The Closer You Get

by Kristi Gold

  Brett said a few words, mostly about enjoying Vegas. If asked five minutes later, Cammie couldn’t tell anyone what he’d said beyond that. When the bars of the first song began to play, she worried her voice might fail her. But whether it be instinct or adrenaline kicking in, she belted out her portion of the vocals as if she’d done this every night of her entire life.

  Brett turned to her and smiled as soon as the song ended. If she suddenly keeled over or her vocal cords disintegrated, nothing could ever be as memorable as that smile. It gave her the confidence to continue and the strength to do more than an adequate job.

  After the fifth song, Brett paused to introduce the band and began with Pat’s replacement. “I’d like to thank Bob Walker on bass guitar for filling in tonight. Our band’s leader, Pat Jordan, is in the hospital. He’s pretty sick, so we ask you to keep him in your thoughts and prayers.”

  Then he approached Cammie and took her hand. “This is, by far, the prettiest backup singer this band’s ever had and she can stand proud with the best. Ladies and gentlemen, Camille Carson.”

  The crowd roared when he called her name. At first she thought the show of approval was a product of her imagination, but when the noise failed to calm, Brett led her to the front of the stage where she took a small bow. When she turned back toward the band, she found the guys applauding, as well.

  Then Brett moved her microphone next to his for their rendition of the song they’d sung earlier. The song that had ended in a kiss. Assuming she would remain back during the number, she sent him a look of confusion.

  He leaned over and whispered, “Can’t do it without some inspiration. If I don’t kiss you this time, it’s because Tim’s in the audience and he’d kill me for ruining my single-guy-on-the-prowl reputation with the ladies.”

  Brett introduced the debut song and when the intro started, Cammie leaned toward him. “I expect to be repaid after the last show.”

  “You bet. And one more thing. Sing melody on the second verse.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it.”

  Even though she couldn’t understand the reason for the sudden change, it was far too late to argue. When Brett sang the first few lines, the emotional lyrics lilted over the vast hall like a soothing breeze. Brett’s and Cammie’s voices melded together during the chorus in perfect harmony, as if they’d always sung together.

  When the second verse came, she did as she was told, singing the melody instead of the harmony. And then she realized he wasn’t singing, just standing in place with guitar in hand and a sexy grin on his face. Heaven help her, she was performing solo. Now she’d have to throttle him later.

  During a pause in the final refrain, Brett took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re unbelievable, Camille.”

  How could she possibly stay mad at this man?

  When the song ended, regardless of his earlier concern about his reputation, he held her for a long moment. Most people would assume it was the embrace given to a good friend, but Cammie felt so much more. More than she should.

  The rest of the concert seemed to fly by, each of Brett’s songs supercharged with energy. Cammie became caught up in the chaos―the ultimate power trip―when the audience called for two encores.

  Brett dedicated the finale to Pat, and Cammie watched offstage as he delivered a solo performance unparalleled to any she’d seen before. And as he lowered his head and the lights went down, she recognized she was dangerously close to falling in love with the man, not just the performer.

  After the curtains went down, Brett hurried offstage, straight to Cammie’s side. Despite all the harried activity, he made his way to her.

  He took her in his arms. “You kicked ass, sweetheart.”

  “And I ought to kill you dead for that little surprise,” she said.

  He kissed her forehead. “Think about it. If I’d asked you beforehand to do it, you would’ve told me to go to hell. Right?”

  “Probably. But why would you want me to sing when it’s your show?”

  “Because you’ve got a lot of talent, Camille Carson.”

  “And you’ve got a lot of nerve throwing me out there like that, Brett Taylor.”

  He laughed out loud. “You loved it and you know it.”

  “Okay, okay. It was a rush.”

  He kissed her lips this time. “Get ready, Cammie. Tonight’s just the beginning of the journey.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE HOUR BETWEEN performances passed quickly on a wave of adrenaline-induced energy. Brett barely left Cammie’s side for the duration and occasionally sneaked a kiss when no one was watching. When the final concert went off without a hitch, including the duet Brett had originally forced on her, she felt as if she could break down the equipment singlehandedly.

  “Time to party, Brett,” someone called as soon as the curtain came down and the houselights went up.

  Brett took her hand, led her down a narrow corridor and into a dressing room. “I have an after-party here in the hotel that I’m obligated to attend. I have to rub elbows with a few promoters and high rollers who’ve paid big bucks to be there.”

  Cammie saw their evening together coming to an abrupt halt. “Okay. I’ll just hang around in the room and watch a movie or—”

  “I want you with me.”

  Her optimism rose to an all-time high. “Are you sure?”

  He slid his arms around her waist. “You bet. You’re a part of the band now.”

  Not exactly the answer she’d wanted. “The show’s over, so it’s back to the bus duties for me.”

  “Maybe not. We don’t know when Pat will be back on his feet. You might have to fill in for a while longer. If you’re game.”

  As tempting as that might be, she had to be logical. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” First and foremost, she had to find out what he expected of her tonight. “What should I wear to this little gathering?”

  “Do you still have that dress from the other night?”

  “Just got it back from the cleaners.”

  “That will definitely do.” He gave her a brief kiss. “Now let’s get out of here and get this party started.”

  * * *

  SOME PARTY. CAMMIE basically stood in the background in the opulent ballroom and watched while Brett schmoozed with the attendees, including a few attentive female fan club members who’d won their admittance through a website contest. Every now and then, Rusty and Bull—dressed in their Sunday best—would stop by and converse before someone would steal them away. And once more she was left alone playing the role of wallflower. She could attempt to mingle but she wasn’t in the mood. She could walk right up to Brett, who was talking to a fawning redhead, and insert herself in the conversation. Or she could call it a night and return to the room.

  On that thought, she finished the second glass of champagne and decided to call it a night. Clearly the star had more important things to do, and spending time with her wasn’t among them.

  She set her glass on a roving waiter’s tray and looked around for Brett, who seemed to have disappeared. She couldn’t help but wonder if the redhead had absconded with him. Then again, he might have gone along willingly.

  Feeling dejected, ridiculously jealous and totally out of her element, she pushed out the double doors and headed for the elevators. She’d barely taken a few steps before a hand caught her wrist and pulled her into a hallway feeding off the main reception area where she came face-to-face wit
h the king of country music.

  “Where have you been all my life, lady?” He sounded like an expert player.

  “Where have you been the past few minutes?” She sounded like an insecure harpy.

  “I just called to check in with Pat, and I was about to come looking for you.”

  All signs pointed to the opposite. “Really? I assumed you forgot I was there.”

  He inclined his head and studied her straight on. “Are you mad about something?”

  Yes, and for no good reason. He didn’t owe her anything, least of all his undivided attention. “I’m bored and tired. I’m going up to the room. Have fun.”

  When she turned to leave, he reeled her back in. “You can’t go now,” he said. “The fun’s just about to get started.”

  “No offense, but I’m not going back in there just to stand around and blend in with the furniture. That’s not my idea of a good time.”

  “It’s not mine, either, but it’s part of the life.”

  “Your life, not mine.”

  “Look, I know you think I was ignoring you, but—”

  “You were.”

  “I was protecting you. If anyone gets wind of our relationship, then the press will be all over us and we’ll never have any privacy.”

  That led to an all-important question. “Exactly what is our relationship?”

  He tugged her closer. “We’re two ordinary people just trying to get to know each other better.”

  She didn’t feel ordinary in his presence, and he was anything but ordinary. “How do you propose we do that when we can’t act like we know each other?”

  “By going someplace where we can’t be bothered. I have just the place in mind.”

  Temptation came calling again, overriding Cammie’s common sense. “Where would that be?”

  “I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to show you.”

  He took her hand and guided her to a service elevator where they traveled through a mazelike hallway and out into a back alley where he’d parked the SUV. After he helped her climb inside, and he’d settled behind the driver’s seat, she shifted to face him. “What’s going on, Taylor?”

  “You’ll see,” he said as he drove out of the hotel lot.

  “Not even a hint?”

  He flashed a grin. “That would ruin the surprise.”

  And Cammie was surprised when they left Las Vegas proper and ended up on a road with little evidence of population. Fifteen minutes of silence passed before they came to a stucco structure situated far back from the rural street. Cammie couldn’t make out much until they almost reached the end of the lengthy driveway.

  The house, surrounded by native landscaping, seemed to blend into the desert surroundings. An expansive house that could pass as a remote compound for the rich and infamous.

  Before Cammie could question Brett further, he’d already stopped beneath the portico, slid out and rounded the SUV to open her door. He helped her out, guided her to the entry and pounded out a code that opened the door to a two-story foyer. She tried to take in all the surroundings as he led her down the corridor, flipping on lights as they went.

  Once they entered a massive great room with tower ceilings, Brett pointed to the beige leather sofa. “Get comfortable,” he said as he released her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  After Brett disappeared, Cammie stepped out of her heels to give her aching feet some relief and walked around on the Mexican-tile floor. The room seemed an extension of the desert, the space washed in hues of sienna and clay. Earthenware pots held dried flowers in the same shades, and a Navajo rug in tones of black and red was suspended over the stone hearth. The furniture set out about the room had clean lines and some chrome, a mix of contemporary and Southwest motif. Beyond the seating area, a wall of windows drew her attention and she moved closer to discover a pool and hot tub set into the deck. The place was well-appointed, serene and very inviting.

  Brett returned carrying an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne in one hand, and a single red rose in the other. After he set the bucket on a nearby table next to two glasses, he offered her the flower. “This is for you,” he said, looking a bit self-conscious over the romantic gesture.

  Cammie took the rose and drew in the scent. “A flower before you deflower me.” She’d clearly been bitten by the idiot bug. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. It’s beautiful.”

  He took the rose from her grasp and softly slid it down her throat to the open keyhole above her breasts. “Don’t be nervous. We’re going to take this as slow as you want. We’ve got all night.”

  If he kept that up, she’d rip his clothes off, to heck with slow. “How did you find this place?”

  He set the rose aside and wrapped his arms around her. “It belongs to a friend.”

  “Male or female?”

  “A guy. He’s a record producer based in L.A. and this is his home away from home. I called him this morning and he was more than happy to let us use it for the night. He also had his housekeeper buy the champagne and the rose at my request.”

  Maybe he hadn’t personally purchased the flower, but she still appreciated the effort. “He must be a good friend.”

  “Rick has a lot of money and a lot of friends, mainly women. He works and plays hard.”

  She looked around the area. “How many bedrooms does this place have?”

  “Six. Two downstairs, four upstairs.”

  She brought her attention back to him. “Then you’ve been here before.”

  He let her go and slipped off the black sports coat he’d worn with his jeans to the party. “A couple of times when he had a party, but it’s been a few years.”

  She could imagine what went on during those parties. She didn’t want to imagine it. She didn’t want to think of Brett with another woman, so she wouldn’t. She’d just concentrate on their time together.

  He lifted the bottle from the bucket. “Want some champagne?”

  “I had two glasses at the hotel, but you go ahead.”

  He set the bottle back into the ice. “I’ll pass for now. Maybe after we go for a swim.”

  She saw two immediate problems with that plan. “It’s pretty cool outside.”

  “The pool’s heated.”

  One problem solved. Now for the other. “I don’t have a suit with me. In fact, I don’t have anything with me, not even my purse.”

  “I took the liberty of packing you a bag earlier today,” he said. “It’s in the truck. Hope you don’t mind.”

  She had no idea how he’d done that without her knowledge. “What did you bring me?”

  He began to release the buttons on his white tailored shirt. “The usual. T-shirt, jeans and a toothbrush. Packing the red lace panties was the highlight.”

  Cammie couldn’t be angry over him rifling through her underwear drawer when he took off his shirt, giving her a prime view of a prime chest. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything but the swimsuit.”

  “I don’t have one, either.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. “We don’t need one.”

  As he pushed her hair aside and slowly slid the dress’s zipper down, Cammie shivered. “You’re a bad, bad boy.”

  He brought his lips to her ear. “But I’m not a half-bad man, which you’re going to find out if you’ll let me show you.”

  When he parted the fabric and kissed her bare shoulder, she considered his request. When he pushed her dress down to drop at
her feet, leaving her wearing only a strapless bra and matching panties, she didn’t have the strength to argue.

  He turned her back around to face him and gave her a long once-over. “There you go, instant little black bikini.”

  To complement her full-body flush. “True, but I’m feeling kind of awkward since you’re still partially dressed.”

  “Not for long.”

  Brett made good on his promise by undoing his fly and working his way out of his jeans, one leg at a time. And when Cammie caught sight of his thigh-length black boxers, the word Joe scripted down one leg, and Knows down the other, she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Where did you get those?” she said after she’d recovered enough to speak.

  “Someone gave them to me.”

  That put a damper on her mood. “A woman who knows Joe?”

  “Bull gave them to me last Christmas. It’s always been an inside joke until I told you.”

  She supposed she should be flattered she’d been made privy to the questionable male humor. “Maybe someday I’ll get to know Joe.”

  He grinned. “Maybe so.”

  Brett took her hand and led her through the glass doors that opened onto the deck. “Wait here,” he said as he walked into the adjacent cabana.

  He returned a few moments later with two beach towels that he spread out on a double chaise longue. Then without saying a word, he strode to the deep end of the pool, stripped out of the Joe shorts and executed a perfect dive. Cammie could see little of anything due to the dark, dark night and virtually no light whatsoever. But, oh, could she imagine.

  He surfaced a few feet away and slicked back his hair with both hands. “Turn on that lower switch behind you.”

  Still somewhat in shock, Cammie followed his instructions and turned to see the pool illuminated in light blue. Brett was still cast in shadows, but just knowing he had nothing on generated quite a bit of heat in her already heated body.