by Diane Kelly
“You’ve got my card,” I reminded him. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”
“I sure will.”
As I stepped away, the boy lifted a chocolate-fingered hand in good-bye.
chapter thirteen
Horsing Around
I’d hoped to hear back from Brazos or his parents before Monday, but nobody bothered to return my call. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Had his parents received my message and ignored it? Had his parents passed the message on to Brazos and he’d blown me off?
I supposed it was possible the Merriweathers hadn’t even heard my message yet. After all, they could be traveling. Or perhaps, like many people, they relied primarily on their cell phones and didn’t often check their landline. Regardless, I’d be able to nail things down in person today when I saw Brazos at his photo shoot.
Lu came to my office after lunch on Monday. In recognition of the upcoming Valentine’s holiday, she’d dressed in a red polyester pantsuit accessorized with a Cupid-print scarf.
“Festive,” I noted.
She put a hand to her neck. “Carl gave me this scarf as an early Valentine’s gift.”
Carl was Lu’s sexagenarian boyfriend. Despite his white bucks, leisure suits, and bizarre, basket-weave-pattern hairstyle, the guy was quite the charmer. Lu had recently met him through an online dating service and the two had been going strong ever since.
I’d purposely dressed as plainly as possible today, to prove to Nick and Lu, and maybe even to myself, that I could be completely professional where Brazos Rivers was concerned. My navy blue suit and brown loafers could not be more boring, and other than a small pair of gold studs, I was bereft of accessories. Heck, Brazos probably wouldn’t even recognize me as the same woman he’d met after his concert, especially since I’d be wearing panties today.
Nick looked up from his desk as I followed Lu out into the hall. “Off to see Stinky Sewers?”
Nick could just not let this go, could he?
“It’s Brazos,” I growled. “Rivers.”
Nick gave me a mirthless grin. “Whatever. Just make sure he signs an agreement to get his taxes filed and paid.”
With an executed agreement in place, it would be easier to get search warrants later should Brazos fail to abide by the terms. A judge was less likely to grant a search warrant when it wasn’t clear whether a taxpayer had willingly ignored the IRS or was merely absentminded and disorganized. I knew that. I didn’t need Nick reminding me. Really, why did he have to act like such a jerk? “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”
A brow lifted now. “You sure about that?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “One more word out of you and I’ll ask Brazos to go with me to the Mavericks game on Valentine’s Day.”
Nick stood, a real smile on his face now. “You got seats to the game?”
“Lower level center court. Alicia and Daniel and Christina and Ajay are going, too.” I’d paid nearly two hundred bucks each for our tickets. The least Nick could do is stop acting like a jealous teenager, right?
“Hot damn!” He clapped his hands. “I could kiss you right now!”
A frown creased Lu’s bright red lips. “Need I remind you two that you’re at work?”
With that, she took off down the hall. I gave Nick one last warning glance and pointed my finger at him. “Cut the crap.”
He gave me a stiff salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
Lu and I headed down I-30 aiming for Fort Worth, which lay thirty miles to the west of Dallas. We pulled up to the photography studio to find half a dozen cars in the lot. One of them was the black Ferrari with its BRAZEN license plate.
The front door of the studio was locked and guarded by two of the same beefcakes who’d blocked the hallway at the concert. Lu and I stepped up to the glass and held up our badges.
“Federal law enforcement.” I pushed my jacket back with my elbow to reveal the gun holstered at my waist. “We need to speak with Brazos Rivers. Open the door.”
The men looked from me to Lu, said something in a low voice to each other, and fought a grin. I could hardly blame them. Lu did look a bit clownlike in her bright red getup.
One of the men stepped to the door and turned the dead bolt. He didn’t bother opening it for us, though, he merely stepped back. The ass could stand to learn some manners. I pushed the door open and held it for Lu.
“Where’s Brazos?” I asked, disappointed to feel my heart begin its pitter-patter in my chest. Brazos isn’t a god, I told myself. He’s just a man. One who lies, at that. Nothing to get worked up about. Unfortunately, my attempts to calm my beating heart were ineffective. Love might be blind, but lust was downright stupid.
The guard jerked his head to indicate the end of the hall. “He’s down there.”
At the end of the corridor a door stood ajar. A shaft of blindingly bright light shined from within, as if the door were the portal to heaven. Maybe Brazos was a god, after all. A soft murmur of conversation drifted out into the hallway. I started down the hall with Lu following behind.
When we reached the door, we glanced inside. Brazos sat in a high director’s chair in front of a mirror lit with a dozen bulbs. He wore a blue western shirt with pearl snap buttons, along with jeans and chaps. The only thing missing were his boots and spurs. A female makeup artist in a white smock flittered around him, applying powder to his face with a brush as if he were a work of art. Damned if he isn’t. With those blue eyes and soft, pink lips, he was a sculpture of flesh and bone.
Brazos looked into the mirror and his beautiful blue eyes met mine in the glass. A smile played about his lips as he gazed at my reflection. “Hello, again,” he said, “Tara.”
My heart melted in my chest. It was a wonder I didn’t collapse to the floor. My voice came out high-pitched and airy. “Hi, Brazos.” Geez. I sounded like a chipmunk.
In the mirror, his gaze shifted from me to Lu. He offered her his irresistible smile. “Who’s this gorgeous creature you brought with you?”
Lu’s hand fluttered around the scarf at her neck and a giggle escaped her lips. I was used to my boss barking orders and issuing demands. I hadn’t known she was capable of a giggle. Her false eyelashes fluttered, too. Was she having some sort of seizure?
Oh, my God.
Lu is as star-struck as I am.
“Give us a minute?” Brazos raised a finger, signaling the makeup artist to leave the room.
“No problem.” She took one last dab at his nose. “I’m all done here. Hard to improve on perfection.” She shot Brazos a wink and slid the brush into a cup on the countertop. As she stepped out of the room, she closed the door behind her, giving us privacy.
Brazos stood, hooking one thumb in the pocket of his jeans and stretching the other up a support beam in the center of the room as if already posing for a photo. He leaned in and offered us an irresistible smile. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Beside me, Lu emitted an odd sound that was part gulp, part squeal. Guhweee!
Brazos chuckled.
“I spoke with your agent,” I said. “He told me that he wasn’t responsible for filing your tax returns.”
“My agent? Is that what I told you?” Brazos pulled his hand from his pocket and slapped his palm against his forehead, fingers splayed. “That must’ve been the exhaustion and the liquor talking. It’s not my agent who was supposed to file my returns. It’s my manager.”
Relief flooded through me. So Brazos wasn’t a liar, after all. Thank goodness. I’d hate to think I’d spent the last couple years lusting after a loser. “Is your manager here today?” I hoped so. It sure would be nice to put an end to this matter.
“No,” he said, “but I can give you her card. It has all of her contact information on it.”
He turned around, treating us to a nice, close view of his perfect ass. Again, Lu made the sound. Guhweee. Brazos squatted down and pulled a leather duffel bag from under the makeup bench. He fished around in
an outside pocket, retrieving a business card. He stood and stepped toward me.
He stopped a mere foot in front of me and Lu. She made the odd noise a third time. Guhweee.
Brazos held the card out. Our fingers touched when I took it from him. His skin was soft and warm, leaving a sensation where he’d touched me that I was much too aware of.
“Thanks,” I somehow managed. My throat had closed tight.
I looked down at the card. It read:
SIERRA BEHR, MANAGER
BRAZOS RIVERS AND THE BOYS OF THE BAYOU
(555) 453–1576
[email protected]
“Let her know I’ll be calling, okay?”
“No problem.” He hiked a thumb toward the door. “Now that we’ve got this tax thing resolved, want to come watch the shoot?”
Lu responded for us. Guhweee!
Brazos must’ve taken her response in the affirmative. He slid his straw cowboy hat onto his head, opened the door, and offered an arm to Lu.
Smiling so broadly she risked fracturing her face, the Lobo wrapped her forearm around his and let him lead her down the hall and into the studio space. I followed along, a sharp knife of jealousy stabbing me in the gut. Brazos and I had only touched fingers, yet Lu was basically having elbow sex with the guy. So not fair.
Brazos grabbed two folding chairs from the wall and pulled them open for us. “Have a seat, ladies.”
As Lu and I sat down to watch, the room erupted in a flurry of activity. Two people brought in a painted plywood backdrop that looked remarkably like a real barn door. They stacked three bales of hay against the door and hung an old-fashioned lantern over it. When the set crew finished, the photographer’s staff set up a variety of lights and reflectors around the perimeter of the scene. Finally, a representative of the Buckin’ Bronco Boot company approached Brazos with a new pair of black cowboy boots, filling the room with the scent of leather and polish. The rep held the boots still while Brazos stepped into them. A moment later, the rep added a shiny new set of the singer’s trademark silver spurs.
Brazos stepped onto the set, his spurs jingling.
One of the set designers called down the hallway to the other. “Bring in the horse!”
Lu turned to me. “They’re going to bring a live horse in here? What if it poops?”
“I’m prepared.” I pulled the bottle of Whitewater cologne from my purse and spritzed the air.
Lu lifted her nose in the air and sniffed. “That’s some fine-smelling stuff.”
“Here.” I handed her the bottle. “Give it to Carl.” No way in hell would I give the bottle to Nick now. He’d probably just pour it on some charcoal briquettes and take a match to them, maybe grill some burgers.
“Thanks. I’ve gotten awfully tired of Carl’s Aqua Velva.”
Holy crap, did they still make that stuff? My grandfather had worn it back in the day.
A moment later one of the set designers led a light tan horse into the room. Only the horse didn’t walk in. It rolled. Yep, the beast was a taxidermied horse on wheels, posed in a rearing position, his front legs pawing the air. Forget Mr. Ed. This was Mr. Dead. Jeez, this creepy thing was sure to give me nightmares.
“Was that a once real horse?” Lu called to the woman rolling it into place.
“No,” the woman replied. “It’s a good likeness, though, isn’t it?”
Damn straight and thank God. I could avoid the nightmares now.
The woman plunked a saddle on the oversized stuffed animal and cinched it tight. “We have to use a fake. It’s too dangerous to use a live horse. The flash could spook it. We can’t risk Brazos being injured.”
Part of me understood. Another part of me felt cheated. Seeing Brazos atop a real muscular, well-hung steed would have been much more titillating than this phony pony prop. He might as well be riding a broomstick horse.
Once everything was in place, the women put a stool next to the horse and Brazos used it to climb up onto his mount. If Brazos weren’t so gorgeous, this scene might have been comical.
Once Brazos was seated on his stuffed steed, the photographer grabbed a camera and began issuing instructions. “Chin up. Now down a little. Turn your head to the right. Back just a touch. Arm up over your head. Great. Now fist your hand. A little looser. You want it tight but not clenched.”
The photographer snapped a dozen photos in quick succession. Click-click-click. After sliding a foot to the right, he snapped another set of shots. Click-click-click. He rose up on his toes. Click-click-click. He bent down on one knee. Click-click-click. All the while Brazos smiled more, then less, then more again, at the photographer’s direction.
Noise from the entrance doors caught my attention. One of the security guards headed our way. “Bad news, Brazos. We’ve got trouble.”
chapter fourteen
Celebrity Crush
“Trouble?” Instinctively, I stood. As a member of federal law enforcement, I dealt with trouble as part of my job.
“What’s the matter?” Brazos asked his bodyguard.
“Bunch of fans gathering outside,” the guy said. “Word must’ve gotten out that you were shooting here.”
Brazos turned his eyes my way.
I raised my palms in innocence. “I didn’t tell a soul where you’d be.” Why would I? Hell, if I could, I’d want Brazos all to myself. “They probably spotted your car.”
The Ferrari with the personalized plates wasn’t exactly subtle. The car screamed, Look! Here comes Brazos Rivers!
Brazos stepped to the doors to take a peek outside. Lu and I followed him. At least fifty women had gathered in the lot, most of them dressed in low-cut tops and short skirts despite the frigid temperatures. Apparently, they thought putting the goods on display might draw the eye of their favorite singer, especially since the cold temperatures had brought the nipples out in full force. Several held CDs in their hands, no doubt hoping Brazos would personally autograph them. A few others had brought the singer gifts in colorful gift bags. One had even brought a bouquet of helium balloons, as if the star were a five-year-old child. A woman who appeared to be about Lu’s age held a foil-covered pie tin in her hand. No doubt she’d made Brazos’s favorite cinnamon apple pie. The article in Stud Farm had noted the pie was the star’s guilty pleasure and provided the recipe. Despite the woman’s advanced age, she was dressed just as scantily as the younger girls, the only difference being that her low-cut top had to hang a little lower to show off the gravity-ravaged goods.
Brazos turned to address his security detail. “I don’t have time for personalized autographs. Pass out some of my signed headshots while I wrap things up in here.”
One of the team retrieved a manila envelope from Brazos’s duffel bag and headed out the door, while the other remained just inside the door to keep watch. Brazos returned to the studio to finish his shoot.
As the guard passed out the photos, I took another look outside. The women eagerly accepted the signed headshots from the security guard, but made no move to leave afterward. Looked like they preferred to wait for at least a glimpse of their favorite star. The older lady with the pie had strategically moved to the edge of the group where she’d be better able to see the star when he emerged from the studio.
Ten minutes and three hundred thousand dollars later the shoot was over. Sheesh. I’d gone into the wrong line of business, hadn’t I? Then again, I couldn’t carry a tune and got stage fright. I probably would’ve been a horrible failure as a singer and would never have gotten this kind of lucrative endorsement deal. Still, maybe I could’ve made a name for myself in a sharpshooting show on the rodeo circuit. After all, if Annie Oakley had done it, why not Tara Holloway?
Brazos rounded up his bag and handed it to the guard at the door. He turned back, putting a hand on Lu’s shoulder and issuing one last smile meant only for us. “You beautiful ladies take care now.”
When Brazos removed his hand, Lu reached up to touch the place on her shoulder where his fingers ha
d been. Yep. She was smitten.
Brazos hiked his head at the door and his guard led the way out. Lu and I followed the singer out into the lot. When the women outside realized Brazos was in their presence, the crowd offered a concerted shriek even the Beatles would envy. My eye involuntarily twitched, the high-pitched noise threatening to give me an aneurysm. The cool breeze carried the overwhelming scent of River Rain, Brazos’s fragrance for women. These fans must have bathed in the stuff.
“Hey howdy, y’all!” Brazos offered the screaming women a smile and raised a hand in a passing greeting as he made his way to the Ferrari.
Thirty feet away, his two security guards spread their arms out to create a barrier to restrain the women. Unfortunately, two men, no matter how meaty, were no match for fifty horny women intent on copping a feel of their favorite star.
The guards managed to stop only four of the women before being plowed down and trampled over. Now it was the security detail who were shrieking.
“Get off me, bitch!”
“Ow! My fingers!”
The rest of the women stampeded past the bodyguards, rushing toward Brazos as if a dam had broken. The women’s heels click-clack-click-clacked along the asphalt like an out-of-control train rushing along at five hundred miles an hour. The helium balloons bounced along among the heads of the women in the crowd before being batted away, breaking free from the hand that held them, and soaring skyward.
“Brazos!” cried a woman in a red leather miniskirt and matching bustier. She held up her CD. “Sign this!”
“Wait!” hollered another, holding up a book trimmed in red satin ruffles. “Look at the scrapbook I made for you!”
My gaze followed the women as they raced toward Brazos who, in turn, raced as fast as he could to his car. He’d just reached the Ferrrari and put his hand on the door handle when, with a final, desperate yelp, he disappeared under a tsunami of thighs and cleavage and Creative Memories. The women piled on as if they were defensive tackles for the Dallas Cowboys, one even leaping upward before coming down on the stack. The women wailed and writhed, each trying to wriggle her way down to the singer at the bottom of the pile.