Page 5 of Writing Mr. Wrong

“That smile.”

“What smile?” he’d said, managing to keep grinning while saying it.

She’d sighed. “That is not your real smile, Mason.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Still grinning.

“I’ve known you since kindergarten, Moretti. That is the smile you use to get what you want, and what you want is for me to write your article. I’m not. I know you’re failing English. I know you’re dyslexic. I also know that only means you need some accommodations, which I am willing to give. The problem isn’t your dyslexia. It’s that no one makes you do shit because you’re a star.”

She’d leaned over her editor’s desk. “You are capable of writing that article, so you’ll have it to me by morning. Got it?”

Now, as the interview rolled on, Mason had that smile firmly in place. He also had his arm around her shoulders. Well, not exactly around them. It would look that way to the viewer, but his armwas resting against the love seat back, with his fingertips not quite touching her. Seemed he remembered her well enough to know that he risked losing any fingers that made contact without permission.

This wasn’t a nightmare, was it?

This was actually Mason Moretti sitting beside her with his shit-eating grin, certain that she’d based her romantic lead off him because he was such an amazing guy and she’d never gotten over him. That one kiss they shared had obviously been seared into her brain. As for the utter humiliation that came after it, well, that was water under the bridge. Didn’t stop little Gemma Stanton from secretly pining for him, writing smutty scenes about the two of them—

Oh God, she was going to puke.

That’s what he’d think, wasn’t it? That’s what everyone would think. That she’d published a sex fantasy featuring herself with her high school hockey star crush. It wouldn’t matter that her heroine bore no resemblance to Gemma—in appearance or personality—and was just a character she’d created who seemed a good match for someone like Moretti, a starry-eyed simpering girl who took his bullshit and told herself she was special when he stopped aiming his assholery her way.

“So what do you think, Mason?” Ashley waved at the screen. “You’re on a romance cover.”

He gave a hearty laugh that Gemma knew was also fake. “I’m flattered. Kinda makes me want to run out and buy a kilt.”

Tittering laughter from Ashley, who continued with “And you’re a romance hero between the covers, too.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Ashley slapped her hand to her mouth, eyes widening, just in case anyone missed the double entendre.

Ashley reached out to rap Mason’s arm. “You are so bad.”

Was Gemma really sure this wasn’t an actual nightmare, with her trapped as Ashley flirted with Mason on live TV?

“But seriously, Mason,” Ashley said. “Gemma based her romance-novel hero on you. What does that feel like?”

“Great. How else would it feel?” He aimed that inane grin Gemma’s way. “It’s really flattering.”

“Yes, but Gemma isn’t just a random author writing you as a hero. We knew each other in high school. Seemssomeonehad a secret crush.”

Gemma stiffened. She was very aware of how she must look right now, frozen under the studio lights, unable to flee the locomotive bearing down on her.

“Speaking of high school,” Mason said. “Gemma was always a great writer. Editor of the school newspaper.”

“But she obviously had a crush—” Ashley pushed.

“And you did the video announcements, right?” he said to Ashley. “So we all ended up where we were heading. Me with hockey, you with TV, Gem with writing. That’s cool.” He turned to Gemma. “When did you start the novel?”

Her brain spun, frantically searching for the trap. This must be a trap. But it wasn’t. Mason might be an ass, but he wasn’t Ashley. He’d never been vicious or mean-spirited. He didn’t need to be.

Gemma realized what he was doing. Throwing her a life preserver. Acting like a decent guy. Because he could be one, when he wanted to. The problem was when you started believing hewasadecent guy and lowered your defenses, and then he reminded you what he really was, what he’d been all along.

Not a slithering snake, but king of the jungle, master of all he surveyed. Even a king could be magnanimous now and then.

She found her own fake smile. “I stopped writing after university, but I got back into it a couple of years ago and remembered how much I loved it.”

Ashley opened her mouth, but Mason plowed on.

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