by Sandy James
“If you say so, but I could’ve sworn you left a couple of crumpled bodies back there.”
Like she’d dignify that statement with any kind of acknowledgment.
He rubbed his chin against her temple. “What’ya doing out here?”
“Just needed a little less noise.”
“I know what you mean. After our island, everything feels…I don’t know…”
“Crowded?” she offered.
“And loud. I miss the place.”
“Me, too.”
He hugged her tightly before easing up. “Your dress is getting wet.”
“So are your pants.”
He laughed at that. His arms fell away, then he took her hand. “Come with me, pretty lady.”
Curious, Chelsea followed him as he led the way back to the canopy. Surprisingly, he stopped there and turned to face her. “Ever see us doing something like this?”
Unsure as to the path his thoughts traveled, she couldn’t help but ask, “Like what?”
“Like standing together on a beach,” he drawled. “Getting married.”
* * *
How he’d found the courage to say the words was beyond him, but now that he’d said them Ethan had no intention of taking them back. Not that he was proposing. At least not yet.
Maybe it was the booze. Or the moonlight. Or the romantic setting. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted—needed—to tell her how he felt. Even more, he had to hear her say that she loved him.
Her eyes searched his. “I didn’t think you were the marrying kind.”
“People change.”
“Not in my experience.”
The conversation wasn’t going at all as he’d hoped, so he decided to take another tack. Pulling her closer, he leaned down to give her a kiss.
His lips touched hers. Once. Twice. Then her arms rose to circle his neck, the orchids pressing against the back of his head as Chelsea slid her tongue between his lips.
Ethan couldn’t seem to get enough of her, slanting his mouth over hers again and again, chasing her tongue with his own. All he wanted was to pick her up, march back to their suite, and make love to her until her eyes crossed.
One thing remained to be done, though.
Easing back, he smiled at her bemused expression, the same one she always got when she’d been thoroughly kissed. He cupped her cheek in his hand and worked up his courage. “I love you.”
Those incredible green eyes widened. “You do?”
He nodded. “You know, I’ve never said that before. Not to anyone.”
“Ever the virgin,” she said, her lips rising in a bewitching smile. “I love you too.”
“Since when?” he had to ask.
She let out a light laugh. “Probably since the moment you walked away from the bar to prove your point. God, you’re a stubborn man.”
“That’s what you love best.”
Chelsea’s smile grew. “Nobody ever said I was smart.”
“Maybe not,” Ethan quipped. “But you clearly have excellent taste.” Sobering, he lifted her chin with his fingertips. “Say it again, baby.”
“That I’m not really smart?” Her teasing ended as she let out a telling little sigh. “I love you, Ethan Walker. With all my heart.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I made it. I actually got here on time.
Of course Chelsea had needed her driver to break every speed limit to get her to the studio for the scheduled interview. Thankfully, Addie had made great arrangements for the extraordinarily early flight back to Nashville, and there had been no delays at check-in or getting through TSA. Although Chelsea was exhausted, she only had to stay awake long enough to get this interview done, crawl back into the town car, and get home. Then she could finally sleep.
Chelsea let out a lusty yawn as a hand settled on her shoulder.
Cathy Kay, the show’s host, smiled back at her from the mirror on the makeup table. “Get those yawns out of your system before we go live. I’d hate for my viewers to think that I bore you. Trust me, you won’t have anything to be bored about.” She winked at Chelsea.
“Sorry, Cath. Got up at the crack of dawn so I could get back here.”
Actually, dawn hadn’t even broken when Chelsea’s phone had sounded its annoyingly happy little wake-up tune. She and Ethan both grumbled, but while she’d forced herself to haul her carcass out of bed, he’d simply rolled over and gone right back to snoring.
It wasn’t any wonder that getting up had been so difficult. They’d spent the night making love, reaching for each other with downright greed. She wasn’t sure if their desperation had been born of their confessions of love or the fear that what they’d shared on their time away from the real world would be compromised once they returned to Nashville.
“Yeah, Addie told me you were out of town when we set this up.” Cathy studied her hard in the mirror. “Did you have a good time?”
“The best.” Another yawn slipped out.
“Can we please get Ms. Harris another cup of coffee?” Cathy called out to no one in particular.
Three production assistants scurried away.
“Now that’s service,” Chelsea said.
With a satisfied smile, Cathy said, “It helps when the show’s named after you.” She patted Chelsea’s shoulder. “I need to go on now, but we’ll have lots to talk about on stage.”
“Did Addie send you the information about the charity album?”
Cathy’s grin changed from genuine to enigmatic right before Chelsea’s eyes. “I have absolutely everything I need. See you in a few?”
“Yep.”
“And no yawning!” Turning on her heel, Cathy strode toward the set that reminded Chelsea a lot of the setup Ellen DeGeneres used on her talk show. Just a couple of big, comfy chairs, a small table between, and a flat-screen mounted behind the guests.
At least the place made her feel comfortable, knowing there was nothing worse than being on live television sitting in an uncomfortable chair. It always made the guest look fidgety, which implied there was more going on than what was being said.
As another yawn threatened, she gratefully took a fresh cup of coffee from a girl who appeared far too young to be working at a television studio.
“Let’s see if I can help get those eyes looking a little less…tired,” the makeup artist said as he grabbed some concealer.
“Good luck with that,” Chelsea said, frowning at the dark circles under each green eye.
The “all quiet” warning went through the studio, and Chelsea settled in to wait for her turn to sit opposite Cathy and talk about her album.
* * *
After watching the taping of two heartwarming stories—one guest was a teenager who’d just had a cochlear implant, the other a sixth-grader who’d sold more Girl Scout cookies than anyone else in Tennessee—it was time for Chelsea’s turn with Cathy Kay.
Waiting right off stage, she watched for the cue that would come from the handler on her left.
“Quiet!” the director shouted, which had only a minimal impact on the noise level.
It wasn’t until one of the assistants stood in front of the main camera, held up five fingers, and said, “We’re live in five, four, three…” She stopped the verbal count, but her fingers showed the last two seconds before the red light on top of the camera illuminated. The Cathy Kay Show music swelled through the studio.
Cathy flashed a supersized smile at the camera from where she sat in her chair. “Welcome back!” She picked up a CD case from the table on her right. “My next guest is often called the best female vocalist in country music.” She held up the CD, showing the cover of Chelsea’s last album. “I’m happy to welcome Chelsea Harris.”
The audience erupted in applause that made Chelsea smile. Although she was already walking to the stage, the assistant gave her back a small push, which earned the guy an over-the-shoulder glare. Then she pasted her smile back on and strode toward Cathy.
In her typical fa
shion, Cathy air-kissed Chelsea’s cheeks, then she swept her hand at the two blue chairs. “Welcome! We’ve got a lot to talk about today!”
“Thanks for having me. I’m really excited to tell you about the new album I’m recording right now.”
“Yes, yes,” Cathy said, that enigmatic smile firmly back in place. “But first, we want to hear about you and Ethan Walker. You two are the talk of Nashville.”
The demand was in the host’s voice, and it took all of Chelsea’s self-control not to tell the woman to mind her own business. “Ethan and I are dating. It’s actually a fun story. We met because of the duet album I’m doing to raise money for colon cancer research.”
The flat-screen usually showed nothing but the show’s logo, but as the image shifted, Chelsea couldn’t help but notice. When she saw what was now displayed, heat rose on her cheeks. She’d imagined what the pictures that moron took of her and Ethan back on their island looked like, but she hadn’t actually seen one.
Well, she saw one now. In fact, there was a changing montage of several images. The two of them embracing. Sitting together on the blanket. Wading into the water.
“Tell me all about the house you two stayed in off the Keys,” Cathy cajoled. “Looks like you two were mighty cozy.”
“It was a really nice place. We were the only two on the island, which was nice. I had a nice time.” Great. She was rambling, stuck on the same stupid word.
A picture of Ethan extending his middle finger at the photographer popped up next. “Looks like your man wasn’t too happy when he realized the two of you were spotted.”
A sigh slipped out before Chelsea could squelch it. “It’s always a bit…disconcerting when you have your privacy invaded.” She squared her shoulders. “Now that I’m back in Nashville, I’m going to be working hard to get my album recorded. I’ve got duets scheduled with—”
“Were you able to convince Ethan to sing with you?” Cathy asked. “His parents were such fantastic entertainers.” The image on the TV became the smiling faces of Ethan’s mother and father. “Such a tragedy to lose them both. Has Ethan ever told you why he doesn’t follow in their footsteps?” She let out a chuckle as she swept her hand to the flat-screen. Ethan was on an ancient cover of some teen fan magazine, bare chested, dressed in very tight gold lamé pants, with a silk scarf around his neck. His hair was long and feathered away from his face. “I’ll admit to having such a crush on him when I was a girl. And those songs!” She put a dramatic palm against her breasts. “To die for.”
Breathing slowly and evenly to try to keep her composure, Chelsea struggled on how to redirect this interview. Ethan would be livid to be the main topic of discussion. Sure, she’d expected a couple of questions about him since they’d announced they were in a relationship, but this was getting ridiculous. “Ethan has a beautiful voice, but he doesn’t want to record for a living.”
“Why, how can you say that?” Cathy once again indicated the screen, which now had the video Brad had shot of them singing the song she’d recorded with Chuck Austin. The studio was filled with the sound of Chelsea and Ethan’s voices.
Chelsea shot daggers at Cathy Kay with her gaze.
As the music quickly faded, Cathy kept on grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “You two sound so lovely together.”
“Thank you. I was able to talk him into singing with me. We’ll actually be recording one of his parents’ songs on my charity album. Did I tell you why I’m recording it?” Chelsea asked, trying once again to get the upper hand.
“While I’m sure we’d all like to know about that album, I have to say that there is one other matter we’d definitely like to hear about first.” Cathy rubbed her hands together in glee. “We’d all rather hear about your wedding!”
Chelsea’s stomach plummeted to her feet. “What?”
“I have it from a reliable source that you and Ethan were married last night in Georgia.”
Hands clenched, Chelsea had to fight to not grit her teeth as she replied. “I’m not sure who your source is, but I can assure you that I am not married. Not to Ethan Walker. Not to anyone.”
“Now, don’t play coy with me, Chelsea. We’re old friends. Everyone is very excited and wants to hear about your elopement with Ethan.” She waved her hand at the flat-screen TV yet again.
The image on the screen revealed a picture of Chelsea and Ethan, embracing under the wedding canopy back on the beach on Jekyll Island. Because it was dark when the photo was taken, her pink dress appeared white, and since she was holding the orchids behind Ethan’s neck as they hugged, the picture looked exactly like a wedding photograph.
So much for the resort staff leaving everyone alone.
“I know how that looks,” Chelsea said. “But we aren’t married.”
Leaning close, as though she was trying to be nothing but a friend exchanging a confidence, Cathy said, “You can tell me, Chelsea. It looks oh so romantic. I know destination weddings are ‘in’ right now. This one must have been beautiful.”
Although she wanted desperately to say a few obscene words, Chelsea swallowed them. “I know what that looks like, but Ethan and I aren’t married. We were attending a wedding of a couple of our friends.”
“My source tells me that after that wedding, you two had one of your own. How long have you two been in love?”
It took every ounce of Chelsea’s fortitude to not rip off her mic and stomp off the stage. Only years of experience in dealing with people who gossiped for a living kept her in that chair. “Sorry to disappoint you, but we’re not married. Look, we’re dating—”
“Ah, so you two are in love. Was this a rehearsal, then?”
“Fine, we’re in love, but this wasn’t a rehearsal. We were at the wedding of a couple of our friends. That’s all.”
“You two are only in the ‘making plans’ stage. Have you talked about starting a family? Can you imagine?” Cathy slapped her thighs with her palms. “Your kids would be mighty talented. I mean, look at their parents—and their grandparents!”
All Chelsea wanted to do was get the hell off that stage. She dug her fingernails into the arms of the chair. “I don’t see Ethan and I starting a family any time soon.”
“You’re right,” Cathy said. “Your wedding should come first, don’t you think?”
“Our wedding should come first,” Chelsea said through clenched teeth, parroting back the stupid words and searching for a chance to escape. She was so angry, she wasn’t even sure exactly what she was saying.
Cathy glanced over at the assistant frantically waving with the signal for a commercial break and frowned. “We’re talking today with country vocalist Chelsea Harris about her relationship with the elusive Ethan Walker. The Cathy Kay Show will be back right after these messages.”
“And…we’re out,” the assistant said after the red light on the camera faded.
Standing, Chelsea plucked the small microphone off her collar and started to jerk the wire through her shirt. “I’m outta here.”
Cathy slithered over and put her hand on Chelsea’s arm. “Now, Chelsea, honey…No reason to get in a snit. It was all in good fun.”
Instead of snatching her arm away, Chelsea glared at Cathy until the woman got the hint and removed her hand.
Folding her arms under her breasts, Cathy dropped the fake niceness. “If you leave, everyone will think you’re being a bad sport. Or that you’re lying. Shit, from what I heard, your fans are mighty pissed that you tried to hide the relationship with Ethan.”
“Why would you do this?” Chelsea asked. “If you would’ve asked me, I could’ve told you those pictures weren’t of us getting married.”
“I know that,” Cathy snapped. “But the rumors are running rampant, and when my people had a shot at those Jekyll Island pictures, well, I couldn’t pass them up.”
“One minute,” the assistant shouted.
“Look,” Cathy said, “just sit down. Okay? I’ll let you pitch your little album now.”
Against her better judgment, Chelsea let the tech help her reconnect her microphone. The last thing she needed was more bad publicity.
* * *
Ethan marched up the long Jetway, his bag slung over his shoulder. He’d spent the better part of the day at the Jacksonville airport, waiting to fly standby since he’d been too damn tired to get up to fly home with Chelsea. All he could do was watch several flights leave without him and pass hour after hour playing Spider Solitaire on his phone until the battery gave out. Damn if he didn’t forget to grab his charger when he left the room since Chelsea wasn’t there to make her “one last sweep.” And he knew the moment he walked to one of the airport kiosks to buy a new one, they’d call his name and he’d miss his chance at a flight.
He finally got a seat in coach, which wasn’t a lot of fun for a guy of his height. Once everyone was aboard and the door closed, the airplane had taxied out and then just sat on the tarmac for over an hour because of some kind of mechanical problem. And didn’t that give him a lot of confidence that he’d get back to Nashville in one piece.
Exhausted and starving, he was about as grumpy as he could get. It was probably a good thing Chelsea had left before him, because he wouldn’t have been very good company. All he wanted was a meal, a beer, and to watch ESPN.
Nashville had turned cold, judging from the drop in temperature from the plane to the Jetway. Winter wasn’t far away, and he already missed the warmth of Florida and Georgia. But this city was his home, and cold or not, his farm was where he wanted to be.
He made his way through the crowded airport, ready to see this trip end. As he rode down the final escalator to the ground transportation area, he frowned. A half dozen reporters and an equal number of cameramen were waiting close to the exit. One of them locked eyes with Ethan, put his microphone in front of his face, and then started jostling his cameraman with his elbow. He shouted out, “Ethan Walker! Can you tell us about your upcoming marriage to Chelsea Harris?”
Ethan scowled, especially when the other reporters all came to life, grinning at him as they spoke into their mics. When he reached the bottom of the escalator, he tried to dodge to the left, found his way blocked, and shifted right. He was hemmed in on both sides. Worse, the people behind him on the escalator started plowing into his back. Having no other choice, he shoved his way through the reporters, not really caring if he jarred a couple of the nosy jerks as he moved them aside with his shoulders.