Calendar Girl: October: Book 10 (4 page)

F
or the next
few days the pattern was the same. Wes would make love to me in the daylight when he was more himself and fuck me raw at night, taking from my body whatever he needed to push away the nightmares so he could find his way back home.

Exhausted after he rode me hard that fourth night home, I turned, lying on his chest. The anxiety and fear that had controlled him the moment I woke him from his nightmare through the rapid fire fucking finally left when he came deep inside me. For a longtime after, he’d worship me with soft kisses and whispers of regret and love. Regret that he’d used me for selfish reasons, and love because he knew I’d do it over and over again until he was free of the evil that lived inside his memories. The broken words he whispered through the act revealed that he’d been through a horrifying ordeal. He needed more help than the temporary respite in the body of the woman he loved. That monster crawling around in his head needed to be eliminated, the same way I’d had to eliminate mine after being hurt by Aaron.

I decided it was time to address the elephant in the room. At least enough that he’d take the first steps on the path toward healing.

“Baby, you need to see someone about these nightmares and your response to them.” I tipped my chin down and kissed him above his heart.

He stiffened in my arms. “Are you angry because I’m using your body? I don’t mean to. Fuck, Mia, I don’t know…” He ran his hand haphazardly through his hair. “You’re the only thing that makes it stop.”

“Wes, it’s okay. I love giving you whatever you need to heal. But what do I make stop?” This was the first time I asked since he’d come home.

His eyes cut to mine. “The memories. They come when I sleep, and I can’t shake them.”

“Until you’ve given your body and mind something else to focus on?” I grinned and waggled my eyebrows, trying to lighten the intensity of where this conversation was going.

He looked at me shyly. “Yeah, pretty much.” Wes sighed and ran a hand up and down my bare back. After he’d used my body, he needed to reconnect on an emotional level. He’d spend a long time petting me. I think it was his way of making sure I was okay.

“Would you tell me about one of them?” I held my breath and tried to show that I was strong. Strong enough to hear whatever he had to say.

Wes shook his head, and his jaw tightened. “Sweetheart, you don’t want that shit in your head.”

“I told you about Aaron.” He was about to open his mouth, deflect the similarity of the situation, but I plowed ahead. “I know it’s not the same, but it was traumatic to me. It fucked me up, and this is hurting you, baby. If we’re going to be a team, partners in all things, we have to be able to take the other’s pain, lift it off our shoulders so we aren’t consumed by the weight anymore. Eventually, with two people carrying it, it’s lighter. Start small. Tell me what happened when you were shot.”

Wes closed his eyes and swallowed. He didn’t open them back up for so long I thought he’d gone to sleep, or was trying to, until he spoke. “They had us chained to the wall, arms above our heads with ropes. I’d never felt gnawing tension like that from having no mobility in my arms. They spent a lot of time kicking us, throwing things at us, spitting on our faces. Basically the worst you could think of probably happened. That day I knew something was up. The men were no longer cracking jokes and playing with their toys—the toys being us. They were off kilter and spoke in harsh tones. It was like they were scared, perhaps knew what was coming. And then, suddenly, there was gunfire and the sound of helicopters. I didn’t know what to think.”

He took a breath, and I moved an unruly lock of hair off his forehead. He didn’t speak for a few moments, and I worried he wouldn’t continue. “Then what happened?” I didn’t want to push, but I knew he needed to get something off his chest.

With a somber expression, he opened his eyes. “Two of the men dropped to their knees and prayed. Just like any man would when scared out of his mind. They prayed. Only right after, when the gunfire got louder, and I could hear boots on the ground and voices calling out commands in English, one of the men lifted his gun and blew his own head off. The other looked at me with pure disgust in his eyes, swung his gun around, and fired wildly. Gina screamed but her arms slumped down. One of the bullets caught her in the leg but another hit right above her hands breaking the rope so her arms were released.”

Wes’s breath started getting more labored, so I leaned forward, kissed his chest, his neck, his forehead, his nose. “It’s okay. baby. I’m right here. Go ahead. Tell me the rest.”

He cupped the back of my head. He didn’t pull me into his kiss, just held on and stared into my eyes. “Then the man walked over to me and screamed something. Pointed his gun at my head. As it went off, the door to the hut blew off the hinges. Literally, the door was obliterated in a puff of smoke. Another gun fired as the man was looking at the door, and then I saw his entire body drop backwards, a bullet hole right between his eyes.”

I tightened my hold around his body, his tremors rippling through me as I listened to every last word.

“Gina had rolled over and used a dirty cloth that was lying between us and held it against the wound at my neck as a team of American soldiers secured the room. They called a bunch of commands into a walkie talkie or something. I don’t really know. The next thing I remember was being carried by one of them and rushed to a helicopter. I’ll never forget the noise. It was deafening. Explosions, gunfire, screaming, crying.” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. “Mia, I write movies that have these types of special effects, and it’s nothing like the real thing.

“Nothing can compare to the all over fear that consumes every molecule of your being when you’re held captive like that. Even when I was picked up by the military, I still believed I would die. That no one could live after what happened. And Gina…Christ!” Tears filled his eyes and poured down his cheeks like a waterfall over a mountain’s edge. “Oh, God, baby, the shit they did to her,” he sobbed. “She’s going to be fucked up for life.”

Wes’s tears soaked my skin as I held him. He was sitting up by now and had positioned us so that I straddled his lap with my legs wrapped around his hips. He was wearing his very own Mia blanket. I kept my arms around him even when the tears trailed down my shoulder and along my spine. I told him over and over how brave he was, how he was okay now, how we’d get past this, but he continued to cry. He was steps away from being completely broken, but I was there, and I’d put him back together again, one piece at a time.

Wes fell into a restless sleep, holding me to him, his grip never loosening. I was his salvation, and at the end of the day, I was okay with that.

“
C
ut it out
!” I giggled into his neck while Wes groped my ass.

The deep rumble of his chuckle burrowed into my soul. He hummed, holding a handful of Mia bum. “I can’t.” He nuzzled against my neck and bit into the column playfully. “You look downright tasty in this skirt. Shit. I should have taken you to more business meetings during our month together. You have this naughty librarian look going for you.” He thrust his hardening length against my backside.

I’d chosen a simple black pencil skirt and blue silk blouse combo. Judi assured me it was professional and would go over well with the executives who ran the Dr. Hoffman cable network show at Century Productions. The only thing they warned me about was not to wear green. Apparently, a lot of the backdrops would be green screen, which meant if I wore green, I would disappear into the images they would insert around me.

Turns out that the show didn’t exactly pay my escorting fee the way I had imagined. A famous production company wouldn’t sign a check to a company called Exquisite Escorts. Millie had drawn up a separate official contract listing herself as my agent and charged the same hundred thousand dollar fee to ensure I’d have the money I needed to pay Blaine. Money I’d now be paying to my brother. Max had looked at me as though I had four eyes when I suggested monthly installments. Regardless of what he said or did, he was getting that money back. End of story.

For this yearlong job with Exquisite Escorts, I’d had to quit my other agent a little over nine months ago. It tickled me to no end that Millie had the business sense to manage this new side of our arrangement. My last agent hadn’t been getting me anything profitable or career-defining, so it really wasn’t much love lost for either of us when I bailed on him.

Covering Wes’s hands in mine, I allowed myself a few moments of pure bliss before I twirled around, laid a quick smack-a-roo on his lips, and backed up. His eyes were filled with mirth when he lunged at me, capturing me around the waist and locking me in his strong arms.

“Hey, not fair.” I smacked at his chest. “You’re much stronger than I am!” I pouted.

“You’d better believe it. Nothing will keep me from having you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” He grinned and layered kisses from my clavicle up the side of my neck to my ear. “Mmm,” he murmured, and the sound sent a jolt of lust sizzling and flickering along my nerve endings.

“Wes…” I groaned tipping my head back, giving him better access. His mouth did things to me that made me straight stupid. I turned into a half-wit ninny every time he touched me. “Baby, I’ve got to get to my first day of work.”

He licked delicately around the shell of my ear, his fingers smoothing over my ass. “Okay, okay. I know you have to go.”

I leaned back and pecked him on the lips. “What are you going to do today?” I asked with a hint of trepidation, though I tried to mask it behind a shy smile.

He shrugged, spread his hands out wide, and let them slap against his thighs. “I think I’m going to surf, maybe hit the home gym.” He rubbed his hands up and down his chest. “Work on getting back in shape physically.”

Placing a hand on his cheek, I brushed back an unruly lock of hair. “You need a haircut,” I teased, twirling a lock of hair around my index finger.

“Then I’ll get a haircut,” he said flatly.

“Hey.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek to his chest. “It was just a suggestion.” With my chin still on his chest, I looked up into his eyes. They were a bright green like normal, only the exhaustion weighed heavily at the edges.

He rubbed up and down my back, curled a hand around the nape of my neck, and tugged me close, until our lips were a hair’s breadth away. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about you and Dr. Love.”

I rolled my eyes. “The guy is married to a supermodel.”

“Yeah, a young supermodel. Stick thin. Believe me.” He thrust his hips, ran his hands up my sides, and cupped my breasts. “When he gets a load of these curves, he’s going to wish he hadn’t settled for a popsicle when he could have had the double decker sundae.”

I snorted into his neck. “Did you just compare me to a dessert?”

He laughed and growled. “You taste like the richest delicacy. Not a far reach, sweetheart.”

I shook my head and backed away, grabbing my purse. “Be good today. I’ll miss you.” Turning, I blew him a kiss.

“Baby, I’ll miss you more than you know.” He waved, and I stepped out into the brisk sunshine of a California morning.

The limo was waiting. Normally, I would have preferred to drive Suzi since I hadn’t had much time with her, but Wes insisted. Plus, I was wearing a sexy pencil skirt, making it impossible to ride a motorcycle.

Once I got settled into the black plush leather interior of the limo, I exhaled the breath I felt like I’d been holding for months. Wes’s parting statement clung to me like a bad scent you walked past at the perfume aisle in the mall.

“Baby, I’ll miss you more than you know.”

Part of me wanted to stay home with him, wallow in his essence day and night. Only that wasn’t going to get either of us on the path to healing. As much as Wes was hurting, I had my own issues to deal with. When he had night terrors and took his comfort in my body, and then rolled over and went to sleep, that’s when my worry struck. I’d stay awake, watching him sleep soundly for as long as possible, reveling in the fact that he was home, whole, and mine. Which wasn’t exactly true. Wes was alive and whole physically. His mind was like Swiss cheese.

After a week together, I knew he needed help, and it was up to me as his life mate to get him what he needed. Later on that evening, I’d research some therapists. Maybe call his sister, Jeananna, and get her opinion. Wes wouldn’t want me telling his mother about the night terrors or the lack of desire to return to work. He was devoid of emotion when conversations veered remotely to his life’s passions, movie-making and screenwriting. Claire would worry too much and turn into a helicopter mom hovering over her five-year-old. Only Wes was thirty and didn’t need that kind of attention right now. What he needed was to find himself in all this, realize what he still had, mourn what he’d lost, and find a way to live his life again.

I figured, with time, he’d get past the ambivalence for his job and come to terms with losing so many of his team—some killed right in front of him. I couldn’t imagine what that had done to his psyche. Wes needed to take a few months off. He had more money than he knew what to do with, so it wasn’t out of the scope of reality. Perhaps a sabbatical from the field after the trauma he experienced would be wise and good for the soul.

A
smartly dressed
blonde in her twenties, obviously strung tight as a drum, led me through the halls of Century Productions. “You’ll need to be here
every
weekday promptly at nine.” She looked down at her watch and cringed.

Okay, so I was a few minutes late. The man at the gate had told me the wrong studio. So even though I’d left a half hour earlier than I needed, I still ended up a few minutes late.

“Sure thing. Now that I know where to go, I’ll be here earlier.”

The woman who proudly introduced herself as Dr. Hoffman’s assistant, Shandi, with an “I” nodded curtly and moved along at a fast clip. Her sky-high heels knocking on the concrete floors matched the hurried cadence of my heart. I hadn’t felt rushed like this in months. I’d forgotten how everything in Hollywood moved at the speed of light. One had to be fast on his feet if he wanted to keep up.

“Makeup and wardrobe is in there.” Shandi pointed to a room with several chairs sitting in front of large mirrors with the bulbous lights that highlighted every wrinkle and blemish on one’s face. I did not look forward to sitting in that hot seat. When I glanced back, Shandi’s gaze seemed to slide over my skirt and blouse. “You’ll do as you are style-wise, though the hair needs some work. This isn’t wild women of the Amazon. We’ll have it pulled back, put into soft curls, something more elegant and professional.” She tapped her chin with a perfectly manicured, pale pink, fingertip. “The camera is going to love you. Almost as much as Drew will.” Her corresponding scowl was not well hidden as she turned and carried on.

We were led to a door that had “Drew Hoffman” in big white letters inscribed inside of a star. Shandi rapped on the door.

“Come in, Shandi,” said a voice smooth as honey.

“Ms. Saunders is here. You said you wanted to meet with her before she met with the writers?” Shandi’s entire personality changed right before my eyes. The frown was gone, replaced with a huge smile, her eyes no longer squinted in disdain. No, now they were open wide and sparkling. A lovely rose-colored hue swept across her cheeks as she spoke to the man I couldn’t see.

“Yes, yes, darling. Bring her in.”

Darling?

Shandi opened her arm wide and led me into the room. The man who greeted me was exactly what I expected. He was older than I, at least fifteen years my senior, but that did not detract from his looks. Black hair streaked with wisps of silver at the temples. Gray assessing eyes, seemed to appreciate what he saw before him. He was much broader than he appeared on television, though perhaps that was because he often wore body-hiding scrubs. Now, at six feet tall in a dress shirt that nipped in delectably at the waist and a pair of slacks that formed to every curve, I could see exactly why people swooned over the good doctor. He was hot. Plain and simple.

“Extraordinary.” He held out a hand. I placed my palm within it, and he set his other hand on top in a two-handed hold. Who did that anymore? The two-handed hold?

“You are far more beautiful in person than your pictures,” he gushed.

I tipped my head and took in his form. “You aren’t too bad yourself, Doc.” The compliment rolled off my tongue in a sultry tone. Dr. Drew Hoffman was smokin’ hot. Did I want to hop on him and ride him till morning? No, not even a little bit, but just because my heart and sex drive belonged to Wes, I wasn’t dead or unaffected by a damn fine specimen of the male variety.

He shook his head and kissed my hand. “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Saunders. I look forward to what you come up with for your segment. The media have really taken a liking to you, especially after the Latin Lov-ah’s video went viral. You are quite the sought after celebrity.”

I snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “Um, I believe you have your signals crossed. I’m not popular. I’ve dated a few popular men and starred in a video, but that’s the end of it.”

He clucked his tongue and let go of my hand, which was good because it was starting to feel creepy that he was holding on to it for so long. He walked over to a table and spread out several smut mags and a few newspaper clippings. “What say you about this then?”

I walked over to the table and took in the display before me. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. A dozen magazines with my image on the cover. One with Tony, another with Mason, my ad campaign showing the black-and-white shoot with model MiChelle back in Hawaii. There was even a spread of Alec and me at the art showing of
Love on Canvas
in Seattle. It looked as though in that series, the photographer paid very close attention to every little touch and overture Alec made toward me. There was even an image suggesting I was the new love interest of Anton Santiago and currently cheating on him with new beau, Weston Channing.

Fueled by frustration, I pushed the magazines back. “I don’t know what to say.”

Drew sat down on his couch and put his arms out wide, a casual pose if I’d ever seen one. This man was master of his domain, king of his castle, and nothing ruffled his feathers.

“There’s nothing to say. You’re the next It Girl, and I plan to capitalize on that.”

I shrugged and took a seat opposite him while Shandi made us drinks at the side table near the door. She set a cup of coffee in front of me that I hadn’t asked for, though I was grateful. Nothing rattled my nerves more than people assuming something about me that wasn’t true. Then again, a lot of it
was
true so it was mostly damage control now.

“Thank you, Shandi. You may go now.” Drew dismissed the starry-eyed assistant with a wave of his hand. He sipped from his cup and assessed me. “So what are you going to talk about on your first segment this Friday?”

I narrowed my eyes and placed my hands on my knees. “What do you mean? I haven’t been given the script.”

His head jolted back and his eyes widened. “You mean your agent didn’t tell you?”

My eyebrows rose on instinct. “Uh, tell me what?”

He chuckled and slapped his knee. “Darling, you’re supposed to write the entire segment for Living Beautiful. It’s all you. What you see as beauty. Based on your modeling with the Beauty in all Sizes and the Love on Canvas, as well as the video you did, our research showed a segment driven by you and what you feel is relevant as it pertains to beauty would resonate with our audience.”

“You’re kidding?”

He shook his head. “ ’Fraid not darling. Sounds like you need to have a chat with your agent and get to work. I want the cliff notes of your fifteen-minute segment to me by Wednesday. That way we can meet, discuss it, and when we tape it live on Friday, I’ll be able to play off what your focus is with the studio audience.”

I had to come up with a fifteen-minute segment relating to
Living Beautiful
out of thin air. What the fuck did Millie sign me up for? I thought I was going to be acting, playing a part. No, I
was
the part. This was real life. A shimmer of excitement and dread rippled through me. Could I do this? Was it possible that I could come up with something millions of people would find interesting enough to want to watch it every week on the Dr. Hoffman show? I guess I’d find out. Maybe Wes could help? This could be the thing that helped him find his passion again.

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get started, bounce ideas off my man, and come up with something that would wow the producers and Dr. Hoffman himself.

“So what do I do now?” I asked the cocky, sexy doctor.