Hearts on Fire

by Alison Packard

  Hearts on Fire

  Alison Packard

  Hearts on Fire © 2015 by Alison Packard

  First Edition

  EBook ISBN 978-0-9863551-0-3

  Print ISBN 978-0-9863551-1-0

  Cover Design by Helen Williams

  www.allbookedout.com

  Cover Photo © Andy Dean Photography

  EBook formatting by Jesse Gordon

  All trademarks are owned by their respective companies and are denoted by the use of proper capitalization of the company and/or brand.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary erotic romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy, emotional, romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  OTHER BOOKS BY ALISON PACKARD

  Love in the Afternoon (Feeling the Heat #1)

  The Winning Season (Feeling the Heat #2)

  A Christmas for Carrie (Feeling the Heat #2.5)

  Catching Heat (Feeling the Heat #3)

  Breaking His Rules (Feeling the Heat #4)

  For Roman. Everyone should

  have a brother like you. Love you lots!

  Chapter One

  Jessie Grant stared at the cheery yellow wall in her dressing room, and fought the overwhelming urge to throw something. Anything. Her agitated gaze fell on the lovely vase of flowers that had been delivered just before the show, and she had to remind herself that violence, especially towards a perfectly innocent bouquet of pink roses and white calla lilies, wouldn’t solve anything.

  But then again, it might relieve the tension that was coiled inside of her like a tightly wound spring.

  “Calm down.”

  “Calm down?” Jessie whirled around and met the exasperated eyes of her manager. “You expect me to calm down when my guitar player, who, unbeknownst to me, was half-wasted during our set, and decided to stage dive into the audience.” She pointed a finger at him. “That broken arm of his isn’t gonna to heal in four days. I need another guitar player, and I need one now.”

  “Relax,” Wally Lindell said in a soothing voice. “I’m working on it.”

  “How are you working on it?”

  She propped her hands on her hips and gave him her best glacial stare. It didn’t faze him. It never did. He’d been her manager since she was fifteen years old, and he knew her better than anyone. So he should have known that she would be totally freaked out about losing her lead guitar player four days before her exclusive gig in Las Vegas, after all, he was the one who had dubbed her a perfectionist.

  “I put in a call to Drew.”

  Jessie’s already churning stomach lurched wildly. “Drew Carmichael?”

  “How many other guitar players named Drew do you know?” Wally shot her a wise-ass grin.

  Only one.

  “So you talked to him?” she asked, as she moved to the make-up table. She picked up the bottle of water her stylist had left out for her and took a sip. Maybe the simple task would soothe her frayed nerves.

  It didn’t even come close.

  “What did he say?”

  “I left him a message. He hasn’t called me back yet.” Wally shoved his hands into the front pockets of his black jeans and looked her straight in the eyes with an unflinching directness.

  She’d seen that look before; the one telling her that while she might be the star, he was the one who’d gotten her there, and before she went off half-cocked, she’d better let him have his say. And of course, she would. She respected Wally far too much not to listen to him.

  “He’s the only guitar player we can get on such short notice that knows your set list,” he continued. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but whatever it is, you need to put it aside for the sake of this gig, and maybe the rest of the tour.”

  “What makes you think something happened?” she asked with feigned nonchalance.

  It was best not to let anyone, especially Wally, know how much she cared about Drew.

  “Because you two were as thick as thieves last spring, and now it’s like he’s dropped off the face of the earth. Did you have a falling out?”

  “No.” Jessie scowled, as she returned the bottle to the table. “We didn’t have a falling out. I’ve been on the road for months now and he…he’s got a life.”

  A life that didn’t include her.

  “Jessie,” Wally began, in his most patient tone. “I don’t know what your beef with Drew is, but we need him. We’re leaving for Las Vegas tomorrow morning. Do I need to remind you that CMT is broadcasting your concert live on Friday night?”

  “No.” She grimaced. “You don’t need to remind me. CMT has been wonderful to me. We need to put on a great show for them, and for my fans.”

  “Then we need Drew. You know it as well as I do.”

  Wally was right. They were in for a world of hurt, and Drew was the logical solution to their problem. But she didn’t have to like it.

  “I’m not sure he’ll do it.”

  “He’s a fine young man. When he finds out the pickle we’re in, I’m sure he’ll come through.”

  “If he agrees to do it, then it’s okay with me.” Jessie sighed, as she plopped down on the padded stool in front of the table.

  She plucked a make-up removal towelette from the plastic package on the countertop, and began to wipe the stage foundation from her face with brisk, controlled strokes.

  Out of the blue, tears swam in her eyes. Mortified, she blinked and averted her face before Wally could see them. She didn’t want him to know how miserable she was, or how humiliated she’d been on the night she’d showed up at Drew’s apartment, ready to confess her feelings for him, only to find him with his ex-girlfriend, who’d been wearing nothing but a damn towel.

  It had been years since she’d considered opening up her heart to a guy, and that night had been a stark reminder of why—she’d never been the girl worth choosing.

  “I’ll try him again,” Wally said, as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his leather jacket and left the dressing room.

  Jessie stared blankly at her reflection as she methodically cleansed the remainder of the make-up from her face. A minute or so later, her skin was bare, but instead of Jessie Grant, the glamorous, award-winning, multi-platinum country recording star, all she saw was Mary Ellen Dic
kson, a bedraggled and homeless girl from Mississippi, who’d fallen for a guy so unattainable, he might as well have been on Mars.

  And didn’t that just suck?

  As usual, the Music City Saloon was filled to capacity. Drew Carmichael looked out at the crowd from his position behind the bar. On the stage, directly across from the bar, a dark haired woman sat on a wooden stool and strummed her guitar, as she sang a plaintive song of lost love and yearning. As the haunting ballad washed over him, he couldn’t help but think of another raven haired beauty. One who had managed to work her way under his skin without him even realizing it.

  Shaking off the image of her beautiful face, he picked up a crate of empty beer bottles and headed for the back. The mouth-watering aroma of burgers sizzling on the grill triggered a growl in his stomach. He ignored it. For the moment anyway. His shift would soon be over, and his first order of business would be to chow down on one of Clyde’s ginormous bacon cheeseburgers.

  He nodded at Cherry, one of the MC’s waitresses, who was heading in the opposite direction with three plates balanced in her hands, and tried not to focus on how hungry he was as he deposited the crate alongside the other empties near the back door of the kitchen. As he stood up, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his back pocket and checked the caller ID.

  For a moment he considered not taking the call. He hadn’t answered the one earlier, but now he was curious. Why was Wally calling him? Had Jessie gotten herself into a jam? That didn’t seem likely. Ever since she’d left Nashville for her Hearts on Fire tour, she’d been working hard and getting rave reviews everywhere she played. According to the cover of the gossip rag he’d seen at the small market by his apartment complex last night, she was supposedly dating a professional baseball player, or maybe it was a football player, Drew wasn’t quite sure which.

  He hated the fact that he now knew so little about her life that he had to go online and search for her concert reviews, or watch CMT in the hopes of catching a glimpse of one of her videos. He also hated the fact that he was no longer making music with her. But what he hated most of all was the fact that he only realized how much she meant to him after she’d cooled their friendship and used her concert tour as a means of distancing herself from him.

  And because he was starving to hear something—anything—about her, he answered his phone. “Hey, Wally.”

  “Drew. Thank God you answered, son.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, as he immediately picked up the strain in Wally’s usually jovial voice. “Is Jessie all right?”

  “She’s fine. It’s Kenny. He broke his arm tonight. It’s bad. Real bad.”

  Drew grimaced. “Oh man. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “We need you.”

  He didn’t have to ask what Wally meant. “Did you run it by Jessie?”

  “Yes. Although I like to pretend I’m in charge, she’s the boss. I don’t do anything without her approval.”

  “And you can’t get anyone else?” Drew gestured at Hannah as she rounded the corner, dodged a waiter, and headed towards him.

  Judging by the fact that she’d changed out of her normal work attire of jeans and a T-shirt, and into a short print dress that showed off her slender arms and legs, it was safe to assume that Hannah was done waiting tables for the night.

  “No one else who knows her set list as well as you. We just don’t have time to break someone else in. If you say yes, I’ll have a first-class ticket waiting for you at the airport in the morning, and you can meet us in Las Vegas tomorrow in time to start rehearsing. We’ll pay you double your normal fee, and, of course, you’ll get your own room at the hotel.”

  “That’s very generous,” Drew said, as he returned Hannah’s tentative smile when she halted in front of him.

  “Well, you’re worth it, son. And we can’t afford to have any problems. CMT is televising the show. We need to be runnin’ on all cylinders. I sure hope you’ll agree to help us out.”

  “I’ll be there. After what you and Jessie did for me when I needed a job, it’s the least I can do.”

  Wally expelled a sigh of relief. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down. We’re staying at the MGM. I’ll email you everything you need to know.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Drew said. He hit the end call button on his phone before meeting Hannah’s curious light brown eyes. “Looks like I’m going to Vegas.”

  “What for?” she asked, as she tucked several loose strands of reddish-blonde hair behind her ear.

  “Kenny broke his arm.” He shoved his phone into his back pocket. “And Jessie needs a guitar player.”

  Her brows knitted together. “How’d he do that?”

  Drew shrugged. “Beats me. But they need a replacement pronto.”

  “It makes sense that they’d call you. You know all her songs.” Hannah reached out to touch his arm. “I got the A-Okay to leave early tonight. Cherry’s offered to finish my shift for me, and Leo’s gonna drive me home after we have dinner, so I won’t need a ride back to my place.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” he said, then gave her hand an affectionate pat.

  One night, four months ago, when he’d been about as low and drunk as he’d ever been, he and Hannah had slept together. She’d also been drinking and hurting over a recent break-up, and it had just…happened. The next morning they realized their mistake, and admitted that their past high school romance had made it easy for them to turn to each other for drunken comfort. But that teenage love was long gone, it had turned into friendship, and there was no romantic spark left to be had. For either of them. And now, Hannah had Leo, and he had…no one.

  “You all right?” Her forehead furrowed as she studied him with concern.

  Of course she’d be able to tell that something was off with him. Hell, they’d known each other since they were in diapers.

  “Never better,” he said with a smile as fake as the tits Cherry had been showing off since her return from a three-week vacation.

  He was alone by choice, and for a good reason. Though some days, like today, those reasons didn’t give him much comfort, and they didn’t help him to forget about the devastated look in Jessie’s eyes when she’d found Hannah half-naked in his apartment.

  He’d replayed that night in his head a million fucking times. And each time, the wounded expression on Jessie’s face said more than the words she hadn’t been able to utter.

  Drew lifted a hand and rubbed his temple. If only he could be the guy she had admired and put on a pedestal. But he wasn’t, and because of that, he’d let her down in the worst way possible.

  “You know, I think helping Jessie will be good for you.” Hannah’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You’ve been moping around here for months now.”

  Drew frowned. Was it that noticeable? Shit. He thought he’d been doing a fine job of hiding his true feelings. Evidently not.

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “Like Jessie?” she asked softly.

  “No,” Drew snapped, annoyed by the knowing gleam in her eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  Hannah shrugged. “No reason. Forget I said anything.” She paused. “So you leave tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m off in an hour, and I’ve got some vacation time on the books. I’ll clear it with the boss before I leave, then I’ll pack tonight, and catch the first plane to Vegas in the morning.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. “Don’t go doin’ something crazy, like get hitched. I hear they’ve got a wedding chapel on every corner in that town.”

  He burst out laughing. “Trust me, marriage is the last thing on my mind. And the last time I checked, I didn’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Well, you never know.”

  Hannah looped her arm through his as they headed towards the front, where the guy who had taken center stage was singing “When You Say Nothing at All” nowhere near as good as Keith W
hitley sang it.

  “You just might find the girl of your dreams in Sin City.”

  Drew didn’t bother to reply. Hannah didn’t need to know she was closer to the truth than not. The girl of his dreams would be in Sin City tomorrow.

  And so would he.

  A few minutes before midnight, Jessie rummaged through her purse, looking for her cell phone. Nikki had already packed up the stage clothes and make-up, and had just left with a couple of the roadies who, at this moment, were probably loading her stage gear into the large cargo van her road manager had rented to transport their equipment and instruments to Las Vegas in. The driver would head out tonight and make it to Vegas in time for rehearsal on Tuesday.

  Jessie Grant might be billed as a solo act, but there was nothing solo about putting on a show like hers night after night. Other than Wally, the band was the closest thing she had to family. They’d been together for years, and as close as she was to them, she’d always held a part of herself back. Trusting people was difficult for her. She’d learned a long time ago not to count on anyone staying around for the long haul.

  Finally, she found her phone and read the two texts from Wally. The first one was to remind her of a conference call first thing tomorrow morning with the homeless shelter in Nashville, and the second was to tell her he’d be there shortly to escort her to the limo waiting outside the Ravinia Pavilion to take her back to the hotel. The venue in Illinois, was one she’d played many times. She felt bad that the concert had been interrupted three-quarters of the way through when Kenny pulled his stupid stage-diving stunt. After the paramedics had carted him off to the hospital, she’d done her best to finish the concert with her remaining band members, but both she and the band had been rattled, unsure how badly Kenny had been injured. The crowd however, either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. They’d filled the pavilion with their raucous chants and cheers until she gave them what they wanted—a second encore.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  Jessie almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of Trista Cantrell’s slightly exaggerated Southern drawl. Her own experience at reinventing herself notwithstanding, it struck Jessie as odd that Trista, who’d lived in upstate New York until her recent discovery on a reality television show, had acquired an accent thicker than the majority of Nashville’s natives.