—”

“Don’t say his name.”

“Okay. I won’t. But you get my point, right?” she asked.

“All right. All right. I won’t call him. Got it,” I said.

“Thank you. Trust me, you thank me for it later.”

“I still wish you had a dick,” I said, grinning.

“We can always just move in together and Thelma and Louise it up for the rest of our lives.”

“Minus the driving off a cliff. Feet stay firmly planted,” I said.

“Skydiving?”

“Nope.”

“Bungee jumping?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Plunging over Niagara Falls?”

“I’d rather set myself on fire,” I said.

“Let’s get you a dildo,” she whispered just as our food came.

“Could I take a picture of that trip and put it on social media?”

We laughed through the rest of our dinner, Mason’s number quickly forgotten as I tossed my pants into the hamper once I got home.

 

Chapter 4

Mason

It’d been two days since I’d left my number with Sarah’s assistant, and I hadn’t heard a peep. Not a phone call. Not a text message. Not a voice mail.

Nothing.

This never happened. Women practically fell over themselves to call me. I honestly expected her to be on the phone with me that evening, but I gave her assistant the benefit of the doubt. But last night? I should’ve definitely heard from her. I should’ve already had a date set up with her somewhere nice. I should’ve already been picking out my suit, what car I’d pick her up in, as well as what present I’d drip across her skin before plowing between her legs later on that evening.

There was only one logical explanation for this bullshit.

She had an incompetent assistant.

The assistant probably lost the note or even kept it for herself. I had to admit, her assistant wasn’t too bad looking, but that wasn’t who I had my eye on. I had my eye on those luscious curves and those thick thighs. I had dreams of biting into the meat of her skin, marking her as my own before making her come onto my tongue. I had thoughts of denying her the pleasure she wanted so badly until tears of frustration rose to her eyes.

I thought about tying her to my bed with her legs spread open, ready and waiting for me to take her whenever my cock swelled and needed her.

I’d just have to go down to the studio myself. If her ignorant assistant couldn’t deliver a simple message, then I’d just have to do it myself. I left the hotel early and closed it down before I tossed myself into my convertible. I drove away from the paparazzi who were clamoring for a photo and a quote and quickly made my way downtown. For all the country Dallas choked down, it really was a city that was alive and well with beautiful women. Intricately designed cowgirl boots coupled with short skirts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

It was a man’s paradise, this city.

I parked right outside of the studio and saw Sarah leaving the building, and she looked absolutely delectable. She had on this tight, form-fitting onesie looking thing. All black except for an orange belt that wrapped around her waist. Her broad shoulders and tits were accentuated by the small of her waist while her thick legs clicked in black heels I wanted her to keep on in bed. I got out of my car and walked up beside her, startling her as her black-rimmed glasses turned up toward me.

The way her blue eyes sparkled made me want to kiss her right then and there.

“Mr. Baker. What in the world are you doing here?”

“Mason, please,” I said, grinning. “And I was stopping by to see if you’d received the information I’d left behind for you.”

“You mean, the note with your number on it,” she said.

“Yes. Did you receive it?” I asked.

“I did.”

“Oh. Well. I was simply wanting to ask you a question, and it just couldn’t wait much longer.”

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. Tell me, Sarah. Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“Worse. I’ve got two terrible exes.”

She walked away from me in her heels and got into the car parked behind mine. It was a glistening SUV, no doubt making room for that beautiful body of hers to spread out any way she wanted.

I started wondering if her seats folded down in the back.

By the time I came to my senses, she was already driving off. I was absolutely beside myself. She blew me off. No woman ever blew me off. I’d chased after her and had tracked her down. She obviously wasn’t seeing anyone, and she was too bitter to get into another relationship. She was perfect for me.

Why couldn't she see that?

I heard a door behind me open and watched as people piled out of it. They looked over at me and stopped, the door being propped open with one of their hands as I buttoned my coat. I put on my best schmoozing smile and walked toward them and took a few pictures before I simply slipped into the building.

If I was going to seduce Sarah Williams, I was going to need a bit more information in order to do it.

I walked around for a while, simply looking like I knew what I was doing. There was a great deal you could get away with simply by looking and sounding confident, and that’s how I navigated the hallways of the studio. People who spotted me automatically assumed I was here on business and moved out of my way, but the moment I saw Sarah’s assistant, I darted my hand out to stop her.

“Hello there,” I said, smiling.

“Mr. Baker! Oh my gosh. Hi. Did Miss Williams ever call you?” she asked.

“No, she didn’t,” I said.

“Well, I gave her the note. I mean, I didn’t get it to her until Tuesday. She scurried out pretty quickly on Monday, but I gave it to her right after the show on Tuesday. Well, I slid it under her door, but I heard her get up and—”

“Slow down. Take a deep breath. No one’s angry with you,” I said, grinning. “Did I overstep by doing that? By offering her my number that way?”

“Not at all. People leave their contact information all the time in case she wants to call them back for another interview or something. I figured it was one of those types of things.”

“I looked into some of those statistics she mentioned on the show, and they’re absolutely outstanding in all the worst ways possible,” I said.

“Aren’t they though? Miss Williams has always had a heart for helping children who can’t help themselves.”

“Any idea why?” I asked.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but she spent her teenage years in the Texas foster care system.”

For a split second, my heart plummeted. I couldn’t imagine what she had gone through. Something had ripped her from her family and placed her in a system that was notorious for child trafficking in this area.

At least that’s what I saw from the little bit I’d read on the topic.

“Is there any way I could get her number from you? I’ve got some ideas rolling in my head on how we can bring awareness to this,” I said.

“I’m not sure if I should be giving out her personal information.”

“I promise you, it’s just business. I can’t wait too long because I’m not in Dallas much longer, and I want to sit down with her face-to-face and discuss things before I leave.”

“All right,” she said. “Since it’s for such a good cause.”

I got her personal cell number and strolled back to my car. I sat in the seat and put up the hood, rolling up the tinted windows before anyone saw me. The last thing I needed was more paparazzi raining down on me while I was trying to get Sarah on the phone.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Sarah Williams, hello,” I said, smiling.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m hurt. It’s Mason Baker. Don’t you recognize my voice?”

“How the hell do you have my number?” she asked.

I heard a door slam in front of me before it ricocheted over the telephone. I watched her storm into the building, her face flushed with anger.

She actually wasn’t happy that I’d called, and I couldn’t figure out why.

“Oh, your assistant was wildly helpful. Don’t be angry with her, though. I did schmooze her just a tad.”

“My assistant gave you my number?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner sometime, maybe this weekend or—”

The phone call hung up, and I was absolutely stunned. I tried calling her back, thinking the call might’ve dropped in the studio, but all it did was roll to voice mail. I left her a voice message asking her if she wanted to get dinner with me sometime this weekend, but as I hung up the call, I saw a very familiar person walking out of the building.

It was her assistant, sniffling and carrying a very small box of her things.

Shit, I’d just gotten her assistant fired.

I tried calling Sarah back again to try and convince her to hire the woman back, or at least get her name, so I could apologize. But now, she was shooting my calls to voice mail. Holy fuck, I’d never had to work this hard to get a woman next to me in bed before.

She was playing hard to get, and I loved the chase.

My phone rang in my hand, and I smiled. I knew she would call me back. They always did.

“Well hello there, Sarah.”

“It’s Tony, you idiot. Where are you?”

“Um, cruising down the road,” I said as I cranked up my car. “Where are you?”

“At the hotel. I thought we were meeting to go over the next phase of this interview bullshit we’re doing?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry man. I’m headed there now. Listen, are you hungry or thirsty? I could pick something up on my way.”

“That actually sounds awesome. What about that Italian place on the corner? I hear their pasta’s homemade in the back,” he said.

“Oh, you’re talkin’ my language. I take it you want some of that sweet tea shit?”

“Yes, I do. The largest they’ve got. Grab a gallon of it, if they sell it in those kinds of containers,” he said.

“You’re becoming an addict,” I said.

“And you were sitting outside of that woman’s studio.”

“How the hell did you know? Was something said in the media?”

“Nope. Just know you. I figured Sarah Williams would be a tough one to crack for you, especially after the breakup she went through last month.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Her ex was caught sucking face with her now ex-host.”

“Oh, shit. What about the other one?” I asked.

“The other what?”

“Boyfriend. She said she had two terrible exes.”

“When did she say this?”

“Never mind. Spaghetti and a tub full of sweet tea for the addict?”

“Yep. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Oh! Hold on. Question. Can you do some digging for me?” I asked.

“I’m not researching Sarah Williams for you.”

“Good idea but no. Figure out the name of her assistant. Well, the assistant she just fired.”

“You got her assistant fucking fired?” he asked.

“Why’d you assume it was me?” I exclaimed.

“Because it’s always you, Mason. I can figure out her name. What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, offer her a job or something. See if she’s a good fit somewhere. Do we have jobs in Dallas?”

“No.”

“Then make a job in Dallas and give it to her. I feel like shit. I didn’t mean to get her fired.”

“Is that compassion I hear?” he asked.

“No, fucker. It’s business. I got her fired for a lie I told, and that was my heat to take. I’m making it right. Like I always do. All right, I’m pulling up to get food now. See you in a bit.”

“See you soon,” he said.

 

Chapter 5

Sarah

I couldn’t believe my assistant was stupid enough to dole out my personal fucking information. What the hell was she thinking? I didn’t give a damn if the President himself asked for my fucking number. Mason had the resources to find it if he wanted it. I needed to surround myself with people who protected my privacy, not people who just doled out my shit whenever they were schmoozed by a handsome man in a tailored suit.

“Sherry!”

“Yes, Miss Williams?”

“Pack your shit,” I said.

“I’m sorry?” she asked.

“You’re fired.”

“What? What did I do, Miss Williams?”

“Cut the bull. You gave my personal information to Mason Baker when he came in here flapping his handsome jowls and dazzling you with his emerald eyes. I need people I can trust with my information, and I can no longer trust you. Pack up your shit. It shouldn’t be much anyway.”

“But he told me he wanted to call you because—”

“I don’t care if he was calling because a nuclear bomb was headed right for Dallas. I didn’t call him for a reason, and you blew my trust. Get. Out.”

Even as she packed up the few things she had and ran down the hallway crying, he kept blowing up my phone. It would ring and I would silence it, and he’d leave a voice message. Then it’d ring again, I’d silence it, and he’d leave a voice message. I had half a mind to change my fucking number altogether and only give it out to Emma, Angie, and the crew. I had half a mind to block his number and have the security guards watch out for him.

The nerve of that handsome fucker.

I put up with his relentless calls all day, and I was getting tired of it. He wasn’t getting the hint. Not one bit. And I was getting tired of my phone ringing off the fucking hook. So finally, just as I was leaving to go home, I answered his call.

“What the fuck do you want?” I asked.

“I want to take you out.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Not a chance.”

“It’ll be fun,” he said.

“I’ve got no intentions of being photographed out on a date with you,” I said.

“Good, because I’ve got no intentions of parading you around photographers,” he said.

Wait. Seriously? Why the hell not? He was Mason fucking Baker. It’s what he did.

“It’s just dinner. I’ll pick you up, we’ll cruise around, we’ll go get dinner somewhere obscure where no one will find us. Hell, I’ll rent out a restaurant just to get us some privacy. Then I’ll take you home, maybe back to my place.”

“We’re not going anywhere near your place,” I said.

“So I’ll pick you up tomorrow night?”

“What?”

“Tomorrow night, say around seven?” he asked.

“When did I agree to a date with you?” I asked.

“The moment you answered your phone.”

I could hear his smug fucking grin through the phone. I wanted to bash his head in and simultaneously kiss his beautiful lips. I sighed, thinking about how monotonous my life had become. If there was anyone who understood the intrusion fame had a tendency to become, it was Mason Baker.

And it was just one dinner, right?

“Fine. I’ll go out with you. Once. To dinner. Just dinner. Tomorrow night,” I said.

“Wonderful. Shoot me your address, and I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something that makes you feel breathtaking.”

“So, my bathrobe and pajama pants?” I asked.

“Whatever works for you works for me, beautiful. Talk to you soon.”

He hung up before I could get a word in edgewise, and I’d wondered if I’d made the right decision. I thought about it all night and about the trouble this could spiral into, the pictures that could possibly surface, and how this could completely backfire on me with what just happened a month ago.

But I was intrigued. I hated that I was, but it was the truth.

I was intrigued as to the kind of time I might have with the Mason Baker.

I woke up Thursday morning incredibly nervous. I wasn’t really sure what I was nervous about, but getting through my show was a nightmare. I had to diffuse lavender into my room and drink chamomile tea just to calm my mind down. I was interviewing an elderly couple who had opened up their own bar right in the heart of downtown Dallas and was pumping out their own original cocktails and crafting their own wines. It was a heartfelt interview, and I could see the love radiating between these two.

They didn’t make people like them anymore. Women were too wrapped up in how they looked, and men were too wrapped up in the legs of other women to see the prize that could be a hardworking, independent woman anyway.

But once the interview was over, I found myself rushing back home to get ready.

I’d never been this nervous going out on a date with someone before. I was always confident, and I always knew what I was getting myself into. I prided myself on my ability to read people, and Mason Baker was as topical as they came. Playboy. Rich. Flaunted his money and had no issues talking to the press. He loved the attention, the glamor, and the women he attracted with his money. He was just that type of person.

That type of man.

But then there was the tension. The sexual tension that permeated between the two of us when I was interviewing him. The sly, barely-there winks and the underhanded sexual comments that had me deep breathing while he was answering my questions. My attraction to him was purely carnal. A blood-in-the-nostrils affair. But there was that one looming issue.

The issue that I didn’t trust men.

Maybe it was the fact that my exes had all driven me into the ground. Maybe it was the fact that I was ripped from my family when I was twelve years old because my father was peddling drugs out of our garage. Maybe it was the fact that every single man I ever thought was supposed to love me only ended up doing things to drive me away in the end, showing me I was always second-best to something else, to someone else, to anything else.

“Calm down, Sarah,” I said to myself in the mirror. “You’re not getting serious with this guy. It’s just a date. It’s just dinner, something to get your toes wet again and see how it makes you feel.”

I smoothed my hands down my dark green dress before I slipped into my heels. I hung my sparkling earrings from my ears before I piled my black hair on top of my head.

“If it goes well, make it a fling. You could use the stress relief, and you know he’s packin’,” I said to myself in the mirror.

The idea of seeing what was underneath those clothes sent a shiver cascading down my spine.

Right at seven, a buzz rang out into my apartment. I knew that was the front desk alerting me to the fact that Mason was here, and I didn’t even think about meeting him outside. I lived in a complex that was known for its privacy, but the people coming in and out of the complex didn’t have to abide by the same rules.

“Yes?” I asked.

“You have a visitor downstairs,” the front desk said.

“A male visitor?”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall we send him up?”

“Tell him I’ll meet him at his car.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I took one last look in the mirror before I grabbed my purse and locked the door behind me. I took the elevator down and scurried across the lobby, trying to avoid people’s gazes as I looked around for Mason.

There he was, in all his swagger and cocky confidence, leaning against his beautiful red convertible with that dastardly grin on his face.

“When I said breathtaking, Miss Williams, I didn’t mean in a deadly way,” he said.

“Uh huh. Flattery gets you nowhere,” I said as he opened the car door for me.

“Ah, but it’s so much fun to watch your milky skin color with that telltale blush.”

My eyes widened. He had seen it during the interview. He chuckled as he shut my door, and I watched as he walked around and got in. He rode us out of town before he dropped the top of the car, and I took my hair down so it could blow away in the wind. I sat there with my eyes closed, breathing in the scent of the countryside as we traveled up the barren highway that skirted along the farmland.

“Where are we headed?” I asked.

“You’ll see.”

We pulled into this little shack of a place that sat right on top of a rolling hill. Not a soul was in sight except for a waitress who sat us at our seat and a chef in the back. A bartender was sitting at the bar, waiting for our drink orders, but all I could do was gawk at the view from our seat.

It was nothing but grass, trees, rolling hills, and sky, and I was absolutely mesmerized.

“I found this little place while I was joyriding my first day in Dallas,” he said.

“I had no idea this place existed. It’s incredible.”

“Wait until you try their steak,” he said, grinning.

There were two glasses of red wine set in front of us, and I quickly picked it up and put it to my lips. I felt like he was trying to peel back my layers with nothing but his gaze. I knew his end game would be sex. It always was with men like him.

The question was, though, was that my end game, too?

“So, where do you go after Dallas?” I asked.

“Ah, here and there a bit. We’re almost done with the interview part of this process.”

“What process?”

“Rehabilitating my image or some such nonsense,” he said. “But enough about me. Have you always lived in Dallas?”

“Yes,” was all I offered.

“Is your family from around here?”

“Yes. Where’s your family from.”

“Oh, here and there,” he said.

He was being guarded, and it was painfully obvious. He wanted to know all about me without offering up a bit of detail about his life. I was not about to break down my walls for some playboy and tell him my own personal sob story while he sat there and tried to be some sort of shoulder while my emotions poured forth from my broken soul.

I wasn’t playing into that hand tonight.

The dinner was pretty stunted with neither of us opening up to one another. The conversation was light, painted with topical conversations like the weather and places we wanted to visit someday. Apparently, he didn’t want to visit anywhere. He wanted to buy an island and make it a place people visited.

Fucking shocker there.

But at the same time, there was this overwhelming desire. Even though I offered up absolutely nothing about myself personally, his eyes sparkled every time I spoke. His foot kept scooting closer and closer to mine like he was trying to get as close as he could. Maybe it was my third glass of wine talking or maybe it was how lonely I realized I’d been for quite some time now, but I realized what my end game was.

I realized if he offered up his home, I’d go back with him.

“Tell me, do you have plans after this dinner?” he asked.

“You mean going home and sleeping so I can prepare for tomorrow’s interview? Yep.”

“Sounds so boring. You don’t strike me as a boring woman,” he said, grinning.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“Well, I wondered if you would reconsider my offer.”

“What offer?”

“The offer to accompany me back to my house,” he said.

He was leaning forward like he was anxious for my answer. I lost myself in his piercing green eyes and his chiseled jawbone. I could cut glass on the slope of his cheek, and suddenly, I couldn’t take my eyes off the veins bulging in his neck.

“I think I would enjoy reconsidering that offer,” I said, grinning.

“Wonderful.”