I washed my hands and used the hand dryer, determined to lay down the law as soon as we got back to the busses.
I pushed out of the restroom and almost ran smack into Shay, who was leaning against the wall across from the door.
"Are you stalking me in the bathroom now, too?" I said, my heart tripping.
"I just wanted to talk for a second," he said. Then he cocked his head and grinned. "Naw, that's a lie. I really wanted to do this."
Before I could wonder what he was up to, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him so that I was standing between his thighs. His mouth was on mine before I squeezed out a single word of protest.
This wasn't a quick buss on the lips like the kiss backstage had been. His fingers tunneled through my hair to hold my head still while he took what he wanted, open-mouthed and without the slightest bit of hesitation. I pushed at his chest trying to break his hold on me, but he didn't budge. The heat of his big body against mine was exactly what my body had been begging for. Hard muscles tense with wanting me is what I needed.
Desire roared to life as if flame had met fuel. Suddenly, instead of pushing him away, my fingers clenched in his t-shirt, urging him closer. I tilted my chin up and sank into his body, dragging a guttural sigh from Shay that I could feel as well as hear.
His hands left my hair to roam over my back and then lower to my backside. He squeezed then pulled me hard against him. There was no mistaking that he was as into this as I was. Eagerly I pressed my hand to his fly, stroking the length of him through the denim. I wanted him to be painfully aroused, needy and weak with the wanting, just like I was. I wanted to even the erotic playing field.
His mouth left mine and traveled roughly down my throat. "We need to take this outside," he said against my flushed skin. "Now."
I struggled for breath, willed my brain to reengage and remind my body why this was such a bad idea on so many levels. What had happened the last time I'd given in to the animal attraction Shay and I shared? Bad things.
"No," I managed weakly.
"What?" He raised his head and looked at me.
I cleared my throat and pushed away from him. "No," I said. I stepped back, severing the contact between us. "You have heard that word before, I assume."
He shoved a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Michelle. Is this some kind of game?"
My mind cleared and I smiled. "I don't know. Is it? I don’t remember telling you that I wanted to start something with you. In fact, I’ve told you several times to stay away from me."
"I don't remember you being a dick tease." He was angry now. Good. It was about time he felt some of the anger and frustration he'd caused me.
"You don't remember a lot of things."
With one step he crossed the narrow hallway and caged me in between the wall and his big body. His hands were planted on either side of my head and he glared down at me with an edge of danger that only heated my blood further. "I remember how you taste. I remember how you sound when you scream my name." He leaned in to whisper in my ear. "And I remember how being tied up and at my mercy made you so wet you were begging for me to fuck you."
"And I remember you shouting my name when you came," I countered. "I remember you begging me to suck you. So what? You think just because we're on tour together again we're going to take a naked jog down Memory Lane?" I shook my head. "Not going to happen. So from starting now, save your Rico Suave bullshit for the groupies. I don't do repeats."
"Is...everything ok?" One of the back-up singers stopped in her tracks, looking from Shay to me and back again. "I don't want to interrupt anything," she said.
Neither of us blinked, staring each other down, unwilling to be the first to break away.
"I'll just come back...later," she said and started to retreat.
"No, we're done talking. I think Shay understands the point I was trying to make. Are we clear, Shay?”
He backed away and let me pass. "Yeah, I get it. You're afraid of me. Afraid of this...thing between us. You were afraid of it seven years ago and inside you're still that scared little girl afraid of what Daddy will say when he finds out you've been slumming that golden pussy out to a no-account Okie. Again."
The back-up singer turned and headed back to the table leaving the two of us in a face-to-face showdown worthy of Tombstone.
Fierce, blood-boiling anger borne of injustice and unassuaged lust welled up inside me. I clenched my fists, as close to inflicting physical violence on a person as I ever had been.
"You don't know shit, Shay. You don't know shit about me and you don't know shit about what it means to be responsible for yourself, let alone a tour full of people who depend on you." I moved in on him this time and poked him in the chest. "You're an ignorant redneck who got lucky with a couple of hit singles and you'll be back singing in bars for beer money while I'm opening my wing in the Country Music Hall of Fame, so get over yourself."
I pulled my back up and tilted my chin. "Stay the hell away from me, Shay, or one way or another I'll make sure you're off the tour before we hit Atlanta."
I turned and stalked back to the table where the rest of our group was whispering and shooting concerned looks our way.
It wasn’t good for the crew to think there were issues. Shay and I were the headliners and it was up to us to set the tone for the tour. We sure didn’t want anyone to think there were problems after just the first show.
Pasting a smile on my face, I slid into the booth and picked up the menu. A splintering sound came from the corridor that sounded suspiciously like someone running pu tti ng his fist through the paneling.
"You know," I said to no one in particular, "I think I’ll have that burger after all."
Chapter Six
Shay opened his eyes slowly and then wished he hadn't. It felt like 20 pounds of lead shot weighed down each lid and his eyeballs had been dipped in sand. A lone stream of daylight arrowed through the blinds of his small bus bedroom window, sending waves of pain slicing through his head. He brought the pillow up over his face to block the light and lay there in misery trying to remember what had gone down the night before.
He remembered arguing with Michelle and he remembered putting his fist through the paneling in the restaurant hallway after she'd walked away. After that he'd known he needed some time to cool down so he'd gone out the back door and paced around the parking lot a good long while.
A cab had pulled up about midway through his third lap around the place and he’d watched Michelle climb in, all high and mighty like she owned the damn world. By then everyone had been done eating and he'd met them all at the minivan. Not ready to go back to the bus, he'd been the one to suggest going to a bar or two.
After that it got fuzzy. He remembered trying to buy the first round, but his credit card had been declined. Someone else had paid and Shay remembered doing some shots. Images and little sound bytes of singing, women and more shots flashed through his memory as if they were part of one long disjointed dream, but he really couldn't say what he'd done, who he'd done it with or how he'd made it back to the bus.
Something moved beside him under the covers and for one moment he thought maybe it was Michelle. And then he remembered that she hated his guts. She wasn't exactly his favorite person on earth at the moment, either.
"Hey." It was a husky voice with a strong Southern twang. "You up?"
Cori. From the diner. He sighed. "Yeah." Shay pulled the pillow off his face and thanked the good Lord that at least she looked legal because he sure as hell didn't remember picking her up or bringing her back to the bus, let alone anything else that might have gone on.
"What happened last night?" His mouth felt all cottony and his breath probably still reeked of Jim Beam. The bus wasn't moving, so he assumed they were in Atlanta at their next tour stop. He remembered talking to some cops, but he’d woken up here on the bus rather than the drunk tank, so he guessed that had all turned out OK.
"Well, I went back to the bus with John. The drummer?
But after the party I was still too messed up to drive so you offered to let me crash here…so I wouldn't have to share the bus with all the other guys.”
He hadn't had sex with Cori. That was good.
Shay discovered he was fully clothed, all the way down to his cowboy boots. He glanced over at the girl and found she was mostly dressed, too, if you counted a man's over-sized t-shirt as dressed. The rest of her was under the covers so he had no idea what was on the bottom half.
"Where are your clothes?"
"Uh, I think back near John's bunk." Her hair was a mess and her make-up smeared under blood shot eyes.
"Looks like we both had a rough night," Shay said, trying for a smile that he was pretty sure came out more like a grimace.
"Yeah, guess so."
Cori scooted closer to him and put a hand on his chest. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Shay. Is there anything I can do to show you how much I appreciate it?" Her hand started to travel south, but Shay caught her wrist before she got too far.
"You're a sexy little thing, but I don't think I'm in any shape to be thanked at the moment."
She pouted a little but pulled her hand back. "All right."
"Look, I'm going to call John and have him bring your clothes. Feel free to use the shower.”
He rolled to the side enough to pull out his wallet. "Here," he said handing her a few bills. "This ought to be enough for a bus ride back to Charlotte."
She plucked the bills out of his hand. "Thanks. You know, you're as sweet, and as hot, as you are on TV. Taller, though."
He nodded and got out of the bedroom as quickly as possible. Damn John, leaving his women to wander around the busses. Although it appeared Shay had been the one to invite her back to his bedroom.
He grabbed a pair of sunglasses and a fresh t-shirt on his way off the bus. The sunlight was painful but the fresh air cleared the cobwebs from his head. He inhaled deeply and stretched his arms, back and fingers, only remembering his bruised fist when shards of pain set him cursing. The knuckles were black and blue and a little swollen, but his fingers seemed to work, so he doubted if the hand was broken.
Shay pulled out his cell and called John, telling him Cori needed her clothes and then he needed to put her in a cab and get her out of there. John sounded about as good as Shay did. He could hear the groans in the background from the rest of the band and knew he'd better find some coffee, quick.
The road crew was already unloading in the back of the venue and every bump and crash rang through Shay’s head like a gong. Ok, he'd have to find some Aleve, too. That was priority number one.
Shay managed to track down some coffee and some painkillers and was heading back to the bus when the door of Michelle’s coach opened.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Just as Michelle bounded down the steps tricked out in tight black jogging shorts and an old Johnny Cash T-shirt, his bus door opened and Cori ran out to hug him and liberate one of the cups of coffee.
Michelle looked at him, then at Cori, turned up her nose and took off jogging in the opposite direction. Obviously she'd assumed he and Cori had spent the night together swapping spit and doing the nasty. And honestly, if he hadn't been quite so drunk, there was a possibility that he might have slept with Cori. He’d been pissed off, ready to blow off steam. But since only one woman dominated his tortured thoughts, whiskey had won out over women last night.
Cori sipped the coffee, thanked Shay and got into the cab that pulled up after Michelle was out of sight.
Shay sat on the bottom step of his bus, sipping his own coffee and wondered how the hell he had managed to make a bad situation even worse. It seemed like he was an expert at it these days, whether it was putting himself further in debt, or getting himself in deeper trouble with Robert and Belle Records. He should have been born with a shovel in t his hands.
When he'd asked Michelle to go with them to dinner, he’d had no idea things would end up the way they had. He liked baiting and he was attracted to her, that was a fact. Even after she and Gordon had kicked him off the tour for sampling his daughter’s goods the last time around, he’d wanted her. And he knew that deep down she still wanted him, too. The secret glances, the subtle flush of her smooth skin when he said something provocative just to get a rise out of her—it all pointed to the fact that she hadn't gotten Shay out of her system any more than he'd been able to exorcise Michelle from his.
And so he'd baited her, the bickering only upping the sexual tension between them, like foreplay. He'd had no doubt after that first reunion in Robert’s office that it was only matter of time before they hit the sheets again. They were like giant magnets, so drawn together that there was no use resisting the pull. They sparked off each other verbally and physically even if they couldn’t seem to get along for more than five minutes at a stretch.
When she’d kissed him like she did, then left him standing there in the hallway hard and throbbing he couldn’t believe it. And then she’d sucker-punched him with her words. She really did think she was better than him, he'd realized. And she was probably right. He was nobody from nowhere and she was a legend in the country music business. He did actually respect her for all that she'd accomplished. She’d been one of his idols growing up. But damn if he was going to put her up on some pedestal and worship at her feet like everyone else.
Because he knew the other side of Michelle. The passionate side. The side that allowed her to go after what she wanted with both hands. The perfectionist. The person who felt responsible for everyone from the label executives to the guy who sold her t-shirts. And he knew her sweet sexy mouth.
God, could that woman kiss.
And then piss him off like no other person on earth with the possible exception of his father. But that didn't mean he wasn't still intending to have her in his bed before tour’s end.
If he was honest, it wasn't purely lust. There was a part of him that wanted her to acknowledge she'd wanted what happened between them seven years ago just as much as he had. But she was the only one who gotten the morning-afters and before he’d known it, he'd been out on his ass, out of a job and out of a paycheck.
A shadow blocked out the sun and Shay squinted up to see who it was. "Nice of you to join us," Michelle's father said, wearing the puckered-up look he usually wore when he talked to Shay or looked at Shay or probably when he thought about Shay at all.
"Michelle went that way," Shay said nodding the direction she'd jogged.
"You and me need to have a chat." Gordon tossed the morning paper in Shay's lap.
Shay unfolded it and groaned when he saw a picture of himself up on a bar he didn't remember with a scantily clad woman under each arm.
"Want to explain this?"
"Looks like a fun night out on the town," he said, handing the paper back to Gordon.
"You didn't get to the good part. Here, let me read it to you since there are some two-syllable words that might trip you up. ‘Country music bad boy Shay Rogan rolled into town last night, but eyewitness accounts say that he rocked a lot more than his latest album. After the show, a group from the tour visited several downtown clubs, drinking with the locals and partying until well past last call. ‘We had to call the cops,’ one bar patron reported. ‘Rogan, he didn't want to leave. I guess he likes the whiskey a little too much. He was getting pretty rowdy.’
‘According to eyewitnesses, members of Rogan’s band had to drag him away once the officers showed up and it was only with promises that his friends would take him home and put him in bed that the officers let him go with a written warning for disorderly conduct.’"
Shay didn't remember any of that. Not a word. He shoved a hand through his hair.
"You tryin’ to shoot yourself in the foot, boy? I've got a shotgun that would work just as well."
"I'll bet you do," Shay said, standing. "I'll bet you've been wanting to show me that shotgun for a few years now." Shay knew he'd do more than show it to any man who dared to touch a daughter of his.
Shay ignored the finger and gave him a grin. "For now. But this tour’s just starting, Mr. Waters. And when your daughter gets an itch she can't scratch? Well, she knows from experience I'm the man to take care of it for her."
His face turned purple and for a moment Shay worried that he'd just caused him a heart attack. After a moment, though, Gordon’s color went back to a normal human shade and he let out a long breath.
“Just watch yourself, Rogan. The label thinks we need you on this tour but we both know better. This is your last chance to salvage what fell into your lap and it'll take more than a few party songs and mediocre musical skills to hang on to it. You're about to lose everything. All Michelle and I have to do is watch you self-destruct then come out as heroes when we rescue the tour single-handedly. You're a flash in Nashville's fickle pan. Michelle is the real deal."
"Sounds like you got it all figured out, then," Shay said, feeling his own heart start thumping erratically. He knew Gordon’s words had a ring of truth to them. This was his last chance and he needed to shape up or start packing his pick-up for the trip home to Oklahoma.
"I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do on your bus after the shows or who you do it with. Just keep it out of the papers and stay the hell away from Michelle."
Shay leaned against the side of his bus as if he didn’t have a care in the world and put on his cockiest grin. "I'll stay away from her, all right. But this thing ain’t one-sided. Just how long do you think Michelle can stay away from me?"
If Gordon had been ten years younger, Shay was pretty sure he would have planted his fist in Shay’s jaw. As it was, he just glared at Shay and kept his fists clenched at his sides.
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