by Andrea Dale
Scott flipped him off.
Hannah decided that the next few months were going to be very interesting indeed.
*
A couple of hours later, the ride was already getting old. The endless expanse of desert provided very little in the way of stimulating landscape. She’d never been fond of mesquite or Joshua trees. Give her a good old palm any day, or even better, some shady sequoias. She’d already seen the movie the guys had put on the DVD player. Nate had wandered back to take a nap. Up front, the bus driver was singing about low women in low places. Nate was in no danger of losing his job.
Switching seats, Hannah settled down next to Andre. He pulled the earpieces out, shutting off his iPod. He put down the book he’d been reading. Hannah took a glance at it. A delicious-looking man gazed moodily from the cover.
“You seem pretty relaxed,” Hannah said. It was true. The big man wore faded jeans and a silk pullover. The fact that the jeans were designer and probably cost as much as the iPod nano didn’t escape her notice.
“Honey, I’m in a bus full of gorgeous men. I’m just pretending I don’t know they’re all straight.”
Hannah laughed. “Andre, if I were a gay man, I’d be so after you.”
“Oh, please,” Andre said. “All you and Nate have to do is look at each other…” He waved his hands. “A girl could choke on the sexual tension.”
She couldn’t help another laugh, utterly charmed by the huge dichotomy between Andre’s professional bodyguard persona and his private, unrepentantly blatant self.
“Well, like we said before, we’d like to keep it as low-key as possible,” she said. “It goes without saying that we’re counting on you to help us with that.”
“I can totally sympathize, honey. If Nate swung my way, I’d be in the same predicament as you.”
“I really appreciate this,” Hannah said, relief flowing through her.
“There’s just one condition,” Gabriel said.
Her heart sank. “What?”
His grin was wicked. “Indulge my fantasy. Boxers or briefs?”
Hannah howled. “You are a naughty, depraved man—so of course I have to indulge you. Briefs, most of the time. Except…”
Andre leaned forward expectantly. “Yes?”
“Except when he’s wearing leather. Then it’s nothing at all.”
With a groan, Andre pounded on the table.
“Is everything okay in here?” The curtain between the two lounges parted and Nate entered. His sleeveless T-shirt boasted a wraparound picture of a Magritte painting. Hannah tried not to drool over how the form-fitting shirt displayed his hard biceps. The fox-head tattoo on his upper right arm made her want to fall at his feet and beg to be his biker babe.
And that was just for starters.
“Just girl talk,” she told him with a smile. “We’re discussing fashion.”
It was Andre’s turn to laugh, the deep sound seeming to vibrate the windows.
“We’ll be in Baker soon,” Sam said, rejoining them from the front where he’d been keeping the driver company.
“Is that by your directions, or his?” Nate asked. He looked at Hannah. “Sam has a notoriously bad sense of direction.”
“Careful, boy, I know all your secrets,” Sam said. And then he smiled to show that he was joking.
Hannah stared at Sam, wondering if Nate had already told him that he’d confessed about not being able to write music. She glanced at Nate for a clue, but he’d become engrossed in the movie, one arm slung around her shoulders.
She still couldn’t believe what Nate had told her. He hadn’t written music in two years? That must be devastating for him. The fact that he’d trusted her enough to confide it left her feeling a little overwhelmed. They’d known each other so briefly, yet he’d felt comfortable enough to relate something that could potentially damage his career. He trusted her. She felt warm, happy.
And unbearably sad that he’d lost so much.
*
Baker sprawled across the desert, a huge thermometer commemorating the highest recorded temperature announcing its presence miles before the town streets were reached. Once merely a metal siding on the defunct T&T railroad, now it relied on tourism to keep its small population alive. Two-thirds of the way to Vegas, it was the most common place for travelers to fuel up, stretch their legs, and get a bite to eat before the last leg of the drive to Sin City.
The heat baking up from the asphalt of the truck stop felt good after the chill of the bus’s air conditioning. That lasted about as long as it took to walk across to the lot to Bun Boy. Then the cool air blowing from ceiling vents in the kitschy restaurant was sweet relief.
Scott held up a plastic replica of the 134-foot thermometer, the tallest in the world. “Hey, Winks, you should get one of these for the dashboard.”
“Had one,” the rail-thin driver said. He adjusted the brim of his baseball cap. “Last smartass that pissed me off had it put where the sun don’t shine.”
“I think I’ve been threatened,” Scott said.
They all ignored him.
“We could eat somewhere else if you’d like,” Nate said. He was worried that Hannah would find the touristy restaurant too casual, not elegant enough. He was used to eating in places like this. At least there was the scent of cleaner nearly hidden beneath the smell of greasy burgers and burnt coffee. He’d eaten in some places a hell of a lot worse on the last tour. What he remembered of it, anyway.
“This is fine,” Hannah said. She linked her arm with his. “It’s a tradition to stop here. Or maybe a cliché.”
“The chocolate milkshakes are really good,” Andre said.
Nate hid a smile as he followed the broad back of his bodyguard to a table. Andre was a confirmed chocoholic. If you wanted a favor, a double fudge ganache cake went a long way to securing it for you.
*
“Oh my god! I can’t believe it!” The high-pitched female voice squealing behind them was followed by the clatter of heels on concrete. “Nate Fox! Oh my god!”
A feminine hand caught his arm, and he swung around to avoid being pulled over. Andre stepped closer, but the woman ignored the implied threat.
“It is you! How have you been? It’s been ages, hasn’t it?”
Nate stared at the woman, trying in vain to recall if he’d ever met her. She certainly seemed to know him. He should remember her. The sleek black hair cut close to her head only accented the flawless skin, the red pouting mouth. And he’d be an idiot not to notice the curvy body in tight jeans. He was very aware of Hannah standing quietly beside him.
“I haven’t seen you since we spent the night in South Beach. Do you remember how we danced naked on the hotel balcony?” Her words were accompanied by a hand resting on his chest, over the frantic beating of his heart.
“That’s enough,” Andre said quietly.
“Oh don’t be so stuffy,” she said. She edged herself between Nate and Hannah, wrapping her hands around his arm. “I hear you’re touring again. I would really love to join you for a while.” Big blue eyes flirted with him. “I’ve really missed you.”
Nate was at a loss. He had no idea who she was. He darted a glance at Hannah, only to be met with a cool mask. Whatever she was thinking or feeling, it was completely hidden. He decided to play it off. “We had some good times, didn’t we? But this is a new tour, new shows. New everything.”
“New women?” she replied savvily.
Andre stepped closer, his big body crowding them. He angled himself so that Nate and the woman were hidden from view should anyone be watching from the restaurant. “I said that’s enough.”
“If you touch me, I will scream so loud cops will be coming from miles away.” She smiled sweetly as she said it.
Andre bared his teeth in a predator’s grin. “I remember you,” he said. His deep voice was quiet, but laced with menace. The light-hearted joker from the bus had vanished, replaced by top-of-the-line security. “I remember the night you begged me
to find you a fix. Are you still using, Lucy? What would we find if we took a look in your car?”
The hands clutching Nate’s arm fell away. “You’re such a shit, Andre.”
“I’m sorry,” Nate said, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for. Maybe for not remembering her. Maybe for Andre having to do his job. He didn’t know.
“Fuck you, Fox,” she said. She nailed Hannah with a bitter smile, vicious eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up. A month from now, he won’t remember you, either. None of us could every hold him.”
She walked away, her back rigidly straight. The jeweled belt she wore around her tiny waist caught the desert sun in a blinding glare.
“I’m sorry, Nate,” Andre said. “I should have reacted quicker.”
Nate waved a hand in the air, dismissing the apology. In his line of work, there was no predicting who would approach. It was one of the reasons Andre worked for him.
Right now, his concern was Hannah.
The slender fingers he wrapped in his were cool. He wished he had an idea about what she was thinking, but she hadn’t spoken a word from the moment Lucy had come up to them. Her face was a professional mask, unreadable, and he had the wildly inappropriate thought that she’d be great at poker.
“Let’s talk,” he said, guiding her unresistingly back to the bus. Andre stayed outside. No one would get past him now. His pride had been hurt.
They had the bus to themselves. There was no telling how long that would last.
“Hannah, I’m really sorry about that,” he said.
“You don’t remember her at all, do you?” she asked. The grey of her eyes was dark, serious. It spiked him with guilt.
“No.” He pushed one hand back through his thick hair. “I don’t remember a lot of the last tour.”
“Because of the drugs,” she said flatly.
He nodded. “I was—am—an addict. I’ve been told the cravings will never go away. There were a lot of drugs. There were a lot of women. I need you to believe that it’s all in the past. I’m not proud of it. I wish to hell I could take it all back, but it is what it is. I’m done with all of that, Hannah.”
“How can you be sure? You just told me that the cravings never go away.”
He dropped down onto the couch. A tug of her hand brought her onto his lap. It told him a lot that she let him do it.
“I stay in control,” he said softly. “It’s worked for two years; I’ll make sure that it works for the rest of my life.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.
“What about AIDS?” she asked abruptly. She looked into his eyes. “You have no idea what you could have caught.”
“I’ve been tested,” he said softly. “Tested and retested. I’m clean, Hannah, and I can show you the paperwork if you want. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“How can I not worry? Your career—”
He stopped the words with his mouth, kissing her fiercely, until he felt the stiffness melt from her spine. Breaking away, he pressed his forehead to hers. “This isn’t about my career. This is about you and me. I will stay in control, Hannah.
“There won’t be any more forgetting. I promise you.”
The regard of those solemn grey eyes was daunting. He realized how important it was that she believe him. That thought was startling, worrying him a little. Trying to lie to himself that it was because she was his publicist was futile. The need for her trust ran too deep.
When Hannah nodded, curled her hand across his cheek and offered a small smile, the relief he felt was enormous.
Now he just hoped that he could live up to it.
Vegas held some deep shadows from his past.
Chapter Ten
The bus rumbled along the Strip. It had been a long while since Nate had been in Vegas. He hadn’t been looking forward to visiting this particular casino again, but Sam had argued him down. The casino manager had offered the concert hall space, and they would have been fools to turn it down.
“End of the line, folks,” Winks called out as the bus came to a stop beneath the VIP awning. Nate stood up, one hand rubbing at the knot of tension at the back of his neck. It had been there since Baker.
Andre was the first off the bus, dark eyes behind darker glasses sweeping the street and entranceway. It was only once he’d signaled that Nate and the others got off the bus. A doorman dressed in the casino uniform smiled a welcome. By his size, he no doubt also doubled as security. He spoke quietly into a headset and ushered them inside.
Chilled air wrapped around them, and it felt good after the brief heat of the desert. Nate glanced around, noting that the place hadn’t changed much since his last visit. It was quiet, the thick floral carpeting absorbing the sound of their feet. Leather couches invited them to sit, set into discreet oases surrounded by potted palms. Nate knew that somewhere in the casino, clanging bells, flashing lights, and manic gamblers ruled the day. Here, there was quiet, a rich welcoming calm for the wealthy and the celebrity alike.
The attractive woman behind the highly polished check-in counter barely had time to smile before three men in tailored suits approached from a discreetly hidden door.
Victor Hernandez, casino manager, never traveled anywhere without his own personal guards. Andre had a momentary testosterone standoff with the bodyguards. None of the security men removed their sunglasses during the motionless assessment. Finally Andre nodded to Victor’s men and stepped aside.
“Nate,” the center man said, moving forward and shaking Nate’s hand. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too, Victor,” Nate said. Hernandez’s hand was cool, the handshake holding just the right amount of strength. A chunky gold ring gleamed on his pinky. “It’s been a long time.”
Victor had lost some hair in the years since Nate had seen him last, but seemed to have compensated by the cost of the pinstripe suit he wore on his lanky body. A pale silk shirt and an Hermes tie showed off his rich olive skin tone. Nate thought he looked too smooth, a barracuda waiting for the scent of blood in the water before he attacked.
The handsome Hispanic man turned to Hannah. The smile he gave her was predatory, his teeth very white. Nate had a sudden urge to warn him off. The unexpected jealousy surprised him. “And this is your publicist, Hannah Montgomery. A pleasure.”
“Mr. Hernandez.” She shook his hand crisply. If she noticed his appraising and appreciative glance, she said nothing.
Nate wanted to kiss her.
“I have your suite prepared,” Victor said to Nate. His glance took in the rest of the band. “Your rooms are also ready. My staff will take care of your luggage if you’d care to follow them.”
With a wave of his hand, he indicated that Nate, Hannah, and Sam were to accompany him. Andre was only a step behind. The walked out of the VIP area and into the casino’s atrium. Sunlight fell from a skylighted ceiling, sparkling on the myriad pools and fountains scattered artlessly around the huge room. Through an arch, the sound of the casino proper intruded, the entrance filled with the ebb and flow of tourists and gamblers. Victor led them through another archway. The marble-tiled corridor was lined with expensive boutiques. They passed men smelling of pricy cologne, their arms adorned with women.
“Do you ever gamble?” Hannah asked Nate.
He shrugged. “A little, here and there, just for fun. I’ve never been into the high stakes stuff.” He leaned closer to her, breathing in her unique scent. “Right now I’m more interested in getting you up to my suite and into the Jacuzzi.”
Her smile was seductive, outshining the bright lights of the lavish casino. “That sounds heavenly,” she said.
But first, there was the frustration of business. They reached the Cornerstone, a private club available by invitation only. It was darker here, quieter. The rich furnishings brought to mind a British gentleman’s smoking room. They settled into a grouping of burgundy leather club chairs separated from the rest of the room by mahogany railing.
A curvaceous brunette in a fuchs
ia leotard, fishnets, and high heels approached them.
“What’s your poison?” Victor asked.
The question seemed loaded.
Vegas, this casino, held memories of too many excesses. Despite his craving for something to alleviate the tension that was beginning to radiate down his spine, Nate made himself order a Perrier with a twist of lime. Hannah asked for a lemon drop, Sam predictably went for a beer. Andre stood silently, his arms crossed over his chest. There was no expression on his face as he shook his head ever so slightly to indicate he didn’t need anything.
The cocktail waitress returned from the bar a few minutes later and distributed the drinks. Her fingertips brushed Nate’s as she handed him the glass. The dark eyes and glossed lips hinted at availability. He thanked her politely.
Victor leaned towards Nate, leaving Sam and Hannah to peruse the publicity information that Victor had given them. “Pretty, isn’t she?”
Nate tried to maintain the easy-going smile. This place was his first and biggest hurdle. If he could handle himself here, the rest of the tour would seem easy in comparison. His eyes lingered on Hannah. The rich copper of her hair glowed under the subdued lighting. Pretty didn’t even begin to cover it.
Nate started to answer in the affirmative, then realized with a start that Victor wasn’t talking about Hannah. He meant the waitress. While her uniform was admittedly cute, her body shown to curvaceous perfection, she didn’t really spark for him.
“She’s available,” Victor said amiably. “I remember you like brunettes. Or if she’s not to your liking…just let me know your requirements.”
“I’m fine for now,” Nate said. “Thanks.”
Had he had a thing for brunettes? He tried to remember. Yeah, maybe the bulk of the women he’d been with had had dark hair.
Right now, however, he was into redheads.
“I can get you anything else you need,” Victor said, with a subtle nod. “All you have to do is ask.”
Here it was. Nate had spent the last year training himself not to think about moments like these. Not to think about temptations and dark needs that kept him tossing and turning into the night. Victor’s words, however, brought everything rushing back. Because Victor had said them before.