by Kristi Gold
Cammie shifted as if she were going to move away. “Don’t,” he said, almost too harshly.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly, as if she understood his frustration.
Brett turned to his side, taking her with him. “Stay with me.”
“What about Bud?”
“I don’t give a damn about Bud.”
“Brett—”
“Stay with me,” he repeated. “Don’t leave me.” Don’t ever leave me.
“I promise I won’t.”
* * *
“YOU SON OF A BITCH.”
Brett came awake with a start and glanced over his shoulder to see Bud standing by the berth surveying the scene, a murderous look on his face.
Cammie faced the wall and he was molded to her backside like a spoon. Fortunately, she was covered. Unfortunately, he wasn’t, since the covers were bunched at his feet, giving Bud a bird’s-eye view of his bare ass.
“You sorry son of a bitch,” Bud repeated when Brett took his time pulling the blanket to his waist before he shifted onto his back.
Cammie came awake and rolled over, surprise replacing her sleepy expression when she noticed Bud. She sat up, tugged the sheet to her chin and sent him an acid look. “Do you mind, Bud?”
“Hell, yeah, I mind. Your grandfather would kill me if he knew I let this happen, Camille Carson.”
“It’s not her fault,” Brett said quickly. “It’s mine.”
Cammie turned her frown on him. “You don’t have to explain anything to him, Brett.”
Brett rubbed his eyes and stared at Bud. “I don’t suppose you’d buy it if I told you nothing happened.”
Bud’s gaze roved to the floor where a silver packet had been carelessly discarded alongside Brett’s clothes. “No, I wouldn’t buy that.”
“Harold Eugene Parker, stop treating me like I’m a child.”
Bud’s face turned a bright crimson in response to Cammie’s comment. “Dammit, Cam, I told you never to call me that!”
“Harold Eugene?” Brett couldn’t stifle his laugh if his life depended on it, and it might.
“Shut up, Taylor,” Bud said. “You’ve already stepped in a knee-deep pile of manure, so don’t push your luck.”
Cammie rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have something better to do, Bud, like fuel up? I assume that’s why we’ve stopped.”
“I’m not moving, because the stud here has some explaining to do.”
Brett lunged off the bed, taking the blanket with him, bumped his head and swore loudly. “First of all,” he said with a finger pointed in Bud’s chest, “we’re both over twenty-one and free to do as we please. Second, nobody forced anybody into bed. And third, this isn’t the first time.”
Bud glared at Cammie. “Do you know what you did when you let this player have his way with you?”
Cammie slid farther down onto the pillow and dared to smile. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not that skinny little teenager with braces and a training bra you used to tell what to do.”
“You wore braces?” Brett asked.
“For two years.”
“Yeah? So did I.”
“For crying out loud,” Bud muttered. “Who gives a flying flip who wore braces? I’m sure her teeth are the farthest thing from your mind right now, Taylor.”
“Not necessarily.” Brett dropped down on the edge of the bed and gave Cammie a brief kiss. “She has great teeth.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” she replied. “So do you.”
Bud let go a string of curses that would have any mother going for a bar of soap. “Stop with all the sweet talk, dammit.”
“Okay, Bud, here’s the deal.” Brett took Cammie’s hand. “This isn’t an over-the-road romance.”
“No, it’s not,” Cammie chimed in. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to Nashville with Brett.”
Brett didn’t bother to hide his shock. “You are?”
She looked up at him and grinned. “I can’t stand the thought of you all alone in that big empty house and no one to talk to but your housekeeper and your horses. Not to mention, I can’t wait to use your pool.”
“I forgot to tell you the deck overlooks the lake. It’s a great place to write and talk, or we don’t have to talk at all. We’ll do whatever you say.”
“I say it sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“Don’t I have anything to say about this?” Bud growled.
“No,” they answered in perfect unison.
Brett pointed toward the front of the bus. “So if you don’t mind, Cammie and I would like to get some sleep.”
After Bud shook his head and walked away, Brett lifted Cammie into his arms, sheet and all, and deposited her on the bed in his stateroom. Then he secured the door before he came back to the bed. “There’s something to be said for locks.”
When she unraveled herself from the covers and stretched her arms out to him, he didn’t hesitate to jump right in with her. Yeah, he was definitely ready to go all in.
He rolled her onto her back and hovered above her. “So I guess this means your answer is yes.”
“Yes, I’m saying yes.” She frowned. “That is if Bud chooses to deliver us there.”
“He’ll take us there, all right. Bud ain’t no angel and I don’t think he wants me spilling stories I know about him to his little Cammie. And I sure as hell know he doesn’t want the rest of the band to find out his real name.”
“That’s blackmail, Brett.”
“Sometimes that’s the way you have to roll to get what you want around here.” And damn, he wanted her.
“You’re not going to blackmail me, are you?”
“No, but I am going to keep you in this bed all day.”
“Works for me.” She landed her sweet little hands on his butt. “Speaking of rolling, let’s make some noise and give Harold Eugene something to stew over.”
“Just what do you have in mind?” he asked, although he already knew the answer when she slid her hand between them and homed in on her target—good ol’ Joe. And as usual, Joe immediately rose to the occasion.
Brett drew in a sharp breath and grinned. “Nashville, here we come.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE APRIL SUN BEAT DOWN on Cammie’s shoulders and back, sending her into a euphoric state second only to the bliss she’d experienced over the past three weeks. She didn’t care to move from her comfortable position in the redwood chaise, although she would eventually have to go inside in order to avoid sunburn. She wouldn’t risk being in pain when Brett touched her—and boy, had he touched her quite a bit.
She thought about all those evenings they’d spent at home, dining on meals Brett’s housekeeper had prepared in advance, then making love in several rooms and in several incredible ways. In Brett’s presence, she’d become completely uninhibited. So uninhibited that she’d decided to work on her tan on the upper level deck just outside the bedroom, topless, something she’d never done before. That seemed to be the direction her life had taken—a course of self-discovery with a man she’d never allowed herself to hope for, let alone love.
She also loved his house—a modern, multilevel wooden structure overlooking the lake. The size alone indicated its owner had a lot of money, but not an ounce of pretension when it came to the interior. The decor inside was simple and masculine—dark earth-tone sofas set out about two living areas, a media room, a sound studio and a high-tech kitchen normally only seen in desi
gner magazines. Yet she’d been bothered that two of the bedrooms had barely been furnished, prompting a few ideas of how she would add her own touch. Maybe paint the room at the end of the hall a nice sage-green and talk him into buying something bigger than the twin bed he’d put in there...and she was getting way ahead of herself.
They still had far to go, but in some ways they’d already come a long way. They’d even ventured into Nashville proper last weekend, dined in a four-star restaurant and explored Music Row out in the open, like a normal couple. A normal couple who had to pause now and then for Brett to sign a few autographs for fans who clearly had recognized those haunting blue eyes beneath the brim of his cap. He’d also taken her on the studio tour where they’d tested out the equipment by singing together. However, she still hadn’t agreed to participate on the CD, but she was coming mighty close.
Cammie couldn’t recall when she’d been happier, but the elation frightened her. She didn’t know how long it would last, especially after what she’d discovered that morning at the market. She had no idea if Brett knew about it, and if he did, exactly how he’d reacted to it. She would find out as soon as he returned from the meeting with his producer, the fourth this week. In the meantime, she intended to enjoy the calm before the probable storm.
After she stretched her arms over her head, Cammie dangled one hand over the side of the chaise—only to have a wet tongue streak across her knuckles. She opened her eyes to Brett’s drooling black retriever staring at her expectantly. “I see you’ve been taking lessons from your master, Merle.”
“Yeah, and his master says that’s the best view he’s seen all day. I just hope I’m the only one getting a show.”
Cammie looked up to find Brett standing at the sliding door, sunshades covering his eyes and a surprisingly serious expression on his face.
She sat up on the edge of the chaise, her arms crossed over her bare breasts. “You don’t have to worry. I haven’t seen a soul all day except for Merle. I sure missed you, though.”
He strode to the chaise, leaned over and gave her a brief, almost perfunctory kiss before he claimed the adjacent chair. “What have you been up to? Aside from sunbathing naked.”
His tone was borderline irritable and she wondered if the meeting hadn’t gone well. However, she knew something that might take his mind off his troubles. She took a chance and lowered her arms and braced her palms on the edge of the chaise. “I’m only half-naked. I still have on my bottoms.”
He grabbed the discarded terry robe from the table and tossed it at her. “Put that on. Otherwise, I won’t be able to concentrate on our conversation.”
A conversation she didn’t particularly want to have in light of what she needed to tell him. “Spoilsport,” she muttered as she slipped on the robe and cinched the tie at her waist.
He took off his sunglasses, set them on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “Tell me about your day.”
She’d start with the mundane details before she lowered the boom. “Well, I got up and took a shower after you left. Then I had some breakfast in the sunroom with Merle, who eyed my bagel the entire time. Then I had lunch, a fantastic Greek salad Naomi made me. She’s great, by the way, and very efficient. I hope you pay her well. Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, I gave her the night off so I can test your grilling skills.”
“You should’ve asked me first,” he said. “Tim’s coming to dinner. Now I’ll have to call her and tell her to come back.”
She’d clearly overstepped her bounds. “I can cook dinner,” she said. “I went to the market after lunch and picked up four rib eyes.” Time to reveal the dreadful part of her day. The part that could send him over the edge. “That’s where I discovered this.”
Cammie leaned back, felt around for the magazine, then brought it out from beneath the chaise. She held her breath as she held it up for his inspection.
He surprised her by shrugging, not shouting. “Just your run-of-the-mill gossip rag.”
Cammie pointed at the line in the corner of the front cover. “Did you read it?” She turned it around and did the honors for him. “‘Another Country-Music Heartthrob off the Market? Look Inside to See Brett Taylor’s Latest Conquest.’”
“You just have to ignore it, Cammie,” he said. “This is the same rag that claimed Naomi’s my longtime mistress and her sons are my illegitimate sons, all because I picked her up from the cleaners when her car broke down.”
He didn’t realize that what they’d written this time was true. But he would.
She opened the pages to the brief blurb listed under the current social-happenings heading. “It says here, and I quote, ‘Country-music crooner Brett Taylor, thirty-three, was spotted on the Nashville streets cozying up with former bus driver and current backup singer, Camille Carson, twenty-seven. Seems Ms. Carson has more than driving and singing skills if she can tame this confirmed bad boy.’ And they even have a picture.”
She turned it back around to show him the photo of the two of them walking out of the bar where they’d had an after-dinner drink. Again, Brett didn’t seem all that shocked by any of it. He did seem distracted.
“Doesn’t this bother you?” she asked when he didn’t respond.
“It’s bound to happen,” he finally said. “I’ll let Tim handle it.”
“As in confirm it?”
He grabbed his sunglasses and stood. “I don’t know, Cammie. I have more important things to worry about right now.”
Things he clearly had no intent of sharing with her. Unwilling to let him off the hook, she followed him into the bedroom where she found him emptying his pockets onto the bureau. That’s when she spotted the stationery next to his keys. Purple stationery with darker hearts swirling across the top and handwritten words filling the first of what appeared to be two pages.
Cammie couldn’t contain her curiosity, even if she risked suffering his wrath. “A letter from a fan?”
He kept his back to her as he shrugged out of his shirt and put on a T-shirt. “Not even close. It’s from my kid, and she’s definitely not a fan.”
At least he’d told her that much, and now she knew the source of his distress. “Do you mind if I ask what it says?”
He sat on the cowhide chair in the corner and slipped off his boots. “Be my guest, but I’ve gotta warn you. Your opinion of me is probably going to drop to an all-time low.”
“I doubt that.” She didn’t doubt the content was going to be disturbing.
After picking up the letter, she perched on the edge of the mattress and began to read. The first line alone broke her heart. She could only imagine what it had done to his.
Dear Dad,
Or maybe I should just call you Brett because you haven’t been my dad for a long time. But I still remember when you were my daddy. I remember when you used to sing me that crazy song before I went to bed. I remember when you came to get me after a concert and I’d hide behind your truck. You liked to scare me but I wasn’t scared because I knew you wouldn’t really hurt me and you didn’t back then. But you hurt me a lot of times because you never showed up at my softball games or when I showed my horse. I guess you just had more important things to do.
Mom told me she sent you the papers for you to sign so Randy can adopt me. I don’t understand how a dad can give up their kid without asking that kid if that’s what they want. I know Mom’s made it hard for you to see me and I know I said something bad to you the last time we talked on th
e phone. I just wanted to say I’m sorry and that I really want to talk to you one last time. I want to hear you say why you don’t want me anymore. But if you don’t want to call me, that’s okay. I still love you, anyway.
Love, your daughter for now,
Lacey
Cammie set the pages aside and took a swipe at her eyes with her sleeve. She glanced at Brett to see he had his head lowered, his hands tightly clasped together. She didn’t know what to say, or if she should say anything at all. But she had to try to get him to talk, if only to ease some of his burden. “What are you going to do about this, Brett?”
He streaked both hands down his face and leaned his head back against the chair. “I don’t know.”
“She mentioned something about papers. Did you get them?”
“Yeah,” he said without looking at her. “The day we left Vegas. They were waiting for me when I got on the bus.”
That certainly explained his erratic behavior. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not your problem. It’s mine.”
He still had a lot to learn about relationships. “When two people are together, that’s part of the deal. You share your problems and I share mine.”
“Yours aren’t nearly as bad as mine, so that makes it one-sided.”
Not as far as she was concerned. He might not want her comfort, but she was going to give it to him, anyway. She pushed off the bed, crossed the room and climbed into his lap, where she rested her head against his heart that had to be breaking. She prepared for a rejection, but he rubbed her arm gently, as if she was the one who needed soothing.
“She still loves you, Brett,” she said. “She wants you to be her father again.”