Mr. Right Now Read online

  Cover Copy

  The wrong guy might be just right for her.

  When her celebrity boyfriend of three years dumps her and claims he’s now gay, unlucky-in-love author Casey Cash decides to get out of New York. A cruise seems like the perfect escape: everyone onboard will be locked away from television, newspapers and internet gossip pages, allowing her some much needed relaxation. There's only one problem: her oh-so-helpful agent has hired a male escort for her…and a big NYC paper has sent a pesky reporter on-board, vowing to get the dirt.

  Mason Drury doesn't want to write an expose on Casey, but he's in a bind. After a source flipped on him, he's persona non grata at his newspaper. Celebrity trash or not, this story will put him back on top. Too bad he finds himself breaking the first rule of reporting by getting attached to his subject and letting bias influence his story.

  Casey’s much more interested in sexy Mason than the annoying escort who’s bunking in her room. Mason might even have romantic potential if she can shake her well-meaning—but nosey—fans. Oh, and that reporter. She’s got to avoid him at all costs…

  CONTENT WARNING: A smattering of sass, sex and a heaping happily ever after.

  A Lyrical Press Contemporary Romance

  Highlight

  “I’d like to make you look like that some early morning out at sea.” The sultry words slipped into Casey’s consciousness. She spun around. A man straight from the pages of one of her favorite romance novels stood a few feet to her right.

  “I beg your pardon?” She sounded prissy. Prissy and breathless. What a combination. Yes, I’m a stuck-up asthmatic looking for love. Would you like to be my escort?

  The stranger smiled as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her skin sizzled at his touch. Had to be the Florida heat. Never in her twenty-six years had Casey felt that wonderful burn from a stranger’s simple touch. All her anger at Jane, at the crazy situation, fled.

  “I said I’d like to make you look like that. Wide-eyed. Breathless. Satisfied.” He smiled around the words, as if he could taste that satisfaction. A flock of seagulls took flight in her belly.

  He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “On second thought, I like this look much better. Like release is just around the corner.”

  By Kristina Knight

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  Dedication

  For anyone who has ever gone on vacation with the intention of totally vacating their life at home. Salut!

  To the people of the Caribbean, thank you for your warmth, graciousness and hospitality.

  For the other pre-school moms ~ thanks for reminding me that we all need a vacation. Sometimes without the kiddos in tow.

  Acknowledgements

  Big, smoochey kisses and hugs to RadioMan and bebe, without whom I would never have known my own happily ever after.

  For D'Ann, Liz, Shawn and Margie who have loved these characters (nearly) as long as I have…and kicked my butt to get this story right.

  Miss Romance Dumped For Gay Lover.

  Cassandra Cash read the headline staring at her from the newspaper machine and groaned. So the story was out. Crap. And she wasn’t even on board ship yet.

  She was Miss Romance. Queen of fixing a love life in three hundred pages or less. Her first four books had skyrocketed to the top of the bestseller list, unheard of for a relative newbie, even a newbie who had notoriously dated the king of shock radio, turning their fling and her PhD into a new career. Her first non-love-life book was due on her editor’s desk in a little less than eight weeks, not that she would want the book now. Not when Casey had been outed as no good at romances and as a total turn-off to men.

  Casey didn’t have a clue how to begin the next book, a twenty-something take on having it all. Didn’t have a clue how her private life kept making headlines. She couldn’t think about anything with reporters hounding her every step and photographers jumping from behind shrubbery.

  Damn Nate, anyway.

  How she could have fallen for such a loser?

  He’d barely slithered out her door after declaring he couldn’t live with the lies any longer, before the press started calling, asking if he had dumped her for his latest on-screen partner. His male partner. After his show went national, a new reality-based television network called on Nate, making him the star of his own radio-on-television drama. Since the tabloid calls had started she couldn’t concentrate long enough to order Thai take-out, much less figure how other women were supposed to have it all.

  What woman in her right mind would buy a book about having it all from a dumped woman who had turned her man off women for life?

  “Lightning only strikes so many times.” Her agent’s hollow-sounding words brought Casey back to Earth. Jane Brunner wasn’t happy with Casey’s progress, or lack thereof, and as always she got right to the point. A click sounded over the line and then, “I’m serious, Case.” Great. She was on speakerphone. “Forget that headline. You and I both know that all press is good press. What you need is some relaxation and romance, so get on the ship, Chip. Nate's a bastard. He wanted to break up, fine. But he shouldn’t have gone to the papers with that made-up story just to get more press for his stupid show. Did you see the last ratings book? Less than half a percentage of viewers are watching. He’s trying anything he can to keep that contract.”

  “How do you know it isn’t true? Maybe he finally did face the truth about himself because of me,” Casey whispered, afraid the crowd waiting to board would call the tabloids as soon as they had a free second. Was that a teeny bit paranoid?

  The cell phone at her ear slipped a bit. Wonderful. Even her ears were sweating. Casey huffed out a breath. She didn’t so much care that she’d been dumped. That had happened before. Men liked the idea of dating a writer, not an actual relationship with one, especially when the deadlines called and she didn’t sleep, want sex or keep her legs waxed.

  But Nate had dumped her for a man. That was a new twist on the It’s-Not-You-It’s-Me excuse. Not to mention a bit unsettling. Still, if Nate had found love, more power to him. But did he have to go to the papers for a few headlines? She slapped her forehead against her palm. What she wanted was to wrap her hands around Nate’s neck and squeeze until his face turned as purple as an eggplant.

  Instead, Casey clutched the cell phone tighter. The line for people boarding had stopped moving. Several passengers looked from the newspaper box to her and back. She should leave now before they made the connection. If she did it quickly, no one would even notice.

  Jane cleared her throat. “Kiddo, a man doesn’t just up and decide he’s gay one morning over Corn Flakes. The story doesn’t wash. So don’t worry about it. Once the suits at that network figure out what the general public already knows—that the show is worse than sucking pond water through a straw—he’ll be out with some Hollywood starlet to get his name back in the papers and on the minds of teenage girls the world over. You’re better off without him.”

  Like she didn’t know that already. But Nate killing her reputation to build his own just didn’t make sense. Sure the tabs loved him for the moment, but the backlash, assuming this was all a lie, would ruin him. The gay community did not like stars putting on and taking off the homosexual cloak as they saw fit, Anne Heche be damned.

  Jane kept talking. “So you don’t believe you’ll find a forever kind of guy. At least find a for-right-now guy because, sweetie, you need to relax.”

  “A battery-operated man is cheaper. And way more effective.” Casey sighed into her cellular pho
ne at Jane’s tut-tut. Nate was always interested in his own pleasure first, leaving her sitting at first base while he celebrated a home run.

  The older man standing in front of Casey moved forward a few scant inches and she entered the gangway doors. Once inside, Casey sighed as the blasting air conditioning cooled her face. Unfortunately, since the doors were wedged open, her back was still sweating.

  She had dressed for the hot weather: a mini-skirt, fitted tee and wedge-heeled Roman sandals. She looked good, but the clothes were wilting in the hot Florida sun. Sweat pooled at the small of her back. She should have cruised to Alaska instead of the Caribbean.

  “Live a little, Case,” Jane said. “This is a cruise, not the fifth circle of hell. Put on one of those skimpy bikinis you bought and lay by the pool. If you smile enough, you might even meet Mr. Right Now when you board.”

  “I don’t plan on being bored,” she said, intentionally misunderstanding Jane’s words as the cell phone crackled. “Now that the story is out, I’ll hole up in my room, lock the door and work on the new book.”

  A disjointed ring sounded over the phone, and then Jane sighed heavily. “Don’t hang up. I’ll be right back.”

  Okay, maybe Jane was right. Eight-plus months of battery-powered stimulation and two weeks of ditching the press were more than enough. Her skin was sallow, her appetite nil. Casey shook her head.

  That didn’t mean she needed to go looking for a man on a week-long love cruise. She picked at one perfect nail until the corner flaked free. Besides, all the semi-non-wretched men seemed to be taken. Or over sixty.

  Jane came back on the line, sounding flustered. “Sweetie, I’ve got to go. Forget that you’ve been living out of your suitcase. Ignore what I said before and forget that you have another book due in a few weeks.”

  Yeah. That would happen.

  “Just relax. And, don’t be mad.” Jane was silent for several moments, sending Casey’s nerves into alert. What had Jane done? “I knew you’d try to work instead of relax so I, um, hired someone for you.” The last four words rushed breathlessly from Jane’s mouth, and Casey wasn’t sure she understood at first. “He comes highly recommended, a real hunk and a manwich, from what I understand. I can’t find his name, but he’ll introduce himself this afternoon. Just go with it. Have a little fun for the next week and when you get back, get to work on the next book.” Jane clicked off, leaving Casey listening to the buzz of the disconnected line.

  Hired someone? A hunk to fill my days? A paid hunk. Casey tried to feel mad, but couldn’t. Jane meant well. With Casey’s track record, maybe paying someone was the best she could do. Besides, at least Jane’s Mr. Right Now wouldn’t turn into Mr. Already-Married-Engaged-Committed-Gay Guy.

  Still, it felt sleazy. Casey never had a problem attracting men. Of course, her plans to keep the man around never worked out. Forget it. Jane’s hired hunk could just find some other desperate woman to romance.

  Casey stepped up to the check-in counter as another happy cruiser be-bopped down the hallway. The old man pulled his equally aged wife along beside him. He’d be playing shuffleboard, and she would be getting her hair done by the time Casey got checked in.

  She wanted to be that carefree. Wanted to be-bop down the hall and find a cute, non-retirement-age guy. One who wasn’t being paid to romance her, who wouldn’t print their break-up to promote his career.

  “Cassandra Cash,” she said, handing her ticket to the purser behind the counter. His overly-tanned skin pulled tight around his eyes and mouth. Bottle-black hair was expertly cut just above his ears. Crisp uniform, white knee socks and tennis shoes. The man had watched one too many episodes of The Love Boat.

  Couldn’t work wait, just this once? Couldn’t she leave the laptop in her luggage under the bed? Just because Jane hired a man didn’t mean Casey couldn’t develop her own plan. When the guy introduced himself, she would let him know she wasn’t interested. She could find her own hunk. There had to be at least one or two guys under the age of sixty and not attached to a wife or girlfriend on a ship with five thousand passengers.

  If that failed, she’d work on the book.

  Her cell phone buzzed. Reading Jane’s name on the incoming line, Casey shook her head and sighed. Before she could respond, her agent said, “And don’t you dare pull that laptop out of its case.” As quickly as she was on the line, Jane rang off.

  Casey smiled. Jane knew her too well.

  “I’d like to make you look like that some early morning out at sea.” The sultry words slipped into Casey’s consciousness. She spun around. A man straight from the pages of one of her favorite romance novels stood a few feet to her right.

  “I beg your pardon?” She sounded prissy. Prissy and breathless. What a combination. Yes, I’m a stuck-up asthmatic looking for love. Would you like to be my escort?

  The stranger smiled as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her skin sizzled at his touch. Had to be the Florida heat. Never in her twenty-six years had Casey felt that wonderful burn from a stranger’s simple touch. All her anger at Jane, at the crazy situation, fled.

  “I said I’d like to make you look like that. Wide-eyed. Breathless. Satisfied.” He smiled around the words, as if he could taste that satisfaction. A flock of seagulls took flight in her belly.

  He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “On second thought, I like this look much better. Like release is just around the corner.”

  Okay, if she was going to pick up this guy she had to start somewhere. She took a shallow breath, swallowed hard and tried to channel Sahara, the heroine from the novel in her carry-on. Tough, flirtatious Sahara knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it.

  “If you want to see what it takes to satisfy me in the mornings,” Casey said, walking her fingers up his broad chest to push him back a hair, “first, you’ll have to figure out how to indulge me at night.” Yes! That sounded exactly like Sahara. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up, but who cared? So what if Cassandra Cash, self-help author, flirted like a novice at her promises ceremony? She was on a cruise. Time to live a little.

  The stranger stepped closer and trapped her hand in his own against his chest. His heart tap-tapped through the thin black cotton of his t-shirt, the touch burning her skin.

  Cocking his head to one side, he stepped closer and leaned against the check-in counter. He pointed at the phone clutched in Casey’s free hand. “I bet it takes more than a phone call to make you look this contented in the morning.”

  Casey fought the urge to giggle. Really, the man had lines that would sound hokey coming from a 1970’s porn movie. But his body... For six feet of tanned and toned muscle, Casey could overlook cheesy come-on lines.

  His brown hair was a little long and curved along his neck to brush the collar of his shirt. Emerald green eyes. She’d always been a sucker for green eyes. His nose had been broken at least once, giving his face just enough character to keep him from being movie-star perfect. A tiny scar ran diagonally from his nose to the corner of his wide mouth. Full lips.

  Hoo-boy. He was cute. And cut. Casey bet there was at least a six-pack hiding under his tee, and the way his lower body filled out his worn blue jeans, another prize waited below his waist.

  Please let this be Jane’s Mr. Right. The thought of being romanced by a paid escort suddenly wasn’t as sleazy. Who cared if Jane had set up this encounter? Casey could suddenly see the beauty of the plan. Seven days’ worth of encounters.

  “See anything you like?”

  Casey fought hard to control the blush climbing her cheeks and lost. Stiffening her spine, she said, “Just wondering if you’re up to my, uh, specifications.”

  “I’m not sure you can judge that in a crowded lobby, but I’d be happy to meet up with you later to discuss those specifications.”

  She pulled her hand from his and then, unsure what to do with the appendage, held it between their bodies.

  “I’m Casey Cash,” she said.

  “I k
now.”

  He knew, and without her using her full name. He had to be Jane’s escort. Her escort. Casey did a happy dance in her mind but kept her eyes focused on the handsome stranger.

  He straightened and then waited a few beats before taking her small hand in his once more. He cupped his other hand around their enclosed fists. Was he going to kiss her hand? Casey’s breath shortened in anticipation. What would those full lips feel like against the sensitive skin above her thumb?

  But he didn’t kiss her hand. Instead, he squeezed gently and rubbed his thumb against the soft skin on back of her hand.

  “Mason Drury,” he said, letting her hand fall back to her side. He studied her as if memorizing her face. Fire ignited in her belly. His eyes went a bit darker in the middle.

  Jane was a goddess. When Casey got back to New York, she would...do something. She couldn’t think. Could only stare into the green depths of Mason Drury’s eyes, could still feel his thumb pressing against the back of her hand. Jane was right. Casey did need relaxation, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Mason could relax her all the way to Jamaica and back.

  He arched one eyebrow and grinned. “If you need any help finding that satisfied look some morning, I’ll be around.”

  Her mouth went dry. “I...um... Why don’t we meet up on the Serenity Deck, say around six or so. We could have a drink. Or something.” Nice. Just what an experienced romance novel heroine would say. Where had the Sahara who had just come on to him gone? Casey sounded desperate. Mason Drury would run in the opposite direction.

  “Six o’clock. See ya then.” Mason held her captive with his eyes. He moved to the side and picked up his bags. “Casey Cash,” he said. Even the shortened version of her name sounded refined coming from his lips. “It was very nice meeting you.”