“How long should I keep going?” Tate smiled at her.
Isabelle swallowed. “As long as you like.”
* * *
By the end of the session, the kids were clapping and thanking him for being their guest speaker. Isabelle still sat curled up in the chair listening attentively.
“I’d like to thank Ms. Reed for letting me horn in on her class. It was nice jamming with you guys,” he drawled and got a positive response from everyone except Donovan. June hadn’t made a crude remark to him in a half hour and he looked upset. “Donovan, your mom was right to have you learn other instruments to get a better appreciation of the guitar. I know how to play every instrument that my band members use as well as any accompanying ones that I use to record in the studio. If you want to be a rocker, know what’s helping you put your band’s sound together.”
“Thanks.” Donovan’s eyes widened.
“Until next time, my lovelies,” Isabelle said before she disconnected the chat.
“What a great group of kids.” Tate put her violin back in the case, then slipped the sling back around her arm.
“They are. I’m so proud of them for giving up their time to help others. Thanks for the assist.” She grabbed onto his shoulder as she tried to get out of the chair.
“My pleasure. Did I impress you with my violin skills?” He waggled his eyebrows and put his hand on her waist to steady her.
“Maybe.” She looked up into his eyes.
“How’s the arm? You looked uncomfortable earlier.” He caressed her shoulder.
“I had it out of the sling too long.” She winced.
“Why do you do that?”
“Because it scares the kids. You notice how Jake fixates on it? My music kids had a look of terror on their faces the first time they saw it.”
He sighed. “Jake is a Blake. He stares at you because you’re pretty and you remind him of his mother. Your music kids care about you. It’s hard to see someone you care about in pain. Especially someone as dainty as you.”
“Dainty?” She rolled her eyes.
“That cast has to weigh more than you do. I could pick you up with one hand.”
“I’d like to see you try.” She squinted at him.
Tate gently tugged on her shirt to bring her closer. Warning bells were going off in his head to nix the flirting and be on his way, but he couldn’t help himself. She looked so damn cute when she was trying to be tough. There was something about her that was warm and inviting. Seeing her cozied up in that chair sparked an unfamiliar urge in him. Against his better judgment, he leaned in for a kiss.
It was a hell of a bad time for his cell phone to ring. He’d taken it out of his pocket and placed it on the desk when he started the music lesson.
Isabelle jerked her head back. “You’d better get that.”
“It can wait,” Tate drawled.
Isabelle looked at his phone display. “It’s your brother Channing. I have to take my meds anyway. I’ll be in Jake’s playroom getting ready for his finger-painting lesson later.”
She hurried out of the library.
Tate stabbed at the button on his phone to answer the call. “Channing, you better be calling to tell me the world’s been taken over by aliens.”
* * *
Isabelle was more excited about the trip to the zoo than Jake was. As they walked around, though, Jake’s excitement grew each time they encountered a different animal exhibit. He particularly liked the penguins, so they stayed there for a while. There was a free-roaming peacock that initially scared Jake, but then he went to get a closer look. He chased the peacock, then the bird turned around and chased Jake back into Tate’s arms. They got the occasional odd look. It was clear a few people were trying to decipher if he were indeed Tate McGill. But Isabelle remembered what Morgan had said about Seth being approached all the time and took the advice. As long as no one tried to get too close to Jake, she let it alone.
Both needing a break, Isabelle suggested to Tate they should take the train that ran around the perimeter of the zoo. Now she knew why Morgan was comfortable with letting Jake out with his uncles. Tate’s attentiveness to his nephew was amazing. She deeply regretted not attending Jake’s birthday party. From what she’d seen in the photos Morgan had sent, that ranch was an earthy, hunky land of good and plenty. Everyone looked as though they’d had a blast. She remembered a photo of Tate holding Jake and his new puppy, Rowdy. Sydney had gushed about the party for weeks on her social media page. Morgan had been moved to tears at the day’s events.
She felt guilty she had been too busy feeling sorry for herself to be seen in public. She would not have exactly been the life of the party at that time. The divorce had been set into motion the week before, and Isabelle didn’t remember doing too much other than crying and eating a lot of ice cream. Her private hell had prevented her, yet again, from experiencing life.
After raiding the gift shop at the zoo, they finally made their way back to the Ashcroft. Isabelle cooked dinner while Tate and Jake talked to Teri-Lyn on the webcam. Teri-Lyn caught Tate up on what was going on in the family and told Jake she missed him about a hundred times. When they were done and cleaning up the kitchen, Tate informed her they were going to have some entertainment tonight.
“We have a surprise for you, don’t we, Jake?” Tate kissed him on the cheek.
Tate took Isabelle by the hand and led her into the living room. He had her sit in the armchair. A bottle of wine and a glass sat on the table next to her. He put Jake down on the couch, poured her a glass a wine, then took a seat on the couch and positioned Jake on his lap. He picked up the guitar next to him and began to strum the strings. Jake followed suit, and they both strummed incoherently until they developed a groove.
Tate began to sing in a low, soothing voice that took her by surprise. She knew he was an excellent singer, but to have him sitting before her, doing a duet with Jake, was amazing. The song “Whisper of Your Words” was familiar to her. It was the third track from his second album. She blushed, feeling like a schoolgirl for memorizing his music catalog. It was a sweet song she had listened to one night when she was thinking about the good times in her marriage, when Ned had latched on to every word she said. Now Tate was singing it to her. He’d closed his eyes for a minute, and she was pissed that he had taken those beautiful blue, soulful eyes away from her.
Jake’s attempt to sing with him brought him out of the trance. Jake leaned back onto Tate, resting his head on Tate’s chest and fighting sleep. By the time Tate finished his song, Jake was knocked out and Isabelle was on her second glass of wine.
“I’ll put him to bed.” Isabelle motioned for Tate to put Jake in her arms and headed to his room.
By the time she’d come back to the living room, the lights were dimmed and Tate held a glass of wine of his own. The room had a cozy feel, but that subsided when she realized she’d just put her buffer to bed. The other day when she’d been bickering with Tate, she knew he’d leaned in for the kiss they both wanted to share. That phone call was a sign that it was bad idea to be cooped up in a luxury penthouse with a man she spent hours fantasizing about while listening to his silky voice on her iPod. The thing she feared was also the same thing she desired. Her attraction to Tate was growing, as was her concern about becoming a sexy exploit on his next CD.
“Thank you for that wonderful duet. I’ve never had two handsome men sing to me before.” She sat next to him and took the glass he handed her.
“I just wanted to show you how much I appreciated your help today at the zoo.” He clinked glasses with her.
“I wouldn’t have missed the Great Peacock Race for anything.” She laughed.
“That boy takes off like a rocket. He’s got so much of his daddy in him.” Tate shook his head.
She took a sip of her wine. “Morgan told me you played football in high school.”
“I did.”
“She said you were pretty good at it. Just as good as Seth.”
&
nbsp; “Slight exaggeration. Why is it that loved ones always give you more credit than you’re due?” He laughed.
“It’s called encouragement and positive reinforcement. But it’s not like you can complain about your near miss with football fame. This whole singing thing is working pretty well for you.” She giggled.
“So, what else did Morgan tell you?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, she did tell me some colorful stories.” She picked at the hem on her dress. “But all I had to do was listen to one of your ‘after midnight’ songs, as you aptly named them in an interview.”
“I do like the company of women. That’s never been a secret.” He smirked.
“Don’t I know it.” She gulped her wine.
“Don’t tell me, you were that shy, pretty girl in high school who kept all the boys at bay?”
“No, most boys were scared of my dad. He’s a military man, and if he even thought a boy was coming over to see me, he’d conveniently be cleaning his gun.”
Tate laughed. “That would be a bit of a mood killer.”
“Besides, most of them were just horny and would say whatever they needed to get a girl into bed.”
Tate’s chest rumbled with laughter. “The good ol’ days.”
“I don’t believe you had a problem getting any woman you wanted then or now, Mr. Country-Western Star. Women throw themselves at you.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Tate looked at her. “Not all of them.”
“I waited for love. Can you believe that crap? I had like two boyfriends before I married my husband. Look what good it did me.”
“Sometimes we pick the wrong person. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“Why did I pick the wrong person?” Isabelle turned her head.
“Love makes fools out of all of us at one time or another, Izzy.”
Had he ever been a fool for love? The more she wanted to know, the more she reminded herself that it was none of her business. His lips looked especially kissable right now, and she did all she could not to run her hand through that curly blond hair of his. How easy would it be to let him know she was interested? That she wanted to reach over and unhinge the belt buckle he wore with the picture of Texas on it and caress the obvious, big bulge in front of his jeans. She needed to go before she did something embarrassing.
“I suppose it does. Thank you for a great day. I have some things I need to catch up on. Good night.” She kissed him on the cheek and lifted herself off the couch before he could kiss her back.
* * *
Tate was looking forward to trying out the custom shower Seth always raved about. After working out for two hours in the gym, his body was in need of some TLC. Normally sex was a perfect remedy to wind down, but there was no chance of that happening. A certain violinist was the reason he’d resorted to pleasuring himself the last couple of nights as he drifted off to sleep. When she left the living room the other night, he’d thought of pulling her back down on the couch and returning her peck on the cheek with a full-blown make-out session. Was she a screamer? Nah, she seemed way too demure and proper for high-pitched cries of pleasure. She reminded him of a fine top-shelf scotch. Every drop was meant to be meticulously savored to appreciate all its fine qualities.
Images of a scantily clad Isabelle involuntarily flashed in his head, and it was becoming a daytime nuisance as well. She’d given him a curious look when she caught him staring, and he’d walked away, pretending to be looking for something. Seth may have well stamped “do not touch” on Isabelle’s forehead because every time he looked at her caution lights flashed.
Tate peeled off his sweaty T-shirt as he made his way to the bathroom in Seth and Morgan’s master suite. As soon as he crossed the threshold he kicked off his running shoes and was about to remove his shorts when he got further into the enormous bathroom. He could hear music playing faintly. Wait a minute, he could hear himself. He turned the corner to find Isabelle in the claw-foot bath tub surrounded by bubbles. Her arm was wrapped with what looked like Cling Wrap and was awkwardly perched up on the edge of the tub to keep it away from the water. She was so busy singing along with his song and wiggling about in the water, that she braced herself with her good arm and rose out of the water, unaware that he was in the room. Tate stood there, knowing if he didn’t say anything in five seconds, he was going to become the creepiest man in Philadelphia. But he couldn’t help himself. The way the bubbles were cascading down her full breasts and ass, he wasn’t sure if he were having another one of those walking daydreams. His dick rose to attention in his shorts and an unexpected moan escaped his lips. She must have heard him because she turned around and screamed.
Isabelle frantically looked around for something to cover herself, but a shirtless Tate was the barrier between her and the towels on the shelf. Not knowing what to do, she sank back down into the tub, awkwardly trying to hold her arm above the water and causing a wave to splash onto the tiled floor. She’d already pulled the plug, so the clock was ticking. She hadn’t meant to scream so loud, heaven knows she didn’t want to wake Jake, but seeing Tate standing there in all his sweaty glory had taken her by surprise. She knew he’d been in the gym working out and had even passed by a few times to get a view of him running on that treadmill. Seeing his broad chest and tight abs in action as he jogged had gotten her all hot and bothered and had been her inspiration for taking a long soak in the claw-foot tub Morgan had mentioned numerous times.
The water was getting cold, and the bubbles were disappearing by the second. Tate was looking at her as if she were a pork chop and hadn’t bothered to offer her the towel she desperately needed. She glanced down to see his physical reaction to her was growing by the second.
“How long have you been standing there?” Isabelle swallowed hard.
“Not long. I swear.” He held up his hands.
“Think you could pass me a towel?”
“Sure.” He blinked, then shook his head. He went to retrieve the towel but stopped. “I thought you said you didn’t listen to my music?”
“What?” She jerked her head in his direction.
He folded his arms over his chest. “I thought you said you didn’t listen to my music?”
“Are you kidding me? Give me a damn towel.” She scowled.
“Oh, I’ll give you the towel. Just answer the question unless you plan on becoming a mermaid.” He laughed.
“OK. I do listen to your music. But that Tate McGill is a persona and very far from being real to me. I’m sure you’ve had lots of women tell you how much fun you are.” She kept her eyes glued to his face. His pecs moved when he laughed.
“Despite what you think, I am the same person on stage and off.”
“Good for you. It must be exhausting sleeping with so many women in between singing engagements.”
“Are you interested in my sex life? You want to see if all the dirty songs I write are true?”
“Absolutely not. And I do believe there’s a lot of exaggeration in those songs. I hardly believe that you can handle five women at one time and go for six hour stretches.” She rolled her eyes.
He came closer. “Four women and five hours is my personal best.”
“If you think I believe that, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“I can give you a demonstration,” he drawled.
“All I want from you is a towel, you peeping tom.”
“I was supposed to use the shower after my workout. My clothes are over there on the bench. Didn’t you notice them?”
She shut her eyes. She’d seen them when she’d come in but hadn’t given it a second thought. “I thought they were Seth’s clothes.”
“Sure you did. Maybe you planned this run-in?”
“I didn’t plan anything, but I am plotting your murder as we speak. Towel.”
He walked over and retrieved the towel. Now the tricky part would be getting out of the tub and covering herself. Before she could formulate a plan, Tate stood in front of the tub
and held out the towel as if he were waiting for her to get out.
“Close your eyes.” She squinted at him.
“I’ve already seen the best parts.” He gave her a wolfish grin.
“Close ’em!”
He took his time closing his eyes. She steadied herself on his shoulder while he tenderly wrapped the towel around her. She was inches away from those sinful lips. She struggled to keep a grasp on her fury. He smelled musky, as if he’d been wrestling a bear, and looked sexy as hell.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“My pleasure. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.” He reached up and refastened the clip in her hair and put the sling on her arm. He dropped his hands to her waist.
She wiggled out of his arms, grabbed her iPod out of the stereo dock, and made her way to the door. “That was nice of you to help me out, but you’re still a jerk.”
“Listen, I’m sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Do you have a time machine?” She smirked.
“Well, we have just about everything on the ranch but no time machine.” He scratched at his beard.
“Then there is nothing you can do.” She fumbled with the door handle.
“Isabelle.”
She turned to find Tate stark naked with a big smile on his face. Just like she thought, he was well hung. He was standing there as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Nor was he ashamed at the erection he sported. The phrase “everything is bigger in Texas” was crudely confirmed, but she’d sooner stick her finger in a wall socket than ever utter those words to him.
“It’s only fair that you see me naked. Now we’re even,” he said with a goofy smile on his face.
“Is that the traditional way to wave good-bye in Texas?” She hustled her ass out of the bathroom.
Chapter Six
Isabelle may have had an embarrassing night, but she’d found herself with a bigger problem today. She’d dropped by her Uncle Curtis and Sydney’s house to find her cousin Beverly there visiting. Beverly then got on her phone and told everyone in a fifty-mile radius that Isabelle was in town, which set off an awful chain of events. Isabelle had been forced to visit six different relatives and then had been roped into going to a fitting with Dana for her wedding dress.
Texas Heat Page 5