by Lisa Cardiff
The way he looked at her, as if he really saw her and he still wanted her, made her want to weep with relief and run as fast and as far away as she could manage. She’d spent her life building an armor to isolate her heart from the emotional chaos that permeated her childhood. Now, people only saw what she let them see—a cold, hard, emotionless woman.
Miles never made it through her emotional armor even though he systematically tried to break her down with his constant barrage of insulting comments. In fact, Miles had called her frigid a couple times, and even though he apologized later, she knew he meant it because that’s how she felt about herself most of the time. His actions only convinced her of the merits of remaining aloof, because letting people in meant reawakening the gnawing feelings of inadequacy burned into her brain courtesy of her mom.
For the most part, her frosty demeanor succeeded in keeping people away, with the exception of Miles who, in reflection, only pursued her because of Alec and Chasing Ruin. She suspected that was why he continued to call her as well. He thought she’d be instrumental in handing him the break that his shitty band craved, but every time he pushed her to send a demo tape to Alec, she refused. She’d never liked asking Alec for favors. He’d done more than his fair share for her since their father died and their mother became a worthless shell of a human being. Asking Alec for one more favor for a guy she only partially liked didn’t sit well with her.
“How many days are we on the bus?” she asked.
“Four or five and then we have two nights in the hotel.” He twisted her hair around his finger just as he twisted her heart around his finger.
“That’s a long time,” she said, leaning into his hand, his gentleness making her throat tight with longing.
“I didn’t think so a few minutes ago, but now that I see you staring at me with that adorable, slightly puzzled look on your face, I’m starting to agree.” He shook his head. “You’re right. Being around you without being able to touch you or kiss you will be torture.”
Stepping away from him to gain some small but imperative space, she broke eye contact as she chewed on the inside of her lip until it felt raw. It was a nervous habit she hated, but she could never seem to stop herself.
“Tay, who hurt you?” He stared at her with an intensity that contradicted his normal carefree attitude and charismatic smile. It penetrated her heart, the same heart that she promised to shield and protect at any cost. Cam was much deeper and more complex than anyone gave him credit for. Sadly, this was the first time she saw it, and it sucked her in like nothing else could have done.
Her mom, Miles—too many people. She wanted to reply in answer to his question, but she didn’t. It wasn’t his business and she wasn’t Cam’s responsibility. Besides, nobody wanted to hear about the ugliness of her life, not even her. It was easier to wrap it up with a nice little bow and pretend that it never happened.
“It’s not worth talking about, especially tonight, when you just finished such a brilliant performance. You looked sexy out there,” she prevaricated hoping to change the subject without exposing the broken puzzle pieces of her heart.
He didn’t say anything for a few tense prolonged seconds. Then he smiled faintly. “Maybe someday,” he said studying her reaction a little too closely for her comfort.
“Maybe,” she answered shrugging noncommittally. Unless she wanted a cold empty life, trust had to start somewhere, but she didn’t know if she wanted to gamble on Cam. His history confirmed that he was too much of a risk for someone like her.
Lifting their entwined hands, he kissed the top of her hand softly. “I hope so.”
For anyone else, it would have been a cheesy gesture, but from him it was sexy and too disarming for her own good.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Five days later, Taylor couldn’t wait to get off the bus. Sleeping in tightly stacked bunks with very little privacy had her standing near the door of the bus, ready to jump off the minute it stopped, maybe before if she could pry the door open.
If it weren’t for the flashing lights of Las Vegas, she wouldn’t have any idea where they stopped this time. The last five days had been a blur. She vaguely remembered stopping in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Salt Lake City, Utah and maybe somewhere in Arizona, but when they went from venue to venue without seeing anything but miles of highway in between, everything started to look the same.
Luckily, she didn’t have to deal with any groupies on the bus. Jax had Bre and they slept on their own bus. Her brother…well, she didn’t think he’d ever bring anyone around, at least not while she was on the bus. Marcus had his own groupie madness that didn’t include letting any of them step foot on the bus. He routinely chatted up a few women after a performance and then he’d disappear for an hour or two. The guys joked that rather than being a one-night guy, he could only stand a woman for as long as it took to get him off. She didn’t know Marcus’ story. On the surface, he seemed happy, superficial and easygoing, but she suspected more happened in his head than he allowed others to see. Even his appearance was a contradiction. He looked more like someone who worked on Wall Street than someone who played bass in a band.
And Cam…Cam surprised her. He laughed with guys after the show and avoided every temptation in sight. Unfortunately, she suspected he considered her a temptation, and while he treated her with respect, he hadn’t tried to kiss her or touch her in days. She missed it and that realization gutted her.
The label was happy, the band was happy, but she felt strangely bereft, and it was a feeling she didn’t enjoy. It was crazy, but she missed Cam even though she hardly knew him. With each passing minute of impersonal politeness he projected in her direction over the last five days, she refortified the armor around her heart and she became colder and more reserved than ever before. She made sure they were never alone—not even for a second—because she suspected that’s all it would take for him to claw his way under her defenses again. It was fine. She didn’t need Cam, or anyone else for that matter. She could deal with being alone.
She sighed when the driver opened the bus door. Thank God. A three-day stretch in Las Vegas meant her own hotel room, a lot more privacy and seventy-two hours to readjust her feelings toward Cam before they swallowed her whole.
As she walked through the automatic door to the hotel, she felt a hand at the center of her back and she shivered, already sensing to whom that hand belonged. The heat from his hand penetrated her thin gray cotton dress, and part of her wanted to lean into his touch to absorb every molecule of that forbidden heat, even though he had ignored her for days.
She quickened her pace to the hotel reception desk. Even with his evident indifference toward her recently, she suspected she lacked the kind of willpower essential to resisting Cam.
“We have adjoining rooms,” Cam said standing next to her at the counter. He handed his credit card to the clerk. “One is under Donovan and the other is under Taylor Reed.”
Her mouth dropped open. They discussed this earlier, and she remembered it, but she didn’t think he actually planned to go through with the silly idea. “I don’t think that’s necessary now,” she half-whispered as she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone could hear the conversation. “Everything is going really well. I can give you some space away from me. I think I can trust you.”
“Tay,” he said bending his head, so his soft blonde hair tickled the side of her face. “It’s very necessary.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, the air swirling with electricity, his eyes darkening noticeably.
“Trying to spend some time with you…alone, without prying eyes. I’ve missed you.”
“But…” she said, her voice trailing off. When he looked at her like that with a lazy grin on his face and his blue eyes warm with tenderness, she couldn’t remember why she wanted to avoid him.
Cam picked up two key cards off the counter and placed one into her hand, squeezing it tightly before he released her. “You’re in control, Taylor. I’ll follow you
r lead.”
And that’s what scared her. She didn’t have very much control over herself when it came to Cam. If he had shown her any interest in the last five days she would have gladly pulled him into some backstage cleaning closet and kissed him and more until she had her fill. Instead, he spent that time orchestrating every encounter so that they were never alone, or so it seemed to her. She hated herself for caring, for feeling hurt and abandoned.
“Fine, I’ll keep my side locked. You can keep yours unlocked if I need you for any reason.”
He smiled mischievously. “I’m counting on that.”
She pressed the elevator button more than once as she rolled her eyes. Of course, he interpreted it that way. “I meant for work.”
“I didn’t,” he said placing his hand on her lower back and guiding her into the elevator.
As the elevator doors closed, leaving them alone for the first time in days, he laced his fingers through hers, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. She wanted to pull away, but she didn’t. When it came to Cam, she was weak. She erected walls no one could penetrate, but Cam didn’t even need to try. She tore them down for him, welcoming him, in spite of the absolute awareness that he could devastate her.
“Why now? You couldn’t be bothered with me for days and now you suddenly want to be near me. Are you bored?”
He laughed. “I’m trying to respect you and your brother. I didn’t want you to be the subject of gossip or speculation. You can’t be mad at me for protecting your privacy and your reputation. I thought you’d be proud of my restraint.”
“I don’t care about that,” she said trying to pull her hand out of his clasp. She was frustrated that this thing—whatever it was—with Cam never progressed. It was like a dance: two steps forward, and five giant steps back. She really wanted something to happen, but she didn’t know how to get their relationship to move forward.
“I do.” He grabbed both of her wrists, pulling her forward. His grip wasn’t bruising, but firm enough to ensure he had her undivided attention. “Your personal and professional reputations are important. If you think I want your name dragged through the mud or people openly speculating not so nice things about you, then you’ve completely lost your mind.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to do that to you. You deserve more than that.”
When he closed the space between their bodies, she rested her head against his chest, inhaling his woodsy sandalwood scent.
“Why?” she asked a little confused with his need to protect her.
“Why what?”
She tipped her head up so she could see his face. His clear brilliant blue eyes were unwavering. “Why does it matter what people say? You’ve never cared before.”
He looked away momentarily. “Because you’re different.”
“And that’s a good thing?” she asked, burying her head in his chest again.
“Yes,” he answered without explanation, but it was enough for her.
The elevator doors opened.
He stepped away from her and followed her out. She already missed the heat and comfort of his embrace.
“This is you,” he said, stopping in front of a dark brown smooth paneled door. He snatched the card key out of her hand, slid it into the lock and held the door open for her.
“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” she asked as she walked into the sleek hotel room with a mirrored dresser, an espresso colored headboard, crisp white bedding and charcoal colored carpet. He didn’t follow her.
He hooked his thumbs through the front belt loops of his worn jeans. “I don’t have a show tonight, so I thought I’d take you out or we can order room service. It’s your choice.”
“Out where? Like dinner?” she asked surveying her wrinkled cotton dress. If he wanted to go out, she wanted to change her clothes and look nice. Getting dressed everyday in the cramped tour bus bathroom wasn’t easy. Half the time, her makeup was either too dark or nonexistent. The lighting left a lot to be desired.
“Dinner, shopping, gambling. It’s Vegas, we’ll find something to do.”
“Any one of those sounds fun as long as I can shower first,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off her worn black ballet flats. She had them for years. They looked a little on the shabby side, but to her they were the most comfortable shoes she’d ever owned, almost like a second skin.
He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll come up with something.” He looked at his watch. “Can you be ready in an hour?”
She flopped backwards on the bed, letting her eyes close. She hadn’t slept well for the last five days. Even though the guys were respectful on the bus, it wasn’t comfortable sleeping in those tiny, hard bunks, listening to snoring, breathing and other weird noises that guys tended to make in their sleep. “More like two hours,” she mumbled.
The bed dipped next to her body. “Are you tired?” Cam asked.
She nodded without opening eyes. His hands moved through her hair in light, smooth strokes. She shivered. She loved it when someone played with her hair. Before her dad died, her mom used to do that to her every night when she put her to sleep. It was one of her only good memories of her mom. She and Alec referred to their mom as Mom BC and Mom AD, which stood for Mom before catastrophe and Mom after dad. It was a fitting description because her mom turned into an entirely different person after her dad died. Mom BC had nothing in common with Mom AD. One good and one bad, black and white, night and day.
Cam stood up and she opened her eyes.
“Why don’t you take a nap?” He pulled the bedding down revealing crisp white sheets that were too hard to ignore. The nonstop commotion of the tour exhausted her both physically and mentally. She didn’t know how the guys remained sane living on the road for months at a time when they toured. At this rate, she would be checking herself into one of those celebrity total exhaustion rehab centers by the end of the month.
She crawled under the sheets and pulled them to her chin. The bed was undeniably luxurious in comparison to the bunks on the bus. “What are you going to do now?”
“I might take a nap.” He shrugged, staring down at her. “Or Marcus wanted to play a few hands of blackjack before he went to some club. I could hang out with him while you nap.” He stared at her for a few prolonged moments, his eyes intense as he took in every detail of her face. “I’ll come back and check on you in a couple of hours. How does that sound?”
“No.”
“No?” he questioned raising one eyebrow.
She rolled to her side. “I mean I don’t want you to go. Can you stay with me?”
He was quiet and his eyes were contemplative. She didn’t know what motivated her to ask him to stay other than she wasn’t ready to let him go. It’d been too long since she could touch him freely. She reached for his hand and started pulling him toward her until he sat on the bed next to her.
He kicked his shoes off and then climbed over her. “Come here,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest.
She sighed, feeling totally relaxed. He fit perfectly wrapped around her body, as if they were two halves, yin and yang, interconnected and interdependent. As he pressed his face into the back of her hair, he laced his fingers through hers and inhaled deeply. “I love the way your hair smells. What is that? Coconut?”
“Coconut shampoo,” she answered. His warm breath caressed her neck and goose bumps erupted on her body. She tried to turn to face him, but he held her tightly.
“Just relax and take a nap.” He lifted their intertwined hands and kissed the inside of her wrist as though she were his lucky charm.
“What are these?” he asked tracing the little stars tattooed on the inside of her wrist.
“Lots of long stories,” she answered evasively. The stars on her wrist were personal and telling Cam the meaning behind them would expose more of herself than she wanted anyone to see, including Alec. Alec thought they were random meaningle
ss tattoos.
“One, two, three, four,” he mumbled as he counted each tiny star. “Tell me about one of them.”
As she turned to face him, he tucked a long piece of hair behind her ear. “They’re nothing important.”
“Not if you have them permanently tattooed on your body,” he commented, his gaze focused on her.
She’d never explained the stars to anyone. To everyone else that asked, she responded that she liked stars or something equally inane. But Cam could sense there was more to the story and part of her was inclined to share it. Something about Cam drew her in and she had a hard time withholding anything from him.
She propped her body up on one elbow. “When I was a kid, I had this teacher that gave out star stickers when a student overcame a challenge in class. That was her reward system.”
“Okay,” he said his eyes searching hers.
“The idea stuck with me. Anyway, when I’ve faced challenges in my life and I’ve survived or thrived in spite of them, I get a star tattooed on my wrist to remind myself that I can conquer anything if I put my mind to it.”
Cam didn’t respond. Instead, his fingers repeatedly whisked over her wrist, tracing each tiny star tattoo. Self-conscious, she tugged her hand away. “Silly, huh?” she said, forcing out a laugh.
“Not at all. I like it.”
“You do?”
He nodded.
“So what about your tattoos?” she asked, her fingers brushing the length of his left arm. “Do they mean anything or are they just part of the rock star image?”
Bending his head, he kissed her softly and then pulled back, letting his thumb brush along her cheekbone. She leaned into his hand. She loved the way he touched her, little simple touches that made her feel as though he cared and that she really meant something to him.
“They mark things, feelings or moments I want to remember.”