by Jewel Allen
He pointed at a line on the bottom and handed her an expensive-looking fountain pen.
As she signed, she hoped she wasn’t agreeing to something she’d regret.
***
Once upon a time, Luke would have bent over and kissed Madison. She’d have opened her mouth to his, pliant and willing.
As she signed, his eyes wandered to her glorious, silky blond hair that fell to her waist, her cheek curving to her delicate jaw, long legs in sassy boots tucked under her gracefully. Time and success had only made Madison an even more potent version of her younger self.
He caught a whiff of perfume.
Chanel No. 5.
A memory he’d long buried overwhelmed his senses. He’d given her the perfume their first Christmas morning together. It cost him a paycheck but he’d wanted to buy his girl the best. With pride, he watched as she opened the bottle and dabbed a drop behind one earlobe, then the other, as though she was branding herself for him. He’d kissed her hungrily after that, her nightgown-clad body pressing against his, until they had to break apart when her mom started coming down the stairs.
Ten years later, and she still affected him as no girl had ever done before.
By the looks of it, how Madison glanced at him sideways, her long lashes masking her eyes, and the way her chest heaved with labored breath, neither was she immune to him.
He straightened up and took the signed paper, tucking it back in his jacket. He said, in what he hoped was a steady-sounding voice, “Great. I look forward to working with you.”
She stood up. The top of her head reached his jaw and she had to lift her chin to look him in the eye. He offered his hand to shake and she put hers in it. Her palm was soft, the back of her hand smooth. Her gorgeous blue eyes held a dazed expression. Hurt lurked in their depths, too. A wistfulness for what could have been.
For ten years, he’d buried the hurt and loneliness when she chose Nashville over him, and now all those emotions came flooding back. She was right. He couldn’t believe he thought he could just walk back in her life and be unaffected. The joke was on him. How could he spend his days around her without wanting even a fraction of what they had before? How could she pass him with that Chanel No. 5 scent and not drive him mad with longing? And how could he hear her speaking and singing voice day in and day out and not want to possess all of her?
Madison’s eyes widened as though she could read his thoughts.
“Shall we?” Sally said.
He released Madison’s hand and made himself useful by picking up the luggage.
“Bless your heart, Luke,” Sally said as they exited the hotel suite. “You are a Godsend. I do believe I will be sleeping good tonight. Won’t you, Madison?”
He didn’t hear her response, but Luke knew that he wouldn’t.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As they sped off in the limo to the airport, Madison was grateful Sally sat between her and Luke. She had to gain control of her emotions, her body’s reaction to him. He sat practically on the other side of the bench, yet every fiber of her being was keyed to his presence—his voice, the way his laughter rumbled in his chest, and occasionally, his intense gaze seeking her.
It’s been ten years. Settle down.
She glanced out her window at the passing Dallas landscape and just listened to the conversation between Sally and Luke. Thelma sat in front with the driver.
“So you grew up in Sunnyridge, too?” Sally asked.
“No,” Luke said. “I moved there second semester of my senior year.”
“And where’d you attend college?”
“School of hard knocks,” he said. “I spent a few years in the Army before building my business.”
“And what a business you have. I’d read up on you. According to Forbes, you’re worth over a billion.”
Luke is a billionaire. Holy wow.
It seemed so far-fetched, and yet knowing the younger Luke, she could believe it. He was always hungry. They were a pair, the two of them, burning with ambition. Too bad what they had in common also tore them apart.
She leaned her head against the window, feeling more alone than ever.
“Really, I lucked out,” Luke was saying. “I had a client who was an A-list actress, and I owe her my first big break. She recommended me to all her friends, and it snowballed from there.”
“Well, you must be doing something right,” Sally said. “You don’t get where you’re at through shoddy practices.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you always want to do this?”
“Actually, no. I hadn’t thought much beyond the Army…and being a husband.”
Madison pictured him coming home from his tour of duty, to her opening the door and rushing out, welcoming him with a kiss…
“But you never married?” Sally asked.
“No.”
No no no no, the word bounced around in Madison’s head.
“Anyone special in your life?”
“No. The only woman I ever truly loved wouldn’t have me. I guess that burned me for life.”
“Wouldn’t have you? That’s rich!”
When Sally and Luke both stared at her, Madison realized she had said her thoughts out loud. Sally blinked at her outburst. Luke raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile.
Thankfully, the limo drove into a private hangar, their chartered plane gleaming white under the Dallas sun. Luke helped Sally out first, then Madison. Her pulse raced at his touch. They’d unlinked hands quickly, she’d made sure of that, but now she felt his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the tarmac. As they fell in step together, it felt natural, like the old days.
Except he was no longer the Luke from the past. Who was this man in a business suit, with cultured voice? She almost wished that his fingernails had black grease under them. This polished, self-assured stranger unsettled her. Besides, she had a score to settle.
“Listen,” she said, turning to Luke. “Back there in the limo, you gave Sally the impression that I was the one who ditched you.”
His eyes danced. “Well, you did.”
“No, I did not!” she said. She lowered her voice. “No, I did not. You were the one who went out with that flooze.”
“It was just one date, geez.”
“Whatever, but I did not dump you.” She walked ahead of him stomping her boots in a huff.
In the plane, she took a window seat. Thelma and Sally sat across the aisle from her, leaving the seat beside her open.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” Luke asked.
“Yes.” She groaned. “Oh, go ahead. It’s a free country.”
“Thanks.”
He unbuttoned his jacket, took it off and laid it over the seat ahead of her. She gazed, transfixed, at the breadth of his muscular chest and shoulders, his flat abs in his tucked shirt. Tearing her eyes away, she glanced out the window at another plane taxiing down the runway.
“How’s your mom?” he asked.
She turned back towards him. He was sitting so close, their sleeves rubbed against each other. The way the ceiling curved over them made their conversation more intimate.
He raised his brow, waiting for her answer.
She blinked. “Oh, Mom’s great.” She cleared her throat. “Mom’s remarried, did you know?”
“Good for her.”
“She has four kids from his previous marriage and super busy. But she’s loving life. And your folks?”
“They both died. Mom just last year. Dad three years ago.”
“Sorry.”
He shrugged. “I was sad for Mom’s passing.”
She nodded in understanding. “Do you still smoke?” she asked.
He smiled. “No, not any more. I was on a long flight once and when I got to the other side, I pretty much kicked the habit. So I did.”
He wouldn’t quit for me, but he quit on a whim because of a long flight? “Good for you,” she said.
His hand closed over her hand, startling her. He inspected
it, his thumb stroking her skin. “Do you still chew your fingernails?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted.
Their glances locked for one moment, then he set her hand back down on her armrest.
***
Luke watched Madison turn towards the window, chewing her fingernail.
This was going to be a harder gig than he thought. He really ought to stop touching her. It wouldn’t do either one of them any good. It wasn’t fair to her and it would make it harder for him to do his job.
Well, there were times where he’d have to escort her and touch her back. That would be the exception to the rule.
You’re a pro, Luke. Act like one.
So for the rest of the flight, he kept his hands to himself and didn’t talk to her anymore. Neither did she, turning resolutely away. A little ways into the flight, he noticed she had fallen asleep, leaning her head against her cushioned headrest. Despite his resolve, he gazed at her openly.
She looked absolutely breathtaking, like an angel, with her blond hair curled over shoulders. Her lashes fanned out on her freckled skin, her pink lips were parted slightly.
The plane dipped and the disturbance jolted her awake. She opened her eyes and focused on him, her lips curving in a welcoming smile until something seemed to click and she remembered who he was.
Gone was the smile as she sat up straight.
***
Paparazzi mobbed Madison as they entered the airport. Madison shrank back and glanced at Luke. Luke put an arm around her, then used his other arm to ward off microphones and camera lenses. Sally flanked her on the other side.
“Can you comment about your panic attack in Dallas?” a reporter asked.
“Is it true you almost canceled the rest of your tour?” someone else shouted.
“She won’t be answering questions right now, thank you,” Sally said. “There will be a press conference when they kick off the Nashville Bonanza Festival in a week.”
Sally and Thelma saw to the luggage, while Luke stuck close to her as they walked down to the limo waiting at the curb. Madison ducked and got in, followed by Luke. He slammed the door shut as members of the media stood around, thwarted.
“Thanks,” she said, collapsing against the leather seat.
“You’re welcome.” His voice sounded muted, muffled. The lights in the limo cabin were dim and she could make out the contours and planes on his face. The shape of his full lips.
The limo engine and the air conditioner were humming in a steady keel, not too cold, yet why was she shivering?
The limo door opened. Sally and Thelma slid in.
“What a nightmare,” Sally said. “The charter accidentally shipped my luggage somewhere else.”
Thelma rolled her eyes. “She’s without underwear, and she’s worried that she lost her barbecue sauce.”
“It’s not just barbecue sauce. It’s Dale’s.” She turned to Luke. “Have you been to Nashville?”
“I have a place up in Gatlinburg. So yes, I fly in here a lot.”
“Lucky you. Gatlinburg is beautiful. Is it a house?”
“A cabin in the Great Smokies.”
Madison remembered that he’d always wanted a cabin in the Great Smokies. She glanced over at him. “So, you got your dream.”
His eyes roamed her face. “Some of it.”
***
The limo pulled through a gate that closed behind them remotely, into a long, graceful driveway made of stamped concrete. Once parked, Madison got out and breathed in the fresh country air. Nashville was a huge city, hopping with entertainment, but it still felt rural, with its grassy fields.
My kind of place.
Their rented house was a gorgeous two-story mansion, with a white stucco and a blue-tiled roof. Huge roses festooned bushes. Water trickled from lavish fountains. The scent of magnolia filled the air from blossoms that covered the ground and the graceful trees above.
An older couple came out, all smiles. “I’m Joe and this is Serafina, my wife. We will be your staff during your stay. Anything you need, just let us know.”
Madison thanked them, entering the spacious foyer, filled with light from a two-story ceiling and large windows all around.
“I thought you could have the bedroom upstairs,” Sally said.
Madison slid her hand on the gleaming banister as she climbed the stairs, picturing the southern belles who lived here generations before. There was a sitting area on the landing with children’s books on shelves. She peeked out a window at the lush grounds and horses pastured in neighboring lots, feeling light and happy. She was blessed to be able to live here even for a short while.
“This is yours, Madison,” Sally called out.
Madison followed her into what looked like one of two bedrooms on the floor. Like everything else in the house, this was airy, feminine, decorated in creams and pinks. Gauzy fabric draped over a king-size poster bed of white linen and dozens of ruffled pillows. There was a dresser with antique brushes and cosmetic vases, and a sea-green wardrobe decorated with flowers. A huge painting of a blond girl walking alongside a white horse in a meadow graced the wall beside French doors.
She set her purse on the bed and opened the doors into a balcony. It faced east, but even without the direct sun, the hot temperatures seemed to cling still to the facade. Moving to the rail, she felt cooler with the movement and a slight breeze. She scanned the impressive grounds. There was a rectangular, aquamarine-bottomed pool to the right, a tennis court to the left. Past the closed compound gate was the main access road, where the horses stood at pasture. It sloped down to a farmhouse and barn.
Sensing movement, she turned to her right. In a balcony next to hers, Luke walked out, his jacket shed and his sleeves folded to his elbows.
Madison stared, then looked away, her hands gripping the rail. She hadn’t seen him in ten years, and now he was going to stay next door to her, a bedroom away. She should go inside, where it wasn’t as hot. And where she couldn’t ogle Luke Parker.
Just as she was about to turn to go inside, she noticed a brown beat-up pick-up truck driving slowly past the gated property. She couldn’t see the driver from the angle she was standing at, but she could have sworn he was scoping out the lot. For a moment, she held her breath, but the truck moved on and out of sight.
Madison exhaled. Her imagination always took a flight of fancy when she was tired. She was still feeling a little jet-lag from the flight. It was the hottest part of the day and she just wanted to stay inside. A nap sounded good.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In her dream, Madison was walking barefoot along the dock at Sunnyridge at twilight. The moon had a reddish cast to it, like blood against its silver crags.
There were frogs hopping along her path and she was trying to be careful to avoid squishing them. Suddenly, all the frogs leaped as one into the water, so Madison was the only one on the beach. Even the whirring of crickets died.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood.
Someone was approaching her from behind, their footsteps echoing.
Drag, stomp. Drag, stomp.
“Hello, girlie,” Frank Dell said.
His voice was soft and gentle. Calming. Why was she so worried about him?
“Hello, Frank,” she said, turning around.
He was an old man, with gray sideburns under a fishing hat and a soft, wrinkled face. His eyes held a gentle expression, like a clear spring sky.
“You have been naughty. You’ll let your ex come between us?”
“He’s just a friend,” Madison said.
“A friend out to kill me.”
“He’s not even a friend, not really. We were friends once.”
He reached up and caressed her throat. “Just like you and me.”
She flinched, but his hand tightened, squeezing her windpipe until she couldn’t breathe. Shoving at him, she jerked her neck out of his grip. Her windpipe burned. She turned and started running from him, towards boats beached on shore.
<
br /> “Now, now,” Frank called after her. “What’s the hurry?”
The sand burned her feet and she hurried her steps.
Suddenly, the water turned black, full of misery. Dragging a boat with peeling yellow paint to the shallows, she clambered in. She picked up a paddle on the floor and maneuvered the boat away from shore. The black surface reflected her face, creased with worry and exertion.
Behind her, he called out, “Madison, Madison,” in a sing-song voice that seemed to ebb and flow.
A mist crept around her, like gray fingers trying to grab the boat. Over her shoulder, she could no longer see the shore, but she could make out the form of Frank paddling towards her in another boat. Her boat began to slow down, and finally stopped, as though something held it from under the water.
Madison stabbed at the water, sweat drenching her dress.
Still, the boat would not move.
“Come here, darlin’,” Frank said.
Madison pulled up her paddle so it crossed her lap, dripping. She swiveled on her boat seat to face Frank, holding the paddle out for her weapon. When she swung, he caught the handle in his hand. He wrenched it from her grasp.
***
Luke had just changed and was stretched out on his bed when he heard piercing screams from Madison’s room. He sprang to the floor and ran to her door, grabbing his gun along the way.
Madison’s door was locked.
He pounded on the door. “Madison, open up!”
Silence.
He took a running start and jammed the door with his shoulder. The door busted open. Luke instantly took in the scene shrouded in darkness: Madison, lying on the bed, alone; the balcony doors, closed; drapes partially shut.
She was tossing and turning in her sleep, her arms swatting at something. He walked over to the bed and touched her arm. “Madison,” he said.
“No,” she muttered in her sleep. Her hand shot out and struck his cheek.
“Madison,” he shook her more vigorously.
Her eyes flew open. A spark of recognition lit up her face and she reached up for him. It just came naturally, for him to sit on the edge of the bed and take her into his arms. He didn’t even have to think about it. It was like the old days, when she’d wake from a nap in the hammock and circle his neck with her arms for a drowsy kiss.