The Closer You Get

by Kristi Gold

  “I agree,” she said. “Pat’s one in a million.”

  “He’s one of a kind.” Brett’s shoulders slumped slightly, as if the energy seeped out with the memories. “He’d been around a long time so he was the best thing that could’ve happened to my career. He guided me on many an issue. He never let me know that’s what he was doing, but I finally figured it out. He never took credit for all the success, either. He had a lot of offers from other bands over the years, but for some reason he stuck it out with me. Guess he saw something no one else did.”

  Cammie saw it, too—the wounded man behind the superstar. The man who had so much going for him, yet still seemed unsure at times. “I’m going to miss him and I barely knew him, so I know it’s going to be tough on you for a while.”

  “Yeah, it is.” He got up and poured the last bit of coffee from the pot. After he sat down, he began to speak again. “Last night, during one number, something wasn’t quite right with the bass playing. I thought Pat must’ve had something to drink before we went on. I was going to give him one of my ‘what in the hell is wrong with you’ looks, but he wasn’t there. That’s when it hit me that he’s never coming back.”

  Cammie hated the pain in his voice and expression, yet she was truly happy he’d finally opened up to her. “You’ll see him again, Brett, somewhere down the line. It’s not like he’s completely out of your life.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same thing as having him around all the time.” He stood, carried the cup to the counter, then turned to face her. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  She took a quick check of her watch. “We have four hours to kill before rehearsal, and I’m starving. Do you want me to call room service?”

  “I want to go out somewhere and take a walk.”

  Cammie assumed he meant alone. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

  “No way. You’re going with me.”

  “For a walk?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Aren’t you afraid someone might recognize you?”

  He picked up his cap and set it low on his brow. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Spending quality time with Brett, away from the hotel and chaos, was worth a few chances. “All right. But we have to get an umbrella. And I get to say where we eat because it’s my turn. I personally want to go—”

  He suspended her tirade by putting a fingertip to her lips. “If you don’t shut up it’ll be time for the show before we get where we’re going.”

  She pulled his hand away. “I want to go to Fisherman’s Wharf and eat seafood.”

  He frowned. “You know I don’t like seafood.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t like fish and there’s a lot more to choose from. Try eating some crab.”

  “Most guys spend most of their life avoiding crabs.”

  Men could be so crude, even the incredibly cute ones. “Very funny. You should really try to expand your horizons.”

  He seemed to consider that for a few minutes. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll try the crabs, if you’ll agree to the video thing.”

  Leave it to him to bargain with her. She wasn’t all that keen on putting herself out there for the world to see. She had absolutely no idea what to expect. But if Brett was willing to take a chance, then so should she. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  He picked her up and swung her around before setting her back on her feet. “You won’t regret it. In fact, you just might enjoy it.”

  * * *

  SHE’D BEEN POKED, pulled, positioned and powdered. She’d changed clothes more times than she could count—an outfit for the scene on the boat crossing Puget Sound, one for the pier, another for the stroll downtown. She’d been praised for her bone structure, and insulted because she walked like a guy. And now she stood barefoot on a pebbled beach in a place known as Deception’s Pass, wearing a gauzy white top covering—of all things—a little red bikini. Worse, the once-sunny skies had opened up, releasing a deluge not ten minutes after they’d climbed down some rickety steps to get to this remote part of the park.

  She was freezing to death and wouldn’t be surprised if her teeth left her mouth to go skittering across the water like skimming stones. “What is the hold-up?”

  Brett—who wore a white tailored shirt and rolled-up jeans—didn’t look at all uncomfortable. “They’re just trying to get it right. It always happens at remote locations. But at least this is the last shot.”

  “Good, because I’ll be dead from exposure after this one.”

  He had the gall to grin. “It’s barely raining now and it’s not all that cold.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re wearing cotton and denim, not a piece of tissue paper and two pieces of yarn.”

  He raked his gaze down her body and back up again, slowly. “If it’s any consolation, you look real good. Especially wet.”

  The innuendo in his tone didn’t help her current chills. “I look like a drowned rat in a block of ice. I am not enjoying this.”

  “Pretend we’re in the Bahamas.”

  “That’s kind of hard to do when you’re surrounded by pine trees and it smells like Christmas. Not that I’m complaining. This is an absolutely gorgeous place, if you’re wearing appropriate clothing.”

  “Well, since you’re suffering, then I’m going to suffer, too.” He worked the buttons on the shirt, stripped it away and tossed it on a nearby boulder.

  The unbelievable backdrop had nothing on Brett Taylor’s beautiful body. Once she got past the impact of his bare chest, Cammie’s attention turned to a drop of water sliding down his sternum and onto his board-flat belly before disappearing into his waistband, like the raven’s wing on his tattoo. She’d give anything to be that drop of water, and suddenly she wasn’t quite as cold.

  “Okay, folks,” the director called from his perch above them. “This is for the final chorus. Make it sexy and make it look like you mean it.”

  Brett slid his arms around her waist. “You heard the man. Act like you mean it.”

  That would so not be a problem, and suddenly she was very warm.

  “Cue music.”

  As the song began to play, so did Brett. He toyed with the opening on her blouse, then lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. Her hands automatically landed on his arms to experience the play of his muscles. Then he slid his palm to the small of her back and nudged her closer. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, and placed another at the corner of her mouth.

  She looked into his incredible blue eyes that were almost a match to the Pacific and everything else—everyone else—faded away, as if they were truly alone on a remote beach with no concerns other than being together. And as the final refrain began to play, the lyrics—richly sang in Brett’s remarkably deep voice―began to sink in....

  It’s the way you see through me...the way you make me feel.... That’s when I can’t deny it...when I know that it’s real....

  What she felt for him had become very real. All too real. She couldn’t deny she loved him. Every flaw. Every insecurity. Every beautiful part of him, inside and out. And she simply didn’t care what that might mean as soon as he kissed her. A deep, moving kiss that continued long after the recording had stopped. Much longer than would be deemed appropriate for two people who were supposed to be playing a part.

  The round of rousing applause and whistles interrupted the kiss, yet Brett didn’t let her go. “This is why I chose you.”

  If only he’d meant that in e
very way possible.

  * * *

  ON THE DRIVE BACK TO SEATTLE, their conversation had died with the combination of fatigue and a return to reality. Brett wasn’t one to make too many demands during the shoots, just a trailer where they’d showered and changed, and some food. But this time he’d ordered a private car to take them back to the hotel where they would immediately board the bus, bound for Denver.

  Cammie slept soundly against his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. He felt such a fierce need to protect her, only she didn’t need his protection, except maybe from him. During that final shoot, when they’d been wrapped up together, for the first time the lyrics he’d written solely to produce another number-one hit had meant something. Because she meant something to him. More than he wanted to admit. He’d begun to believe he could take the next step in this relationship, until past failures stopped him cold. She’d eventually grow tired of his moods, the demands on his time, this crazy life he’d known far too long. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else, but right now he couldn’t imagine doing without her.

  “Do you want me to let you out at the entrance, Mr. Taylor?” the driver asked.

  “No. Let us out at the bus around back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As the driver navigated the car through the parking lot, Cammie straightened and stretched her arms over her head. “I haven’t packed my stuff yet,” she said.

  He already missed having her so close. “While you were in the shower, I called the hotel and had one of the staff members do it for you.”

  She smiled. “That was nice of you.”

  “And you deserve it.” She deserved a lot more than that.

  When the car came to a stop, they both slid out and entered the bus to find Bud waiting in the driver’s seat. He took one look at Cammie and scowled. “You look like you’re on your last leg.”

  “Just about,” she said as she walked into the main cabin.

  Brett stood behind the driver’s quarters and peered through the windshield to find the lot deserted. “Where’s the other bus?”

  “Already on their way, following the equipment trucks,” Bud said. “We’ll catch up to them sooner or later.”

  Knowing Bud’s tendency to speed, Brett had no doubt they would. “Just drive carefully and don’t worry about catching up to them.”

  Bud sent him a confused look. “Since when do you concern yourself with my driving?”

  Since Cammie had come on board. “I’m just saying we have two days to get there, so take it easy.”

  Cammie returned, looking a little more awake than she had the past few hours. “If you two don’t mind keeping it down, I’m going to bed now. Or maybe I should say I’m going to berth now.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. “Since Bud’s driving now, you can have my bed. Me and Bud can share the berth.”

  “You’re okay as a boss, Brett,” Bud said. “But I ain’t climbin’ into a berth with you.”

  He wasn’t in the mood for Bud’s smart-ass humor. “I meant we’ll trade off. When you drive, I sleep and vice versa.” Like he really needed to explain that.

  “Lighten up, Taylor. I figured that’s what you meant.”

  Cammie folded her arms across her middle and frowned. “Don’t I have any say in the matter?”

  Brett and Bud simultaneously said, “No.”

  “You need your rest more than I do,” Brett added. “I tend to stay up later, anyway.”

  She dropped her arms and looked altogether frustrated. “Fine. I’ll be glad to take over your bed, and that’s exactly where I’m going as soon as I get my things together. Night-night.”

  As soon as Cammie turned around, Brett grabbed the curtain and slid it partway shut to conceal the cab. “Feel free to take off now. I’m going to close this so I can have some privacy.”

  Bud didn’t make a move to leave. “Why do you need privacy?”

  “Cammie’s going to bed and I’m going to do some writing, if it’s any of your damn business.”

  Bud raised his hands from the steering wheel. “Fine. I just want to make sure that’s all you plan to do.”

  As far as Brett was concerned, that remained to be seen. Maybe not tonight, but anything was possible after the shoot today. “See you in the morning,” he said, then pulled the curtains completely closed. Just for the hell of it, he strode to the control on the wall and sent the wood divider sliding across the closed curtain.

  “Boy, you’ve done it now. He’ll think something really nefarious is going on.”

  He turned to see Cammie sitting on the sofa, one arm draped over the back. “I thought you were going to bed.”

  “I’m not that sleepy anymore,” she said. “But at least I’m thawed out.”

  He dropped down beside her and laid a hand on her thigh. “You handled everything pretty damn well.”

  “Except for the complaining,” she said. “But I swear if I’d had a pair of hiking boots I would’ve been all over those hills in a heartbeat.”

  “You’re a hiker?”

  “Used to be. I hiked quite a bit in high school and in college.”

  He narrowed his eyes and inclined his head. “Were you a tomboy, Camille?”

  “What gave it away?” she asked. “Maybe that ‘she walks like a guy’ comment?”

  That plain pissed him off. “Someone said that to you?”

  “Yes, but it’s probably true.” She raised her hand as if taking an oath. “I confess I was a dyed-in-the-wool, sports-playing, dress-avoiding tomboy.”

  “I thought you said you were studious?”

  “I’m also an overachiever.”

  He learned more about her each passing day, and he liked everything he’d learned about her so far. “I wondered about that until you showed up in the casino wearing a dress.” A man-killing dress that had almost done him in.

  She dropped her hand and laid it on his. “I decided to take a walk on the wild side and see what all the hype was about. I didn’t mind being dressed up that night, but I don’t plan to make a habit of it.”

  He leaned back and laughed. “You beat all I’ve ever seen, Cammie. A woman trained in classical music who likes to climb hills.”

  She bent her elbow on the back of the sofa and leaned her cheek into her palm. “Okay, so I’m also a little schizophrenic.”

  “You’re the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m sure you’ve met more interesting women.”

  None like her. Never like her. “Think what you will, but you’re wrong.” When she hid a yawn behind her hand, he added, “You’re also sleepy.”

  “Yes, I guess I am.” She pushed off the sofa and faced him. “Do you need anything from your room before I retire?”

  He needed to be with her all night. He also needed to ask about Nashville, but he figured she’d been through enough today. “My toothbrush and shaving kit.”

  She headed away and came back with his stuff, then disappeared into her designated bathroom. She returned a few minutes later and smiled down on him. “Good night, and thanks for the experience today. Other than the cold, I did enjoy it.”

  He stood, leaving too little distance between them. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to take her hand, lead her into his bedroom and show her how much she meant to him in the best way he knew how. But he didn’t want her to think that’s all he wanted from her, although right now he wasn’t sure what he wanted. “Hope you get some sleep,” he said, decid
ing to leave it at that. No kissing. No touching. Just a friendly good-night.

  Cammie threw a wrench in his plan by slipping her arms around him and giving him a hug. They stayed that way for a few moments, holding on to each other, until she finally let him go.

  “You’re a good man, Brett Taylor,” she said as she backed down the corridor a few steps. “Better than you realize.”

  Brett continued to stand there long after Cammie had closed the stateroom door. She made him want to be a better man. A man she could count on. He still had a few demons to conquer, but he decided then and there to prove his worth to her. If he succeeded, anything was possible.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DENVER, CHEYENNE, OMAHA, Kansas City. More unfamiliar cities and sold-out concerts and crazed fans. But now they were bound for Tennessee, headed home. As far as their roller-coaster relationship was concerned, Cammie had no idea where that was heading, but she suspected nowhere.

  She did have to hand it to Brett—he couldn’t have been more considerate over the past ten days. During rehearsals and concerts, he’d treated her like a queen, frequently asking if she needed anything and getting it if she said yes. He’d even had single red roses delivered to her hotel rooms. At night, he’d treated her like a pariah, making certain the band was on board until the wee hours of the morning. She’d gone to bed alone to deal with the loneliness and desire for him that wouldn’t go away.

  Yet she couldn’t discount the occasional glances or the casual touches between them on the bus. She couldn’t ignore the chemistry that still existed between them onstage. She also couldn’t help but wonder why Brett seemed so silent and moody tonight. Maybe it was simply a little bit of letdown now that the tour was finally over.

  Before she headed for bed, she gathered a few dirty cups and glasses from the table and set them into the sink where she’d drawn some soapy water. Her attempts to wash them were thwarted when Brett said, “Leave those for now and sit down.”