The Closer You Get

by Kristi Gold

  Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Since we’d spent so little time together, I decided to surprise him a couple of weeks later in Little Rock. I drove eight hours, got in late, went to the hotel where he was staying and found him in bed with some groupie who didn’t look a day over eighteen, if that.”

  “That’s why you were so upset that morning in Fort Worth,” he said.

  “Exactly. Anyway, I told him I wouldn’t marry him if he was the last man on the planet, and I left. I haven’t seen him since. Not until the other day.”

  “And he never fought to get you back?”

  Mark had fought, all right. He’d sent flowers and telegrams and harassing letters, telling her what a mistake she was making. He even had his band members call her. Mark Jensen didn’t like to lose, and that included every aspect of his life.

  Cammie blocked the disturbing images and continued. “He made an effort, but by that time I’d left school knowing he’d keep hounding me if I stayed. As it turned out, I had to help my grandfather with the company after he had surgery. I moved permanently back to Memphis and wouldn’t take Mark’s calls.”

  “Don’t get mad when I ask you this, but did you ever consider forgiving him?”

  Cammie took her eyes from the road long enough to shoot him an acid look. “Forgive him? How could I ever forget, much less forgive him for falling into bed with someone else two weeks after he asked me to marry him? Maybe even sooner than that.”

  “Living on the road is hell,” he said. “Some guys miss their wives and girlfriends so much they use that as an excuse to cheat—”

  “He never missed me that much. We never even...” She was getting carried away with the baring of the soul. Some things were best left unsaid.

  “You never even what?”

  “Never mind.”

  She knew the moment Brett figured it out by the frown on his face. “Are you saying you never slept with Jensen?”

  “No, I didn’t, and frankly, I’m glad I made that decision.”

  “No wonder he’s so determined to get you back,” he said. “He’s finally come to his senses and discovered what he’s passed up.”

  She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended. “Is that in the way of sex with me, or a relationship with me?”

  He rubbed his shaded jaw. “I personally suspect that’s probably a pretty severe loss in both departments.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  They exchanged a brief, knowing look, followed by a lengthy span of silence as Cammie turned her complete attention back to the road, where it should have remained in the first place. After a few minutes ticked off, she started to comment on the weather, the full moon hovering above them, anything to veer from any talk of relationships and sex and, of course, Mark. But before she could speak, she glanced to her right to discover Brett had leaned his head back against the seat, his features slack with sleep.

  Soon the only sound in the cab came from the lull of passing trucks, the occasional bump in the road and the cautioning voices in Cammie’s head telling her she needed to be very, very careful from this point forward. If not, she could once again become another captivating singer’s latest heartbreak casualty.

  * * *

  “IF HE WAKES UP AND WANTS something to eat, tell him it’s too late.”

  The comment jolted Brett out of sleep. When he opened his eyes, he saw Cammie still planted in the driver’s seat, sipping her coffee, totally unaware of the dream he’d been having about her. A really dirty dream involving pulling the bus over, getting naked and getting down to business.

  “Are you okay?” she asked when he groaned.

  Brett turned his face away, guarding his eyes against the all-night diner’s too-bright lights and Cammie’s inspection. He sure didn’t feel okay. He wasn’t exactly sure what he felt. Disappointed it was only a dream? Mad because Bull’s booming voice had forced him out of it? Sexually strung out? All the above.

  His mouth felt dry, like he’d eaten a whole box of crackers, and his body still hadn’t calmed down. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “A half hour or so, right after our conversation about Mark.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah. That’s the last thing I remember.” That and her long legs exposed by the white sports shorts that had ridden up her thighs, and thinking how easy they’d be to remove. “Where are we?”

  “In search of a three-egg omelet.”

  “Bull’s hungry again?”

  “Of course.”

  He scooted up in the seat, every inch of his body stiff from the damn uncomfortable position he’d maintained for too long. The song that began to play didn’t help with his uneasiness, even if it did bring back some bittersweet memories.

  In spite of that, he reached over and turned up the classic country tune.

  Cammie sighed. “I love this song. It’s one of my granddad’s favorites. Yours, too?”

  “Yeah. I used to sing it to someone.” That admission would probably encourage more questions. Questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer.

  “Your wife?” she asked.

  He could change the subject, or tell Cammie the truth. He chose the truth. “My daughter. I know that sounds crazy since it’s a cheatin’ song, but something about it used to calm her down.”

  “Maybe it was just the melody.”

  He smiled when he recalled those long-ago days. “Must’ve been. When she was a baby, she used to wake up every night at 2:00 a.m. I was on the road most of the time, so my ex-wife would call me and I’d sing Lacey back to sleep over the phone. She always wanted to hear it, even when she got older.”

  “I’m sure she cherishes those memories.”

  “I doubt she even remembers.”

  “I’m sure she remembers. I still do when it comes to my dad.”

  She’d had a good dad. “Again, it was a long time ago.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but how long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

  Way too long. “About seven years, right after her fifth birthday. Not long after that, Jana remarried and then convinced the court I was an unfit father. She got full custody, and I got four hours of supervised visitation one weekend a month.”

  “And you haven’t even spoken to her since then?” she asked.

  He realized how bad that sounded. Probably because it was. “She used to send me letters and pictures from school and we spoke by phone. But eventually the letters and pictures stopped coming and so did the phone calls. I finally decided it was all for the best. Jana and Randy can give her a stable home, something I can never give her as long as I keep doing what I’m doing.”

  “I’m sorry, Brett,” she said in a sympathetic tone. “I’m sorry for both of you. It’s clear you still love her very much.”

  And sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

  The conversation had taken its toll on Brett’s energy, and he’d probably live to regret confessing his sins to Cammie. For some reason, he wanted her respect as much as he wanted her, and he’d probably lost what was left of it. Without saying another word, he stood and headed toward his stateroom. “Are you going back to bed?” Cammie called after him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sleep well.”

  Not likely that was going to happen. He had too much weighing on his mind, and enough remorse to fuel a furnace. The realization that Camille Carson was chipping away at his emotional armor also made him nervous. He coul
d handle the physical attraction, and had no problem seeing where it might lead. But getting too involved with her would only spell trouble for the both of them. If he hadn’t already crossed that rickety bridge.

  Regardless of what happened between them, she’d eventually leave, just like every other important person in his life.

  * * *

  LAS VEGAS SPREAD OUT before Cammie, brightly illuminated and gloriously seductive, even in the morning sun. She watched with amazement at the bustle of activity on the streets, casinos aglow, billboards sporting the names of some of the world’s finest entertainers, including Brett’s. She suddenly felt very limited in experience, never having seen anything quite like what she now witnessed.

  She followed Dennis down the strip, turning off the main drag and into the rear parking lot of the massive five-star resort. As soon as she shut down the bus, she debated whether or not to wake her boss. Her dilemma was solved when she heard Rusty hollering, “Let’s party!”

  Brett emerged as she opened the door to admit the raucous group. The guys crowded in, all but Pat. When Cammie asked about him, Bull said, “He ain’t feeling too well. I think it was a combination of beer, truck-stop chili and celibacy.”

  Everyone laughed―everyone but Brett. He seemed completely uninterested in taking part in the camaraderie.

  Bull turned his toothy grin on Cammie. “Are you going to join us in some blackjack and watch us lose our asses...I mean, assets?”

  She didn’t dare admit she’d never played before. “As much as I’d like to watch you lose your asses and assets, I’ve had no sleep.”

  “Come on, Cammie,” Jeremy said. “You’re in the city that never sleeps.”

  Rusty rolled his eyes. “That’s New York. But no one sleeps here, either. Day or night. Too much to do.”

  She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Thanks, but no thanks right now. I’ll see you guys this afternoon when I’ve had a long nap.”

  After the group made a hasty exit and rushed toward the hotel, Cammie stayed to pack. And surprisingly, Brett remained behind to watch her, just as he had that night in Fort Worth. The night that had changed the course of their relationship.

  “No one can leave Vegas without at least pulling a one-armed bandit, Cammie,” he said.

  She stuffed a couple of T-shirts into her bag. “In all honesty, I’ve never gambled before.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “I personally prefer poker,” he said. “But the slots might be the best place for you to start. If you need to save your money, I’ll float you a few bucks to play on. Consider it a bonus.”

  For what? Allowing him to cop a feel? “I personally plan to hang on to what I’ve got.”

  His smile arrived, slow as sunrise and just as bright. “Vegas is a great place to let loose. I think you’ll like it.”

  She zipped her bag and threw the strap over one shoulder. “I’ll probably like it better after some sleep.”

  Brett leaned against the divider, blocking her exit. “I always come here in December, during the National Finals Rodeo.”

  “Is that to sing or to pick up another one of those?” She pointed to his belt buckle.

  “Nah. But maybe I should take a break from singing and start roping again, in case the luck’s run out of this buckle.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “You ought to come with me.”

  That nearly shocked her out of her sneakers. “Bud will be back long before then.”

  “Not as a driver. As a—”

  “Cook, laundry aficionado and maid?”

  “As a woman who likes to have a good time. You do know how to have a good time, don’t you, Camille?”

  She hated it when he called her by her full name. It made every part of her come to attention. “Yes, I know how to have a good time.”

  As she started past Brett, he caught her arm. “We still haven’t talked about what happened the other day,” he said.

  Her pulse began to race in response to his touch. “Probably just as well. There’s really nothing to talk about, is there? So let’s just forget it.”

  “Can you forget about it?” he asked. “I sure as hell can’t, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

  No, she hadn’t forgotten one minute of their little interlude. She simply didn’t feel it would be best to admit it at the moment. Not when the bed that facilitated said interlude was only a few feet away.

  She ducked under his arm and moved toward the door. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Cammie.”

  Her instinct told her not to turn around, but his voice had the pull of a high-power magnet. “Yes?” she asked as she faced him.

  “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “Again, we don’t need to discuss it any further.”

  He took a few slow steps toward her. “I meant about letting me show you a good time. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  She had no doubt about that. But she might be too foolish to live if she took him up on his offer. At least they wouldn’t be sharing close quarters for the next three days. Maybe she’d be better off spending that time catching up on sleep.

  * * *

  WHEN THE BLARING ALARM startled Cammie out of deep, dreamless sleep, she fumbled for the bedside radio and muttered a mild oath. The last thing she remembered was emerging from the shower with her hair and body wrapped in a towel, thinking she’d just rest her eyes for a moment before retrieving the hair dryer. The towels had fallen to the floor and she was totally sprawled out on top of the blue silk comforter on her back, naked as the day she was born.

  Even after four hours’ sleep, she still didn’t have the energy or desire to move, so she rolled onto her stomach and bunched a pillow beneath her. When she heard laughter filtering through the door connecting the suites, followed by Brett’s deep voice, her body came to life. Gooseflesh covered her arms and legs, contrasting with the undeniable heat flowing through her from breast to toes and all points in between. She clutched the pillow tighter, confused by the desire, the sudden need to be touched...but not by just anyone. She wanted Brett to touch her again. Anywhere he pleased.

  She let out a disgusted breath, tossed the pillow aside and flattened her face against the mattress. Absolutely absurd to feel this way. Hadn’t she learned anything at all? Brett only wanted one thing—a quick roll in the sack. If she bent to his will, he’d eventually toss her aside like a holey T-shirt and move on to the next conquest. Then again, she could do the same. She wasn’t searching for a permanent relationship, either, and they were both consenting adults. Maybe she’d been the good girl far too long. Maybe she should just go for it.

  And maybe she’d have that opportunity sooner than she realized, she decided when she heard a rap at the door before it creaked open.

  “Are you awake?”

  She slowly propped up on elbows and ventured a look behind her, thinking he would have stepped quickly back into the other room when he noticed her state of undress. She’d been sorely mistaken.

  Brett leaned against the now-closed door, his gaze slowly skimming her body. Her bare backside was the only thing exposed, but she couldn’t very well lean over and scoop the towel off the floor or crawl under the covers without exposing something else, so she opted not to move at all. Funny, she didn’t really care if he looked his fill. And Brett didn’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon, either.

  She scraped her brain for som
ething innocent to say, but only one thing came to mind. One question that could produce an interesting answer.

  “Do you need something?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HELL, YEAH. HE NEEDED a drink. He needed her to help him out of his clothes. He needed to leave. If he were any kind of gentleman at all, he would’ve retreated the minute he caught sight of the fact she didn’t have on a stitch. But no one ever accused him of being a gentleman. Now all he could do was gawk at her.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her slim, golden back and one hell of a perfect butt where he located the mystery tattoo—a small red rose centered right in the middle of one cheek. He fought the urge to walk over to the bed and examine it more closely. And while he was at it, he’d run his hand along the valley and up those hills and whatever else she’d let him touch.

  He cleared his throat and studied his boot to keep from acting on those urges. “You didn’t lock the door.” Talk about stating the obvious.

  “No kidding.”

  “I just wondered if you’d changed your mind about joining me,” he said as noncommittal as a man could with a growing ache in his groin.

  “Join you in what?”

  Was it an innocent question or was she playing a game? Maybe it was some sort of weird seduction. Maybe he was just engaging in some heavy-duty wishful thinking. “Gambling.”

  “I think clothes would be in order for that, don’t you?”

  He risked another look, only making matters worse. “Yeah. Might be less distracting.”

  When she smiled, Brett figured she had to be the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. She looked posed for a centerfold, her long dark hair damp and tangled, face glowing with a sexy blush, an incredible body laid out before him like a holiday feast. He better run now before it was impossible to move in any direction except toward her.

  “How much time do you need?” he asked.

  “How much time do you need?” Her grin deepened and she sounded like she was having a damn good time playing with him. Too bad that wasn’t literal playing.