Nashville Secrets

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  She fussed with the front of her blouse again, plucking at imaginary lint. She seemed to need to keep her hands busy. “I can’t imagine doing that.”

  “Maybe in time you will.” He could tell she was as attracted to him as he was to her. But he didn’t know if she would follow through. That remained to be seen. “For today, we’re just having lunch.” He paused. “And maybe a kiss, too.”

  She glanced up at him. “Are you sure we should...?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” He leaned in and slanted his mouth over hers.

  She reacted with immediate passion, and he appreciated how quick she was to enjoy it. As their tongues sparred, she made sexy little sounds. He cupped her rear, pulling her closer. The security camera in the hallway was probably capturing their every move. But he didn’t care. He might even watch the tape later. He had access to it from his computer.

  Damn, he thought. He could have eaten her alive.

  But as exciting as it was, he ended it before he got carried away. The only hunger they were going to sate this afternoon would be for food.

  * * *

  Although Mary was still reeling from Brandon’s kiss, she was captivated by his loft, too. His home was beautiful, with banks of floor-to-ceiling windows. He’d decorated with black and gray furniture, creating a strong and masculine vibe. His art collection was magnificent. But for whatever reason, he left his bedroom off the tour, along with the artwork she’d inspired. Maybe before this visit was over, she would ask him to show her those paintings. But for now, she couldn’t find the strength to do it, not after he’d invited her to come to him in the middle of the night. She needed time to wrap her head around that.

  She walked over to one of the windows in the living room, and Cline followed her. She’d already seen the dog’s room earlier. He had his own luxurious space that included a king-size bed and a TV that was programmed to an animal channel.

  “This is a spectacular view,” she said to Brandon. “I’ll bet it’s really pretty at night, twinkling with city lights.”

  He joined her and the dog at the window. “You can come by any night and find out.”

  She chastised him. “You need to stop saying things like that to me.”

  “Sorry. It’s just the effect you have on me. I’m not usually this badly behaved.” He motioned to the husky. “Cline looks like he’s trying to protect you from me.”

  “Maybe he is.” The dog kept moving closer to her.

  “Cline has definitely taken a shine to you. I think he might even like you better than he likes Rob.” He checked her out. “But you’re prettier than Rob.”

  She struggled to ignore Brandon’s flirtation. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “Rob is my dog sitter. He watches Cline when I go out of town. He walks him while I’m at work, too. Sometimes Cline goes on play dates with Rob’s Lab.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.” She was glad that Cline had a friend. She patted the pooch’s head. Then she asked Brandon, “Do you have a housekeeper who does scheduled cleanings?” She already knew that he didn’t have a live-in. His guest rooms were unoccupied. But his loft was also spotless.

  “Yes, I do,” he responded casually. “Her name is Pearl.”

  She contemplated his life and the people in it. “And how do Pearl and Rob enter your loft?”

  “They each have a key to the front door.” He softened his voice. “But it’s not the same as me giving you one.”

  She fought a sexy shiver. “Because they still check in with the guard when they arrive?”

  “Yes, but also because they were screened before I hired them. As high-profile as my family is, I have to be careful who I let in here.”

  “That’s understandable.” She forced a smile, made a joke. “I guess I’m lucky you let me in. But your interest in me is something altogether different.”

  “That’s for sure.” He hesitated before he said, “I hope this doesn’t sound creepy, but I looked up your sister’s Instagram. I was curious about her.”

  “It’s fine.” She’d actually expected him to do that at some point. But she also knew there wasn’t anything in it that she hadn’t already divulged about Alice. “Everyone looks each other up these days.”

  “Why don’t you do social media? I wanted to follow you on some of the sites I use, but I couldn’t find you. You’re not using another name, are you?”

  “No.” She downplayed her reasoning. “I deleted my accounts when Alice and I moved to Nashville. I did it when I convinced her to shut hers down. Only she started up again, and I didn’t. I was never very active anyway. It just isn’t my thing.” Thankfully, that was true. She wasn’t a social media hound.

  “I do a lot of it. Not as much as Tommy and my dad, but I’m still out there.”

  “I know. I looked at your pages. You weren’t the only one poking around online.” She figured it sounded like the normal behavior now that they were dating. She couldn’t admit that she’d done it before they’d met. “You have lots of pictures of Cline. He’s your online star.”

  “He definitely is. But he’s really into you right now.”

  She nodded. The dog was still standing protectively beside her. “Has he ever done this with any of your other female guests?”

  “No. He appreciates Pearl, though. But she washes his bedding and fluffs his pillows. Just for the record, Pearl isn’t just my housekeeper. She’s also married to my chef. He makes meals for me and leaves them in the fridge.”

  “Are they an older couple?” She was curious about the husband-and-wife team.

  “They’re in their midfifties. They’re great together, like one entity. But that’s how it should be with people who are meant for each other, I guess. Tommy and Sophie seem like that now, too. My parents never made sense. They’re better as friends than they were as spouses.”

  She wished that she could tell him more about her parents, how they were never married and how much she missed her mom. But he was the last man in the world she could tell her secrets to. She was already getting closer to him than she could bear.

  “Do you like me, Mary?”

  She nearly flinched. “Why are you asking me that?” Had he just read her mind?

  “I can tell that you’re attracted to me. But that’s not the same as liking me.”

  She shifted her gaze back to the cityscape. She was too antsy to keep looking at him. “Yes, I like you. Maybe even a bit too much.”

  “There’s no such thing as liking someone too much. And just so you know, I like you, too.” He took her hand and held it. “Come to the kitchen, and we’ll make lunch.”

  “What are we making?”

  “I figured we could throw some sandwiches together. I have some leftover potato salad Chef made. I always have fresh fruit on hand, too. There’s a nice big bowl of strawberries already cleaned and sliced.”

  “I could go for that.” She attempted to relax, to not think too deeply about how much she liked him. He was wrong that you couldn’t care for someone too much. In her case, she shouldn’t be getting attached to him at all.

  They worked naturally together in the kitchen, moving like well-oiled machines. The sandwiches they’d decided to “throw together” were grilled cheese.

  “You’re a pretty good cook,” she said.

  “This is barely cooking.” He flipped the sandwiches on the grill of his professional-quality stove. “I could never make the stuff Chef makes for me.” He glanced over at her. “But I sure as hell like watching you.”

  Mary’s heart skipped a beat. She was making fresh whipping cream for the strawberries. “This is right up my alley.”

  “You should have seen me with the treats you baked for me. I kept them in my room and ate them when I was in bed, like a kid, getting crumbs all over the covers.”

  There was nothing kid-like about Brand
on, she thought. But his description of himself made her laugh, anyway.

  He came over to her. “I like it when you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Laugh.”

  “It struck me as funny.” She attempted to shoo him away. “But now you need to go back to your side of the kitchen.”

  “Not until I have a little taste—” he stuck a spoon into the whipping cream “—of this.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just being a pest.”

  “I know.” He had a sinful expression on his face as he swallowed the cream, looking hotter than a man had a right to be.

  When he put down the spoon, she wondered if he was going to kiss her, the way he’d done in the hallway.

  But he returned to the sandwiches, leaving her suddenly longing for more.

  Five

  The roof had been designed for entertaining, with a built-in barbecue, a fire pit, a bar, whatever Brandon needed. There was a fenced area for Cline, too. Mary was impressed, but everything about Brandon’s life was impressive. She couldn’t imagine being so successful. But Mama used to dream about it. If it hadn’t mattered so much to her, she wouldn’t have gone to Nashville, hoping to sell her songs.

  Mary studied Brandon in the sunlight. They sat at a patio table that was anchored to the rooftop. He’d already eaten his sandwich and was working his way through the potato salad, eager, it seemed, to get to the strawberries. She was alternating bites, eating bits of everything at once.

  “How much time do you spend up here?” she asked.

  He lifted his head. “As much time as I can.”

  “It certainly is private.”

  “I grew up in a fishbowl, so I like my privacy at home. Tommy and my dad have bodyguards. But I don’t need that kind of security. It’s one of the perks of not being famous.”

  He wasn’t a celebrity. But he seemed like one to her, with his chiseled features and natural sophistication. Someone could easily play him in a movie.

  “How do you screen your employees?” she asked.

  She assumed he did more than just check out their social media presence. Of course, a lot could be uncovered online, which was why she and Alice had been so careful.

  He replied, “I use a service for security screenings. My biggest nightmare would be hiring someone who’s only interested in working for me so they can get close to my family.”

  She defended the masses. “Everyone out there isn’t a crazed fan, Brandon.”

  “I didn’t say they were. Dad and Tommy have some amazing fans, people who love and respect them. But some of their admirers have gone too far. They’ve both had their fair share of stalkers.”

  Mary’s heart froze in her chest. She shouldn’t have steered their conversation in this direction, not at the risk of him getting suspicious of her. He’d already been cautious, on the day they’d first met.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m making everything sound so dangerous. Really, it’s not that bad.”

  No, she thought. It was worse. Her mother was one of the “supposed” stalkers he was talking about.

  “Should we change the subject?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.” She couldn’t stand another second of it.

  “All right. How about this? Tell me something about yourself, something that you haven’t told me before.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” She was still feeling like the worst kind of liar, keeping her identity from him.

  “Just say whatever pops into your head.”

  She searched the recesses of her mind for something honest and true. “I used to sing in the church choir. I’m not very good. But it was something both Alice and I did.” Their mother had encouraged it. Music had meant everything to Mama. She was an accomplished singer and an even better songwriter.

  “Well, you’ve got me beat. I don’t sing or play an instrument or do any of that. I never showed an aptitude for it.” He sipped a bottled iced tea. “I grew up around creative people, but I went the corporate route instead.”

  “You’re an entertainment lawyer who collects art. I’d say that you fit in with creative people just fine.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.” He leaned farther forward in his chair. “Why haven’t you asked to see the paintings in my room?”

  Her nerves jumped to attention. She turned the question around on him. “Why didn’t you offer to show me?”

  “Because I was waiting for you to ask. Or hoping you would, anyway.”

  “I was building up the courage.” She noticed that he was going after his strawberries and cream now. “Will you show me when we’re done eating?”

  He nodded and smiled. “I’d be glad to.”

  She glanced down at her plate. Was she asking for trouble by going into his bedroom? By seeing where he slept? By getting a firsthand view of the paintings he’d bought because of her? Yes, she thought, she was. But she was going to do it, anyway.

  * * *

  After lunch, they returned to the loft. As soon as they entered his bedroom, Mary got warm all over, heat shooting through her veins. The paintings, three of them, were above his bed.

  She moved closer, curious to see every detail. They were abstract nudes, done in oil, big and bold and bursting with color.

  Each of them depicted a man and woman together, in various positions of foreplay. Their faces were obscured. In that sense, they could have been anyone. The woman had long straight hair, falling past her shoulders, mostly in shades of red and highlighted with blue and purple. She was lean and fluid, and her lover was rife with strength and power.

  Mary couldn’t stop staring at them. In the third painting the man was on his knees, preparing to make the woman come.

  “So now you know what you inspired,” Brandon said.

  She turned to meet his gaze. “They’re beautiful. But they scare me, too.” Her heart pounded at every pulse point of her body. “To know that’s how you think of me.”

  “I’ve done a lot of things in my life and been with a lot of women, but no one has ever made me feel this way.”

  She admitted how he affected her. “From the day I met you, I was worried that if I slept with you, you would dominate me. That you’d be dangerous to my soul.”

  “Maybe I am. But maybe you’re dangerous to me, too.”

  She definitely was, she thought. “But us being together is wrong. We don’t belong in each other’s worlds.” There was too much at stake, too much history he didn’t know about.

  “When we were in the elevator, I was fantasizing about making love to you there. All these years I’ve had a private elevator and I’ve never ravished anyone in it.”

  Just the fact that he’d used the word ravished made her imagination run wild. “Sex is all it could ever be. And then it would have to end. It would have to be over.”

  He frowned. “You’re talking about ending it before it’s even begun.”

  She walked over to a metal armoire on the other side of the room, trying to put distance between them. “I shouldn’t be talking about it happening at all. I can’t sleep with you. I can’t do this.”

  His breath rushed out. “I’m not asking you to be with me right this second.”

  “I can’t keep dating you.” Everything about it was a mistake.

  “Don’t cut and run, Mary. Give it a chance.”

  “But I’m so confused.” She wanted to come to his loft in the middle of night and make love with him. But she wanted to disappear, too, and never see him again. At this point, she was even more conflicted over taking her revenge out on him. It just didn’t feel right anymore. But maybe it never really did. Either way, she’d gotten herself tangled up in an emotional mess. “I don’t know what to do.”

  He opened a nightstand drawer. “My extra keys are in here, to the elevator and to the loft.” He
approached her and dropped them into her hand. “In case you decide to use them.”

  She didn’t reply. She couldn’t think beyond the lust. She could still see the paintings from where she stood.

  He said, “The code to the gate is Mona Lisa, spelled out in numbers.” When she blinked at him, he shrugged. “I’m fascinated by her smile.” He roughly added, “I like yours, too.”

  She wasn’t smiling now. She was clutching the keys so tightly in her palm that she feared the edges would cut her. “I have to go.”

  “I hope you come back. I really hope you do.”

  Mary couldn’t make any promises. She darted out of his room and grabbed her purse from the living room where she’d left it.

  He followed her to the front door, and she said goodbye and turned to leave. But whether she was coming back again, she couldn’t say. For now, she just needed to escape.

  * * *

  A week had passed since Brandon saw Mary, since she’d disappeared from his loft. He waited for her every night, hoping to see her, but she never showed up.

  He hadn’t called or texted. He didn’t want to pressure her. But he ached every minute of the day. He had it bad. He’d never wanted anyone so much. He was drowning in his own desire.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” his dad asked.

  Brandon glanced up. His father was in a mood. But so was he. “Nothing is wrong.” He wasn’t going to admit that he had a woman on his mind.

  He and Dad were seated in the main parlor at Kirbyville. As always, Dad was dressed in black, with his graying beard neatly trimmed. Brandon couldn’t remember a time when Kirby looked like anything except an outlaw. But that was his persona. Tommy’s, too, for that matter, even if Tommy had a more youthful sense of style.

  Dad scowled. “I asked you to come by because I have something to discuss with you, and you look like you’re spacing out.”

  “I’m just sipping my brandy.” Brandon swirled the amber liquid in his snifter. His recovering-alcoholic father was sipping ginger ale. “So what’s going on? What do you want to talk about?”