by Sandy James
He stared at her, feeling his jaw clench. Had it not been for his help, Marie might not have known about Savannah’s talent until a long time after another label had signed her. What made her think she had the right to ask him to bow out of any discussion that might impact her career—especially since Greg wasn’t there yet to protect her interests? “Pardon?”
Despite a rather panicked look on her face, Savannah said, “It’s fine, Brad.” Then she glanced at Marie. “We won’t be long, will we?”
“Not long at all,” Marie replied. “Promise.”
Still not comfortable with leaving Savannah alone with Marie, Brad frowned. “Are you sure?”
“It’s fine,” Savannah repeated.
Marie nodded toward the bar that had been set up on the left side of the ballroom. “Why don’t you go have a drink? I made sure there’s Belle Meade. That’s your brand, right?”
He’d always preached to people that they should buy local. Then he’d always follow his sermon up with his opinion that Belle Meade was the finest native bourbon.
With a flip of her hand, she waved him away. “Go. Have a drink on us. I’ll get Savannah back to you in two shakes.”
Feeling dismissed and a bit annoyed that Savannah hadn’t fought to keep him at her side, he retreated. There was an empty table close to the bar, so he dropped into a chair to wait. Five minutes, he promised himself. Then he was heading back over there.
This time, Marie beckoned someone to her right. A tall, muscular blond guy wearing jeans snug enough that he could sing soprano joined them. They looked so uncomfortable that Brad gave his own jeans a quick adjustment.
The guy was about Savannah’s age. He nodded and grinned at everything Marie said. Damn if Savannah wasn’t smiling right back at him. After a few minutes, a waiter walked past them with a tray of flutes filled with what appeared to be champagne. Marie stopped the waiter and took two glasses, which she handed to Savannah and the guy, before grabbing one for herself. Her mouth kept moving until she finally raised her glass, which made the other two mimic her. Three flutes clinked together.
Brad scowled. What in the hell were they toasting? And if it was that important, why hadn’t Savannah urged him back to her side to ask his opinion before she’d clearly committed to it?
His anger rose swiftly. Severely.
Jealousy? Over a twenty-something guy in jeans that all but crushed his junk?
Perhaps.
He didn’t like how Savannah was reacting to the kid. Was she flirting? Was she putting on a mask the same way Katie had? Scenes like this—fame like Savannah was enjoying—changed people. The thought that she was using him just to get ahead crossed his mind.
No, not her. She didn’t want the kind of fame he could help bring to her. She wasn’t the user his wife had been.
A hand settled on Brad’s shoulder. “I see that you made it,” Greg said as he came to stand at Brad’s side. “And where is our Savannah?”
Brad inclined his head toward her. “She’s with Marie.”
“I see. I take it you don’t know the young man Savannah keeps trying to move away from.”
Move away from?
Now that Greg mentioned it, Brad took a better look and could see that her body language screamed discomfort. Posture stiff as a board. Arm hugging her waist. Fingers clenching the champagne flute. Her head was inclined away from the guy, who seemed intent on keeping her anchored near his side.
“You don’t know him, either?” Brad asked.
“I do not. But I have every intention of finding out what mischief Marie is inflicting on our girl. Shall we go over there and rescue her?”
“Marie told me to take a hike, that she wanted to talk to Savannah.”
“I’m not the least bit concerned with what Marie wants. I am, however, concerned that Savannah understands all that Marie might be telling her.” With a sly smile, Greg said, “Are you joining me as I crash her private little party?”
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Then we’re all set?” Greg asked.
Savannah still leaned against Brad’s SUV, where she’d been since Brad and Greg had finally come to rescue her from Marie Allen. They’d talked business for only a few minutes since Savannah had already agreed to Marie’s proposal. “I think so.”
“You really don’t mind a duet on your album?” Brad asked.
Although his earlier anger seemed to have dimmed, she couldn’t help but think that something was still bothering him. Funny thing was that his irritation didn’t seem to be caused by her decision to allow another artist to sing on her album. She just couldn’t seem to figure out exactly what burr was under his saddle. He’d been brusque with Marie, but when he was introduced to Tony Plunkett, he’d been downright hostile.
The kid was only twenty-one, and he’d been runner-up in some popular singing show—although she couldn’t remember which one to save her life. Allied Sound had been one of the sponsors, and Marie had seen something special in Tony. So she’d asked if Savannah minded making room on her album for one duet. To sweeten the deal, Marie had given her freedom to pick the song—although she’d explained that she had a songwriter or two in mind and would prefer the duet to not be a Hitman song. She’d claimed that the album needed a bit of diversity, which made sense.
Since it seemed like such a small thing, Savannah had agreed. What harm could it do? Tony clearly had talent, and should they prove incompatible when they hit the recording booth, Marie was sure to pull the plug. Plus there was no guarantee that Brad could even write enough songs to fill all the tracks in the short time before Marie wanted to get in the studio. Why stress him out over such a tight deadline?
“A duet’s fine,” she finally replied. “If we don’t click, then I’m sure we can scrap that plan.”
“Oh, my dear,” Greg said. “If only it were that simple.”
“If what were that simple?”
Brad was shaking his head as Greg continued. “If you knew Marie the way we do, you’d realize she’s already made up her mind. Since you agreed, this is going to happen.”
“Wouldn’t matter if he sounds like a scalded cat,” Brad added. “You’re stuck with the jerk now.”
Greg shot a rather withering scowl at Brad. “You’re being a bit hard on our girl, Brad. You and I have both acquiesced to Hurricane Marie and her rather persuasive manner at one time or another. Why should you expect any less of Savannah?”
No response from Brad, which only confused Savannah. She could only guess at the cause of his anger and felt at a distinct disadvantage. “It’s only one song. One stupid song. And I told you she won’t use the songs you’ve written for me. Who cares if the duet isn’t one of your songs?”
Greg kept shifting his gaze between the two of them as though trying to solve some puzzle. Then understanding dawned as a knowing smile filled his face. “Now I see…”
“That makes one of us,” Savannah drawled since she didn’t understand at all what was happening. “Maybe you can explain it to me, ’cause I don’t get how my agreeing to sing a duet started all this. Are you guys upset because I didn’t run it by you first?”
Shaking his head, Greg replied in his ever-elegant way, “My dear, I am merely your manager. As I told you when we first spoke, I am here to assist you, not run your career or your life. I will never fault you for any choice you make. My job is to try to give you exactly what you want for yourself as a singer.”
Brad didn’t look appeased, seemingly lost in whatever thoughts were still plaguing him.
She was fed up—not with Greg, though. No, he had quickly become an ally. At that moment, her exasperation was focused directly on Brad. “Then what’s got everyone so riled up?”
“Not everyone,” Greg corrected. “A duet means little in the long run, and I chalk it up to a typical Marie maneuver. She sees the potential in you. In fact, she saw it from the start, which only goes to show her talent at finding talent.” He let out one of hi
s little laughs, probably at his own play on words. “I can’t think of a better way for Allied to strengthen their investment in this Plunkett boy than to hitch his wagon temporarily to your rising star.”
“I get all that,” Savannah said.
Greg stared at Brad. “Then I believe the only problem here is you.”
With narrowed eyes, Brad folded his arms over his chest but continued to say nothing.
“Brad?” Savannah asked. “How is Brad a problem?”
Shaking his head, Greg revealed his usual aplomb. “Of all my talents, I’m afraid there is one I have never mastered. I cannot—nor will I ever try to—solve problems between two people in love.”
* * *
Brad couldn’t help but think everything in his life was rapidly going straight to hell. The problem was that the only person he could blame was himself.
He’d been fine. Better than fine. His work at Words & Music had been satisfying. He enjoyed the people he employed and was good at what he did. The music was no longer taking over his every thought, and he’d made peace with himself.
Then Savannah Wolf had sung for him.
No, not for him. That was bullshit, and he knew it. She’d stepped onto his stage to share her gift with the world—a gift that deserved to be enjoyed by everyone. Although she might not have set out to do so, she’d captured him as neatly as any trap ever designed. Completely. She’d become his muse. His lover.
And she’d stolen his heart in the process.
Brad had known it for a while, although life had been much easier to manage if he compartmentalized his feelings. Each time Savannah murmured how much she cared for him, his heart knew he felt the same. While he cherished her, not once had he found the courage to say the words. What was he waiting for?
Chicken shit.
Of course he was afraid. Love was scary. Fucking terrifying, actually. Having never truly felt it this intensely before, not even for Katie, he had a hard time putting a name to exactly what emotion had filled him each time he’d been with Savannah.
He’d called it desire. Plain old lust. But she was magical. Different.
What had forced the word “love” into his brain had been nothing special, nothing revelatory. Savannah had helped him realize he loved her just by being herself.
What in the hell was he going to do now?
Marry her, his thoughts whispered. And do it right this time…
Hard to allow that notion to blossom when jealousy was running roughshod over him. When he’d seen that pretty boy put his arm around her shoulder, Brad could barely hold back the need to march across the ballroom and punch the trespasser in the nose. While he was at it, he’d consider telling Marie to go screw herself since it was clear she’d dragged the boy into Savannah’s path.
It’s just a duet. One damn duet.
In which Savannah would sing a song that wasn’t his.
“I’ll be on my way now,” Greg said. “Then you two can chat in private.”
She gave him her customary kiss on the cheek before he strolled across the parking lot to his car.
Quiet descended until Greg’s taillights had faded.
Savannah still stood with her back pressed against Brad’s SUV, nibbling on her lower lip and looking too defeated for his taste, especially since he’d been the one who put that expression on her face.
Stepping up to her, he put his hands on her waist. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
She stared up at him with those hypnotic eyes. “For what, Brad? I still don’t understand, and all Greg’s supposed explanation did was muddy the water.”
“I overreacted, okay? To the duet, I mean. Like you said, it’s only one stupid song. I guess I was…” He shrugged. “Jealous. I was jealous.”
Her eyes searched his. “Jealous? Because I’m singing a song you didn’t write?”
“That’s part of it.” He’d apologized and given her an explanation, half-assed though it was. Why did she keep pressing him?
For the same reason he would be doing the same thing. Not only was she astute, but she also always seemed to be able to pick up on his emotions, even his thoughts. But it didn’t take a genius to see he’d been acting like a grizzly bear that had been poked with a stick. In the eye.
“I didn’t like seeing that guy touching you,” he finally admitted, which wasn’t easy. Jealousy was new to him.
As new as love.
This relationship stuff was a pain in the ass.
“Being close to him was…agonizing,” she said with a crooked grin. “The kid must’ve been wearing a whole bottle of cologne. Why do boys do that? Bathe in stinky, cheap cologne?”
Kid. She’d called him a kid.
Brad grinned. “They’re too young to know better. Trust me, some girl’s gonna come along and straighten him out.”
A yawn slipped out, and she tried to smother it with her palm. “Sorry. I’m a bit tired. Are you ready to head to your place?”
Tired or not, she was beautiful. Moonlight shone down on her, and his heart tightened merely looking at her. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her.
The moment his lips touched hers, he realized exactly how right things were between them and decided the time to hesitate was past.
He loved that she sighed when he ended the kiss.
“I want you,” he said with a growl of need. “I want to be inside you so bad.”
“Then take me to bed.”
Nuzzling her neck and breathing in her sweet scent, Brad smiled. And took a leap of faith. “Oh, I will. I need to make love to the woman I love.”
“You love me?” Tears pooled in her eyes.
“I do. I have for a while.”
“Oh, Brad.” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Then she kissed his ear and whispered, “I love you, too.”
* * *
Savannah couldn’t remember the drive to Brad’s house. For all she knew, they’d floated there on a cloud. Despite her hopes and dreams for a happily ever after, she’d never expected him to blurt out those three little words.
But he had, and her heart soared. Her libido was every bit as elated. All she could think of was getting him alone.
The yawning she’d been unable to suppress back at Words & Music had been pushed aside with the rush of her desire. She was in such a hurry to get him inside and naked that she fumbled with her seat belt latch and felt stupid when Brad finally chuckled and gave her an assist. The cocky grin on his face meant he knew she was rattled.
Of course she was rattled. He’d told her that he loved her, and she’d confessed her feelings as well. She wasn’t sure her heart would ever settle back into a normal rhythm. “Thanks,” she murmured before she crawled out of the Escalade.
He caught her right inside the kitchen door and tugged her into his arms. His kiss made her toes curl, and she returned his ferocity with all of the emotion coursing through her. Their tongues mated as their hands removed any barrier between them.
Somehow they made it to a couch, where the trail of their discarded clothing finally ended. Tumbling onto the cushions, Savannah ended up under Brad, which was exactly where she wanted to be. When he latched on to one of her nipples with his teeth, she tunneled her fingers through his thick hair and closed her eyes.
This was what she’d always wanted, what she’d always needed. Heat and desire and love. The full package.
Rocking her hips up, she whispered how much she loved him and how desperately she needed to feel him inside her.
* * *
For the first time he could recall, Brad lost all control. He roughly separated her thighs with his knee and rubbed his cock against her, hoping to hell she was ready for him. He found a wet welcome that he took greedy advantage of as he plunged inside her tight heat.
Savannah wrapped her legs around him, lifting her hips each time he thrust. Each of her moans, each time her nails scraped his back, he was sure she’d push him over the edge. But he wanted this to last forever. “I love you,
Savannah,” he ground out, hoping the words hit her every bit as hard as her declarations always got to him.
“I love you, Brad.”
Then there were no more words. Only the feel of her soft skin. Only the alluring scent of her hair. Only his body joined with hers.
He couldn’t stop the climax that pounded through him, and she cried out in release a moment later.
Happy to stay where he was for the rest of his life, Brad wondered how he got so damn lucky. Savannah deserved better, but he wasn’t about to let her go.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“What?”
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said again. Then she tapped his shoulder. “You’re heavy.”
“Sorry.”
They dressed in quiet until his curiosity could take no more of her silence. “What shouldn’t we have done?”
“We didn’t use a condom.”
The absence of birth control had crossed his mind—for a nanosecond—before he’d let the thought go. “I’m clean. I got tested earlier this year.”
She cocked her head. “You’re not worried about whether I’ll give you a—”
“Not a bit.”
“And what if I get pregnant?”
That question didn’t frighten him the way he figured it should. He simply shrugged. “Then we have a kid. Caroline would like a sibling.”
“It’s the wrong time,” Savannah insisted.
After sitting on the couch, he patted the spot next to him.
She heaved a sigh and plopped beside him.
“I love you,” he said again, finding it easier to do each time the words fell from his mouth.
“I love you, too. Let’s just hope I didn’t get pregnant. We’ll be more careful from now on.”
Taking her hand, Brad fought against his yearning to ask her to marry him. Part of him wanted to bind her to him, to hear her take those vows to love, honor, and cherish that he used to think were so damned silly. He wanted those promises from Savannah, and he wanted to give Caroline a man in her life—someone who was growing to care for her as he cared for her mother.