“Those were from a decade ago.” Even as the words left his mouth, he cringed, sorry that the pictures existed in the first place. “And I deeply regret them.”
She grinned. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what Kira said. Though you don’t look much older now.”
He released the breath he’d been holding. “I’m glad you came.”
Her lips twitched. “I haven’t come yet.”
All the air in his lungs whooshed out, and his jeans tightened around his crotch. Was she for real? He blinked and breathed in her fresh scent, and thanked the high heavens for the rough roads he’d traveled allowing him to fully appreciate the woman in front of him. “Dang, woman, we’d better get to the hotel.”
“My first time in Nashville, and I don’t get a tour of the city?”
“I have sound check in four hours. No time for a tour.”
…
They stumbled to the shower and stepped under the spray.
“I still can’t believe I basically hopped on a plane for sex,” she admitted, grabbing the washcloth and lathering it. Yeah, it was hot and amazing and leg-numbing and multiorgasmic.
He took the cloth and turned her away from him. “Gotta admit, it’s the best stress relief invented.”
“Are you nervous?” This was his return to the big stage. He could be calm on the outside and a jumble of nerves on the inside.
He dragged the cloth up and down her back, then kneaded her shoulders with his long fingers. Finally, he admitted, “I shouldn’t be. Not now that you’re here.”
“Keep massaging me like that, and I’ll fly in for every performance.”
He halted. “I don’t want it to be like that with us.”
How did he envision their long-distance relationship? She faced him. “Weird as it may sound, I can sort of see the long-distance thing working. I may go crazy when magazines publish pics of you with other women, but I trust you.”
She closed her eyes and tried to shut out her thousands of questions. When his hand dipped between her thighs, she sighed.
His thickness pressed against the side of her rear, and she wrapped her fingers around the length of him. “You said you’d be back next Sunday?”
“Yes.” He swirled his fingers in her sweet spot and nipped her shoulder. “Now, shhh.”
With each tug, the pressure of his fingers increased at her core, and under the spray of million drops of water, she shattered with an abandon she never knew she had.
He anchored an arm around her upper waist when she collapsed back against his chest. She continued to stroke him until he jerked free of her lazy grip and spun her around. Like a rag doll, she plopped onto the shower seat and immediately came face to head with his cock. She licked her lips. He groaned. She touched the tip. He leaned forward, palming the wall. She sucked the plump head into her mouth and reveled at his guttural groan.
She set a languid rhythm with her hand and mouth, swirling her tongue and cupping his balls. His grunts were music to her ears, and so engrossed with her own power over his pleasure, he surprised her when he lifted her under the arms until she stood on the shower seat. He hiked one of her legs around his waist and used his fingers to explore her aroused flesh. She convulsed fiercely and collapsed into him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he shoved them both out of the shower.
He lowered her onto the bed, and when she heard the sound of foil tearing, a stupid grin hit her lips. Now she would really get it. She couldn’t wait for him to stretch her. She loved how he played her body like an instrument, and after four or five orgasms, she was ready for the real deal. A snort escaped her, and she cracked an eye to meet his serious gaze.
“Are you laughing at me?” He towered over her, his damp hair dripping droplets of water onto her stomach.
“No.” She spread her legs in anticipation. He made her feel so wanton, and she wiggled for good measure. She’d never had fun sex before, and with Billy, it just felt right. Nothing else described their interaction.
An odd look passed over his face before he said, “You can laugh. I don’t want to be the one to wipe that silly grin off your face.”
She didn’t know what to say. He took the breath from her lungs. He said what she needed to hear, and she loved him for it.
Chapter Twelve
Lacey strolled through the lobby and into The Bridge, one of the hotel’s restaurants. Billy left for sound check with the promise that Chip would be back in time to accompany her to the concert. She couldn’t wait to hear him sing live in a concert venue, and her good mood stayed with her even after Shawna pulled out a stool and joined her at the bar.
“What are you drinking?” the blonde asked.
Lacey offered a polite smile and didn’t bother to ask why Shawna wasn’t at sound check with Billy. “Iced tea.”
“Boring.” To the bartender, Shawna requested, “A gin and tonic, please.”
Lacey considered taking her sandwich to a table, but her curiosity got the better of her and she stayed to find out what Shawna wanted.
After a long sip, Shawna sneered at her. “It’s so cute that you’re here.”
She should probably hold her tongue, but she asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The woman shrugged. “You always know when a star is on the rise based on the number of his groupies.”
“I’m not a groupie.”
“A fan, then,” Shawna amended. “Every artist likes to know he has at least one in the audience. I’m sure he’s gotta be nervous.”
“He has nothing to be nervous about.” She was glad he invited her to support him, especially if there were more poisonous people like Shawna waiting for him to fail.
“He hasn’t been on a real stage in a decade,” Shawna pointed out.
“I’m sure after tonight, Billy will have more than just one fan,” Lacey defended him.
“Then maybe you can be president of his fan club.”
The remark stung, but it wasn’t anything that Lacey didn’t wonder about as well. How many women would make a play for Billy’s attention, and would she really be able to ignore it if she agreed to a long-distance arrangement?
She hoped her voice sounded calm when she replied, “You’re welcome to your own opinions.”
“Well, here’s my opinion. If you really love him, like I suspect you do, then I’d set him free. He can’t fly with a weight holding him down.”
She tried to shut out Shawna’s words, but the woman was playing to Lacey’s worst fears. She wasn’t saying anything Lacey hadn’t already thought herself. But she wouldn’t show weakness in front of Billy’s ex.
Shawna licked her red lips. “I hear he’s singing a song about you tonight. Enjoy it while you can.”
“About me?” That sounded different than for her, but Lacey wouldn’t take what Shawna said to heart. She trusted Billy, and she wanted to believe he wouldn’t have flown her up here just because he needed a fan.
“You’ve known him, what? All of one week? I’ve known him fifteen years.”
Lacey cringed inside but remained silent.
The other woman laughed, a deep, throaty cackle. Then she stood and finished her drink. “Like I said. Cute. Don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning.”
After Shawna left, Lacey picked up her iced tea, but her hand shook and she placed it back on the bar.
…
Billy swiped his palms over the hips of his jeans and tugged his cowboy hat lower over his forehead. This was it. Sound check had been smooth as melted butter. Chip did his job and kept Shawna away. Billy had met several powerhouse country stars, and he’d been more relaxed than ever, all because of Lacey.
He hadn’t told Lacey yet, but this would be his final performance on the big stage. His way to exit the industry with his head held high. He wanted permanence and security and Lacey. He wanted to take a chance on something real. Like his dad had had. And he hoped to the high heavens Lacey wanted it too.
But first, he had to make it through his songs. “Torn in
Two” was already a hit on the radio and the original YouTube video continued to garner hits each day. He wasn’t worried about that one.
“Temporary Guest” did well in the recording studio, and he planned to sing that one second. But “On the Ledge” had never touched the ears of man, and that one had him pacing backstage, nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Chip had finagled three songs for him to sing, and that one was his tribute to Lacey. Since no one had heard it, and he didn’t have sheet music, he’d sing that one acoustic.
The crowd roared as one of Billboard’s top country groups shuffled off the stage. A couple of guys patted him on the shoulder and offered words of encouragement. He grinned and ducked his head, zoning out the applause, the announcement, the lights, and even his own concerns. Nothing mattered but the music.
…
Lacey ran behind Chip. “I can’t believe you were late!” He’d promised to pick her up in time to make it to the venue with time to spare.
Without slowing, he called over his shoulder, “I said I was sorry. You weren’t even ready!”
She shot daggers into his back. “I would have been ready if you were on time.” And if she hadn’t been freaking out over Shawna’s surprise attack.
He waved his VIP card and motioned for Lacey to enter first. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
She threw her bag on the floor under her feet just as the lights dimmed.
Billy stepped onto the stage and all her anger dissolved. He’d changed since that morning, and a cowboy hat covered his thick, brown hair, the rim low over his eyes. In the short-sleeved chambray shirt and snug jeans down to the worn cowboy boots, Billy made the classic country singer heartthrob. He’d transformed into the guy she’d swooned over in college, and she realized everyone else around her realized it, too. Her heart ached, knowing she couldn’t keep him. It wouldn’t be fair. Their arrangement wouldn’t work.
And just like the first time he sang in her tiny café, as soon as the first note left his mouth she was hooked. This song, so different from the earlier ones of his career, portrayed a man who had been there, done that, left, and was back again. It made her sad to listen to the lyrics which so aptly portrayed his struggles and his lost hopes, but seeing him on the stage made her realize this was his chance to get it all back.
He moved into “Temporary Guest,” and she recognized some of herself in that song. He’d written it on the sofa of her small apartment, and she couldn’t help but feel pride at having had a part, even a tiny one, in the song’s creation.
But as the final notes ended, he reached up and removed his hat, and his piercing gaze scanned the crowd until they landed in the general direction reserved for family or special guests of the performers. She doubted he could see her under the blazing lights, but she felt their gazes collide, and she knew the moment he saw her in the crowd.
He cleared his throat. “I wrote ‘On the Ledge’ for a woman who took a chance on me. Lacey Durant.” The crowd collectively ooooh-ed and aaaaah-ed and looked in the general direction of where she sat. Her cheeks tingled with embarrassment. He was dedicating his final song of the night to her. Her palms moistened as he ran a hand through his hair and then tapped his guitar.
She couldn’t imagine what Billy would have written and dedicated to her. Excitement swelled in her chest as she remembered their shared discussions about life, love, and the pursuit of their dreams. But as the first notes mingled with the first phrase, all her insecurities came rushing back to her, and an uncomfortable heat flushed her neck.
He sang about a girl capable of great happiness, vulnerable, taken advantage of—all the phrases she’d asked him not to sing about. Then, the song moved into how her defeat made her stronger, too strong and even cynical, and burdened by the past, the girl in the song tried to be cavalier about relationships.
“But she was a fangirl, and when she finally met him, love snuck in.”
She covered her mouth with her hands. Damn it. He knew she loved him, and now the whole world knew she loved him. Like all the other groupies. Just like Shawna said. He’d said he was going to do it, and he had. He’d written a song about her life. And it hurt to realize he wasn’t declaring his love. He was exposing hers.
Something vibrated near her foot.
In her bag.
She’d been too rushed to shut off her phone. Bending over, she glanced at the display and saw it was James. She had to choose quickly—take the call or listen to the end of Billy’s song. With great difficulty, but without looking back, she crouched low and scooted out of the theater.
Her phone beeped two new voice mails by the time she got outside, and flicking open her phone, her pulse sped up as she listened to James’s message. “Lacey, I hope you’re enjoying your Sunday. I’m calling to let you know we have a nine a.m. tomorrow with the bank. I know it’s short notice. Please text me back so I know you heard this. It’s James.”
The next message caught her off guard. “Lace, it’s me.” Kira. “Carly’s thinking about quitting. She got another job at a restaurant, and she says it pays more money. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Thought you should know so you can…I don’t know…counteroffer or something. She said she’d talk with you tomorrow. Okay, well, call me when you get this. I hope you’re having fun.”
Coming here was a mistake. She had to get back. She had a business to run. People depended on her for a salary. What had she thought? That she could run off for a quickie with Billy Hardy? Well, she’d been wrong.
Because of the concert, plenty of cabs lined the street ready to take pages to their destination. She jumped into the first one and mumbled, “The airport.”
“Which one, miss?”
“Any one. The closest one.” The cabbie took off, and she sent a text to James. See you tomorrow at 9. Then, she texted Kira. On my way.
Immediately her phone rang. “Kira, I’m in a cab on my way to the airport.”
“What? Why aren’t you at the concert?”
“I shouldn’t be here. My life isn’t here. It’s the café.”
“Did something happen? Is this because of Carly? You can talk to her tomorrow.”
“He titled the song ‘On the Ledge.’ He flew me up here to warn me about getting too attached.”
“That’s crazy. I thought he wanted a relationship with you?”
“That’s what he said, but…I don’t want to end up a fangirl.” She choked on the truth. She was afraid. “I can’t talk now.”
“What? Lacey, you’re not a fangirl. You’re his girlfriend.”
She clutched her bag to her chest. Too many emotions warred inside her. “We’ve never discussed this, and I can’t hold him back. Even if we make this work, it will ruin his shot at fame.”
“That’s crazy! I hope someone puts it on YouTube. I want to hear it!”
Sharp pain stabbed her chest as she realized that song, with his dedication naming her, would be played on YouTube and viewed by hundreds or thousands or millions. It really didn’t matter how many. Just the fact that even one or even the one live audience had heard it made it real.
The cabbie pulled up to the drop-off.
“Kira, I gotta go. I’ll see you in the morning.” She shut the phone and handled the money to the cabbie. “Thanks.”
Forty minutes later, she boarded the plane in a rush and a daze. Her mind kept going over the three absolutes. Bank appointment in the morning. Deal with staffing issues as soon as she returned. Obsess over Billy’s song for long ride home.
Even his song title. “On the Ledge.” What were the words? On the edge of fame. On the ledge. With you. She could interpret that pretty clearly. He had his shot at fame, and she was holding him back. He thought they’d entered into the affair commitment-free, but she’d changed the game and demanded more, and he’d been a gentleman about it and offered a long-distance thing, but his song said it all. He might be the best sex in her life, but he would never be a boyfriend. To him, she was a silly fangirl.
To what? She didn’t have a game plan. She didn’t know what to do. It was late Sunday night—early Monday morning. The cabbie dropped her outside the back door, but she wasn’t ready to go home, where memories of Billy would surface and choke her. She couldn’t go into the café, where the stage would remind her of their heated night. Even the beach reminded her of their late-night walk.
She collapsed in her office, but rather than forget him, she let her mind run over all their moments together.
“Oh my gawd, what the hell? Are you sleeping? Wake the eff up and tell me what the hell happened!”
Lacey’s eyelids snapped open, and she stared at her best friend, legs parted, hands on hips, dumbfounded expression on her face. “Good morning, Kira.” She squinted into the light. “And Viv. Why are you here?”
“Bar just closed, so I stopped by for coffee. Rough night?”
Lacey sat up and squinted at her friends. “Coffee. Right.”
“Come on.” Kira crouched and grabbed Lacey’s arm. “We open in thirty, so I’ll need the shortened version of whatever the hell happened to you.”
Lacey ducked into the bathroom while Kira turned on the espresso machine. She emerged to find Kira and Vivien sitting at the small staff table, concerned expressions on their faces.
“Nothing happened. I just realized I need to set my priorities, and they don’t include dating a celebrity,” she blurted. She grabbed a plate and threw some leftover pastries on it.
Vivien dumped back the contents of her cup. “I thought he was dedicating a song to you?”
“That song,” Lacey plopped into the chair, “was a warning to me.”
Her friends took giant bites of their croissants and didn’t say anything. She waited for them to commiserate with her or bemoan Billy as the jerk he was, but when they remained silent, she continued her rant.
Reforming the Cowboy Page 12