Table of Contents
Copyright Warning
~ Dedication ~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
~ About the Author ~
~ More Romance from Etopia Press ~
Midnight Diamonds
The Rivers Brothers Book One
Cynthia Hampton
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
136 S. Illinois Ave. Suite 212
Oak Ridge, TN 37830
http://www.etopiapress.com
Midnight Diamonds
Copyright © 2015 by Cynthia Hampton
ISBN: 978-1-941692-66-0
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: March 2015
~ Dedication ~
For family and friends who told me repeatedly, “You can do this!”
Chapter One
“Don’t give up on me, Buddy.” Silver Madison patted the dashboard of her sputtering 1966 Mustang convertible. Usually she sped along the highway enjoying the wind in her hair, but today the night-mist blue vintage car coughed along at a snail’s pace. She waved at frustrated drivers who whipped around her and blasted their horns.
“Honking at the choir, people! And that finger doesn’t impress me. I have one exactly like it! See?”
She eased off the busy road and onto a red dirt parking lot outside Hitching Post Arena. The car’s engine wheezed loudly then sputtered into a death rattle. Silver struggled with the powerless steering wheel, guided Buddy to a halt, then shoved the gearshift into park.
So much for having some fun during fall break. She had enough challenges in her life, and now her most prized possession had become a heap of metal and bolts.
“This isn’t funny, Buddy!” Silver opened the door and climbed out, slammed it shut, then walked to the front tire and kicked it. “Just like a stupid, uncooperative male to leave me stranded.”
As if all this wonderfulness weren’t enough, now she had to endure the insanity of a country music contest for the next few hours. Silver didn’t like country music, didn’t want to listen to it, didn’t want to pretend to enjoy it. She knew the songs, heard them on the radio, but sometimes those wailing tunes reminded her too much of the past year. She’d rather be trimming her lawn with nail clippers than be at the arena tonight.
But when her best friend Becky Sinclair had called to say Tulsa People magazine had assigned her to interview one of the singers, and she asked Silver to meet her at the arena, Silver couldn’t say no. Suddenly she remembered a co-worker had dropped Becky off and realized that with Buddy out of commission, they now had no way to get home.
Challenge #995 for the day. Add it to the growing list.
Silver looked up as thunder rumbled and lightning streaked across the sky.
“Really? I’m at the back of this miserable excuse for a parking lot with a dead car, about to be tortured with this stupid music, and it’s going to rain?”
Slipping her fingers under the blue metal, Silver popped a lever on the hood and propped it open, staring at the ancient gears and belts. Yes, she had an engine—for all the good it did. Rubbing a hand over her forehead, she leaned her legs against the front grill. Could this day get any worse?
“Need some help, darlin’?” a deep voice asked.
Yes, it could.
She hated being called darlin’. The Southern nickname always grated on her nerves, especially lately. The last six months, to be exact. Silver straightened with an exasperated breath. “Don’t…”
Her breath caught when she saw the source of irritation.
A tall man stared at her, his dark blue eyes shadowed by jet-black eyebrows and hair. He looked vaguely familiar but she didn’t know why. A day’s growth of beard framed a smile, giving his tanned face a slightly scruffy appearance. A black T-shirt clung to the solid muscles of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Khaki shorts covered his muscular thighs. The dark haired dream-come-to-life stood beside the car with one hand on Buddy’s roof, giving her a delicious glimpse of his flat stomach and making her wish…oh so many sinfully inventive things. She wanted to touch that firm, warm skin and trail her fingers…
“Don’t what?” he asked.
Blinking, she shook her head against the onslaught of those wayward thoughts. Geez! Focus, Silver.
With a trembling finger, she pointed to the car. “Uh, don’t…not…sure…what’s wrong.” Oh, that was priceless. An English teacher who didn’t know how to use her words. She tried again. “The engine made this strange noise, started cutting out, then it died.”
“Did you run out of gas?”
She squared her shoulders. “No, and I take good care of my things.”
He did a slow inspection, starting with her feet and ending with her face. “I can see that. Mind if I take a gander?”
“If you’re the goose.” Did she just say that out loud?
He chuckled and leaned under the hood, stretching his shorts tight over his fine assets. She moaned in appreciation.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
“No…well, yes… I mean, I’m just frustrated.” That was an understatement.
“Car trouble will do that.” He reached in and wiggled something with his hand. “Want to give it a try now?”
“Yes, I would,” she replied while watching those broad shoulders. He turned his head and arched one eyebrow. “Oh, you mean the car. Right.”
Silver felt her face grow warm with embarrassment as he laughed under his breath. Ugh! Could she be more obvious? Don’t objectify the delectable…and when had she last responded so viscerally to a man? Never!
“Any time, darlin’,” he said.
She opened the door, reached in and turned the key. To her surprise, the car started immediately, purring with its usual power. “What was wrong?”
“One of the carburetor wires slipped loose. Easy enough to fix.”
Straightening back up, she smiled at him. “I really appreciate it. Is there something I can do to say thank you?”
He grinned but shook his head. “It’s not necessary. Glad I could help.”
“I insist. Uh…dinner? Coffee? My ticket to the contest?”
Me, please?
“You don’t need your ticket?”
“I don’t like cowboys or
country music.”
His smiled faded a bit. “That’s too bad. I’ve heard there’s some pretty good talent.”
She shook her head. “All cowboys think they’re good.”
Laughing, he reached toward her. “Well, darlin’, some of us are good.”
She backed away a step. “What are you doing?”
He pointed toward her. “You’ve got some dirt on your forehead. Probably from the car.”
“Thanks.” She rubbed a hand across the area. Good grief, had it been there the whole time they’d been talking?
“Wait, you’re making it worse.” He reached into a back pocket and pulled out a black bandanna. Of course, because every male over the age of twelve this side of the Mississippi River either carried one or wore one.
He stepped closer and gently rubbed the cloth over her forehead. She inhaled and closed her eyes when a delicious scent of clean male and woodsy musk surrounded her, making her knees tremble. Bracing herself against him with her hands, she felt hard muscles beneath her fingers. Oh, she’d give up a year’s worth of Golden Oreos to slide her hands under his shirt and discover more of what his chest promised…to trail a finger along those hard curves into the waistband of those khaki shorts. She opened her eyes and saw him holding out the bandanna. His eyes were focused on her lips as he cleared his throat.
“You can keep it. The bandanna, I mean.”
“I couldn’t possibly,” she whispered as she took it, silently thinking she most definitely could, possibly…maybe.
He pulled out his phone and rolled his thumb over the face of it. “Listen, I’ve got people waiting on me inside, so I need to go.”
She wiped her forehead. “I have people, not I’ve got,” she corrected automatically then felt another blush creep over her face. “Sorry, occupational hazard.”
“You’re a teacher?” When she nodded, he smiled. “What’s your name, darlin’?” He held out his hand.
She bit down on her irritation at the sobriquet as the warm strength from his hand gave her an odd sense of rightness, as if she shouldn’t let go. “Silver Madison. Not darlin’.”
He withdrew his hand and stood watching her for a few moments, making her tense with worry that she’d offended him, until he smiled.
“Pretty name for a beautiful lady. Good to meet you, Silver.”
“You, too. Thanks again for helping with Buddy.” At his frown, she pointed to the car. “It’s named after my uncle.”
Nodding, he tapped the car with one hand. “You and Buddy take care. Try to enjoy the show.” She waved as he winked, climbed inside a black pickup truck parked behind Buddy and drove to the other side of the arena. The winking thing bothered her as much as the “darlin’” nickname, but it didn’t matter. He was gone.
Silver lifted the bandanna and inhaled again. “That definitely brightened my otherwise crappy day.”
The skies opened with a gentle rain. She slid into the navy blue leather driver’s seat, checked the rearview mirror to make sure the dirt on her forehead was gone, and tossed the handkerchief onto the passenger seat. Then she drove to a parking spot closer to the arena. Dodging the rain, she ran into the lobby of the massive steel building, where loud music assaulted her ears. Becky jumped up and down, waving to her from a brightly lit concession stand.
“Sil! Where have you been?”
After the two women hugged, Silver squinted at her friend’s bright yellow satin shirt. Becky had always loved see-me-I’m-here colors. Somehow, with her auburn hair, hazel eyes, and tall, willowy figure, she glammed even the most flamboyant outfit.
“Car trouble, but this amazing guy stopped to help me. Buddy’s fine now.” Silver glanced around the lobby, hoping to see her rescuer. “He said he’d be here, but I guess he’s already gone inside.”
“Ooh, sounds like you’re interested.”
“Who wouldn’t be? He’s gorgeous, has a killer smile, and he cleaned me up.”
Becky’s eyes widened. “He did what? And you just met?”
“I had dirt on my face, so he used a bandanna to wipe it off.” She let out a long sigh. “I wish the rest of my day had gone so well.”
The lobby lights flashed three times to signal the approaching show. Becky grabbed her arm and pulled her through one of the doors, handing the usher their tickets. “I want to hear all about it, but let’s get our seats first.”
Silver shuddered at the rippling sea of cowboy hats in the arena, a veritable convention for stained felt and ragged straw. Becky paved the way through hundreds of people, down a wide sawdust-covered aisle. They stopped at the front row where Becky flashed her press badge and tickets to a man wearing a security T-shirt. He pointed to their seats on the right side of the center floor section.
“What’s the big deal about this contest?” Silver asked.
“All the profits go to help Tulsa inner city schools.”
Silver’s eyebrows went up. “Impressive.”
Her school could definitely use that kind of help right now. Silver still shook with anger when she thought about the emergency faculty meeting and her principal’s news. Apparently the finance secretary had cleaned out all the bank accounts, and the school could be forced to close. Why would one of their most trusted employees put Gordon A. Gladstone Academy in such a precarious position and jeopardize all their jobs? The best thing in her life was teaching at GaGa, as the students called it, and now it might be taken away, thanks to one person.
She winced when a fast-paced song blasted through the speakers. “Tell me why we’re sitting on the Make-Me-Deaf row.”
“Front row seats are reserved for the press corps tonight since it’s a fundraiser. Supposedly agents from Nashville are scouting several of these singers, and the hottest new country star is one of the judges. I’m supposed to interview him after the show.” Becky bumped her shoulder. “Thanks for enduring the country music torture. Try to have fun and enjoy yourself.”
“Second time I’ve heard those words tonight.” Surrounded by plaid shirts and the smell of stale beer, Silver thought enjoyment might be an unattainable goal. She tried to see her knight among people two-stepping in every aisle as she covered her ears against the hideous, twangy music.
Becky pulled her hands down. “Come on, Sil. ‘Red Solo Cup’ is great song, and who doesn’t love Toby Keith?”
A song dedicated to plastic cups. There might as well be a song about floor mats for all the sense it made to her. Maybe it was some obscure allegory for life, but she had no intention of asking. She turned to check out the western décor on the stage.
Gigantic black cowboy hats rested at angles on oversize wagon wheels, and multi-colored lights dripped down the back curtain, disappearing behind a section of wooden fencing. Not a bad set up, but they could have spent a bit more money on production design.
A familiar snapping sound made Silver frown. Becky always popped her knuckles when she had a headache.
“Is it bad?” Silver asked.
“Just a little one. I think it’s nerves. Hey, what was the guy’s name who helped with Buddy?”
Silver gasped. “I didn’t ask!”
Shaking her head and laughing, Becky wrapped one of her arms around Silver’s shoulders. “Didn’t have a lesson plan for that one, huh?”
“I was distracted. He called me darlin’, and you know I hate being called that stupid nickname.”
“Only because a certain cowboy-wannabe called you that, then broke your heart.”
Silver glared at her friend, who knew to not even mention the ex-fiancé. Becky raised her hands in surrender. Suddenly the lights dimmed to near black and the arena erupted into excited cheering. “Here we go,” Becky squealed.
“We’re going?” Silver teased. “OK, I promised. Good time. Yippee, here we go.” She covered her ears again when a loud voice spoke over the noisy fans.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tulsa’s Search for the Stars contest.”
And so it began.
Sil
ver suffered through the next two hours and dozens of performers. Some were decent, a few were fine, but most were terrible. After one guy vocally massacred the classic song, “Help Me Make It through the Night,” even die-hard country fan Becky shook her head with a horrified gasp. When another hideous singer couldn’t even stay on pitch or rhythm, Silver stood, ready to leave, but Becky grabbed her arm.
“Not yet, Sil. I’m on assignment, remember?”
Silver sat back down, convinced that country music had nothing good to offer as the emcee walked onto the stage.
“All right, that’s all the contestants. While our judges begin their deliberation, let’s welcome some local talent who’s on the fast track to fame. He’s one of the judges, but I asked him to put in his vote quickly so he can sing for us. He’s also currently in the top forty on the country music charts, and rumor has it he’ll be nominated for Best New Artist of the Year with the American Country Music Awards. Let’s welcome Tulsa’s own…Justin Rivers!”
The audience exploded with cheering and applause. Maybe they were happy the contest was almost over. Music blasted through the tall speakers and laser lights glittered across the room. Where had all the lights been for the other acts? A dim spotlight focused on the stage where a tall man walked with his head down, face hidden by his cowboy hat until he reached the edge of the stage. The spotlight flashed to brilliant white as he raised his head.
Silver gasped softly when he smiled. She stared while he walked rapidly from one end of the stage to the other, waving as hundreds of cell phones took his picture and cameras flashed from the front row press members. Dozens of screaming girls rushed to the front of the stage as the audience stood in unison. Silver rose slowly, captivated by the music and the man.
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