Sweet Seduction Serenade

by Nicola Claire

  All I could do was sit back and wait and watch and pray it all worked out. I tried to phone Eva, but her phone had been disconnected. Without her father, we had no way of getting in touch. No one had Cary's number or even her ex-boyfriend Derek's. And both men had left - Cary with Eva, Derek the very next day after that. Eric was working on it, but with the hunt taking up most of ASI's time, he wasn't making much headway. He would though, Eric's the best.

  Ten days after Eva left for Nashville, Tennessee, they found him. And only just in the knick of time.

  Eva's Dad was definitely dying and the hour glass was almost out of sand.

  Chapter 19

  I Was Just About Wetting Myself With Happy Thoughts

  Evangeline

  It had been a long hard couple of weeks. I'd tried, I really had, but no matter what I did I couldn't seem to fit back into Nashville life. I thought I'd created my perfect world when I moved here and set up house eight years ago. I was surrounded by like-minded people. Country music on every radio in every store. Cars at intersections blasting out some Kenny Chesney or Carrie Underwood, or the next best, latest cowboy or cowgirl song. I was in heaven and so far from Eden Terrace that it was almost as though it had never existed at all.

  And then there were the cowboys. So many to pick from. Like a kid in a candy store, I was living the dream. And being a little exotic myself; not a native to Nashville or any of the other Country music states, I was a novelty that soon became popular. It was a heady time, and after eight years of full immersion in Nashville and its Country music world, you'd think I would be elated to be back here.

  But I'm not.

  It doesn't make any sense. The Auckland I know is everything I grew up hating. Yet, for the life of me, I can't seem to think of much that I truly disliked about the place after this last trip back home. Sure Levi and his loser brothers haven't changed an iota. And Aunty Jessie is just as low rent as she had always been. No changes there. But Dad had begun to warm to me, to show a softer side that he'd hidden whilst I was growing up. Or at least had denied me through those younger years.

  Mum might have been pretty much the same, but even my memories had been muddled when I revisited the Reserve and discovered that maybe, just maybe, my parents had done the best they could for me with what they had themselves. And of course there's Nick. Being back in Nashville didn't mean I'd simply forgotten him. If anything the daydreams and images in my mind were more real now than ever.

  I was desperate to know if he was OK, but as a form of protection, I guess, by not contacting him he remained alive and safe and well in my mind. At least that hope was better than facing the possible alternate reality.

  So, I was back at square one again, trying to outrun emotions I didn't want to face, hide in amongst soothing and familiar Country songs and people, yet none of it was doing what I wanted it to do. Make me forget.

  When I first came here, Nashville did provide a distraction, a diversion from my past. I'd still dreamt of Nick, but I'd managed - eventually - to move on. This time I wasn't so sure, but I was determined to give it time to work. I would not give up on Nashville and the possibility of escaping my past - and present - in the Country scene.

  Of course, I was making things more difficult for myself and I couldn't figure out exactly why. And even as I sat here strumming my guitar, in Cary and my little white house in West End, nothing made sense anymore. Not even the soothing sound of a Country tune could sort out the mess that had become my mind.

  If I could change anything at all over the past four months, it would be... darn it! I wasn't even sure what to change. Would I not go home to tend to my dying Dad and then find out that maybe he did care for me and always would? Would I not fight Levi and his brothers when they came to prove a point - stand up to the bullies? Would I not form a temporary band and play one gig at Sweet Seduction just for the darn hell of it? Would I not have re-visited that one night stand eight years ago with Nick?

  I honestly can't say I would have done a thing differently. And that is what didn't make any sense at all. If we can't learn from our mistakes, then what did that make us?

  "Was that Derek I saw leaving?" Cary suddenly said as he came into the lounge - breaking into my melancholy musings. He threw his backpack on the floor just inside the door and then himself into an armchair.

  I didn't stop softly strumming my old guitar. It was a cheap and ancient Fender, sounded a little hollow, but it filled the gap until I had the energy to get another Martin. The tune was melancholy to match my mood, I knew it, but I still didn't stop strumming it when my best friend walked in the room.

  "Yeah, he's got to go to work," I said numbly, staring at the ground.

  "He seemed chipper," Cary offered, a little uncertainly I think.

  "Yeah, he is," I said, not elaborating further. I'd just told Derek that maybe we could take it slowly and see where it would lead, giving our relationship a chance again. I couldn't say the words aloud to Cary though, it would make my treachery that much more real.

  Not that there was any treachery to be had. I was here in Nashville. Nick was back in Auckland and hopefully safe and well and getting on with his life.

  "I see," said Cary thoughtfully, causing me to lift my head and frown at him instead of the floor.

  He didn't meet my eyes, just kept his face turned away and his hand rubbing his jaw to hide his expression from me. I returned my head to contemplating the floor again and continued to strum.

  "That's a sad song," Cary said after a while.

  "One I'm trying to finish writing," I pointed out in the hope that he'd shut-up.

  "What about?" he asked innocently. Too innocently.

  "Haven't decided yet," I shot back.

  "That's not how you normally write, Eva. Normally the story's in your head before the tune takes hold."

  "Well, I'm experimenting," I argued, getting a little pissed off at his constant jabbering and I knew, just knew, he was digging for something.

  "Why are you doing this?" he asked after a very long pause. So long in fact I thought he'd finally dropped the investigation.

  "Doing what?" I demanded, ceasing strumming and now outright glaring at my friend.

  "Going backwards," he said softly, his face gentle despite the Arctic ice cowgirl glare he was receiving. "I didn't take you for a dumbass like your cousins," he announced surprising the darn hell out of me, but before I could let the lid off the boiler he went on. "Sacking the band. Taking Derek back when you don't love him. Sitting on your butt and mooning over a guy thousands of miles away you could have if you only acted like the cowgirl I know you are underneath that artist's moody façade."

  "Jeez, Cary, don't hold back," I muttered.

  "It's true. You've got more and more depressed since you got here. You've shut everyone out and now it seems you're going to shut me out too. While you were still confiding in me I let you have your space, do your thing. Although sacking the band made absolutely no sense to me at the time and taking Derek back? Girlfriend, that is just plain screwed. As in you are screwed in the head if you do this."

  "The band wasn't working!" I argued in self defence. And it was true. It wasn't. Their style had never truly been mine and since returning to Nashville, I'd decided I needed to find some laid-back band members like Gus and the guys back home. I gritted my teeth at my thoughts. I'd started calling Auckland home on the plane back here and I hadn't stopped since. It was getting really annoying.

  "OK, I do kind of understand that having heard you play with those guys in NZ" - he said NZ like the Kiwis do: enzed, normally that would make me smile, not today though - "but Derek? Come on! That is just plain sad."

  "Why not Derek? He loves me."

  "And do you love him?" Cary shot back immediately.

  "Love isn't everything," I muttered.

  "Dammit, Eva! How can you say that after Nick?"

  "You promised not to mention his name!" I said standing up and letting the guitar swing around my neck. My h
ands were actually fisted at my sides, I watched Cary's eyes slowly take my stance - and fists - in.

  "OK," he said on a defeated sigh eventually. "This is silly. What we need is a night out on the town."

  I blinked down at him. Cary could be flighty sometimes, but a one-eighty mid argument was alarming even for him.

  "There's this new bar opened up down by the river. A real cowboy joint if ever there was one."

  "I've heard of it," I admitted, trying my darnedest to go with Cary's change of tone. "It's popular with the tourists, might be a good venue to play at sometime."

  "Great!" Cary announced, jumping up and clapping his hands. "We'll go scout it for potential gig-worthiness. Give me five minutes to freshen up and get out of my lab gear and we'll go hit this saloon, cowgirl!"

  I shook my head as he practically skipped from the room. He knew what a new cowboy bar would do to me. He knew I wouldn't be able to resist the allure of checking out a potential venue for once I find a band to back me up. He also knew how to completely disarm me, make me forget for a moment all my woes. That's why I loved him. If only he was attracted to women I'd be set. I gagged quietly to myself. Cary was gorgeous but he was no Nick.

  "Oh, darn it all to hell!" I said throwing my arms up in the air and heading to my room to sort myself out. Track-pants and a baggy T-Shirt were not cowboy bar attire, even if the T-Shirt was one of Nick's. And is it any wonder I keep thinking of the guy? I was a lost cause.

  The Crazy Horse Saloon was on Second Ave North, one block back from the Cumberland River. An extremely popular area after dark. It was a refurbished warehouse with a large dance floor, three separate bars, a full service restaurant and - by the looks of it - standing room only on a Friday evening. It was already pumping by the time we approached from Broadway, the distinct aroma of Country cuisine wafting out of the large open double doors, competing with the equally distinctive sound of a local band I knew well, who were obviously playing there tonight.

  I felt better than I had in days, just by being near it.

  Cary had his arm linked with mine and was humming along to the song being sung inside. One nod to the bouncer and we were automatically let in, past the waiting crowd. I gave Cary a questioning look, it's not as though we're famous in town or anything and this was a new bar, so how we skipped the queue I don't know. He shrugged and devoted his attention to stepping over the threshold and into the bar itself. I decided I could question him later on that one, Country music was calling to me right then.

  "Wanna drink?" he asked loudly, to be heard over the music once we were inside. I nodded and indicated a spot on the outer railing that was free, where I could watch the room, get a feel for the acoustics, while I waited for him to retrieve our drinks. He'd be a while, the bars - all three - were jam packed.

  Playing here would be awesome, but of course first I needed a band. I watched the current performers doing their thing. They were good, I liked their style and the lead singer made all the girls swoon. But they were also well established, they didn't need another lead, nor an acoustic guitar when they had themselves set. And they were set, they sounded well rounded, professional and accomplished. Exactly how I had felt Gus and the guys were with me. Which was surprising after such a sort time, but then I guess sometimes you just click. I hoped I'd find some guys I'd click with soon.

  And then with a sigh I wondered what the rush was. Maybe I could do with a break instead. I could concentrate on composing, build up a repertoire of my own songs, then when I was ready to form a band again, I could push for original work being our focus, instead of the covers so many of the Nashville guys tended to go for. Tourists liked what they already knew, Auckland was a little more accommodating of originality than here.

  Cary returned with two beers and I decided I'd heed his advice and keep him in the loop. He was my best friend undoubtedly and as I felt so lost right now, cutting him out of my life seemed... well sad. Just like he'd said. I wouldn't discuss Derek with him, that was something I couldn't explain to myself, let alone my best bud.

  "Hey, what do ya think of me taking a break and just composing for a while?"

  Cary's head was twisted away from me as I asked that, I guess to take in the scenery for himself. When he turned back to look at me, he seemed distracted.

  "What was that, sweetie?"

  "I was thinking of taking a break from live gigs, you know, finding a band, and just writing songs for a while. And then when I'm ready look for a band that's prepared to play my tunes."

  "Less covers more originality," he said contemplatively. "I think it's a splendid idea."

  "You do?" I asked, admittedly a little surprised. Composing for a while would make me dependent on his generosity. I really didn't have much money saved so rent might become an issue and I was sure Cary knew that.

  "Absolutely!" Cary announced, taking a quick look over his shoulder, as though he was trying to spot someone he expected to be here but couldn't find.

  "Well, it's just," I started, calling his attention back to me. "I could be tight on cash for a while."

  "That's OK, sweetie. I can lend you some. Lord knows you won't take a hand out. We'll sort something that'll work. In the meantime you need to follow your heart." He gave me a pointed look after that and then returned his attention to the crowd and occasionally the entrance into the bar.

  We sipped our drinks quietly for a little while and I started to relax into the atmosphere of the saloon. It would be a great place to play at, but right now I just couldn't get excited about performing in Nashville again. I silently sent a prayer up for that to change. What good is a Country singer if she doesn't sing?

  Jeez, I was having a mid-life crises at only twenty-eight.

  I noticed Cary doing the swivel head, straining neck thing again.

  "Whatcha doin'?" I asked in his ear making him jump. I smiled at him questioningly. He was acting really strange.

  "Um, I thought I saw someone I knew. I'll just go check it out while I grab us another round of drinks."

  "It's my turn, I'll give you some cash." He was already standing and taking a step back.

  "No, no. I'll grab this one, you can get the next." And then he was gone, disappearing into the late Friday night crowd.

  I shook my head in confusion. Some night out on the town together, he'd obviously seen someone who'd be a good catch. I didn't much feel like fishing myself, so I finished my beer and settled in to just watch the crowd. There was a lot to see, but even though I was standing right there in the middle of a busy bar, I felt as though I was watching from the outside. Distanced by something I didn't want to face just yet.

  "Can I buy you another drink, sugar?" a cowboy asked from my side. I hadn't seen him sidle up to me, too busy soaking up the atmosphere and trying to ignore the obvious problems piling up in my mind.

  "No thanks, cookie. Got one on the way now."

  "That's a mighty shame," he said tipping his cowboy hat up slightly to give me a better look at his ruggedly handsome face. He could so easily have caught my attention before, but for some reason I was just happy to spend the evening with Cary - if Cary ever came back at all. Besides, you don't ditch your best mate for some cowboy in a decent hat, do you?

  "Some other time, maybe," I said, not really meaning it at all.

  "So, you're here with someone?" he persisted. Cowboys could be stubborn when they wanted to be.

  I went to answer, to make out that Cary was my boyfriend or something equally as ludicrous, but I was beaten to it.

  "Yes, she is," came a familiar and heart palpitating voice from over my shoulder.

  A strong arm came around my waist, a bottle of beer in his hand, heat washed down my back as his chest pressed against me, then his lips found the skin between my neck and collar bone and gently kissed there.

  "Your drink, angel," he said in a low, sexy voice, placing the bottle of beer in my shaking hand.

  I forgot about the cowboy. I have no idea if he left straight away or stay
ed to watch us for a while. It didn't matter. He didn't matter. Because Nick Anscombe was here in Nashville, Tennessee and I was just about wetting myself with happy thoughts.

  Which I quickly snuffed out with an ice cold dose of reality.

  Chapter 20

  Time Stopped When He Heard What I Had To Say

  He was alive. That thought never got old. I tried to turn in his arms, but Nick wouldn't have it. He tightened his hold around my waist, buried his face in the curve of my neck and shoulder and laid another kiss there, as though that would be enough to stop me checking him out. And I wanted to. Check him out, that is. I wanted to make sure he was all right. Aunty Jessie and her boys had shot him, or that's what I believed. I hadn't been in touch with anyone since I'd returned to Nashville. Even going to the extreme of trashing my cellphone and getting a new one, so my past couldn't find me.

  Seems it had found a way to track me down anyway.

  But the whole reason for me being here was to keep him safe and I needed to know that he was. Of course being here meant he was at least alive, but was he OK?

  "Nick," I said, trying again to turn to face him.

  "You ran away," he said softly at my ear, then followed it up with a slow, seductive lick of his hot, wet tongue up my neck to the sensitive skin beneath my lobe.

  "You were being held hostage for my compliance," I pointed out and almost asked outright if he had been hurt, but managed to stop myself appearing so desperate. I'd get a good look at him soon enough.

  "You shouldn't have left," he persisted, his teeth nibbling on my lobe while his hands started an exploration of their own down one side, over a hip, across a thigh. The other hand splayed flat against my stomach, pressing me back into his groin.

  He rocked his hips once in a show of absolute shamelessness.

  "It's better this way," I said, trying futilely to remain tense and rigid in his warm arms.

  "One night eight years ago and you ran, angel. One night now and you're gone again. I won't let you run this time without giving chase."