by Zoe York
“Everything okay?” she asked, pushing a loose strand of hair off her face. Gentle frown lines creased her brow.
“Yeah.”
“You look worried.”
“My youngest brother’s leaving for overseas sooner than later. Last minute call up.”
“With the military?”
He nodded and slowly walked toward her. She stepped up the stairs, making room for him to follow her out of the mid-day heat. He closed the bus door behind them, but he didn’t sit down inside. He was suddenly restless. “Hey, you want to go check out the workout room inside the arena?”
“Sure.” She shot a quick look at the clock on the microwave. “I have a meet-and-greet in an hour and a half, but I’ve got time for a workout first. Let me grab my bag.”
He should address the thing that almost happened between them before Sean called, but that hadn’t gone well the day before, and right now he really wanted to just lift heavy stuff and not think about anything for an hour or two.
* * *
— —
* * *
One of the earliest lessons Liana learned in Nashville was that sometimes opportunities slipped through your fingers. A great song gets picked up by a bigger performer, even though you heard it first and were in talks with the songwriter. You miss a call to perform at the Grand Ole Opry at the last minute. Schedules don’t line up with a producer you’ve been drooling over.
Or on a personal level, your super hot bodyguard gets a phone call at an inopportune time and comes back distracted by something that has nothing to do with you.
It was important not to dwell in the regret of the missed opportunity, and instead plan ahead. Be ready for the next lightning strike, because that’s often what it was—dumb luck at the right time.
Too bad the infinite patience she’d cultivated for her professional persona was missing right now.
She jabbed the button on her treadmill to jack up the speed. Maybe if her muscles burned enough she’d stop ogling the muscles in Dean’s back as he did free weights on the far side of the gym they had all to themselves.
She watched him push himself through more arm exercises than she’d thought humanly possible—a fifth set? Really?
But when she got off the treadmill and his gaze caught hers in the mirror on the wall, it was dark and unexpectedly intense—not the calm, level-headed man she’d come to know at all.
“What’s wrong?” She grabbed a spray bottle and spritzed the treadmill handles, but kept her attention on him.
He did the same with his weights, but he didn’t answer her.
What’s on your mind, mister?
Then he slung his bag across his body and met her in the middle of the room.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” She didn’t mean it. She wanted to know. Maybe because she was nosy—she was intensely curious about most people’s stories, and Dean intrigued her more than anyone else. Maybe because she wanted to know his secrets more specifically.
“You can ask,” he said quietly. The subtle lines of his face seemed deeper than before. “I just can’t answer. I’m not really sure. Family stuff is the short answer.”
“Ah. Well, I know all about big feelings that I don’t understand.” She gave him a rueful smile and tipped her head toward the door. “I’ve got a meet and greet. I need to shower.”
“I’ll do the same and wait for you on the other side.” He didn’t move. His gaze didn’t drop from her face, and as she stood there, his expression softened. “I didn’t mean for you to see that I was upset.”
“That’s…fine.” She frowned. “Of course it’s fine. And if you ever want to talk, I’m a pretty good listener.”
“That probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Why not?”
“Because I’m working for you. I’m supposed to be professional.”
“You are.” A laugh burst out of her. “But you’re human, too. Right?”
His jaw flexed and her laughter grew.
“Oh, Dean.” She patted him on the chest. That flexed, too. The soft cotton clung to his muscles, and she tried not to think about the sweat-slicked skin beneath the fabric. Now was not the time to hit on him. Robots didn’t respond well to inappropriate advances, she’d learned, even though a big part of her wanted to keep trying. “Okay. Shower time.”
She was still giggling as she stepped under the hot water in the change room. Still smiling when she towelled off and carefully applied her moisturizer.
And when she met him in the hallway, Dean still looked tense. She didn’t comment on it again. It wasn’t her place.
Not yet.
Chapter Twelve
THE Raleigh show was Dean’s first chance to see what a regular concert was like, and it was everything Liana had warned him about: chaotic, epic, and exhausting.
When Liana pulled into herself, doing her quiet thing before the show, he left her in her dressing room and did a quick loop around backstage while the opening act was playing.
Then he settled into a seat where the tour manager promised him he wouldn’t be in the way and just enjoyed Liana on stage again.
Tonight she did a broader range of songs than she had in Washington, and they were all good, but when it came to the last song of the night, “Cravings”, he realized she’d saved the best for last.
It was different than the rest of her set, just as she’d told him, although he could hear the same soul in it as in “River Bed Lullaby.”
But this song was…well, it was sexy as hell.
Her voice purred as she moved across the stage. Slinked, really, and the crowd ate it up.
This was the song Track hadn’t wanted her to put on her album. Dean couldn’t understand why not. It was fantastic.
* * *
Give me a chance to
Show you what I like
I’ll pour you a drink
Of the sweetest wine
* * *
He may have only known her for five days, but his gut told him that while it was damn sexy, it wasn’t an overly personal song for her. She may have co-written it, but it wasn’t a confessional.
She wasn’t revealing anything about her relationship with Track in it, and as hot as it was, it wasn’t anything that crossed any lines.
It’s the kind of song he’d expect to hear racing up the charts, not that he was a music expert.
It was a damn shame she felt her career being stifled if this was the kind of music she really wanted to make. And the crowd ate it up.
Dean did, too.
As the arena turned black, she hustled off stage, but didn’t come as far as where he stood. He’d been prepped on this—the concert wasn’t really over. They’d do an encore set of a three-song medley.
And it rocked, but he was still thinking about “Cravings”.
* * *
— —
* * *
It was late when they got on the bus and drove to Charlotte. But it wasn’t that long of a drive, so everyone stayed up, playing cards and working on music, until they arrived at their hotel for the night.
They were all staying in the same hallway, a domino sequence of rooms. Dean was closest to the side exit out to the parking lot, and as he was brushing his teeth, he heard that door click open, then close again. A sixth sense had him move to the window just in time to see Liana jog down the concrete path. He swore under his breath and did the world’s fastest change into his own running clothes. Sean would be proud, it was nearly a triathlon transition-worthy time. Shorts, shoes, and he was pulling on his shirt as he hit the summer heat outside.
What was she thinking going running at this time by herself?
Even as he thought that, he could feel his sister-in-law reaching across time and space to smack him in the head. Time of day didn’t matter. As a cop he knew that. As a man, though…
And it was his job to go with her.
He tried to pretend it was entirely a profess
ional concern.
But when he caught sight of her a block ahead, thankfully going a bit slower than his max speed, he eased up and followed from enough of a distance that he couldn’t say he wasn’t watching her selfishly.
She went out about two clicks, running down the main road lined with hotels and fast food restaurants. It was brightly lit and easy for him to keep an eye on her, and when she checked her watch and slowed down, he was close enough to a stand of trees that he could duck into the shadows.
But he didn’t. He slowed down himself and stood under a street light instead, arms crossed.
She saw him immediately when she turned around.
She didn’t stop.
“You’re following me now?” she asked as she sped past him, going faster now.
“I thought we had an understanding that I would accompany you out in public.”
“There is nobody out at this time of night, and I didn’t know that I wanted to run until I was already in my room.”
“You have my number.”
“I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“You didn’t.”
“How did you…” She trailed off and took a deep breath instead. “I went right past your room.”
“You’d make a terrible spy.”
“I wasn’t sneaking out, obviously. I just didn’t think it mattered.”
“It didn’t. But I was up, so I came with you.”
She shot him a quick grin. “Couldn’t catch me?”
Sure. He’d rather she think that than realize he was just watching her run because he loved the way she moved. “You’re fast. You do this middle of the night running routine a lot?”
“Sometimes.”
“Tell me next time, okay?”
She nodded.
“You had a great show tonight,” he said. “Really impressive.”
“Thank you.” She stared straight ahead. “It felt good.”
Polite, but not expansive. What was he expecting from the middle of the night? He let her finish the run in silence. When she stretched against the side of the hotel, he mirrored her, then followed her to her room.
She stopped before going inside. “My apologies for the moment of stress that caused.”
He shook his head. “No stress. But I’m glad I went after you.”
She gave him a curious look, then smiled. “Me too.”
He grinned and stepped back. “Now get some rest?”
“Definitely.”
And he did sleep, like a baby. Except with totally grown-up dreams.
Chapter Thirteen
CHARLOTTE was a repeat of the incredible performance in Raleigh. Dean was starting to get the hang of the tour, and he had the best seat in the house.
When the lights came down after the encore, she bounded off the stage with the band. They handed over their instruments as they moved deeper backstage, then she flung her arms around Jackie’s neck, then squeezed West hard and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on Andrew’s cheek.
But the whole time her eyes were on him.
He gave her a slow, proud grin. “Good show,” he said as they headed through the crowd backstage.
“Thanks,” she breathed.
He cleared a path all the way to her dressing room, and when she opened the door she hesitated. He felt the invitation loud and clear.
He could look around and slip inside if nobody was watching. But he was quickly learning that he didn’t have a lot of will-power when it came to the temptation of Liana Hansen. “I’ll stand guard.”
She nodded in understanding, her eyes dancing. She totally had his number—yeah, he wanted her. No, he wasn’t going to do anything about that just yet. At least she was amused by his moral dilemma.
But she didn’t step inside right away. Instead she leaned against the door, stretching in front of him the same way she had earlier in the tour bus.
Vixen.
She smiled slowly. “There’s an after party.”
“You deserve a celebration.” A crowd of people pushed past behind him, and he moved a little closer. He didn’t miss how her eyes lit up at the increased proximity.
Danger.
“You’ll be right here?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper and it tugged at his gut.
“Right here.”
“Good.” Another smile, this one breathy and softer. Less deliberately seductive. Hotter than ever.
He was so screwed.
* * *
— —
* * *
They didn’t have an after party every night, but it was only a four-hour drive to Knoxville, and with the mountains in between, their drivers preferred to make the drive in the daytime.
So they could linger after the show, and this particular arena had a very hospitable staff.
Fine by her. She felt like letting a little loose.
Liana changed, then they joined the local opening act and her band crew, plus a bunch of VIP fans and local business people at the after party.
The arena staff had laid on a pretty nice spread of food in the second largest green room, which had great couches and a couple of nooks that suited conversation well.
She poured herself a Jack and Coke on ice, and offered the same to Dean.
“No whiskey in mine.”
“You sure? You’re off-duty. Or I don’t have to.”
“You totally should. And that’s why I don’t,” Dean murmured, smiling down at her. He lifted his glass. “Cheers.”
They moved deeper into the room. People smiled and took pictures with her, but conversations faded when she hung around too long, so she kept moving until they reached an empty couch. Then she sat, grateful for a moment of quiet, but even as she released a sigh she’d been holding in, her old familiar friend, doubt, made its regular appearance.
Was anyone watching her? Thinking look how lonely Liana is, because she pushes everyone away, and really, that’s her own fault, but how sad. If only she was more giving, more loving, more forgiving—
She took a big sip of the cold drink and waved her free hand at Dean, who was standing beside her looking ten feet tall. Fuck it. She could talk to her damn bodyguard without starting a rumour. Maybe. Hopefully.
She took another drink. “Sit down.”
He gave her an amused look as he moved around to the front of the couch and settled on the edge. “Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed. “I told you not to call me that,” she teased, knowing he’d done it on purpose.
“If I wanted to make a good impression,” he said with a completely straight face. “Maybe I’m over that now.”
“Or maybe you think you’ve made a good enough impression for the day already.”
He glanced at his watch. “Technically that was yesterday. And really mostly the day before. I didn’t do much today other than watch you tear up the stage.”
“Nice side step.”
He glanced around the terrace and spread his legs a little wider, like he was deliberately taking up real estate in front of the couch. She sank back into the cushions, grateful for the privacy he afforded her.
She should go be social, but she really just wanted to sit and have a drink and watch the room. And he was giving her that. It didn’t really matter if it was deliberate or accidental, she appreciated it either way.
West was holding court on another couch nearby. The fact that he usually paid for more than his fair share of the beer made him popular with the crew, and he knew how to work a crowd to get the extroverts telling jokes and keep the introverts feeling comfortable just hanging out.
A sharp contrast to the way Track used to hold court when they went on tour together. She’d seen a glimpse of that again in Washington. He’d dominated the conversation near the bar in the VIP tent, a little too loud and a little too forceful. She’d recognized the story he told, about a concert where everything went wrong, and she’d winced, because some of the crew involved in that show were in the tent at the time.
He was so tone-de
af sometimes, but it never seemed to splash back on him. He was made of Teflon. It was like people were so drawn to his charisma that they didn’t realize they were being served up a pile of narcissistic crap once they were pulled into his orbit.
What she saw as oily others saw as slick and impressive. Ugh.
“I need another drink,” she said, finishing the last sip of the one in her hand.
Dean pressed a hand to her forearm. “Whoa. You okay? You look mad.”
She shook her head. “Just remembered something that happened yesterday.”
“What?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing.”
He looked at her warily for a second before nodding. “You want me to get that drink for you?”
“Would you?”
He laughed and shook his head at her gently. “You understand so far this has been the easiest job in the world, right?”
She frowned. She didn’t like the reminder that he worked for her. “I’ll get my own drink.”
“Hey.” One quiet, firm word and she jerked her eyes up to meet his gaze. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. No one else I’d rather fetch a drink for, or sit beside at a party.”
“Don’t spoil me now.” A reluctant smile spread across her face as they shared a look, then he nodded, his neat, white teeth set against his lower lip, his eyes half-lidded as he set his hands wide across the worn denim hugging his thighs and pushed himself up to stand.
She watched him cross to the bar, his long legs eating up the space like it was nothing. She tried to picture him naked. Another drink was probably a terrible idea. She bit her lip and giggled to herself. But that butt…seriously. And those legs. Tight muscles, long limbs, maybe a light dusting of hair in all the right places.
Not a good place to go.
She jerked her head away from where Dean was laughing with someone at the bar. She scanned the party again, trying to distract herself.