by Cat Schield
One
After telling the sound engineer to take a break, Nate Tucker lay down on the couch in the control room of West Coast Records’ LA headquarters. Closing his eyes, he listened to the playback of the song he’d just recorded. Over the years he’d trained his ears to pick up every nuance of a performance. His mind then went to work adjusting the frequencies, boosting or cutting EQ, feathering in a touch of reverb to improve the natural sound.
Nothing, however, could fix what Nate was hearing in his own voice. Proof that he’d pushed too hard on the final leg of his twelve-month tour.
He’d hoped that three weeks of rest might have allowed his vocal cords to fix themselves, but his reduced range and the hoarseness that plagued him weren’t going away. The vocal cord surgery he’d scheduled for tomorrow was unavoidable. Nate’s curses echoed through the room. One more damned thing he didn’t have time for.
Since returning to his home in Las Vegas after touring all over the world with his band, Free Fall, he’d been inundated with work. Thank goodness he’d been able to do some songwriting while on the road, because he was all out of space and energy to compose for Free Fall’s next album. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. With his voice out of commission he wasn’t going to be singing anytime soon.
His phone began to ring. Nate checked the screen before levering himself off the couch. In the last three days he’d made a half dozen calls to Trent Caldwell, his business partner and friend. In addition to being partners in Club T’s, the premier Las Vegas nightclub that Nate, Trent and Kyle Tailor owned, Nate and Trent were partners in Nate’s label, Ugly Trout Records in Las Vegas, as well as West Coast Records, the company Trent had recently bought from his family.
Dropping into the control booth’s comfortable leather chair, Nate silenced the music pouring from the speakers and answered the call.
“It’s about time you checked in.” Nate wasted no time with pleasantries. “Where have you been?”
“Savannah starts shooting next week, so I took her and Dylan to a spa hotel up in Washington.” Trent sounded more relaxed and happy than ever. Being engaged to the love of his life obviously agreed with him. “We both turned off our phones for a few days.”
Ever since Trent had rekindled his romance with his former lover and found out he was a father, he’d become a whole new person. Nate understood the transformation, after what had happened between him and Mia. It was easy to be cynical and even suspicious about stuff like that until it happened to you.
“Sounds nice.” Really nice.
Envy shot through Nate. It wasn’t like him to want something another man had. He already had fame and wealth. They didn’t drive him. Nate loved what he did and didn’t really care if he made tons of money. The music mattered.
And then he’d watched his friend and business partner fall hard for Savannah, and suddenly making music wasn’t enough anymore.
“I got your messages about the meeting with Ivy Bliss,” Trent said. “Have you lost your mind?”
“What do you mean?” Nate knew perfectly well what Trent was referring to, but decided to pretend he’d been motivated purely by business.
Ivy Bliss was a former child actress turned pop princess with an impressive four-octave range. Five years ago she’d signed with West Coast Records and released two albums. They’d done okay. Thanks to the label’s poor management, the production work on the albums hadn’t been stellar and the release dates had been pushed back so many times that fans had lost interest.
That was before Trent and Nate had taken control of his family’s label the previous month. They intended to turn the record company around and make it a huge success. Ivy Bliss’s new album was a great place to start.
But that wasn’t the reason Nate had reached out to Ivy’s manager-father about producing her new album.
“You did nothing but complain about her the entire eight weeks she was on tour with you.”
“Oh, that.”
“Oh, that?” Trent mimicked. Nate could hear a baby babbling in the background. “Just a second.” There was a pause. “Dylan, Daddy’s on the phone with Uncle Nate. Do you want to sing him your new song?”
Nate couldn’t ignore the growing ache in his chest as he listened to Dylan jabber along with his father’s soft singing. Ever since Nate had decided on a career in music, every bit of his energy had been focused on writing, performing and producing. Now, he enjoyed all the money and success he’d dreamed about and yet something gnawed at him.
“That was terrific,” Nate said when the song was done.
“He’s barely a year and already starting to say a few words.”
“Have you been teaching him the signs I showed you?” Nate had learned American Sign Language as a kid so he could communicate with his hearing impaired mother, and had taught Trent a few signs Dylan could use to communicate, for words such as more, done, eat, play, finish and tired.
“Yes, he’s really taking to it. Now, back to Ivy. Why would you want to produce her new album?”
Nate sighed. “I don’t need to remind you that she’s a huge talent and poised to break out. She just needs one great album.”
“She’s a twenty-five-year-old nightmare.”
“Yes, well...she’s not that bad.” Nate winced at the bald lie.
Seven years earlier, when she was seventeen and starring in a Broadway musical after her show on KidZ Channel was canceled, she’d gotten Nate’s phone number and for four months she’d sent him impassioned texts and sexy pictures of herself. At first he’d responded with polite rebuffs and then silence. At last he’d contacted her father and warned him that this wasn’t going to play well if it got out. All contact stopped.
“She’s a little silly and spoiled,” Nate continued, “but superstars can get that way sometimes.”
Trent ignored his friend’s self-deprecating jab. “Why don’t you point her toward Savan or Blanco?” Both had worked with her on collaborations with other artists and produced hits.
Nate didn’t need to remind Trent that Ivy Bliss had a reputation for being “challenging” in the studio. She didn’t take suggestions, and criticism sent her into hysterics. Neither of the producers Trent mentioned would want to work with her again.
“I’m doing this for West Coast Records.” Another lie. There were a couple dozen guys who could produce the heck out of Ivy Bliss and make an album that would rocket to the top of the charts.
“I’m not buying it.” Trent hadn’t made a major success of every one of his business ventures by being dense. “Wait a second, are you into her? Damn. That’s crazy, but my sister said you fell for someone on the tour. I never in a million years thought it was Ivy Bliss.”
“It wasn’t.” With a shudder, Nate changed topics before Trent could press further. “The other reason I called is that I’m going in for surgery tomorrow.”
“Surgery.” Trent’s tone sharpened. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got these polyps on my vocal cords.” He tried to keep the tension out of his voice. The situation was serious, but he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “I need to get them removed.”
“That sounds bad.”
“It’s outpatient surgery. A couple hours max. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be out of commission for a few days.”
“Do you want me to take you?”
“And do what?” Nate injected as much sarcasm as he could into the words to hide how embarrassed he was at his mounting anxiety. “Hold my hand? Please.”
“Fine.” Trent sounded doubtful. “But if you need anything, just let me know.”
“Sure.”
An hour after hanging up, Nate strode into the conference room for his two o’clock meeting with Ivy Bliss. Only it wasn’t Ivy and her manager-father who
awaited him, but Mia Navarro, her twin sister and personal assistant. His heart raced across the room toward her. Nate plunged after it for two strides before coming to a stop. What did he think he was going to do? Wrap her in his arms and crush her against his chest? Whisper that the last three weeks had been a living hell without her? That he ached to hear her voice and sulked without her smile to brighten his day?
She’d made her choice and it hadn’t been him.
“How have you been?” He searched her face for some sign she’d suffered as he had, lingering over the circles under her eyes and the downward turn of her mouth. To his relief she didn’t look happy, but that didn’t stop her from putting on a show.
“Things have been great. Ivy’s been busy with appearances on The Tonight Show and Ellen. She’s stoked about being asked to perform at the AMAs on the twentieth. And of course she’s really excited about working with you.”
Nate reined in his impatience, unable to believe that he was nearly back to square one with Mia. He’d spent weeks chatting her up on the tour, afraid if he pushed too fast that she’d retreat into the persona of personal assistant to Ivy Bliss. Many times he’d asked himself why he was working so hard to draw out someone who didn’t want to be noticed. Then she’d smile at him and make his entire day.
If only he could convince her to leave Ivy... Mia had more to offer the world than just being her famous sister’s flunky. For one thing, she was a ridiculously talented songwriter. When he’d discovered that she had written all the songs her sister had recorded and that she’d been denied credit on the albums, he’d been seconds away from storming into Ivy’s hotel room and demanding she go public with the truth.
Mia had been mortified. She’d claimed to be okay with the lies and Nate could understand letting the error stand for the first album, but not the subsequent one. As someone who nurtured artists, he’d been appalled by what had been done to Mia by her own family, and saddened by how she’d been bullied.
“I didn’t ask how your sister is doing. I asked about you.”
“I’m fine. Never better.” Mia could go on for hours talking about Ivy, but when it came to talking about herself, she was fond of two-word sentences.
“Tell me the truth.” He was asking after her welfare, but what he really wanted to know was if she’d missed him at all. It seemed crazy that he’d known her for less than three months and in that time she’d become like breathing to him.
“I’m great. Really.”
“What have you been doing since the tour ended?”
Mia shrugged. “The usual.”
Meaning whatever occupied Ivy was what Mia had been doing. As her sister’s personal assistant, she lived and breathed Ivy Bliss, pop princess.
“I hope she gave you a little time off.”
“Ivy was invited to a charity event in South Beach and we extended our stay a couple days to kick back and soak up some sun.”
Ivy demanded all Mia’s time and energy. That Nate had been able to spend any time at all alone with Mia during Ivy’s eight-week stint on his tour was nothing short of amazing. They’d sneaked around like teenage kids. The danger of getting caught had promoted intimacy. And at first, Nate had found the subterfuge amusing. It got old fast.
For a while Nate wondered if he’d initially been drawn to Mia because he felt compelled to rescue her from her sister’s clutches. When Mia was around Ivy, she was a quiet mouse in the corner, fetching herbal tea, being ready with Ivy’s favorite snack, loosening her tension with a quick shoulder massage. And it had bothered Nate that Ivy treated Mia like an employee instead of a sister. She never seemed to appreciate how Mia’s kind and thoughtful behavior went above and beyond the role of personal assistant.
“I don’t like the way we left things between us,” Nate declared, taking a step in her direction.
Mia took a matching step backward. “You asked for something I couldn’t give you.”
“I asked you to come with me to Las Vegas. I wanted to spend more time getting to know you.”
“It was all happening was too fast. We’d barely known each other two months.” She’d delivered the same excuse three weeks ago and it rang as hollow now as it had then. “And I couldn’t leave Ivy.”
“She could’ve found another assistant.” He’d said the same thing the morning after the tour ended. The night after she’d stayed with him until the sun crested the horizon.
Their last stop had been Sydney. Following his final encore, Nate had made sure Ivy was busy and then stolen Mia away to a romantic hotel suite overlooking the harbor. They’d sipped champagne, toasted each other, laughed and made love for the first time. But as sunlight filled the room Mia was on the phone with Ivy, making excuses for where she’d been.
“I’m not just her assistant, I’m her sister,” Mia said, now as then. “She needs me.”
I need you.
He wouldn’t repeat the words. It wouldn’t do any good. She’d still choose obligation to her sister over being happy with him. And he couldn’t figure out why.
“Your sister is a spoiled brat.” Frustration and impatience got the better of him. “The only reason I agreed to work on her album is because of you.”
Mia’s beautiful brown eyes went round with shock, and although her mouth dropped open, no words emerged.
Her phone rang, interrupting the heavy silence between them. “It’s Ivy.” She looked almost relieved by the interruption. “I should get this.”
Nate had grown weary of her sister coming between them. He crossed his arms over his chest and let sarcasm slide into his tone. “By all means, take it.”
To his surprise, she put the phone on speaker. “Hey Ivy, I’m with Nate right now and you’re on speaker.”
After a short pause, Ivy’s soprano voice came over the line. “Hi, Nate. Has Mia apologized for me missing the meeting and asked if you could meet for a drink later to chat about my album?”
Mia winced and wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“Not yet,” he answered.
“Then I’ll ask.” He could hear the seductive pout in Ivy’s tone. “Please come by my house at eight.”
He understood the invitation for what it was and barely restrained a growl. “If you wanted to talk about your album, you should’ve come by today.”
Mia’s large dark eyes went round with concern. “Don’t upset her,” she told him in sign language.
Nate pretended that he hadn’t seen the plea. While on tour they’d discovered they both knew how to sign. Something he’d used to overcome her reluctance to talk to him. That they’d shared a secret language had drawn them together.
“Didn’t Mia explain that I had a conflict? I’m meeting with a representative for Mayfair Cosmetics. It’s all hush-hush, but they’re looking for the new face to represent their beauty line.”
“Can you meet for dinner?” Mia signed, her eyes worried.
Nate reined in his temper, reminding himself the reason he’d offered to work with Ivy was so he could spend time with Mia and hopefully convince her to pick him over her sister this time.
“How about I make a reservation for dinner at eight,” Nate said.
“Sure. Dinner would be wonderful.”
“I’ll text Mia with the details and this time you’d better show up.” While Mia stared at him in horror, Nate reached out and disconnected the call. “Studio time costs money. I have a dozen artists I’m currently working with. If Ivy’s not going to show up ready to work, then she needs to find a different producer for her album.”
“Oh, no, please. She’s counting on working with you.” Mia was breathless and anxious. “I’ll make sure she’s where she needs to be exactly when you say.”
“Promise?”
He held out his hand, impatient to revisit the feel of her. From the first Mia had appealed
to him. She was as natural and competent as Ivy was artificial and flighty. But it was that electric charge that sizzled through him when they touched that he craved.
Her eyes were solemn and earnest as she placed her palm against his. “Promise.”
* * *
Mia hoped Nate wouldn’t notice the way her fingers trembled as they shook hands. In those delightful seconds, Ivy Bliss faded from Mia’s mind. There was only this tall, charismatic man with eyes the color of storm clouds.
For as far back as she could remember, Mia had been invisible. Why would anyone pay attention to the ordinary-looking child standing beside and a little behind the beautiful, charismatic, talented Ivy? And the difference between the twins had only intensified when Ivy had gotten a role in a television series and gone on to Broadway and a pop music career. Mia had become the quiet shadow at her elbow.
And then she’d met Nate. Never in a million years could Mia have believed that someone as talented and charismatic as the lead singer of Free Fall would notice she existed, much less be attracted to her. He’d seen her as a distinct individual with interests and goals. That was pretty heady stuff. No wonder she’d tumbled head over heels for him. What woman with a pulse wouldn’t have?
Then the tour ended and the real world overcame the fantasy one she’d dwelled in for two months. She’d had no choice but to turn down his offer to go with him to Las Vegas. Nate had been so angry with her that last morning in Sydney. He’d accused her of leading him on. It struck her as impossible that a nobody like her could be anything more than a momentary distraction to someone as incredible as Nate Tucker.
Given all that he’d accomplished in the music industry, it amazed Mia that he was only thirty-one. An accomplished singer/songwriter and producer, he’d had six Grammy nominations for producing and won two. His band had been nominated for twenty-nine assorted awards and won eight, including several Grammys and an AMA award for favorite pop/rock band/duo/group.
“Are you okay?” he asked, peering at her.
They were still holding hands. Mia’s cheeks heated as she released her grip. “Sorry.” She took an awkward step back and bumped into one of the chairs surrounding the large oval conference table. “I was just thinking how lucky Ivy was for getting to work with you.”
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