by Sandy James
“Well, yeah. She’s part of Words and Music, right? She’s one of the family.”
Brad suddenly remembered that he was supposed to meet her this morning. After checking his watch, he shoveled another bite of pancakes in his mouth. He jumped off his stool, hoping he could make the twenty-minute drive to the restaurant in ten minutes.
Brad snatched up the sheet music and headed to his garage. The confused expressions on his friends’ faces could be relished later in the day.
Right now, he had somewhere to be.
Chapter Four
One of the cooks let Savannah in the back door of the restaurant. As she made her way through the large kitchen, she took note of the prep work being done for the lunch rush, trying to memorize the specials so she could pitch them to her customers. It took a few seconds for her to remember she wouldn’t be waiting tables anymore.
With a crooked smile, she realized that she was putting the cart in front of the pony. If she and Brad Maxwell couldn’t come to an agreement on a contract, she’d no doubt find herself back in a T-shirt and shorts with a pad in her hand. And she’d probably be taking orders in another restaurant. No way would she grovel to get her old job back. It would be far too humiliating to return to being a waitress among the people who’d seen last night’s spectacle. She’d been plucked from utter obscurity to become the opening act for the stars who performed at Words & Music, and she’d be damned if she’d be a server there ever again.
Her imagination was getting the better of her. Last night hadn’t been some miracle. No, it had been the product of a lot of really hard work preparing her performance by singing the songs over and over, honing the nuances that elevated a song above a good karaoke cover of a once-popular song.
“Savannah!”
She turned to see Cheyanne skirting around the prep tables to get to her. “Good morning,” Savannah said with a hesitant smile. How many of her coworkers knew about her new job?
“Good morning, my ass. Gimme a hug!” Cheyanne gave her a hearty embrace, complete with pats on the back. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks,” Savannah said, her voice staccato from the enthusiastic thumps on the back Cheyanne delivered.
After turning Savannah loose, Cheyanne grinned. “It’s not gonna be easy replacing you. You’re my best lunch waitress.” Then she frowned. “Why are you back here? Not like you’re on today, and I’m already working to get your last few shifts covered.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll cover my shifts.”
Cheyanne shook her head. “Brad told me you’d be too busy.” She linked her arm with Savannah’s. “C’mon. He’s waitin’ for you.” She led the way to the stage.
Brad was standing by the bar. He glanced up as she strode to the piano. “Good morning.”
Savannah shielded her eyes against the stage lights. “Good morning, Mr. Maxwell.”
“Brad. Please.”
She watched as he slipped through the side door to the stage. A few moments later, he was heading toward her. He sauntered—the only way to describe the man’s confident stride. No wonder. He was, after all, the co-owner of one of the best gathering places in Nashville as well as the man who’d composed hit song after hit song. Not only were tables entirely filled most nights, but artists, both stars and amateurs, scrambled for a slot to perform on this stage—the same stage she’d now be performing on several nights a week.
A shiver of happiness raced over her.
His boot heels clicked in a steady cadence across the polished wooden floor. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the night before, which made her wonder exactly what he’d been up to last night. “Ready to get to work?” he asked.
Savannah nodded at the head waitress. “Cheyanne said you told her to take me off the schedule. I don’t want to leave her short-staffed.” The last thing she wished was to make the other waitstaff resent her for making them work harder.
“Don’t you worry,” Cheyanne said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Brad’s got Ethan already checking applications. I’ll have a new waitress before the day’s out.”
“We’ve got it covered,” Brad added. “You’ve got other work to do.” He swept his arm in invitation. “Join me at the piano?”
Leading the way, he took a seat on the bench. “Do you think you can sing this?” He brought the instrument to life with nimble fingers that seemed to fly across the keys.
Savannah listened hard as she leaned in to look at the music, unable to identify the song.
After he played through a verse and a chorus, he stopped and cocked his head. “Helps if you actually sing it.”
“I’m sorry…I don’t know it.”
Brad gave her an enigmatic grin and patted the bench beside him.
After sitting next to him, she focused on the sheet music. The notes triggered no memory of the melody at all, and the words weren’t familiar, either. “I’m sorry, but…this one’s new to me.” When he didn’t reply, she glanced over to see that his grin had blossomed into a cheeky smile.
“Then just listen,” he suggested before he started the song again, this time singing along.
The man had a passable singing voice. Not that he’d win The Voice or anything, but he could hold his own as a cover band singer.
Savannah tried to focus on the song. Other things kept getting in the way. Brad’s tousled hair. The heat of his thigh pressing against hers. The timbre of his voice.
What was wrong with her? The last thing she needed was to become attracted to her boss. Even worse, she’d been so preoccupied that only a few lyrics stuck. Should she try to sing the piece, she’d make a mess of it.
“Your turn,” he said as he played the intro again.
Normally, she was a quick study, and she could read music well. Pushing aside as much of the interfering sensations as she could, she tried to sing the song. Although she hit the notes and didn’t botch the lyrics too badly, she winced when it mercifully came to an end.
“Hmm,” was all Brad said when the ordeal was over.
“Is that a good hmm or a bad hmm?”
“Neither. Just…hmm.”
His expression was giving her nothing, which frustrated her to no end. Being a waitress had helped her hone the skill of reading faces. Subtle frowns when the food was too cold or had too much spice. Searching looks when customers suddenly realized there was something they wanted that wasn’t on the table. Broad smiles when they left a nice tip for a job well done. But Brad’s features were giving her zero to work with.
“Look,” Savannah said, fearing the unfamiliar song was the problem, “why don’t you pick a different song? I’ll sing something else for you. Please don’t judge me on a song I’ve never heard before.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Unsure whether he’d had a teasing lilt to his voice, she replied, “Because I know I can do better. Pick a classic. Pick something on the charts. Pick anything else.”
“It’s okay, Savannah. I don’t need to.” He gathered up the sheet music and set it aside.
Opportunity had fallen in her path, and she wasn’t about to let him jerk it away over one song. “Let me hear it a few more times, then I’ll sing it again. I know I can do better,” she insisted. She was not only repeating herself, but starting to sound desperate. While singing that song might not have been one of her best performances, she still thought she’d sung it better than most people could probably manage.
Brad turned to face her as an easy smile bowed his lips. “I don’t need to hear any more. You did fine.”
His words and that smile sent relief flooding through her. “I really can do it better.”
“I’m sure you can. And you will. I’ll help make sure you’re ready the next time you’re on this stage.”
With his declaration, her world was right again. “Does that mean we can talk contract now?”
“Depends,” he replied. “Are you negotiating for yourself, or did you give any thought to contacting t
he guys I recommended?”
“You mean the managers?”
He nodded.
She shook her head.
The smile vanished, and from the hard set of his jaw, she figured he was still irritated with her for not jumping at the notion of having someone handle her career, especially someone he’d recommended.
With a sigh, Savannah decided to be as honest with him as she could in hopes he’d understand. “My last manager all but ruined me.”
“Really?” Brad turned to give her his full attention. “Shouldn’t you tell me that story now? I mean, I’m bound to hear about it.”
She drew her lips into a line, not sure she wanted to trot her dirty laundry out in front of him. The whole sordid tale still filled her with humiliation, and she preferred to leave the past firmly behind her. “I’m sure there are thousands of people in Nashville who’ve had crappy managers take advantage of them.”
“Thousands? Probably not, and none of them worked for me. I protect my talent.”
“I don’t doubt that. Which makes me even more sure I don’t need a manager.”
He let out a sigh. “You’re a stubborn lady.”
“So I’ve been told,” she replied with her own sigh. “By a lot of people.”
But he left her off the hook. “Let’s try the song again. Together.” The notes of the intro rose from the piano.
The tune was getting more familiar, and she loved the way their voices blended. This time, though, the lyrics came easier. A little practice and she just might have it ready before she gave her first performance at Words & Music.
“Good,” Brad said. “Good. You’re a quick study.”
“Thanks.” Savannah turned to offer him a grateful smile.
As though it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world, he took some of the blue strands of her hair between his index finger and thumb, rubbing gently.
Such an intimate gesture; such a devastating effect.
From his wavy dark blond hair to his crystal blue eyes all the way down his lean body, every inch of him appealed to her. Had they been two different people in a different situation, she might have dropped her guard long enough to get to know him better and in a personal way rather than a professional one.
She couldn’t think of a worse time to be attracted to someone.
To make it even scarier, he was studying her, his gaze searching hers. Slowly, carefully, he leaned closer as he stared at her mouth.
Heat shimmered through her veins at the mere thought of kissing him. His lips were full and looked exceptionally soft. When he was near enough that his warm breath hit her face, she wanted to close her eyes and let nature take its course, to give in to the chemistry they were generating.
Then the rumors she’d heard came rushing into her thoughts. Brad had a reputation with women. A bad reputation. While the staff wasn’t known to gossip notoriously, some of the servers had a few things to say about Brad never being seen with the same woman twice.
Chemistry aside, the man was probably bad news.
Her hands rose between them, and she pressed her palms against his chest as she whispered, “No.”
* * *
Brad jerked away from Savannah as though her quiet denial had been a slap across his face.
He dropped her hair and sat back, letting anger flow through him. Not at her, though. She’d done nothing wrong. His anger was self-directed.
Despite his confidence that he’d gotten his libido under control, he clearly hadn’t. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten to him so quickly.
He couldn’t seem to fight this woman’s appeal. Everything about her was so utterly feminine. Her hair looked like strands of silk. Her alluring perfume held him captive. Her blue eyes shone when she sang.
Then there was that voice. That incredible voice. When she spoke, he wanted to kiss her. When she sang, he wanted to ravish her.
At least she appeared to be as attracted to him as he was to her, which saved him from utter humiliation. He could see the hint of desire in her beautiful eyes, and before her brain had kicked in, she’d been moving ever so slowly toward him, her pink lips parted.
Thank God one of them was sane.
“Sorry, Savannah.” Brad picked up the sheet music, stood, and stepped away from her.
Savannah bowed her head and folded her hands in her lap, looking so damn dejected he wanted to gather her in his arms and hug her tight. Doubting she’d appreciate that intimate a gesture, he struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t make an already embarrassing situation worse.
Nothing came to mind.
With a rather loud sigh, she stood. “I’m the one who should apologize.”
He shook his head. “I was being…inappropriate.”
“Instead of arguing over it, how about we just agree to start over?” she offered, holding out her hand.
His anger shifted to agitation. He found it perturbing that she could so easily shake off their near kiss. “Fine,” he snapped, shaking her hand a little rougher than necessary.
What in the hell’s wrong with me?
This woman had him rattled on so many levels he couldn’t even keep track. She’d gotten him writing music again, and there wasn’t a more profound way a woman could affect him.
“That didn’t sound very convincing.” Her voice still bordered on a whisper, which made him feel like a jerk.
“Sorry. You’re right. We should start over. How about we talk about your last manager now?” With a swing of his arm, he tried to get her moving. “Let’s get a cup of coffee.”
Although she was frowning, she started walking.
Brad held both doors open for her and led the way to the kitchen. After grabbing a couple of cups, he began pouring coffee when Savannah stopped him at only half a cup, then proceeded to add three sugar packets and enough cream to turn the drink a light tan.
She shrugged when he cocked an eyebrow. “I need coffee not to taste like…well, coffee.”
With a chuckle, he led her to the bar. That time of day, it was the quietest place to talk.
“Tell me what happened,” he coaxed.
She set her elbows on the table and put both hands around the cup. “Not much to tell.”
“Look, I know you don’t want a manager…”
“Or an agent.”
“Or an agent. When you’re working with me, you won’t really need one. I’ll give you a fair contract, so don’t worry about that. But when you start moving up in this business—”
Her eyes widened. “I’m glad you think I’ll keep moving up, but this job is all I’ve ever wanted.”
“You’ve got talent. You’ve got stage presence. You’re unique. You could take things a lot farther, although I hate the idea of losing you too fast.”
“You’re not going to lose me. Like I said, this gig is exactly what I wanted. But…what exactly are you offering?” she asked.
“Not talking terms of a contract ’til you tell me at least a little of what happened between you and the guy who ripped you off.”
“I never said it was a guy…”
“Didn’t have to. You sounded pretty pissed—like you’d lost more than just money. Figured it was a guy you were…involved with.”
She twisted the cup in her hands as she lost herself in thought.
He let her have time to decide whether to trust him or not. If she wouldn’t open up, he knew more than enough people in the industry to be able to ferret out the story—assuming she hadn’t used a stage name. Even then, he’d probably have the truth by the end of the day.
“Fine,” Savannah said. “I had a few good breaks six or so years ago. I had an independent album out that was getting some play, and the second single from it was selling well. There was interest from two labels for a second album. Then I made the mistake of getting a little too…personal with my manager. Because we were a couple, I trusted him when I should’ve been looking out for myself. I thought he had my best interests at heart.”
“You’re telling me?” A sarcastic snort slipped out. “After we’d been together about a year, Michael called me and said the labels both turned me down, that I wasn’t seasoned enough.” She cast her eyes downward. “Then he said we were through—both personally and professionally. I was so shocked that I had no idea what to do. When I realized I had no clue what he’d arranged as far as future gigs, I went to his office. He’d cleaned the place out—and while he was at it, he’d cleaned out every dollar I’d earned. Guess you could say he cut and run.”
“What an asshole.”
At least Brad got a hesitant smile from her. “Yeah, he is. I went catatonic, and I couldn’t find my voice. I—I couldn’t sing. Since I had a mortgage, I worked anyplace I could. Fast food. A laundromat. Found out I was pretty good at waiting tables, so I stuck with that.”
“What made you want to sing again?”
“Coming here, working here. It was just…time. Waitressing is fine. It pays the bills. But I wanted to sing. I needed to sing.”
That sentiment was reflected in his songwriting. Something about hearing Savannah sing had made it the right time—the right voice—to bring the music back. His worry that the new song wasn’t up to par had vanished the moment he’d heard her bring it to life.
“But if it weren’t for my parents,” she added, “and all the help and encouragement they’ve given me, I wouldn’t be here now, singing again.”
Although she’d told him about her jerk of a manager, he couldn’t help but think there was something she was leaving out. Problem was that he didn’t know her well enough to push her. Reliving the hurt and humiliation had to have been hard enough on her. He wasn’t about to tell her he thought she hadn’t shared everything.
The urge to hug her was nearly overwhelming, but Brad didn’t want her to view it as a condescending gesture. Damn, though, the woman deserved a hug. And her ex deserved a punch in the nose. Or the balls. “Tell you what…Let me draw up a standard contract. We’ll start with a month and see how things go.”
“A month? That’s not very long.”