Nashville Boxed Set #1-3

by Bethany Michaels

  Damn, he'd ruined a two-day streak of good behavior, but it had been worth it. Her ice queen routine irked him more than if she was calling him names and screaming at him.

  He smiled to himself. Michelle got that line between her brows when she really got ticked at him. Her blue eyes flashed and those fists clenched like she was about to haul off and cold cock him. What was wrong with him that he hoped one day she would try it?

  "Shay?" Jennie, the DJ startled him out of his head. "Do you agree with Michelle?"

  "Not really," Shay said, having no idea what he was disagreeing with.

  "So you think there is a possibility that you two might perform together, on the same stage?"

  Shit. "I think anything is possible," Shay said. "I like to mix it up."

  "There are a lot of rumors going around about in-fighting behind the scenes. Are you saying those are all false?"

  "Naw. You know how it is between two passionate people with artistic temperaments. Sometimes things kick up and boil over. Michelle and I are like that—two live wires that sometimes run a little hot. That's what makes our live show so electric." He glanced at Michelle and gave her a grin, daring her to disagree. "But that doesn't mean we're not really close off stage. Right, Michelle?”

  "I think a great show is the result of long hours of practice and knowing what each of us brings to the table." Michelle’s back was straight as tent pole and that little line of annoyance had appeared between her eyes. "We're opposites in almost every way."

  "Opposites attract," Shay said.

  "Not always." She glared at him now. "Sometimes they realize when they've made a mistake and are mature enough to let it go and forget it ever happened."

  "Maybe a repeat is inevitable." He leaned closer. The rest of the room faded away as he gazed into her blazing blue eyes. "Maybe they can't help being attracted and know when it's a waste of time to resist."

  Michelle opened her mouth and closed it again.

  "Well," Jennie said. "I think I need a glass of water. Folks, you need to come out and see these two in action tonight. They’re only here in Lexington tonight. Don’t miss it. The seventh caller wins a pair of tickets."

  When the broadcast went to commercial, Michelle leaned over. "What the hell was that?" she hissed.

  "Ticket sales," Shay said, deciding it would annoy her more if he played it off like it was all an act. His boner knew the truth. He was glad he was sitting at a table and they still had another segment for him to think about something else, like baseball stats or the sorry state of his finances to cool him down.

  He managed to behave the rest of the interview but the ride back to the concert venue was a silent affair. Rayna was with them, as was Gordon. Rayna spent the time going over the next day's promo, but Shay hardly heard a word. He had to get this thing under control. He needed to think about his quicksand career instead of some ice queen.

  Michelle and her father were out of the car and gone as soon as they parked in the back of the venue where their busses were. Shay got out and went back to his own bus. He still had a couple hours before their show and he thought a cold shower and cold beer sounded pretty good. Michelle was probably in her bus right now stressing herself out about the show, but Shay's approach was just to relax and let everything else go so that when he took the stage he'd be loose and in a good mood and ready to rock. Too much pressure made people stiffen up and perform like a stick of wood. And no one was paying to see a stick of wood.

  Shay was going on first, so after the final sound check, he went to his dressing room, showered and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a tight blue button down shirt he knew Michelle liked. He put his hat on over his wet hair and sat on the couch in the little room, warming up with some chords on his guitar. His hand was still stiff and the blue bruises had turned all the colors of the rainbow, but he'd get by. It was a good, if painful reminder that he needed to lay off unattainable women and focus on his career, no matter how hard it was to think of anything but getting Michelle naked and tied to his bed again whenever he was within a few feet of her.

  Shay strummed a few chords of a song he'd been working on. Outside the dressing room he could hear the growing buzz of the audience. Soon the whole place would be transformed from an d empty shell of a venue to a pulsing, thriving room full of people who wanted to hear Shay's music as much as he wanted to be playing it for them. He fed off the energy from the crowd and would do anything to put on a good show for them. He was made for this and if it all went away tomorrow he knew he'd miss it more than the money or the magazine covers, the fame, the women—even sticking it to his old man. He'd miss performing.

  That's why he couldn't for the life of him figure out why Michelle was in this business. Sharing the experience of good music was what made Shay's world go round. Michelle treated it as an obligation. She performed because she had to, not because she wanted to. He wondered if she'd ever enjoyed it at all. If her eyes had ever lit with the pure joy of producing something that brought so many people a couple of hours of fun, an escape from their real lives. He had to admit, after being a Shelly May fan long before he’d ever met her, he was disappointed.

  Maybe it was all the years she'd spent on the road, everything she must have given up as a child star working in an adult industry. He’d love to see the passion on stage that he'd seen in one brief glimpse behind closed doors.

  A knock sounded at his dressing room door and Shay grabbed his guitar, trying to shove the thoughts of Michelle from his mind as he headed for the stage and several thousand screaming country music fans.

  *****

  I waited in my dressing room as Shay's set drew to a close. The crowd was going wild. They loved him. And who wouldn't? He was the most annoying man on the face of the planet, but he knew how to rock a crowd. And kiss. And push my buttons.

  That stunt at the radio station still had my blood boiling and not only in irritation, if I was honest. He was right. There was an attraction between us that was wild and dangerous and completely undeniable. I couldn't control my reaction to him any more than I could control the summer storms that swept across the lake at the edge of my ranch, bringing light e ning and downpour s with it. Maybe that was the part that really bothered me. No matter how much I wanted to forget the way he'd made me feel then, and how much he got to me now, I couldn't control it.

  I adjusted my stage costume as Shay began his second to last number. For the first time in a long time, I took a long look at myself in the mirror. I looked perfect, my hair and make-up flawless after my team had finished with me. My stage costume was a variation of the look I'd cultivated from the first time I took the stage as a skinny girl with a dream: a modest dress with a dash of country sparkle to catch the lights, conservative brown cowboy boots and biggish blond hair that hung just a fraction past my shoulders, the color touched up every other week by my personal stylist.

  I wasn't even sure what my natural hair color was anymore. I'd gone with the cute honey blond shade since my hair started to darken as a teen. It was supposed to skate the line between the innocent girl I'd been when I first acquired the fans I had now and the sexier woman Nashville expected its girl singers to project on stage. Neither of those was really me, though.

  I frowned at myself. Maybe I really was stuck in the past, clinging to something that didn't work for me anymore, either professionally or personally. Despite all of the PR we'd done the past couple of days, ticket sales had not improved much. Maybe it really was time to hang it up and retire. I had all the money I'd ever need, thanks to Daddy's investing most of my earnings over the years. I didn't have to work and I sure didn't want to be one of those sad performers who played any car show or grocery store opening, trying to relive the glory days. I'd rather disappear altogether and do what I wanted to do. Whatever that was.

  I shook off that thought. Later. I'd think about it all later. Right now I needed to focus on getting through this show. I closed my eyes and mentally went through the set list, even th
ough I could recite it in my sleep and probably did on occasion.

  The crowd cheered as Shay started his closing number which was also his signature song, his first number one hit. There was a knock at my dressing room door and our stage manager peeked in. "Ready, Michelle?”

  I nodded, putting on my game face, a smile that said I was humble and gracious and thankful for everyone coming out to see me play. "Ready."

  I left my dressing room and headed for the stage. Daddy met me in the corridor and gave me a good luck pat on the back and the same last-minute advice he always did. "Don't let them down. The fans are who got you here."

  I nodded and walked up the small set of stairs into the darkened wings of the stage.

  Shay stood at the microphone belting out the final verse of his number, attacking his guitar so that I thought the strings might catch fire. I could feel the energy of thousands of people singing along, loving every minute of the show. The bass vibrated the floor under my boots and the quivering in my stomach reached a crescendo as the final lick reverberated throughout the arena.

  "Thanks, ya'll! It's been a real pleasure!" Shay shouted into the mic over the screams of his fans.

  He glanced into the wings and met my eye. With a slow, pulse-melting grin, he winked at me then turned back to the mic.

  "And now I'd like to introduce you to a little lady I'm pretty fond of and I know you are, too."

  My heart stopped. This wasn't part of the show. He was supposed to leave the stage and let the crew change the set around a little and adjust the sound for my part of the show. What the heck was he up to?

  "I've been a fan for a real long time — -- Michelle, come on out here, baby."

  Shay gestured to me and the crowd went wild.

  My stomach rolled and I was as close to a pre-show puke as I'd ever been. I didn't like off-the-cuff stunts. I didn't like not knowing what was going to happen next.

  The spotlight turned towards the edge of the stage waiting on me to make my appearance.

  "What the hell is that boy doing?" Daddy asked from behind my left shoulder. "Did you two plan this?"

  "No. I have no idea what he’s up to."

  The crowd continued to cheer. "Come on, baby, don't be shy now," Shay said with a grin.

  "You’d better go on," Daddy said. "We'll deal with him later."

  I took a deep breath, slipped my guitar strap over my shoulder and walked out into the spotlight.

  "Here she is, folks!"

  I waved and smiled, my heart beating so loud in my ears I wasn't sure I'd be able to hear anything at all out of my ear piece. I wasn't one of those artists who spoke directly to the crowd very much during a performance. I mostly stuck to the set list and let the intense rehearsal time I put in before a show carry me along. There was no off-the-cuff stuff, nothing unplanned or unexpected. Shay worked the opposite way. I wasn't sure he planned anything at all.

  "Thanks for coming out, darlin'," Shay said, grinning at me. "I've got a special request for you, if you don't mind."

  Unwilling to let Shay show me up, I shoved my abject terror down deep, put on a bright smile and leaned in to the mic. Shay tilted it down for me. "Sure. What is it?"

  "Well, like I said, I've always been a big fan. Back in Oklahoma—" The Oklahoma contingent screamed. "—Yeah! Got some Okies here, tonight! Anyhow, when I was just a sweet young thing back home listening to you on the radio, there was one song I just couldn't get enough of." Shay turned to the audience. "Anybody remember ‘You’ll Always be My Man’?"

  A cheer rose from the crowd and I froze. That number wasn't on my set list. I hadn't performed it on stage in years. Daddy had thought it was too suggestive for the brand we were pushing. Conservative and wholesome, that was Michelle Waters. Not this.

  "Well, darlin', I was hoping, since we're tour mates and all, that maybe you'd let me sing it with you."

  "Oh, come on, now, Shay. Nobody wants to hear that old song."

  Shay leaned back into the mic. "What do y'all think? Want to hear me and Michelle do it?"

  The crowd cheered so loudly I thought the roof was going to come off the building. Something inside me blossomed. It was like the old days, when I first hit it big and got a following. Days when my shows sold out in minutes and I was on the covers of all the big music magazines. When I'd been at the top of my game and there seemed to be no limit to just how high I could climb. It was a heady thrill I hadn't experienced in a long time. These people wanted me.

  I glanced back into the wings where Daddy was standing, arms crossed over his chest. He nodded once, his face dark. Shay was going to catch hell after this little stunt and so was I. Unless we somehow pulled it off.

  "Seems like they want to hear it, Michelle. What do you say?"

  I took a deep breath. "All right. Sure. Why not?" I hoped my fingers remembered the chord placement. There were no do-overs in live music, no chance to execute a perfect take. It was like walking a high wire with no safety net—not exactly my thing. But Shay had backed me into a corner and the only way out was through.

  Shay grinned from ear to ear. "That's my girl." He pulled his guitar around to his front again and adjusted the mic so we could both use it. "This has been a fantasy of mine forever, you know." He had lowered his voice and arched his brows suggestively and the crowd instantly picked up on it.

  "Figures," I shot back without thinking and the crowd cheered even louder. "Bet you got a lot of those, right ladies?"

  High pitched screams filled the air and I started to relax. The audience was with us. With me. They were loving this. A little thrill shot through me, surprising me. I relaxed a little and moved closer to Shay. He was drenched in sweat, his face bright and shinning.

  "Ya'll know this one, right?" he called back to the band. Everyone nodded, smiling.

  Shay leaned over and whispered in my ear. "You start, I'll come in on the chorus and we'll take it from there, okay?"

  I nodded, still smiling towards the crowd. "I'm going to kill you, you know."

  Shay laughed, deep and low in my ear. "It'll be worth it."

  One of the crew ran out and hooked my guitar up to the amp. We were doing this. No turning back.

  Shay kicked off the first guitar chords and the band jumped right in. He stepped back from the mic a little and let me take center stage. The words I hadn't sung on stage in years came rushing back to me and I gripped the mic, ready to hit the first note.

  The song started off kind of slow. It was about a girl crazy in love with a boy. So crazy she did crazy things like follow him home and make up excuses to see him. Then when he ignored her she got even crazier. Until he didn’t ignore her anymore and they had an intense passionate love affair. That's when the song started to rock. The sexual undertones and squealing guitar bridges told the story of wild young love, uncontrollable, undeniable. It hadn't ever been a song that fit my wholesome, good-girl image, but now, well, now it felt just right. And it was no mystery why Shay liked it or why he'd chosen this song now.

  I let the last notes of the quiet early part of the song hang in the air and glanced at Shay. He sidled up to the mic, a huge smile pasted across his face, head bobbing to the beat. And then he came in hard, way harder than the song had ever been played before, on the chorus.

  The crowd exploded in applause and catcalls as Shay leaned in, his mouth only inches from mine as I belted out the chorus with as much emotion as I'd ever given it. When I was young the song had been a romantic fantasy, a theoretical. Now I knew what those words meant and had experienced the driving hunger for myself. With Shay.

  Even hearing it through the stage monitors, I could tell our voices blended together perfectly. His was much deeper and rougher, but it complemented my smoother, higher pitch. His voice was the driving base and mine wrapped around and threaded through it like a tinkling stream carving a path through a rocky gorge.

  It was good and everyone from the audience to the band was responding.

  I nodded at Shay to take the
lead on the second verse while I stepped back and listened. It was still my song, but when Shay got ahold of it, the words took on an even more sexual, suggestive tone. He played it up as much as he could, moving his hips and lowering his voice as he ground out the lyrics with as much longing and need as I'd ever heard in a song.

  I stepped in to lend my voice to the chorus and Shay got even closer, throwing me looks hot enough to melt my fretboard. We launched into the third verse together, playing up the sexiness, both of us swaying to the beat and looking into each other’s eyes as the relationship in the song came to a crashing crescendo with one magical night of sex and passion and loving in the moment. Warmth spread through me as I couldn't help but think of that night with Shay. It had been a lot like that—wild and crazy and not thinking about consequences afterward.

  Perfect.

  As the song drew to a close, the melody slowed and the band’s instruments dropped away until it was just my guitar and my voice echoing though the space on a final bittersweet note.

  Shay grinned at me, sweat dripping down his face, eyes hot and heavy with desire. It was the same look he'd given me that night on his bus and the same one that had haunted me every time I'd thought of that night. It was need, desire and pure sexual promise all wrapped up in one.

  I hardly noticed the deafening roar of the crowd over the roar of my own pulse. I looked at the desire in Shay’s hard stare, mesmerized, and watched him sling his guitar around to his back without breaking eye contact.

  He took my guitar then wrapped his free arm around my waist and hauled me against his hard wet body. I wanted his mouth on me more than my next breath, my next record deal or my next moment on earth. I reached up, gripped a handful of hair at the base of his neck and guided his lips down to mine, arching my body against his in the age-old posture of sexual surrender.

  His mouth covered mine in a hot, hungry kiss. I kissed him back, tongues and lips and mouths consuming one another, desperately trying to get closer, deeper. I could feel how hard he was through the rough fabric of his jeans. I pushed closer, needing to feel that rock hard promise against my body. Flashes of light from thousands of camera-phones barely registered. Shay consumed my entire world.