She shook her head. “Like the song says, when I offered you my love it came with a guarantee.”
“I wanted to come to you sooner but I had to work out some things. And I had to face that I have post-traumatic stress disorder. And I had to learn something about forgiving Jackson.”
“Oh, honey.” Her heart wanted to cry because she’d left him to go through that without her but her head knew he’d had to get there alone.
He shook his head. “It’s okay. That fire in L.A. wasn’t my fault. And neither was the one that killed my family.”
“You thought that?” She was horrified.
He nodded. “And I couldn’t let myself have you until I worked that out, but, Emory, I love you. You have no idea how much.”
“I think I do. I felt how much before you even knew.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re a wonder. I’ll never deserve you but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”
“I’m going to enjoy that part.” They laughed a little together.
“I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen with my career,” he said, “but I’m not giving up music.”
“I’m glad.”
“I’m writing. I’ve got the band back. Chase, too. We’ve got plans to record. Touring—I don’t know. I’m getting some help so I think I’ll be able to eventually. But I don’t know that I want to do another big concert. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do another big tour.”
“As long as you’re happy.”
“Right now, I just want to be with you. I want to write my songs during the day while you make parties. Then I want to sit on the porch at night and play those songs for you. And I’m thinking one of the parties you make might be a wedding.”
“I know how to make that happen.” It was already taking shape in her mind. Spring. White tulips. Julie with a basket of rose petals.
He brought her back. “But right now, I really just want to go home.”
Those might have been the sweetest words she’d ever heard.
“Then let’s go.”
He smiled and took her hand and started to lead her toward the door.
“Wait! Your guitar! And my purse, and phone . . . ”
He laughed. “Sammy’ll get all that.”
Sammy? She looked up and Sammy peeped around that ugly sculpture and waved.
And Emory walked out the door with Jackson Beauford and never looked back.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to:
Jonathan Baggs because we didn’t know a Telecaster from a ukulele.
Milla Kennamer Averett because we didn’t know what goes on in first class on a plane.
Anna Davis because we didn’t know what a detective would ask a rape victim.
And, as always, Tara, Jess, and Julie at Crimson because we don’t know where we’d be without them.
About the Author
Alicia Hunter Pace is the psuedonym for the writing team, Jean Hovey and Stephanie Jones. They live in North Alabama and share a love of old houses, football, and writing stories with a happily ever after.
Find Alicia Hunter Pace at:
Their website www.aliciahunterpace.com
On Facebook at www.facebook.com/pages/Alicia-Hunter-Pace/176839952372867
On Twitter @AliciaHPace
Subscribe to their newsletter at:
http://aliciahunterpace.us3.listmanage.com/subscribe?u=8dee88167294a57b8b340f8e7&id=2054b7cbe8
Copyright © 2014 by Jean Hovey and Stephanie Jones.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
57 Littlefield Street
Avon, MA 02322
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-4405-8194-0
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8194-6
eISBN 10: 1-4405-8195-9
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8195-3
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123RF/Jason Stitt 5760815
Kiss Me, Katie
Monica Tillery
Avon, Massachusetts
Contents
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
Acknowledgments
About the Author
For Dave.
You’re my favorite.
Chapter One
With just hours to go before her band Sterling took the stage to open for country music megastar Blake Jackson, Katie McCoy was supposed to be in her dressing room waiting for the road crew to set up equipment for sound check. She couldn’t resist a little sneak peek at the arena before it filled up with Blake Jackson’s adoring fans, so she wandered around the stands, her pink cowboy boots clicking on the smooth concrete floor. She viewed the stage from all angles, imagining what it would feel like to play in front of such a huge crowd. Crew members swarmed around the stage, running wires and cables, setting up chairs, props, and platforms, testing equipment.
Katie clasped her hands in front of her chest and sighed with delight as the band’s giant banner was unfurled at center stage. Sterling’s logo was fresh and bold on the crisp new banner. It had cost the band a fortune, but the euphoria of seeing it hanging above the stage convinced Katie that it was money well spent. She could almost hear the crowd cheering, could feel the hot stage lights warming her skin, and she let herself slip into a daydream. Her band would play flawlessly, the crowd would go wild, and then she’d take her bows in front of the roaring fans, who would of course be begging for an encore. She smiled and giggled to herself, hoping that the reality would be even half as good as the dream.
“Hey, doors don’t open until seven.” A deep and tantalizingly familiar voice came from the stands above her. Katie froze, her heart pounding, and spun on her heel at the sound of the voice. Katie knew she wasn’t alone in the arena, but she didn’t realize that anyone had noticed her. She would’ve kept the giggling and excitement confined to her dressing room had she known there was an audience. She looked up and was shocked to see Blake Jackson sitting in the stands, a sly smile on his rugged face and worn cowboy boots propped up on a seat in front of him. Blake was America’s biggest country star, happened to be incredibly handsome, and had given her band an incredible break by inviting them to open for twelve of the stops on his Country Summer Nights tour. She stood, frozen for a moment, before she registered the fact that her favorite singer was sitting just a few dozen feet away from her.
“You’re Blake Jackson!” Katie stammered. God, I sound like an idiot! She blushed furiously and covered her face with her hands. The shock of seeing him right before her eyes when she had previously only seen him in magazines and on television stopped her in her tracks. Katie knew all of Blake’s songs by heart; she sang along when they came on the radio and could play her fiddle along with the album when she was at home. He couldn’t be more than five years older than her, but he had been a success in the business for much longer. There weren’t many people who didn’t know Blake’s music.
“Yes, ma’am. Just
Blake will do fine though, Miss . . . ?” Blake’s lazy Southern drawl was so appealing that Katie wasn’t sure she’d be able to string together a complete sentence. She doubted that it was possible to be more flustered.
“McCoy. Katie McCoy. It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Jackson, I mean Blake; I’m a huge fan of yours. I guess I’m not really supposed to be wandering around out here, but my band is opening for you tonight and it’s my first show in a place so big. It’s kind of overwhelming.”
“Well, Katie McCoy, let me show you around.” Blake made his way down the stairs to where she waited, a bemused smile playing on his lips. Katie was sure that if he got close enough he’d be able to hear her heart pounding. She took in the lean but muscular body evident under his worn blue jeans and fitted black T-shirt and felt her breath hitch when their eyes met. His dark blue eyes sparkled with amusement under the brim of his Stetson.
“Wow,” she breathed. “I mean, hi.” Katie straightened her posture and swallowed the lump in her throat as Blake reached her. So the country’s biggest star was standing a mere foot away from her, and he was gorgeous and smelled amazing, so what? Fainting wouldn’t make the best first impression.
Blake offered Katie his arm and patted her hand when she took it. “Let’s take a walk,” he said.
Katie did her best to act natural as she walked beside Blake, not entirely sure her knees wouldn’t buckle underneath her. His muscles rippled under her grasp as the pair made their way around the venue, wandering through the backstage area, and back around to the front of the arena. Katie was all wide-eyed wonderment, but Blake seemed completely at ease, in his element.
Blake Jackson was clearly a man who was comfortable in his own skin. He pointed out spots in the venue that Katie was sure she should try to remember for later, but his close presence was too distracting. It was all Katie could do to tear her eyes away from him as he showed her around. Walking alongside Blake, Katie found that she enjoyed the faint scent of old popcorn and stale beer in the air, and the sights and sounds of the employees and road crew at work thrilled her. This was the kind of moment that she would remember for the rest of her life, long after this tour ended.
“So you’re in Sterling, huh? I’ve heard your single; it’s called ‘Valentine’, right? Unless you have a very deep singing voice, I know you’re not the singer. What do you play?” Blake looked down at Katie while they wandered through the concession area, ignoring the stares of the curious arena staff members. A pretty brunette dropped a stack of cups over the counter when they strolled by. Katie smiled sympathetically at her obvious embarrassment, but Blake didn’t even notice the flustered girl or the cups tumbling all over the floor. Surely he was aware of the effect he had on women but was obviously too kind to show it.
“Fiddle. I’ve been playing since I was a kid; in fact I’ve been playing your songs for years. This whole thing is just amazing. I mean, really, I can’t believe I get paid to do something I love so much.”
“Yeah, it sure is a fun way to pay the bills,” Blake said with a chuckle.
“Well we only recently started making enough money to count for anything. Almost everything we had went into joining this tour, so for now I guess we’re playing for free again. Not that I mind,” Katie added quickly. “This is an amazing opportunity for us, and hopefully it will lead to bigger and better things.”
“Oh yeah, I remember how long I played for bar tabs and gas money before I made enough to quit my paying jobs. And I had some dirty, sweaty jobs. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything, though. Everybody nowadays just wants to be famous and nobody really puts in the time any more. If you ask me, success is a lot more satisfying when you’ve waited and worked for it,” Blake said.
“I imagine that’s so and I really hope we find out. Of course, being able to join your tour has felt like a pretty sweet success. It’s actually a dream come true.” Katie admitted.
“Y’all obviously deserve it, Katie. The label doesn’t exactly do artists any favors. No amount of money could persuade them to put you on with me if they didn’t think you could handle it. Y’all paid for your spot on this tour and you should enjoy every minute of it,” Blake said.
They continued their walk through the venue, arm in arm, and Katie caught whiffs of Blake’s spicy cologne and felt his body heat when she got close. Her hometown of Orange Blossom, Texas, was small but there was no shortage of good-looking guys. Being young, pretty, and in a popular band meant that Katie could take her pick of guys, but she gave most of her time and effort to music. Dating had never been a priority since so much of her time had to go to writing songs, rehearsing, and gigs with her band. Something was different about Blake, though. She had never met anyone like him. Katie couldn’t remember ever being so enchanted by mere proximity to a man before, and the effect was almost disorienting.
Walking around the venue with Blake Jackson felt like something from a dream. His charisma drew Katie in, intoxicating her with his irresistible mix of confidence, charm, and approachability. It was hard to believe that the sweet man taking such an interest in her was one of the country’s biggest stars. He was so open, so easy to talk to, and he really listened when Katie talked. Their walk was over too soon for Katie as the pair stopped in front of her dressing room.
“Well Miss McCoy, this is where we part ways. I better head on back and start getting ready for tonight’s show. I’ll try to catch your set. Hope you stick around for mine,” Blake said as he smiled and tipped his hat. Katie thanked him for the tour and let herself into her dressing room.
Katie leaned against the closed door, breathed in the cool air of her empty dressing room, and waited for her pulse to slow to a normal rate. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to relax. With her band’s show coming up, she needed to try to forget about the delicious Blake Jackson and focus on tonight’s performance.
It would take a Texas-sized effort to tear her mind away from those soulful dark blue eyes, the stubble on his gorgeous face, that touchable wavy brown hair, those soft but strong muscles . . . whoa. He’s just a man. A fellow human being. Who just happens to be gorgeous, talented, and sweet.
Katie gave herself a little shake and tried to clear her mind. She looked around the dressing room at all the special touches that were there just for her. The band had been able to include riders in their contracts specifying what they required for their dressing rooms. It had been a heady experience being able to simply state what she wanted to be in place and have it all ready for her upon arrival. A sweet arrangement of daisies in a glass vase sat on her vanity, a plush pink couch was by her wardrobe, and a plastic bucket of ice contained bottles of water and iced tea. Everything was just as she had requested and even better than she had imagined. I could get used to this, she thought.
There was a knock on her door, and Katie’s pulse raced. Blake? She opened the door and quickly hid her disappointment when she saw the hair stylist, armed with tools and products, ready to transform Katie from small-town girl into country music beauty. Back home in Orange Blossom, Texas, Katie was content with her girl-next-door good looks and rarely needed to dress up. She tried to look nice for gigs, but the places Sterling usually played weren’t exactly fancy. Jeans, a cute top, and a little makeup were all she really needed. Being on tour with a national act was a whole different ball game, though. Playing in arenas, opening for Blake Jackson, it was so different from playing in the small clubs that they were used to. Katie had precious little experience with hairstyles, makeup, and fancy clothes and was grateful for the professional assistance.
“Hey there, I’m Katie. Come on in,” Katie said as she stepped aside. She hopped into the chair in front of her huge mirror and let the stylist work her magic. Her mind drifted as the stylist chattered away and curled, combed, teased, and sprayed Katie’s honey-blonde hair. The makeup artist arrived, and Katie was able to relax and sink into her daydream
s while the two ladies chatted with each other over her head. She allowed herself to drift into fantasies of meeting up with Blake again, walking with Blake again, touching Blake again, maybe kissing Blake, maybe happily ever after with Blake. She smiled to herself. This is going to be a fun gig.
• • •
Blake sank down on to the sofa in his dressing room and kicked off his boots, letting them fall to the floor. After spending the past two months on the road with their last opening act, he was ready for something fresh, and Katie McCoy would do quite nicely. Blake had heard a few Sterling songs, but he had never seen pictures or read any interviews. He hadn’t realized that their fiddler was female . . . and beautiful. Being single, famous, and ruggedly handsome made finding female companionship fairly easy for Blake, but spending months at a time on the road meant that every woman he met was either a fan, a reporter, or a crew member. Every fan who managed to make her way backstage had started to look and seem the same as the last, and none of them sparked his interest. Sure, they were pretty, but Blake was finding it more difficult to be content with just a pretty face and was ready for someone with more substance, something special. The women he met were certainly interested in meeting him, and they were probably nice enough, but Blake always got the feeling that none of them cared to know him as a person. Everybody wanted a piece of Blake Jackson, the country star; none of the women cared much about Blake Jackson, the man. Nobody was interested in finding out more about him than what they read in magazines or saw online. Meeting him was nothing more than an experience for the women, a photo they could show off to their friends later. The more his career flourished, the harder it was to meet a woman who didn’t already know everything she wanted to know about him. Blake decided that he couldn’t feel too sorry for himself, though. He was, after all, living the dream of most red-blooded American men. He picked up his cell phone and called his assistant.
Nashville Nights Page 31