Wishing On A Star (A Shooting Stars Novel Book 3)

by Terri Osburn

  Her gasp was muffled against his lips, and her whole body clenched. Holding her hips in place, he continued to drive up, and she arched back to brace her hands on his thighs.

  Ash thumbed her clit once more, sending her into a second orgasm and the moment she screamed his name, his own release came, slamming into him like lightning through an ancient oak.

  Chest heaving, she curled back against him to splay on his chest, her breath hot across his nipple.

  “That one was even better,” she mumbled as they remained connected and spent.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  Once they caught their breath, Jesse lifted to rest her chin on his sternum. “The third time could be the winner.”

  A wicked smile curved her lips, and though Ash wasn’t one to make promises he couldn’t keep, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for this woman.

  Nodding, he twisted a dark-red curl around his finger. “Okay, then.”

  Blue eyes softened before she kissed the spot where her chin had rested. “Okay, then.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Jesse wasn’t quite a pessimist, but the last year had turned her into a cautious optimist. For more than a week, she and Ash had been enjoying their time together, both in the studio and away from it. She was also enjoying decorating her new place.

  Nearly all of the boxes were unpacked and several new items bought. The sheets were washed, on the bed, and thoroughly broken in thanks to Ash becoming a regular overnight guest. As for the album, recording had slowed down a bit due to having to replace Mason, but because they’d been ahead of schedule when the change came, the delay hadn’t caused any problems.

  Personally and professionally, life was good. Better than good. She was in love and making some of the best music of her career. Despite all the positives, she still felt nauseated while once again waiting in the Shooting Stars lobby. Silas occupied his usual seat beside her, and Ash filled the chair on her other side.

  “He’s going to love them,” Ash whispered, giving her bouncing knee a squeeze.

  Today was the official halfway point in the three-month recording schedule and that meant letting Clay hear what they had so far. To say Jesse was stressed would be an understatement. She felt as if she were taking a Monday morning exam and forgot to study.

  “But what if he doesn’t?” she whispered back.

  This really was her best stuff. Between the arrangements Ash created for the songs she’d already written, and the three new ones they’d penned together, Jesse felt certain they’d found a winning formula. Yet, she couldn’t help but worry.

  “We’ve done what we set out to do,” he replied. “These are great songs, and Clay will recognize that.”

  “He’s right,” Silas said. “Benedict knows the good stuff when he hears it. You’ve got nothing to worry about, child.”

  “Mr. Benedict asked me to bring you back,” Belinda said.

  The threesome rose together to follow the receptionist down the long hall and back to the conference room where their collaboration had begun. Back then, she’d never expected to see Ash again let alone have him back in her life in such a profound way. Amazing how much could change in such a short period of time.

  “Good morning,” Clay greeted them as they filed into the room.

  “Morning,” Silas said.

  Jesse failed to speak around the lump in her throat and settled for a lame wave.

  Once they were settled in their chairs, Clay got right to the point. “I listened to the files Ash sent me over the weekend. Are you thinking all of these will make the final cut?”

  Jesse’s heart plummeted. He hated them. Six songs and he hated every one of them.

  “We’re keeping that open this early in the process,” Ash replied. “But I’m happy with what we have and believe that every song cut so far has the potential to be included.”

  Was he not paying attention? Clay didn’t like the songs.

  “I agree,” Clay responded.

  “What?” Jesse said, finally finding her voice. “You like them?”

  Dark brows arched. “You don’t?” he asked.

  “N… no,” she stuttered. “I mean, yes. I love them. This is the best music I’ve ever made.”

  Silas chuckled and patted the back of her hand. “He’s agreeing with you, girl.”

  “Oh.” Heart rate returning to normal, Jesse let out a breath. “Good. That’s good.”

  Clay smiled, making him seem much less intimidating. “I’m impressed, Jesse. We clearly made the right choice pairing you and Ash together.”

  She glanced to the man on her left, who squeezed her hand beneath the table. “I agree.”

  “These songs are good enough to consider one for an early single. I’d like to send the first cut to radio in late December and aim for an album release date in early March. How does that sound?”

  The sooner the better for Jesse. “We’ve talked about releasing ‘Save Yourself’ first, and also making that the name of the album.”

  Her boss’s smile widened. “That would be my choice, as well.”

  This morning kept getting better. “Great. Then my debut album is called Save Yourself.” As soon as the words crossed her lips, Jesse feared she might be dreaming.

  “I’ll let Naomi know right away so we can get more detailed on the promotions, and we’ll need to get a photo shoot scheduled as soon as possible.” Clay pushed back from the table. “Now I want to introduce you to the newest member of the Shooting Stars team.”

  As he exited his chair, Jesse wavered between excitement and apprehension at the mention of a photo shoot. Creating an image was part of the game, but the persona she’d cultivated in the Daisies didn’t feel right anymore. Without a beauty queen to compete with, she wanted to put more of her own style forward.

  Not that she knew exactly what that would mean, but big hair and glitter-covered outfits were off the list.

  “Do you know who this is?” she asked Silas.

  “No idea,” he mumbled as Clay returned, a dark-haired woman in tow. All three of them stood as the pair entered.

  “This is our new A&R Director, Emily Garcia,” Clay said. “Emily, this is Jesse Gold, her producer, Ash Shepherd, and her manager, Silas Fillmore. I sent the song files to Emily this morning so she’s up to speed on the sound we’re working with.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” Emily said, reaching across the table to shake each of their hands. “I love all of the songs, but I’m torn for a favorite between ‘Save Yourself’ and ‘Wild Horses.’”

  The response put Jesse at ease and made her like the woman immediately. “Thank you. We’ve agreed that ‘Save Yourself’ will be the first single and the title of the album, but I’m with you on ‘Wild Horses.’ I can’t wait to play that one live.”

  “That reminds me,” Clay cut in. “Dylan is doing a trial headlining tour next spring. We’re sticking with moderate-sized venues that we’re hoping to fill. He’ll need an opening act and you’re at the top of the list.”

  Knees weakening, she swayed to the left. Ash took a quick step to bolster her up. “Are you serious?” Jesse asked.

  “I am. Mark your calendar now. The first show is April fourth.”

  Turning to Ash, she said, “I’m going on tour.”

  Heart in his eyes, he grinned like a loon. “I heard.”

  Unable to help herself, Jesse leaped into his arms with a whoop of joy. Ash caught her and hugged her tight before dropping her back to her feet. She immediately turned to Silas and repeated the action, though the older man wasn’t as sturdy. Her enthusiasm nearly landed them both on the floor.

  “You’re on your way, my dear,” her manager said without complaint. “I told you we could do it.”

  Eyes misting, she kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, you did.”

  Remembering where she was, Jesse swiped at her eyes and turned back to Clay. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m a little excited.”

  “No problem.”

  “I
know you’re busy in the studio,” Emily said, “but I heard that you’re participating in a Christmas taping later this week?”

  Jesse had almost forgotten about the television show. “Yes, I am. Rehearsal is Wednesday, and the taping is Thursday night.”

  “Since this will essentially be your debut as a solo artist, I’d like to meet to discuss your look going forward. Would you have time for a quick visit tomorrow?”

  “I guess I can get away,” she said, looking to Ash. “At this rate, we won’t get much done this week.”

  “We’re in good shape,” he replied. “Do whatever you need to do.”

  “Okay, then,” she said, exchanging a covert message with the man who was so much more than her producer. In an effort to keep the world out of their business for as long as possible, they’d agreed to keep their relationship quiet until the album was finished. “I guess I’m available. What time should I be here?”

  “How does ten o’clock sound?”

  “Good to me.” Testing the waters, she said, “I’m hoping to go with a more authentic look than I had with the Honkytonk Daisies.”

  The woman smiled. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

  Jesse breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool. Then I’ll see you in the morning.” To Clay, she said, “Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. And for the chance to go on tour.”

  “It was Dylan’s idea, actually. He was in the office early this morning for a quick visit and heard what I was listening to. By the time we got to the third song, he asked if you’d be ready to open his shows.”

  She made a mental note to send a sizable Christmas gift to the Monroe family. “That’s nice to hear.”

  “Then we’re set. I wish all meetings were this productive.”

  Clay motioned toward the door, and Silas took the hint, leading them out and toward the lobby. Goodbyes were exchanged and once out of the building, Jesse gave her manager another heartfelt hug before he shuffled off to his old Lincoln Continental.

  She and Ash crossed the parking lot to his truck, then she pulled him around to the passenger side where they couldn’t be seen from the street or the office.

  “Thank you,” she said, overwhelmed with gratitude. Jesse may not have a giant group of friends, but she’d somehow managed to surround herself with all the right people, the most important being the man in her arms. “Those songs are as much you as they are me, and I doubt any of them would be as good without your input. So thank you for helping make this dream a reality.”

  Ash held her close. “You make my job easy, Jesse. It’s your talent in those songs. All I did was capture it on tape.”

  “You did more than that.” So much more. “I’m so lucky you walked back into my life.”

  He kissed her softly on the lips before saying, “I’m the lucky one. Now let’s get back to work before I drag you over to my place so we can both get lucky.”

  Laughter bubbled up as he whisked the truck door open. “To the studio we go.” Jesse climbed in but clasped the front of his jacket before he could close her in. “If you show up at my door later this evening, that getting lucky thing can still happen.”

  Kissing her one more time, he said, “Deal.”

  “Emily, I need to see you in my office.”

  “Of course,” she replied, and followed Clay down the hall.

  He’d been waiting until she’d settled into the team and her workspace before presenting the new director with her first real task. After his conversation with Liam Bradshaw, Clay had debated how to proceed, deciding initially to forget about The Hard Way and move on to other acts.

  And then he’d done a brief exploration of bands looking for a label and found few who could compare.

  “I have your first assignment,” he said, stepping behind his desk and motioning for her to take the chair opposite.

  She took a seat. “Okay, but I thought my overall assignment was clear.”

  “It is, however, I have a specific act in mind to get you started.”

  Brown eyes narrowed. “No disrespect, but if you still intend to find the acts, why did you hire me?”

  Clay didn’t mind the question, as she did have a point. The entire reason he’d brought her on board was to take the burden off his shoulders.

  “Technically,” he replied, “you found this act first.”

  Hovering tensely on the edge of her seat, Emily said, “I don’t understand.”

  “You signed The Hard Way to Six String Records, correct?”

  “I did, but that isn’t a mistake I would make twice.”

  “Why was it a mistake?”

  “As I mentioned in my interview, the leader of that band is impossible to work with. Liam is arrogant, obstinate, and convinced that he and only he knows anything about this business. He responds poorly to the simplest of suggestions, and he refuses to even discuss potential opportunities that could enhance the band’s reach and chance for future success.”

  His new hire was on her feet by the time she finished the last sentence, color high on her cheeks as she loomed over Clay’s desk, looking as if she might heave the thing over. Mr. Bradshaw had clearly left an impression, and not a good one.

  “Then you have your work cut out for you,” he said, unmoved by the emotional rant. This was business, and if Ms. Garcia wanted to make her mark in the industry, she would need to set emotion aside and focus on the more profitable bigger picture.

  Dropping back to the chair, she said, “Did you not hear a word I just said?”

  He ignored the question. “I happened to be downtown last Friday and found The Hard Way playing at The Stillery. Liam Bradshaw and I had a brief conversation in which I mentioned that Shooting Stars might be interested in signing them. His interest waned when your name came up.”

  To his surprise, Emily snorted. “Of course, it did.” More to herself than to Clay, she mumbled, “As if I was the problem.”

  “Then your task is clear. Convince Mr. Bradshaw to sign with Shooting Stars Records.”

  “Mr. Benedict—”

  “I told you the day you started to call me Clay.”

  She sprouted upright again. “Liam won’t work with me, Mr. . . Clay. He won’t work with anyone. At least not reasonably.”

  “Change his mind.”

  “How?”

  Leaning back in his chair, he said, “That’s up to you, but I suggest keeping your personal feelings out of the conversation.”

  Expression cold, she crossed her arms. “Excuse me?”

  “You clearly don’t like the man, which is fine. You don’t have to like him to work with him. But insulting him is unlikely to help your case.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You have your assignment.” Clay reached for the pile of folders in his inbox. “I understand that they’re between managers at the moment. Try to find out if or when that might change before contacting the band directly.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied in a clipped tone before marching toward the door.

  “And Emily?”

  She paused, shoulders rising and falling in a visual reach for patience. Turning, she said, “Sir?”

  “Start your inquiries with Samantha Walters’ office. I understand she’s taken an interest in them as well.”

  “I’ll do that,” she said and made her exit.

  Curious and slightly amused, Clay let the subtle slam of his door pass without mention and wondered what exactly had occurred between Liam Bradshaw and Emily Garcia. Based on her less-than-flattering opinion of the man, overcoming their differences might be more challenging than he’d first assumed.

  She had fight, and that gave him confidence that she would make this happen. Clay certainly hoped so because he fully intended to sign The Hard Way as the next artist on the Shooting Stars roster. Whether that would mean choosing between the band or Emily Garcia was yet to be determined.

  Twenty-Nine

  When it came to backstage areas, The Ryman offered one of the mos
t posh that Jesse had ever seen. Even though, as one of the lesser-known artists on the show, she’d been relegated to a tiny dressing room at the end of the long hall, the space was still nicer than any she’d had before.

  This building that had begun as a tabernacle nearly one hundred and thirty years ago, carried so much history that Jesse was humbled just to be here. Everyone from presidents to era-defining performers had graced these halls, and now Jesse was making her own history, marking one more item off her bucket list in the process.

  “Do you remember the first time you were here, Silas?” she asked the man struggling not to doze off in the only other seat in the room.

  Shaking himself awake, he tilted his head in thought. “It was 1965. I was in the audience the night Johnny Cash stomped out all the stage lights.”

  Jesse spun from the mirror. “You’re lying.”

  “Nope,” he replied. “I was sixteen and here with my grandma. She was as scandalized as the rest of the crowd and insisted that I never attend the Opry again. Once they banned Johnny, she relaxed that rule, and I became a regular. As for getting backstage, that would be the CMA awards in 1972. My first artist, Buddy Lee Beauregard Jr., was up for Single of the Year.”

  “That’s the year that Loretta won the Entertainer award.”

  Silas scratched his balding head. “Might have been.”

  As a longtime worshiper of the legend, Jesse knew the date well. “You’ve been present for so many amazing moments in this business. Why haven’t you told me these stories before?”

  Withdrawing a piece of hard candy from his pocket, he replied, “You never asked.”

  Had Jesse been so self-absorbed that she’d worked with this walking country music archive for two years and never asked about his past? What an awful revelation.

  “Then consider yourself warned. I want to hear them all over Thanksgiving.”

  Ingrid and Dana were hosting, as they had the year before, and Jesse was looking forward to celebrating with Ash by her side. It had been two weeks since the Halloween party, and Jesse couldn’t remember when she’d been so happy. Probably ten years ago, when her brother had still been alive, and she’d been expecting an engagement ring from Ash for Christmas.