The Closer You Get

by Kristi Gold

  Brett nibbled her earlobe. “That’s the point. You’re ahead. You should always quit while you’re ahead.” That particular advice seemed sound where they were concerned. Too late.

  “If you say so,” she said. “But I’m ready to take my chances.”

  He let out an exasperated breath and straightened. “Then, by all means, continue.”

  Cammie slid off the stool, quickly finished her drink down to the jingle of ice cubes and turned to face him. She closed in on Brett until their legs touched, then inched her fingers up the front of his shirt.

  He grabbed her hand as soon as she made it to the top. “If you’re not serious about this, Cammie, then you better leave now. Once we get started, I’m not going to want to stop.”

  She stood on the tips of her toes until her lips were barely an inch from his. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

  Then she pulled his head down and kissed him without regard to the crowded casino.

  The clanging and ringing, whoops of cheer and shouts of frustration, vanished. All Brett could hear was the blood rushing into his ears, felt it rushing elsewhere. He had his hands on Cammie’s bare back and she was doing things to his mouth that would cause a saint to sin. He didn’t care if he made a total fool of himself in front of hundreds of people, all he could think about was this damn hot woman in his arms. He was in suspended animation...until he heard someone scream his name from somewhere down the aisle.

  Jolted back into awareness, Brett clutched Cammie’s wrist and tugged her toward the direction of the elevators and safety from the masses.

  “Your money!” she shouted.

  “Let someone else have it,” he said as he practically pulled her along with him. “Maybe they’ll get lucky, too.”

  * * *

  ONCE WE GET STARTED, I’m not going to want to stop.

  The words echoed in Cammie’s brain as Brett led her past rows of slots and tables at almost a sprint. When they finally arrived at the bank of elevators leading to the exclusive club level, Brett pounded the up button and gritted, “Come on,” while he glared at the doors as if he could force them open by sheer will. The car arrived a few seconds later and Brett lowered his head while several people filed out. Hand in hand, they rushed inside, only to be joined by an older, well-dressed couple who fortunately didn’t appear to recognize him.

  They rode in silence as the elevator crept to their destination, pausing two floors below theirs to deposit the husband and wife. As soon as they were alone again, Brett pulled her back into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. Cammie wound up with her back against one marbled wall with Brett pressed against her. And when he cupped her bottom and brought her even closer, she wondered if they would even make it to the room before clothes started coming off.

  Then the bell chimed, heralding their arrival on the top floor. This time Cammie took the lead, and his hand, and led him to her room’s private entrance. She rummaged through her purse for the card key, pulling it out only to drop it on the floor, exactly as she had that first night he’d kissed her. Her hands trembled as she tried to retrieve it. Before she knew it, Brett grabbed it up and slid it into the slot.

  The light flashed, the latch tripped and her heart seemed to momentarily stop. After they entered the room, she didn’t have time to think before Brett backed her to the bed and took her down in his arms onto the mattress. She prepared to begin the journey of a lifetime, then all the kisses and mutual groping suddenly halted, followed by Brett’s rough sigh.

  He tipped his forehead against hers and muttered, “Damn.”

  If he was having second thoughts, she’d have to kill him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Condoms.” He raised his gaze to hers. “Do you have any?”

  Oh, sure. She snapped her fingers and faked a grin. “Darn, I forgot to pack them with my zebra-print panties.”

  He sent her a seductive half smile. “You have zebra panties?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, and I don’t have any condoms, either. I thought guys always carried one in their wallet.”

  He rolled off her and streaked a hand over his jaw. “I haven’t done that since high school. They don’t hold up well. I learned that the hard way.”

  Definitely a story there, one she’d ask about later. “You could go to the gift shop and hope you don’t get mobbed.”

  “Or I could go next door and get one from my shaving kit. It’s either face Pat or rabid fans. Normally I might choose the fans, but my room is a hell of a lot closer.”

  “True.”

  Brett kissed her cheek, came to his feet and pointed at her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  He had to be kidding. “Where would I go?”

  “Back downstairs to flirt with that guy at the craps table.”

  “He told me I reminded him of his granddaughter.”

  He grinned. “That’s good to know. I’d hate to think you’d throw me over for someone twice my age.”

  “I will if you don’t hurry up.”

  After Brett rushed out of the room, and the spontaneity had been ruined, Cammie tried to will away the misgivings. Of course he would be prepared enough to keep condoms readily on hand. Spontaneous sex was probably as much a part of his life as his songs. But why should she care? This was just purely physical attraction, or so she kept telling herself.

  Still, she didn’t have any intention of stopping what they’d started. As soon as he came back, she was going to lose herself in the experience and deal with the fallout later....

  “Cammie!”

  The sound of Brett’s distressed voice sent her upright and to the adjoining door. She opened it to find Brett seated on the edge of the sofa next to an ashen and barely conscious Pat.

  Brett looked up at her, alarm in his eyes. “Call 9-1-1.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WHEN SHE AWOKE the next morning in the ICU waiting room, Cammie’s back ached from spending hours on the less-than-comfortable sofa. Her heart ached knowing that Pat was in a hospital bed, suffering from a yet-to-be determined ailment. She’d taken a thirty-minute break to return to the hotel and changed into T-shirt and jeans. After that, she’d fallen asleep against Brett’s shoulder between periodic reports from the staff at hour intervals, while the guys had camped out on the remaining chairs. They’d all been very quiet, clearly scared to death, though they would never admit it.

  But at the moment, she was the only one in the small room since the boys had left to find some breakfast. Brett returned a few minutes later with much-needed coffee. “Thought you could use this,” he said as he handed her one paper cup. “No cream or sugar and probably strong enough to set your hair on fire.”

  She could use all the strength she could get. “That works. Thanks.”

  He took his place beside her and patted her leg. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay. How are you doing?”

  He leaned forward and draped his arms on his thighs, clutching the coffee cup between his parted knees. “I’ll be fine as soon as I know Pat’s going to be okay.”

  She rubbed his back in a soothing gesture. “Pat’s a strong guy. He’ll be fine.”

  He straightened and sighed. “I hope you’re right. He’s been like a father to me. A better dad than mine ever was.”

  She sensed his turmoil as keenly as if it were her own. “He’s a remarkable man.”

  “Yeah, he is.” Brett sat silent for a moment before he
set the untouched coffee on the table before them. “After Jana left me and took Lacey with her, I went pretty wild. Too much booze and too many women, anything to keep me from wallowing in self-pity. He told me, and I quote, ‘Get your act together, son, or you’re gonna burn out before your star even starts to rise.’”

  Cammie immediately thought of Mark, only his wildness resulted more from self-indulgence than self-pity. “So he whipped you into shape, did he?”

  He smiled, but only slightly. “He probably saved my life. Now I just wish someone would tell us what’s wrong with him so I know what we’re up against.”

  “I’m sure they will as soon as they know,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. “And let’s hope they know something soon. One more night on this sofa and I’ll request to be Pat’s roommate.”

  Catching her off guard, Brett smiled and pulled her close to his side before giving her a soft, innocent kiss. The growing connection between them was uncanny, the intimacy undeniable, as if they’d known each other for years, not weeks. As if they’d become more than only employee and employer. Maybe she was just imagining things. Or maybe it was simply the circumstance. Then he gave her a meaningful look before he kissed her again, a little less innocently this time, but not quite long enough to be deemed completely inappropriate. Or so she thought until Brett pointed to the windowed door and released a resounding groan.

  Cammie discovered a trio of gaping band members with faces pressed against the glass, noses looking piglike, eyes wide and lips molded into distorted grins.

  “Do you think they saw us?” Cammie said through a false smile and in her best ventriloquist imitation.

  “I’d bet on it,” Brett answered as he walked to the door. When he opened it, the gawking group entered in their usual melodramatic fashion.

  Bull fell back against one wall and clutched his chest. “Call a doctor! I think I’ve come down with the love bug.”

  “Me, too,” Rusty said, choking and gasping for air. “I need some mouth-to-mouth, so someone call me a nurse.”

  Brett scowled as he returned to the sofa. “Cut it out, guys. We’re too tired for this, and Pat’s situation isn’t a damn joke.”

  “Lighten up, Brett,” Bull said. “Besides, the two of you looked like Pat was the last thing on your minds a minute ago.”

  “Didn’t look too tired, either,” Rusty added.

  Cammie felt a blush flowing over her cheeks while Brett studied the toe of his boot.

  Bull chuckled and slapped Brett on the back. “Okay, we’ll lay off for now. But you know us, we won’t forget it.”

  Oh, joy. Cammie could just imagine what the future would bring in terms of teasing. Her future with Brett was much more up in the air. Future? They didn’t have a future aside from a tour that could be indefinitely suspended, depending on Pat’s condition. That might mean an early return to Memphis and saying goodbye to Brett and his band of merry men for good, and that somehow made her sad.

  After everyone settled down, Rusty tuned the TV into a game show while the others dozed and chatted. At 9:00 a.m. a young doctor appeared and reported they were still running tests and he wasn’t authorized to release more information. “Three at a time can go in to see him,” he said. “But you can only stay for five minutes.”

  Brett told the others to go ahead as he remained behind with Cammie. They sat close on the couch, holding hands like teenagers. No words passed between them while they waited for their opportunity, only oddly comfortable silence until the group returned, looking lost and distressed.

  Brett immediately shot to his feet. “How is he?”

  Bull shook his head. “Damn, Brett, he looks like hell. It makes me sick to see him this way.”

  “Yeah, he can barely talk,” Rusty said. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

  Jeremy kept his head lowered as if the sight of Pat had been too much to bear.

  “Let’s go,” Brett said, signaling Cammie to follow.

  When they entered the room, Cammie swallowed hard around her shock. Pat looked so pale and helpless, a definite change from the strapping senior band member with the terrific sense of humor.

  Brett approached the narrow bed and laid a hand on Pat’s arm. “Hey, man, this is no way to get out of a gig. If you wanted tomorrow off, you should have told me.”

  Pat slowly opened his eyes and attempted a weak smile. “You know me, never could say no.” When Pat offered his hand, Cammie stepped up and took it. “How are you holdin’ up, gal?”

  She smiled. “I’m okay. Just get better real quick. I’m having a heck of a time keeping these guys in line.”

  “That’s probably what put me here.” His smile faded as he looked back to Brett. “What are you going to do...about the concert?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Brett said. “We’ll manage. Tim’s arranged for Bob Walker to sit in for you. He’s in Arizona so he can get here quick.”

  “Good picker,” he said. “Can’t sing a lick, though.”

  Brett shrugged. “I’ll just go it alone.”

  “Can’t do it, Brett. New song needs some harmony.” Pat lifted Cammie’s hand. “This gal can handle it.”

  Cammie’s mouth momentarily dropped open before she snapped it shut. “No way. I can’t handle that.”

  “Sure you can, honey,” Pat said. “You’ll do a fine job.”

  Before she could respond, a nurse came in and reprimanded the pair for overstaying their welcome. When Cammie leaned down to give Pat a kiss on the cheek, he whispered, “If you won’t do it for me, then do it for Brett.”

  How could she refuse either request? Yet how could she thrust herself back into a situation that she’d long since left, with good reason? “Okay. I’ll think about it.” The only promise she was willing to make.

  As she left the room, Pat’s suggestion left her stomach in knots and her mind in turmoil. Surely Brett wouldn’t consider the proposition. After all, she hadn’t performed in public in years. She did know Brett’s music, but not well enough to pull off harmony. Singing lyrics with a radio was quite different from singing in front of a live audience, thousands of people hanging on every note, expecting nothing short of perfection.

  Cammie hadn’t noticed Brett trailing behind her until he grabbed her arm and guided her into a small alcove, away from the hospital chaos and prying eyes. “Pat’s right. You should give it a shot.”

  She propped her hands on her hips. “You must be insane.”

  She started to walk away but he stopped her again. “I’ve heard you sing, Cammie. You could do it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.” He sent her a teasing, sexy smile. “You’re dying to try it and you know it.”

  He couldn’t be more wrong. “Am not.”

  He pulled her to him and sent soft kisses over her face. “Say you will, Camille.”

  He was taking extreme advantage at the moment. “You’re not playing fair.”

  “I’m not playing. I’m dead serious.”

  She pushed him back to arm’s length. “Tell you what. I’ll rehearse with you this afternoon. If it doesn’t work, then you’re on your own.”

  He picked her up off her feet and spun her around. “You’ll be great. Hell, we might even have you signed before we leave here. You, me and Pat will make a great team.”

  “Whoa,” she said when he placed her back onto the ground. “I’m doing this for Pat’s benefit, not mine.”

  Brett took her
palm and planted a kiss on her wrist. “What about me?”

  If he only knew the role he played in every decision in recent history. “Okay, so maybe a teeny part of me is doing it for you.”

  He looked more than satisfied with her answer. “Let’s go tell the boys.”

  Brett took Cammie’s hand and led her through the hallway with a spring to his step, as if they were kids on their way to a circus—which might not be so far from the truth.

  * * *

  “ONE MORE TIME,” Brett said, tapping his foot in time with the beat.

  They’d been going at it for two hours. Cammie felt exhausted from the work and her throat had begun to feel fatigued from the effort. No doubt about it—Brett Taylor was a talented, pain-in-the-patoot perfectionist. His earlier hits she’d had no trouble with, but even he seemed unsure about his latest endeavor. Unfortunately for her, his next release debuted tomorrow night and all the details had to be worked out.

  Cammie took a quick drink and began to sing when the time came but Brett stopped again before finishing the first refrain. “Dammit, that’s not it.”

  He walked away muttering a few mild oaths. Cammie was about to tell him this whole idea wasn’t working when he came back to her.

  “Sorry, Cammie. It’s not you, it’s me. Let’s take ten and try it again.”

  Brett left the immediate area, and while he was gone, Cammie dropped onto the stool, feeling drained of all energy.

  “It really isn’t you, Cammie,” Rusty said. “He’s having a hard time right now with a whole lot of things.”

  “I know, Rusty. He’s missing Pat.”

  Rusty pulled up a nearby chair. “It’s not just Pat. The last time he had a woman around during rehearsal, it was Jana.”

  “His ex-wife.”

  “Yeah. I think your singing with him has brought back a lot of memories.”

  Memories of the woman he loved and perhaps still missed. How could she have been so foolish as to agree to such a stupid masquerade? She didn’t have the talent to take on something of this magnitude, or the ability to make Brett forget every woman he knew before her, especially his ex-wife. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”