Chapter Three
Maria
I wake up, roll over, and let out a groan. What in the actual hell? The first thought on my mind is Mason. I dreamed of the man the night before . . . and they weren’t PG dreams. I love a new morning, and am always eager to start my day. But instead of making plans like I need to, I’m fantasizing about tying Mason to my bed and having my way with the man. Why him? Maybe I’m cursed to be attracted to all of the arrogant ones. I try to assure myself that at least he was funny. I really did have a good time last night, more fun than I’ve ever had at a conference . . . and this was only night one. I have no doubt he’s going to be appearing again today.
I shake my head as I try to clear my tantalizing thoughts. I need a good run. It’s the only thing that will help me focus and get through my incredibly busy day. I don’t get to hide out in my room, not at a conference.
I rise to find Nikki already lacing up her running shoes. “You slept in today. You were also making some noises in your sleep that made even me blush. It was enough that I heard you through your door.”
My cheeks instantly heat as I glare at Nik. “Good morning to you too, and no I wasn’t.”
She laughs. “Hurry up. I’m ready to hit the pavement.”
I grumble as I head to the bathroom. It doesn’t take me long to get my workout clothes on. I step back out. “I need to clear my head.”
“You dreamed of giving Mason head?” Nikki responds with a smirk, deliberately ‘mishearing’ what I just said.
“You wench,” I say in response with a laugh. I shove her shoulder and step out of our door.
We head down the flights of stairs and step outside, the crisp morning air instantly clearing my brain and feeling amazing on my heated skin. There aren’t many people out, which is exactly how I like it. We match our paces and begin a nice steady jog, the steady rhythm of our feet hitting the pavement providing a comforting backdrop of sound.
We’re about twenty minutes into our run when Nikki turns to me, looking gorgeous with flushed cheeks, her breath barely affected. She’s one of those people others despise because she looks so good working out. Me, on the other hand, drip gallons of sweat. I love it, though, because I feel amazing when I’m finished. It’s a full body detox.
“Last night was fun,” she says. How she continues to run while having a conversation evades me. Meanwhile, each of my responses come out in a labored pant.
“It wasn’t bad,” I admit. I need to be careful here. It’s clear I’m attracted to Mason whether I want to be or not. Since it’s been a while since I’ve felt a true spark with a man, she’ll zero in like a shark smelling blood.
“Tell me more. You crashed so hard when we got to the room, we didn’t get to gossip,” she says.
I concentrate on running and what I’m going to say. I can’t lie to my bestie. That’s the worst sin imaginable. “He’s . . . interesting. He’s also cocky.”
“Some call it confidence. He didn’t seem over the top to me like Bobby. Then again, Mason has a lot to be confident about. That man’s hot as hell.”
“He’s okay. I’ve seen hotter,” I say. It’s true. Where there’s one gorgeous man, there are a thousand more behind him. That doesn’t take away from how appealing Mason is, though. Attraction is also amped up when a man is funny and intelligent.
“He has you more intrigued than I realized,” Nikki says, easily blowing right past my BS.
I let out a sigh, my peaceful jog not feeling so peaceful right now. “Okay, maybe he intrigued me. But I have a lot to focus on today and I don’t have time for men or their egos.”
“There’s always time for men,” she tells me.
“Look who’s talking. You can’t stay with a man longer than a month before you’re bored.”
“Well, they shouldn’t be so boring,” she says, making me laugh as we turn. We make our way back to the hotel after picking up our pace and stopping our talk. It’s far from over, but Nikki will bug me about it later. We head straight to the gym to do some lifting. Just because I’m at a conference is no excuse not to exercise. If I get out of my routine, it’s too easy to fall off the wagon. I’ve gone months with no workouts and then I feel like crap. I already feel inferior to Nikki in the athletic department. No need to make that worse.
We grab a weighted ball and toss it to each other for a while before I move to the ropes, and she does some pull ups. The sweat and effort we’re exerting helps clear my mind, getting me prepared to make it through a long day of meetings.
We move around the gym from one machine to another. We’re getting close to the end when a group of men enter the gym, their eyes immediately zeroing in on us. This is why I hate using hotel gyms. I’m here to workout, not to be hit on.
One of the men make a beeline straight to us where I’m spotting Nik on the bench press. There are tons of open machines, but of course he bypasses them all.
“Need a spotter?” he asks with a confident smirk. I meet Nikki’s eyes and roll mine.
Nikki then looks up at the man as she pushes up a perfect press. “I think we’re covered,” she tells him with a sassy grin. She loves shooting men down while shamelessly flirting at the same time. It always confuses them.
Another of the men, a bit shorter, but equally persistent, joins his buddy. “Come on, ladies, we just want to be helpful. It doesn’t hurt to have more than one pair of eyes on you in case something falls.”
Nikki finishes her presses, then sits up and flips her ponytail over her shoulder. “I know we’re just petite little ladies, but we know how to pound some steel,” she tells him with a bat of her eyes. Both men’s jaws practically drop to the floor. “Thanks for the offer though. We’re all done. Time to soap up in a nice . . . hot . . . wet shower.”
She grabs my arm and we walk away from the men. It takes all I have not to laugh. I don’t look back, but imagine they’re sporting some wood right about now. We leave the gym to head to our room.
I shake my head as we ascend the stairs. Might as well finish off with a thirteen-story hike. “I don’t know how you flirt while shooting men down so beautifully,” I tell her.
“What can I say? It’s a gift,” she tells me with a giggle. We race up the stairs, both of us breathing heavy as we reach our suite. We each have our own bathroom so we head in and clean up. I dress quickly then sit at the table, in the shared living space, with my laptop.
I let out a squeak of happiness when I see that Miles Bennett has replied to my email already and he’s free to meet me for lunch. This was far easier than I thought it would be. I figured I’d have to stalk the man for at least two days to get him to agree to meet me. He hasn’t agreed to anything, but getting the initial meeting is the hardest part. I’ve always had a gift for charming people once they’re in my grasp.
Though Mason interrupted my sleep last night, my work life is going great. That’s what matters. Sure, I had fun with Mason, but he’ll be out of my life in a few days. If I get this win with Miles for my publishing house, it will bring me joy for years to come. I need to remember this when Mason enters my mind again.
My morning flies by and is filled with meetings with authors. This is one of my favorite parts of the job, though it can drag at times. I love meeting and connecting with people, but it can be hard to sludge through a meeting when I know it’s not a good fit. I’m on my third cup of coffee, though, and feeling great. I arrive early at the restaurant and settle down at the table to wait for Miles. I’m confident in my abilities as an editor and in getting the sell. Miles might be one of the hottest authors right now, but I’m certainly the best editor and my publishing house has a lot to offer.
I sip on a soda, counting down the hours until I can have an alcoholic drink guilt free. I have to keep my wits with me for now, though. I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking, so I have to be careful at work events.
When I notice heads turning I look up, and now it’s my turn to have my jaw dropping. What in the heck is Mason doing here? I knew I’d see him again at the conference, but I don’t have time for this right now. He stops at my table.
“I don’t have time for this, Mason. I have a meeting,” I tell him, letting him hear the irritation in my voice.
The man laughs as he holds out his hand. “Miles Bennett. I see you’ve met my twin brother.”
I don’t hide my surprise as my jaw drops open for the second time in the last few minutes. I’m normally composed, but how does someone prepare for a reality like this? I knew I should’ve looked into Miles before this meeting. I don’t like to do that, though. I like to form my own opinion, not read the opinion of others. I have a good feel for people and don’t want my mind muddied by outside influences.
I compose myself quickly as I stand and take Miles’s hand. Now that I know he’s not Mason, the differences are more evident. Miles has much less stubble growing around his face, and a bit more grey flecks through his hair. While Miles and Mason have similar builds, he looks a bit softer than the hard muscle that Mason seems to be made of. “Yes, I apparently met your brother. He didn’t mention he had a twin, and certainly didn’t mention it was you when I told him I was hoping to speak with you.”
“Yep. That sounds like my brother. He’s always full of surprises.”
He holds out my chair which impresses me, and I take a seat. I’m a bit thrown off, which I don’t like. Miles sits, and the waitress quickly approaches. We place our drink and appetizer order. We’re both busy and have one event to run to after another so these meetings have to be quick and to the point while also not seeming rushed. It’s a balance that’s hard to keep, though I’ve learned to perfect it over the years.
“I’m glad you have time to meet. Sorry about that introduction,” I tell him.
He laughs. “If you met my brother, I’m a bit shocked I didn’t get a slap in the face,” he tells me.
I can’t help but laugh at this. “I can see some women wanting to slap him,” I admit.
“They either want to slap him or . . .” He leaves the rest of this sentence to the imagination. With the way I woke up, I have no doubt what the majority of women want to do with Mason. I wonder how two identical twins can be so different from each other, because while they’re both very similar in many ways, Miles and Mason’s eyes tell completely different stories from each other.
Miles is more settled with a happy sparkle in his expression where Mason’s eyes have humor, confidence, and a glint that says he has a secret he might just share with you if you impress him enough.
“Mason might put on a good show, and he’s certainly a character. He likes to have adventures, and doesn’t take life too seriously when he’s having fun, but he also has an incredible work ethic. He doesn’t like to admit it to the world, but he also has one hell of a good heart,” Miles says.
“He certainly made an impression last night,” I tell him. I need to get this back on work, but I can’t seem to help talking about Mason. The man’s messing with my work, something that doesn’t ever happen when it comes to men.
“I’m sure he did. I saw him approach you last night, and to tell the truth, I thought you’d eat him up and spit him out,” he says. It pleases me that Miles knows of my reputation. I’m tough because I’m so damn good.
If I would’ve just made my way to Miles’s corner of the bar, I wouldn’t have gotten such a shock this afternoon. Dang it. I need to get off the subject of Mason right now. Our time’s ticking away.
“I do tend to eat men alive. But enough of this. I know you’re a very busy man, and you know I contacted you because my publishing house wants to do a book with you. What will it take for us to win you over?”
“I like a person willing to get to the point and not play games,” Miles says. He leans back and thinks on this for a moment. “As you might know, I’ve met the woman of my dreams who for some strange and beautiful reason, has agreed to be my wife. It’s made me a bit of a romantic and all mushy. It’s affected my writing. I’ve been thinking about doing a collaboration, and there’s one author I want to work with. She’s hard to get though. If you can make this happen, then I think we can make a deal.”
“I’ll find her, tie her down, and force her to sign the deal,” I say as seriously as I can manage.
“That might be the subject of our book,” he tells me with a laugh. “She does have a tendency to write some steamy stuff.”
“Who is this mystery author?” I ask.
“Ruth Cardello.”
I let out a whistle. “That’s a tall order, but I’ll make it happen.”
“Well then I think we have the beginning of a beautiful relationship,” Miles tells me.
“Cardello’s work is amazing, but what makes you want this collaboration?” I question.
“Emily,” Miles answers with a sappy grin. “She’s been on a Ruth Cardello kick, and lately all of my publishing and writing choices are based around what will make Emily smile.”
“A real life Romeo over here,” I tease.
“Without the double suicide in the end,” Miles agrees with a nod, his serious expression broken by a grin a fraction of a second later.
Our food is brought out and we chat a few more minutes when I feel a new tingle travel up my spine. I have no doubt who’s just come into the restaurant. I look up and see Mason making his way toward us. It doesn’t take him long. He grabs a chair, flips it around, and takes a seat, all without taking his eyes from me.
“Never one to turn down an opportunity to make an entrance,” Miles says with a laugh. Seeing the two together, the differences are much more apparent. I’m surprised I thought Miles was Mason for even a moment.
“We’re in a meeting,” I tell Mason in my most prim voice. I’m careful. This is Miles’s brother, after-all.
“I couldn’t leave my girl alone with my brother,” he tells me with a wink.
“That’s sure to win her over,” Miles says.
“I’m not your girl,” I tell Mason.
Mason only shrugs as he reaches over to my plate and grabs a fry. “I’m starving. I had a killer workout and now I need food. He takes an onion ring from Miles’s plate next. I don’t even know what to say.
“What are you two discussing?” Mason asks as the waitress comes back. Mason orders so there’s no getting rid of him now.
“A romance deal,” Miles says with zero shame. He might just be the next Nicolas Sparks, though maybe without the sad endings. I can see it. He’s a lot better looking in my humble opinion, and from the way he’s talking about his fiancé, more of a romantic than the most famous male romance author.
Mason whistles. “My brother wants to be a romance writer. Nice. Sappy, but nice.”
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with romance,” I shoot back. “It’s in every single story ever told. Do you really think Superman saves the world because he has nothing better to do? Nope. He does it for a woman.”
“I like that. Maybe I’ll write some of my own romance. Want to help me come up with scenes?” he asks with an incredibly sexy smile.
“What you’re talking about is smut, and that’s not happening,” I tell him, but I can’t stop my laughter. His infectious joy of life is hard to be mad at. That swaggering smile is going to live rent free in my head to the end of time.
“Come on, we’re each other’s wingmen. We have to do this together,” Mason says.
Miles looks at his watch. “I have to run. I’m giving a talk in fifteen minutes. It truly was a pleasure meeting you today, Maria. I look forward to seeing what we can do together.”
I stand with him and shake his hand again. Miles pats Mason on the back, and then he disappears. I’m left behind with Mason who looks quite smug about this.
His food comes and the two of us get into some friendly banter about the best genres for books. We both like multiple genres, getting bored reading only one style over and over again. Life’s too short and there are far too many books not to have many different reading materials to consume.
I realize I’m going to be late for my next meeting and call over the waitress to pay. Mason does it before I can stop him. I give him a glare.
“This was a work meeting,” I tell him.
“Work. Play. I like paying,” he says. I roll my eyes.
“Are you one of those men intimidated by powerful women?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Hell no. I love a powerful woman. Weak women bore me. Why do you think I’m harassing you? I’m damn impressed,” he says. His words are filled with truth. It makes me a glow a little, but I don’t want to admit it.
“Thanks, I think,” I tell him.
“It’s a compliment for sure,” he says. “What time are your appointments over so we can meet up and collaborate?”
I have a feeling he’ll follow me through the halls if I don’t agree to meet with him. I tell myself this is the only reason I’m agreeing to it. I can’t lie to my bestie, but I can lie to myself all day long.
“Fine. I’m done at seven,” I tell him.
“Perfect. I’ll walk you to your next meeting,” he says as he stands and holds out his arm. I don’t take it.
“Nope. I’m stopping at the restroom and have a few last minute things to do. You’re going away unless you want our meeting tonight to be cancelled,” I tell him. He looks like he wants to argue for a minute, but then he takes my hand and kisses the back of it, before giving me a bow, then walking away.
I wait a moment before following behind him, feeling a bit wobbly on my feet. I pass a table where an older woman reaches out, catching my attention. I smile at her.
“Don’t let that man get too far away. He’s beautiful,” she tells me with a giggle.
“Believe me, he knows it,” I reply.
“How could he not?” she says, the other ladies at the table giggle. It makes me laugh as well as I say goodbye and walk away. Mason’s a challenge, and he’s one I’m not hating. For now, though, I have to prepare myself. I have a lot to do. I try to ignore the fact that I can’t wait for the day to end so I can see him again. This is going to be a very long conference.