by Dee J. Adams
But he saw her wrestle with the idea.
Zoe’s eyes rounded as she turned Casey toward her. “After what I walked in on last month, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
That sounded bad. “What did you walk in on?” Brendan asked. His stomach took a spin and it wasn’t because of all the pain meds.
“We’d like to know that too,” Eugene said. “Seems like we’re the last to know everything.”
Casey looked like she was about to implode, but managed to keep her cool. “Now really isn’t the time to get into it.”
Brendan remembered the little bit he did know about Casey’s ex. “You told me he gave you an ultimatum. Makes him sound like someone unwilling to compromise. Obviously something else happened.”
“That doesn’t mean he decided to shoot at me. Or you. I mean, he called off the wedding. Not me.”
“He called off the wedding when you didn’t play by his rules. What if he’s mad enough for something this drastic?” His suggestion freaked her out. He saw it in the widening of her eyes and her slack jaw. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. “Okay, maybe it’s not him. But someone out there is pissed enough to want to kill us both.”
“There’s one thing you two have in common,” Blake said. “The show.”
Later that night, Casey sat on the St. Johns’ comfortable sofa in their den. Her suitcase had exploded in the upstairs guest room, and all her clothes and shoes spilled out onto the floor. This house was beautiful and comfortable and much better than staying with her parents. In one short hospital visit followed by a much longer conversation at the St. Johns’ house, her parents had learned more about Jeff than they’d ever bargained for. Their surprise—and ultimate joy—at discovering she’d won the show went a long way in mending their relationship with Casey. They definitely needed time to process all the new information. Just like Casey needed time to recoup from the mental and physical hurdles of the day.
Blindly, she stared at the TV as her head throbbed a merciless beat. The whole day had been a horror of a reality show come to life. Too bad she’d never made it to the studio. She’d spoken with Miles from the hospital and told him about the day’s events. She couldn’t decide if he was happier that she was alive or that he had more drama to exploit…which he did as soon as humanly possible since the news stations had picked up the story in gory detail. Apparently Miles felt compelled to release the information about the show’s new winner, and he’d speculated about Brendan’s possible motive for showing up at Casey’s door.
It was all more than she could deal with, and TV wasn’t helping.
As Casey snuck back to her room, she heard Brendan’s mom—who insisted Casey call her Terry—rattling around in the kitchen, talking softly to her husband.
Brendan’s parents seemed like the kind of people anyone would want for parents. Terry’s fiery red hair matched her personality and Jay looked like an older version of Brendan with the beginning of gray patches at his temples. Clearly the two of them made a great team and relied on each other. The evidence was in the covert looks and constant touching.
Oh, to find that for the rest of her life…
She was nearly at her room when she heard Brendan.
“Casey, come back. Was that you?”
She debated backtracking and facing him, mainly because she was tapped out. But Brendan had taken a bullet for her today, so she owed him her life a third time. She pushed his door open wider and leaned against the frame, striving for indifference.
It was a mistake.
Resting against the headboard, with his arm in a sling and wearing only a thin sheet up to his waist, Brendan looked like an Adonis. His sculpted chest and abs only reminded her of what she had—and walked out on—over two months ago.
A tall bookcase loaded with books, trophies and pictures sat against a hunter green accent wall. The navy-and-green duvet folded at the bottom of his bed fit him perfectly. It was all masculine and comforting.
“I was just going to bed.” Casey managed to meet his gaze.
Pounding up the stairs warned of someone’s approach and Casey stood taller as Terry rounded the hall.
“Jay just told me he put your suitcase in the guest room.” She reached the door and stepped past Casey, still carrying a dishrag over her shoulder. “How’re you feeling, honey?” She placed the back of her hand on Brendan’s forehead and he rolled his eyes.
“Mom, I’m not a baby. Cut it out.” But he didn’t shy away from his mother’s hand.
“Just checking for fever. I told the doctor I would.” She glanced between the two of them. “Anyway, like I said, Jay just told me he put your suitcase in the guest room.”
The suitcase that had already exploded over the room when she couldn’t find the bottle of pain relievers she’d tossed in at the last minute.
“I mean, I realize it’s not far, but if you want to move it in here, we can do that now.” Terry adjusted the blanket at the bottom of the bed and it took Casey a second to process what she’d heard.
Terry was offering her Brendan’s bed? With Brendan in it? Casey opened her mouth, but no words came out, so she shook her head. Vic would’ve jumped at an opportunity like this, but Casey couldn’t do it. Waving a hand between Brendan and herself, she barely managed a reply. “Oh, we aren’t…you know, no, no, there’s nothing, I mean, no, I wouldn’t dream of…”
“Moooom.” Brendan’s groan was long and pitiful. A flush stained his cheeks as he pressed his eyes shut.
“What?” Terry looked between the two of them like they were dense. “Did I get my signals wrong? Because I swear the two of you were an item during the show. You just tried to act like you weren’t.” She glanced between them again before picking up a dirty plate on Brendan’s bedside table. “Okay, seriously, I’m not stupid. I know sparks when I see sparks.”
Casey felt a matching flush crawl up her cheeks.
Terry stepped back and adjusted a picture on the shelf. “Brendan, you of all people should know my feelings on this. I mean, face it, I was pregnant at sixteen, so I know the deal.”
“Sixteen!” Casey clapped a hand over her mouth. That’s right…get yourself thrown out of the best shelter you have. “Sorry,” she murmured. It just slipped out. Of course, now she understood why Brendan’s parents looked so young.
“Yes,” Terry said, without a hint of remorse. “Sixteen. So as far as I’m concerned, if you two want time together, I’m not going to put you in another room. You’ll only find your way back here. Or, knowing Brendan, he’ll creep out of bed to come to your room. I’d rather not risk it. Although I think you two know sex is really off the table with both of you so banged up.” She seemed to realize she was talking about a touchy subject and paused. “So…” She looked between them again and scooped up some dirty laundry from the bottom of the bed. “What’s the deal?”
This was the last thing Casey expected. There was no way in hell she planned to sleep in Brendan’s bed. Not with his parents right down the hall. Not even if someone paid her money.
“The guest room is perfect,” she said.
“Okay. If you’re sure.” Terry took her dishes and laundry and walked past Casey. “Let me know if you change your mind.” She disappeared toward the stairs, leaving Casey in a state of shock and embarrassment.
Casey waited until Terry was out of earshot, then looked at Brendan. “Sixteen?”
He nodded. “Hard to imagine, right? It weirds me out to think my parents had three kids by my age, with me and Blake soon to come.”
“Seems like your ’rents have a really good relationship.” Her parents did too. They were just extremely uptight. They were also significantly older than Terry and Jay, so maybe that made a difference. “You all are pretty tight, huh?” Casey asked settling back against the doorframe.
“Yeah.” Brendan nodded, a half smile on his face. “Come over here. Sit down a minute.” He gestured to the end of the bed and Casey suddenly remembered why she didn’t want to be here in the first place.
She was still massively embarrassed for avoiding him the past week…her default emotion when it came to this man. For a guy who should’ve been pissed as hell at her, he was acting as if nothing had happened. She sure as hell would’ve been angry if their roles were reversed and he’d ghosted her. Instead of obsessing on it more, she crept in and sat on the chair in the corner of the room.
“Just for a few minutes. I’ve got a whopper of a headache and I need to go to sleep.”
His dark brows slanted. “Did you take something? We’ve got plenty of pain relievers in the bathroom. Help yourself.”
“I had some ibuprofen. I’ll be fine.” A very awkward silence settled between them and she couldn’t really leave when she’d just sat down. “Thanks again for being there today. That first bullet would’ve nailed me if you hadn’t blocked it.”
He avoided her gaze and nodded. “I’m glad I was there for you.” His voice got rough and Casey’s skin tingled when he finally looked at her. His deep blue eyes made it hard for her to stay focused. The emotion she saw and the fact that he didn’t try to hide it scared the spit right out of her.
Definitely time to leave.
Casey stood up and before Brendan could talk her out of it, she said, “My head is pounding. I’ve got to lie down. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Case.”
Casey steeled herself against the plea in Brendan’s low voice. She sucked up the courage she didn’t feel and watched him from the doorway. “Yeah?”
He opened his mouth, but paused as if rethinking what he was going to say. “Sleep well. Good night.”
Exhaling her relief, she gave him a quick wave. “Night.” Free…at least for the next eight hours.
Chapter Nineteen
A distant ringing interrupted Casey as she moved over Brendan’s muscular chest. His sling was nowhere to be found and he had both arms around her, one hand palming her head as she lowered her mouth over his, and the other easing down her spine to cup her ass and guide her over him. God it felt perfect. Better than perfect. He filled her completely, hit that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over until she thought she might burst with pleasure. It was similar to one of the many positions they’d experimented with on their one and only night together.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
That damn buzzing got louder, but Brendan didn’t seem to hear it. He just whispered how good she felt. How he’d never touched smoother skin or softer hair. He made her crazy with desire even as she rode him to the finish. Heat blazed off his body as they broke apart and pushed back together again, breathing each other in as their mouths nipped and kissed. God, she was so close, right there…
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
The sound finally penetrated and Casey opened her eyes to a strange room. Light peach walls, crown molding on the ceiling. Peach and gray flowered bed spread. The guest room at the St. Johns’ house. Her nightshirt molded to her damp skin and her girl parts roared for satisfaction. Her phone vibrated next to her bed and she glanced at the screen, shocked to see Miles’s name and number flashing on the screen. At six-thirty in the morning. What the hell?
Casey sat up—way too fast. She closed her eyes against the dizziness and punched the screen. “’Lo?” She cleared her dry throat and fought down a queasy stomach.
“Why didn’t you call me back yesterday?” The question was half pissed, half whine and all obnoxious. She’d never heard this kind of attitude from Miles before. He didn’t sound anything like the always-in-control producer she’d come to know.
Casey ran her hand through her hair and tried to wake up her tired brain and give her hot skin a second to cool down. Her headache had kept her up more than she’d slept. “I’m sorry, Miles.” I was too busy getting stitches in my head after someone used me for target practice. “I didn’t know I was supposed to call you back. I thought we postponed the meeting.”
“Let me put it to you this way, Casey, and don’t take this the wrong way, but the show owns you. I own you. You signed a contract and that’s still in place. Everything you do is relevant to me.”
Really? “How?”
“You still don’t get it. You’re a public figure. Everything you do is newsworthy. Especially getting shot at. That right there could amount to tens of thousands of sales.”
What? So he wanted to exploit everything she did, everything that happened to her to make a buck? That hadn’t been the reason she’d done the show. She just wanted a leg up in the music industry. His way sounded sleazy and underhanded. She wanted people to buy her music because they liked it, not because she’d nearly been killed after winning the show, even if it was by default.
If her silence bumped him, he didn’t mention it. He just powered on. “I need you to get to the studio ASAP. We’re already fielding calls and setting up interviews for you. This is great publicity. You can’t buy this shit.”
“What?” She couldn’t manage to keep that one internal and her pulse jumped.
“I’ll have a drive-on at the gate. Come to the studio and we’ll take a car from here to KLAC for the morning show. Better yet, we’ll pick you up. We’ve got to hurry if we’re going to make the last segment.”
“Miles, I can’t be on TV this morning. I still have blood in my hair from yesterday.” She’d gotten most of it out except for the top where the wound occurred, but still… If she looked anything like she felt, the camera was going to hate her. “You know I have stitches in my head, right? I’m not really up for an interview at the moment.”
“Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter what you’re up for. It matters that we capitalize on the situation. It’s all luck and timing.” He barked more orders to someone near him.
“Are you seriously telling me that getting shot was lucky?” Some very warped people worked in the entertainment industry.
“Not getting shot, per se. Just getting shot after winning the show. You’ll need to pump up the production of some songs so we can get them out into the world while this is still fresh in people’s minds.”
He was crazy. “Miles…” She nearly said it to him, but couldn’t get the words out. What if he tossed her out like he’d tossed Brendan? Then she’d be back on the losing side and that sucked harder than a new vacuum. “Miles, I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Ah…you women are all the same. A closet full of clothes and you don’t have anything to wear.”
“You don’t understand.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not at my apartment. It’s a crime scene. I didn’t pack anything television worthy. I just tossed some stuff in a bag and left. I have no idea when I’ll get back home.”
“Shit. I didn’t realize that. Okay. Here’s the plan. You’ll come here and we’ll get wardrobe to set you up. Then you and I will head over from here. It’s going to be tight and they won’t be happy, but we’ll get there in time for the segment. Where are you? I’m sending a car now.” Clearly, he didn’t intend to back down.
God, she didn’t even know the address. “Gimme a second. I don’t know offhand.” Casey scrambled out of bed, threw on a pair of shorts and hurried downstairs. She almost slammed right into Brendan when she flew into the kitchen.
“Hey, what’s got you going a hundred miles an hour?” He looked deliciously rumpled in a pair of shorts…only shorts. His long thick hair hung wild to his broad shoulders and his eyes zeroed in on her. He hardly looked fragile despite the bandage and sling on his arm. No, he looked tall and delicious and very formidable. Her face instantly heated and she forgot what she’d come in here for. “Casey?”
“Casey?” Miles yelled over the phone and brought her back to now.
“I need the address here.”
Brendan rattled off the address and Casey repeated it to Miles who said a car would be at the curb in twenty minutes. Casey disconnected and turned to dash back upstairs, but Brendan caught her arm.
“Whoa. What’s happening? Talk to me.”
“Miles is sending a car for me. He’s got an interview set up a
t one of the local morning shows.”
Outrage flared in his blue eyes before he got a word out. “What? That asshole! You got shot in the head yesterday and he wants to parade you around on TV today?” He ran a hand through his hair, then shook his head. “Call him back and tell him no.”
Casey bit back the irritation at his tone. “Actually…” She faced him head on. “I’m going. This could mean tens of thousands of sales when I release the first single.” She hated spouting Miles’s words, but they made for a decent argument. “Besides, he’s my boss now and I can’t say no.” Even if she didn’t want to go, she wasn’t going to let Brendan order her into doing anything.
The man didn’t back down an inch. In fact, he got even closer. “Someone shot at you yesterday? Did you forget that already?”
Treating her like an idiot without a brain in her head, he made it super easy to pack her stuff and scram. Casey pulled out all the sarcasm she could muster. “Gee, I got shot yesterday? How could I forget that? I mean, it’s not like I still have blood in my hair or a headache that’s threatening to blow my face off.” She would’ve shoved him if his arm hadn’t been in a sling. Despite hating that he was hurt, she was still pissed as hell. “Here’s the deal, St. John. I live my own life the way I want to. If it means I get in the car that Miles sends for me, then so be it. If it means I get a hotel room afterward because I’m not staying here, then that’s fine too.” Her stomach pitched in another queasy roll. Everything seemed to be spinning out of her control no matter what she did.
Maybe Brendan cared about her, but he had a back-assward way of showing it.
Well, she was done with the days of being bossed around. Absolutely finished. He’s been protecting you, not hurting you, since the first minute you met him, the traitorous voice in her head reminded her, but she shut it down.
Casey spun and stomped up the stairs, intent on repacking and bee-lining for the front door. She needed time. Time to figure out what she wanted, what she needed. She was going to be a mess when that car showed up. Well, so what. She frickin’ got shot yesterday, so Miles deserved whatever he got when it came to her looks. Especially since he arranged this interview without even talking to her first.