Hillbilly Rockstar

by Christina Routon

  He came back in a few minutes, wearing a t-shirt and carrying a bottle of water.

  "Here you go." He handed her the bottle. As she took it their fingers touched, and it a shock of lightning ran down her arm.

  ###

  Wow, was all Trace could think when he opened the door and saw her standing there wearing a gorgeous deep purple dress and those boots. His eyes had trailed down her chest and he noticed the small pendent she wore, resting in her cleavage, and he'd wanted to follow its path, first with a finger, then with his tongue.

  It took all he had to not pull her to him then and there, but he'd made a deal. Nothing funny, he'd said. God, he wished he could take that back. But she was there because of the show, because of the deal they'd made, and he wasn't going to let his attraction to her ruin his chances of getting his property out of foreclosure.

  He felt the spark when he handed her the water bottle, saw her jump. He'd seen her looking at him, too, standing close to her in his old sweats with the loose elastic. He hadn't worn them on purpose. He'd planned to be dressed and clean up a bit before she showed up. He should have guessed that she'd be the type to be early or on time.

  He glanced down at his dark leather sofa covered in junk and the glass-topped coffee table, littered with trash. "Just another second and we'll get started." He headed into the kitchen and returned with an expandable trash bag. In seconds, pizza boxes, bottles and cigarette ash was cleared from the table and couch and tossed down the chute to the basement.

  "Okay, let's get to it." Even as he said it, he knew it sounded wrong. "Let's get to work," he said, and was pleased his words caused her to blush again. He loved knowing he was causing a reaction. Maybe there could be something there after all, something they could explore as they worked together over the next few weeks.

  ###

  With a clear spot to work and a goal to reach -- go over the schedule and get out -- Lisa opened her binder and pulled out the faxed copies she'd received from the production office.

  "Tomorrow morning at nine we're meeting with producers, the director and Michelle. You'll sign whatever paperwork they have for you and we'll get more specific information about the taping schedule. Right now rehearsal is done during the week with a full dress rehearsal on Friday afternoon with taping on Saturday evenings."

  "Sounds pretty simple to me."

  "There was promotion originally scheduled for your predecessor, so I made some calls to get some interviews and other things tweaked for you. We'll have a more detailed schedule in the next few days, and I'll be adding a few things specifically for you."

  "Sounds like you know what you're doing."

  She looked up from her schedules met his gaze. "That sounded like a compliment."

  "Well, maybe because it was. But I guess you're pretty good at your job, otherwise you wouldn't be replacing Charlie."

  Now would be the perfect time, the perfect time to tell him that she wasn't a manager at Cahill-Waters -- she refused to call it by its new name. But the compliment, his obvious interest in her as a woman, that was unsettling. She'd dated since leaving Danny, since her divorce, but this man brought out unfamiliar feelings she wasn't sure how to handle. He's just a guy, Babe, like the rest of us, and you know what we want, she heard Danny's voice say inside her head. No, she told the voice. No, not Trace. He said what he meant. Charlie had told her that often enough, and based on what she knew of him by reputation, even with some media bias thrown in, she was going to trust her gut and believe him.

  "What?" Trace said, and Lisa realized she'd been staring at him for a few moments too long. She couldn't tell him everything, but he deserved to know at least part of the truth.

  "Trace, you're my first client. On my own, I mean." She smiled, hoping it looked natural and not strained. "I worked with Charlie for six years. He trained me and I assisted him with other clients. I would meet with them sometimes, go over contracts and paperwork, discuss the financial side of the business with the bookkeepers, but you are my first actual client."

  ###

  Trace wasn't sure why she told him. Patrick must not know that she'd never been a full-time manager, but he'd recommended her so Trace was going along with it.

  "The way I see it, we've all got to start somewhere, so you may as well start with me. It's not an issue, Lisa."

  She visibly relaxed at his words. This wasn't the woman he'd met at Six Guns or the woman from the meeting earlier today, the one who laid out her stipulations for accepting him as a client. This was a woman who wanted -- no, needed -- to be accepted. Man, someone must have really done a number on her.

  "Since you're coming clean with me, I'll come clean with you." He leaned forward, as if they weren't alone and he was about to tell her a big secret. "I hate reality television. I hate the dancing shows, I hate the singing shows, I hate the pseudo-celebrities who're only famous because of their money or their looks."

  Lisa moved back slightly. "So why did you accept the show?"

  "Because I need the money. I can't tell you why, but I'm doing it for the money."

  She was quiet for a moment, then shuffled through some of the paperwork until she found a few sheets of paper clipped together.

  "I figured something like that. I don't need to know what's going on, that's your business. But part of Charlie's job was keeping up with the financial portion of your career. I got this statement from our bookkeeping office this afternoon." She handed him the statements and he saw the same thing she'd seen -- he was completely and officially broke.

  "You've been losing money gradually over the past six years from what I can tell. You stopped touring, stopped performing except for the odd gig locally. That also seems to be around the time your reputation took a nose dive, although rumors of your temper have spread for years." She paused for a second before asking the next question. "What happened?"

  Anger shot through him, anger that hadn't been there a second ago. Anger at himself, anger at her for bringing up the past, anger at Trixie for making everything worse. "None of your business." Trace said, looking her in the eye, his voice cold and hard.

  She held his stare for a second, then broke it off, lowering her eyes. "I'm sorry, Trace. You're right, it's not my business." She began gathering the paperwork and placing it in her binder. "That's all I have for now. I'll see you tomorrow at nine at the studio's production office." She rose from the chair and walked toward the door.

  "Wait." Trace followed after her, stopping her just before she opened the apartment door. Lisa turned around to face him, and he saw the soft and gentle woman from a few moments earlier had disappeared. The businesswoman was back in her place.

  But he didn't want either of those women. He wanted the one he hadn't met yet -- the one she was trying to keep hidden, the one who responded to his touch and he knew wanted to touch him in return.

  He leaned into her, touching the dimple on her cheek. His finger trailed down her cheek, down her neck. He gave into his desire from earlier and followed the path of the necklace. Her skin was soft, just as he'd known it would be. Trace felt her shiver, felt her start to back away. But he wasn't going to let her, not this time.

  His arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her close. He touched his lips to hers, gentle at first, then kissed her with abandon, his tongue probing into her mouth. In the distance he heard a thunk as her binder hit the floor, then her hands were moving, exploring, running through his hair. Trace grew hard at her touch. He slid a hand down her back and cupped her butt.

  Lisa froze, her hands on his chest, and pushed him away. "Wait, stop. I can't do this."

  "Lisa," Trace began, but she kept her hands pressed against him.

  "No, I can't do this. I admit I'm attracted to you. I admit I felt something from the first time you spoke to me at Six Guns. But I can't be with you like this."

  "Why? I was a jerk before, I know. I just have my reasons --"

  "And they're your reasons, and that's fine. You had every right to tell me
to butt out. That's not the reason I can't do this. Trace, I have a job to do. You're my first client and I need to prove myself. I can't do my job if I am feeling --"

  "Feeling what? Desire? That's normal. That's what I feel every time I look at you."

  Pain washed over her face, a pain he didn't understand.

  "What's wrong?"

  She didn't answer. Her green eyes clouded and she turned away from him.

  "Goodnight, Trace." Lisa pushed her way out of the circle of his arms and bent to pick up her binder. She grasped the doorknob and opened the door and left the apartment.

  Trace watched her run-walk down the hall toward the elevator like the devil himself was running after her. Why the hell had he said that? No wonder she'd left. Lisa Jenkins was not a hook-up, let's-have-a-fling kind of girl. He closed the door, locking it behind him. It was for the best, anyway. He wasn't a let's-have-a-relationship kind of guy. The past couple of years had proven that to him. After his marriage to Trixie, he'd sworn he would never get involved that deep again.

  He grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled on the couch, flipping through the channels, trying to find something to watch, but he couldn't get Lisa out of his head. Her brilliant green eyes, her soft skin, the taste of her mouth, the curve of her leg in those boots. Yes, he desired her. But he needed this job and he needed the money. He wasn't going to screw that up and lose his property. Lisa Jenkins was off limits.

  ###

  Lisa leaned against the elevator wall, thankful when the doors closed and it began moving to the lobby. Danny's voice laughed inside her head. Told you so, it said.

  She'd pulled herself together by the time she sat behind the wheel of her car. It was for the best, anyway. Trace was a client. He was off limits.

  Chapter Seven

  Lisa came into the Cahill-Waters around seven to get some work done before the nine o'clock meeting. She was glad that Boyd was going to be gone the rest of the week. There was no way she would have been able to get any of the preliminary meetings set up if he'd still been in the office. Even with the current staff still in the office, she was going to have to watch her step.

  At eight-fifteen she closed the file she was working on and gathered her things, ready to meet Trace and Patrick at the production office at the studio where The Next Country Star was being taped. "Ellen," she said to the receptionist as she headed out of the building. "I have an appointment this morning. I should be back today, maybe around lunch. Let my calls go to voicemail, okay."

  "Sure. An appointment?"

  Lisa stopped at the question. Ellen was a bit of a gossip, and working at the reception desk seemed to make her want to know everyone's business didn't help. Ellen claimed she did her job better with more accurate information, but Lisa believed the woman just liked being nosy.

  "Yes, an appointment," Lisa said again, being vague on purpose. "See you later."

  "All right, calls go to voicemail," Ellen repeated, seeming disappointed that Lisa wouldn't share her agenda. Lisa left, heading out for what could be the most important meeting in her new career.

  She reached the studio just before nine, making good time in light traffic. She signed in with security and had to wait a few minutes in the lobby before Leon, the show's executive producer, Patrick and Trace came out to greet her. Lisa rose from the couch and shook Leon's hand, trying not to look at Trace any longer than necessary.

  But she couldn't help notice him, especially after last night. He wore his typical outfit -- checked button-up shirt, jeans, boots, and, of course, his black hat. This was business, so he would be wearing the hat. She fell into step behind the others, trying her best not to remember how his body felt under her roaming hands or how she'd melted when he'd kissed her. Her face grew hot. No, you're not going to flush right now. Stay cool. She swore she heard Danny's voice laughing at her again.

  The group settled into a glass-paned conference room on one of the upper floors of the building. It was an amazing meeting room. Large windows looked out over the Nashville skyline. The sun shone through the tinted glass, making it possible to enjoy the view and the beautiful morning. The conference table was large enough for twenty, and it faced a large video screen Lisa imagined was used for conference calls. Another set of large windows looked out into the office area where studio employees were working in their cubicles. Leon drew the blinds over the windows facing the inside of the building, but let the sun shine through the windows looking out at Nashville. Lisa walked over to them, not looking down but looking out over the city's skyline.

  "Beautiful city, isn't it?" Trace asked, coming up behind her.

  "Yes, it is." She could feel his heat, could feel his touch even though he never moved any closer.

  "I'm sorry about last night, about what I said. I meant it, every word, and I'm not apologizing for that. But you're right, this is business, so if you want to keep it that way, then that's how it stays."

  She swallowed, her throat dry. She wasn't sure she could speak, but she had to say something. Lisa turned away from the view at the window to face him and offered him a bright smile. "Thank you, apology accepted." Thank God, her voice didn't crack. She stepped to the side, away from him, and toward the table where the others were gathered.

  She was thankful the meeting didn't last long. Within an hour they covered the contract, including the morality clause, and Trace collected his first check, minus Patrick's agent fee and Lisa's managerial fee. She touched the check, made out to her, not the company. She'd told Leon she was a freelancer working for the company, and since the studio was familiar with the process they'd agreed to cut the check to her. Fifteen thousand dollars, all hers. She was putting in her notice as soon as Boyd returned from Atlanta on Monday. She was going to use this money and give her new business a hundred percent of her time and attention.

  "Now," Leon was saying. "Let's get this guy to work. First stop is going to be wardrobe, then you'll meet with Michelle and the director. We're happy to have you with us, Trace." Leon stood and shook Trace's hand.

  "Glad to help you out, Leon. I'm looking forward to working with Michelle again."

  Leon called Debbie, the wardrobe manager, to the office and asked her to take Trace to the wardrobe room to find something for taping. Trace said goodbye, glancing back at Lisa one more time. She met his eyes and willed herself to stay calm, to not let him see the desire there.

  When the three were alone, Leon let out a breath. "You guys know we're taking a chance here, all of us. The reputation of the show, the studio, you as a manager and you as his agent." He motioned to Lisa and Patrick, then walked over to a mini-fridge installed under a countertop and grabbed three bottles of water.

  "Yes, we are taking a chance." Patrick said, accepting a water bottle. "But I've known Trace for sixteen years. He's one of my first clients and he's now one of my best friends. He's serious about this job and making it work. He said he's going to abide by the contract and I believe him."

  "He understands the morals clause. He won't break it." Lisa spoke up, reassuring the producer.

  "I hope so. You need to keep an eye on him, Lisa. He's a great musician, a great performer, but you know his reputation."

  "He is, and I am. Keeping an eye on him, I mean. That's part of our agreement for him to have representation. Believe me, Leon, Trace is going to keep his word, to all of us, and he's ready to show the world that he's back."

  ###

  After she finished talking with Leon and Patrick, Lisa headed over to one of the stages the show used at the studio. Leon told her that Trace should be on Stage A, the rehearsal space. Stage B was used for taping as it was larger and had the space for a five-hundred member audience.

  She checked her watch as she crossed the lot to Stage A. It was about ten-thirty and she knew she needed to get back to the office soon. She'd be on her way as soon as she spoke to Trace.

  Lisa stepped onto the stage area, looking for him. How am I ever going to find him? The room was full of equipmen
t and crew, testing lighting and cameras for Friday's dress rehearsal followed by Saturday's taping. A group was milling around the soundstage, talking, pointing at lights and speakers and checking over printed pages. There was one person Lisa recognized -- Trace's co-host, Michelle Nelson, sitting in a director's chair with her name stitched across the back, reading her notes.

  It didn't take long for her take everything in and immediately feel out of place. She needed to find Trace. She glanced around again and was about to ask one of the many people scurrying about where he could be when she saw him enter from stage left.

  Lisa started walking over to him but stopped when she saw Michelle Nelson leave her seat and head towards him, her long legs in bootcut jeans, tight around her hips.

  ###

  Trace was heading from the backstage wardrobe area to the stage when he saw Michelle walking toward him. Wow, he thought. This was not the fresh faced, naïve nineteen-year-old he'd written songs for when she was just starting out. This was a beautiful woman, even wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans.

  "Hey, Cowboy. Long time no see." Michelle offered Trace a flirty smile before greeting him with a hug.

  "Hey, Kid, how are you?" He hugged her back, then released her and stepped back. He tilted his hat back on his head. "Well, aren't you something. Good to see you, Michelle. Congratulations on the award."

  "It all goes back to you, you know. Your songs on my first album made it take off the way it did."

  "No, it was all you." He gave her another quick hug, followed by a peck on the cheek. Before he could release her again, Michelle pulled him closer and kissed him on the lips. He pulled back, surprised.

  "It's great to see you, Cowboy. I'm looking forward to working with you again." Michelle's voice was low and breathless. It took Trace a few seconds to realize what she was doing. Michelle was flirting -- with him. He took a good look at her, realizing once more the girl he'd known had grown into a very beautiful, sexy woman. Her blonde, highlighted hair was cut to frame her face, her makeup was perfect, and her hazel eyes were bright with interest and possibility. He was free, he reasoned. He could take whatever she was offering, free and clear. So why didn't he?