by Desiree Holt
“Does it go both ways?” she asked. “Will you tell me what’s put such terrible pain in your eyes?”
Now it was his turn to be silent. Finally, he said, “Fair’s fair. If, a couple of days from now, we both decide to keep this going, then, yes, both of us need to unload our baggage.”
But could she do it? Tell him how uncontrollable she’d been? The pit she’d fallen into? Maybe by then he’d be so crazy about her he wouldn’t look at her as damaged goods. Or run like hell when he found out about the big manhunt for her. She could only hope.
Chapter Four
Her father saddled his fastest steed, searched the valleys all over
Sought his daughter at great speed and the whistling gypsy rover
“Don’t let the small crowd bother you,” Bubby Trammel said when Erin and Grady walked in at seven o’clock, Grady carrying his guitar. He stood at the end of the bar when they came in from the back, waiting for them.
Grady shrugged. “I’ve played to less. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“I asked you to start earlier tonight because it’s Sunday and the crowd’s an earlier crowd. About eight, you’ll see a bunch more but, by ten, they start to filter out. Like I said this afternoon, early during the week, later starting on Thursday.”
“All the same to me. Really.” He turned to Erin. “Pick yourself a good place to sit, darlin’. It’s gonna be a long night.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I love listening to you.”
“If you settle at the table in the corner,” Bubby told her, pointing, “you’ll keep yourself out of whatever traffic there is. Let me know whatever you want to drink, and I’ll keep them coming.”
“Oh, thank you, but I don’t drink. Just a soda would be good.”
Bubby chuckled. “I’ll bet your boy here is happy about that.”
She frowned at Grady.
He smiled. “He means soft drinks cost so little the bar owner can comp you. Otherwise it gets put on a tab for me.”
“Oh.” She could see she had a lot to understand about this.
“Grady here gets two drinks a night from me,” Bubby told her. “I always comp the entertainment two of whatever they want. Sometimes the customers will buy a drink, but I always warn them to watch the consumption. Drunk singers get tossed on their ass.”
“I never drink until last set,” Grady told him. “So, I’ll take whatever Erin’s having. Come on, sugar, let’s get you fixed up.” He guided her to the table, took his hat off, and set it on the seat next to hers. “I want you to be aware I usually chat with the customers a little between sets if they want. Not a lot. In case you didn’t notice, I’m not a big talker.”
She laughed. “I guess I like the strong, silent type. Grady, you do whatever you have to. This is work for you. I’m good. Really.”
The lone waitress walked over and set a tall, filled glass in front of her, and Erin nodded her thanks.
“Okay.” Grady brushed a kiss against her cheek. “I need to go set up, check the mic again, talk to Bubby. I’ll hang with you between sets as much as I can.”
“I told you not to worry. I’m fine.”
“All right, then.”
Erin wasn’t worried about Grady talking to the customers between sets. She was more anxious about the television hanging over the bar. Right now, it was tuned to a basketball game. She hoped Bubby would keep it there rather than turn to news. Or maybe turn it off altogether.
The waitress, who was wiping the table next to her, saw her looking at the television.
“He’ll leave it on until the game’s over,” she said. “Then he turns it off. Don’t worry. No volume. It won’t interfere with your boyfriend’s singing.”
Erin couldn’t tell her that was the last thing she was worried about.
***
Grady sat on the stool on the miniscule stage, scanning the room while he tuned his guitar. The tables were about half full, not bad for a Sunday. He’d be through at midnight, and he and Erin could go back to the motel and pick up where they’d left off. He was beginning to think he’d never get enough of her. Which would make it very difficult when he sent her on her way.
Which he knew he would, sooner or later. Bound to happen, whether he wanted it to or not. But, whatever she was running from, she’d still have to face it. And the romance of life on the road would wear off for her very fast. He should know. He’d been wandering from place to place all this time, and everything had blended into one long string of second-rate bars and cheap motels. He didn’t want to think of the hole it would leave in his heart when she left. A heart she’d captured in such a short time. She was the first person in what seemed like forever to make him feel anything at all other than pain. If only he could find a way to make it last.
Sometimes he wondered where the last five years had gone. Bumming from town to town and state to state with his pickup and guitar and a pocketful of songs, he lost track of times and dates. But he never lost the pain gripping him. Or the guilt. And when he made his annual phone call, the agony surfaced and consumed him all over again.
But tonight—and for however long he had her—there was Erin. A diamond in a sea of rhinestones. The woman he’d been sure he’d never meet. She sat in shadow in the far corner, but the dim light cast enough glow on her for him to see the elfin face and the masses of silky brown hair framing it. She was wearing the new jeans she’d bought and the soft-blue top clinging to her breasts like loving hands. He knew just how those luscious mounds felt, and already he craved the feel of them again. Something in his heart turned over at the sight of her watching him, a half-smile on her face.
He strummed the guitar again, twice more to make sure he’d tuned it properly, and flicked on the mic.
“Howdy.” He pitched his voice low and deep. He knew the women liked the sound of it, and the men saw him as a masculine counterpart. “I’m Grady Sinclair, and I hope you like my songs. If you do, tell Bubby so he’ll be sure to pay me.”
His joke drew a ripple of laughter, as it usually did. He smiled at everyone, his glance skidding over Erin as he stared out into the semi-dark.
“This one’s for my lady.”
He launched into the opening of a song he’d written on a long, lonely light when sleep was a distant prize and his heart ached with emptiness. A song about dreams lost and found and an elusive love. When he finished, there was a moment of silence then the room filled with applause and whistles.
“Give us more, Grady,” a woman shouted.
He smiled out into the darkness and kicked off a fast, up-tempo tune. He’d give these people what they wanted, but he couldn’t wait for the end of the evening, when he’d be back at the motel, Erin in his arms. A little bit of heaven for as long as he could hold onto it.
***
“Who the hell is this Grady Sinclair?” Rance stormed, cell phone once again clapped to his ear.
The ranch house was empty now except for himself, T.J.—who’d taken up residence in a guest suite—the housekeeper, and the cleaning staff. The hands were at work in the barn and out on the range, herding cattle and riding fence and doing the thousand-and-one things necessary to keep a ranch running successfully. The caterers had taken down the tent and carted it away along with the tables, chairs, dance floor, bars, and the rest of the paraphernalia.
“An itinerant singer, best as I can tell,” Brad Hollis said. “No one seems to know a thing about him except he plays nickel-and-dime places like Smoky’s and has a string of women running after him.”
“And where is he now?” Rance rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache building behind his eyes. He’d barely slept for forty-eight hours and ignored food to fuel himself with pots of coffee.
“We’re working on it. More to the point, the Rangers are working on it.”
“She even left her damn cell phone in the truck, so we can’t track her with it. Or maybe he forced her to leave it.”
“Let’s wait until we zero i
n on this guy to find out if he even knows where she is.”
Rance blew out a breath of exasperation. “How hard can it be to find one lousy singer?”
“Harder than you think. The places he works don’t exactly advertise, and there are thousands of them all over the state. Not to mention they might not even still be in Texas.”
“What?” The headache threatened to explode with full force. “You mean he’s taken her out of state? Isn’t there a law against that or something?”
“Rance.” The sheriff’s voice was even and steady. “I hate to point out to you again Erin is thirty-one years old. Unless we have proof she went unwillingly, she can go anywhere she wants with whoever she wants.”
“Yeah? Look how well that turned out the last time.”
Brad himself had only heard the story after it was all over. He, too, had tried to get her to press charges against Cal Stadler, but she’d been adamant she never even wanted to hear his name again.
“I’m well aware. But she’s been going through counseling for months and was really getting her act together. I’ve got to have evidence of foul play before I can put out a bulletin all over the place.”
“It’s her money.” Rance gritted his teeth. “You damn well know it is. If it’s not a kidnapping, then he sweet-talked her because he knows about the Braddock money. Well, I’m telling you here and now, he won’t get a fucking dime.”
The sheriff’s reasonable tone made Rance want to reach through the phone and punch him. “If it was kidnapping, we’d have gotten a ransom demand by this time. The FBI is still monitoring your phones, but it’s a long shot. And my office is checking every report of a body in five states and also every emergency room. Just in case she’s hurt and can get to a hospital. But such a broad search takes time, even with all of today’s fancy electronics.”
“If anything happens to her,” Rance said in a tight voice, “I’ll have your badge.”
There was silence for a long moment at the other end of the call. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that because I know the strain you’re under. Go fix yourself a drink. I’ll get back to work here.”
The rancher stared at his cell phone, astonished the sheriff had actually hung up on him.
“Still no word?” T.J. had come to stand in the door to the den.
“No.” Rance shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You really ought to try and lie down before you give yourself a heart attack.”
“Lie down? I can hardly sit down for more than a minute.” He frowned at the man he’d expected his daughter to marry. “How come you’re not more upset than you are? Why the hell are you so damn calm? Your fiancée ran out on you, and you act like you don’t give a damn.”
Elliott dropped into the big chair across from the desk. “Of course I’m upset. I care for Erin very deeply.”
“Care for?” Rance pounced on the words. “But not love?”
“Okay, love. But it means a lot of different things to different people. If I didn’t want to marry Erin, I never would have asked her. Scratch that. I never would have let you set us up the way you did.”
“Set you up?” Rance stared. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Rance. Erin was a wounded bird when you brought her home. She’s your only child. Your only family all these years since Mattie died.”
“And the point is?”
“I know you only want what’s best for her. Always have. But maybe you held her a little too tight. A little too close. These past months, she’s been getting stronger. More sure of herself again. I know—hell, everyone knows—you’re convinced marriage to me is the answer to everything. I let you pull the strings because I thought I could make her happy. And Erin let herself be swept along with the tidal wave you created.”
Rance closed his eyes for a moment then opened them. “Are you trying to tell me she really didn’t want to marry you? Hell, she could have had the best life in the world. Just like here.”
“And maybe she doesn’t want that. Cal wasn’t the answer, obviously, but maybe she needs to find out what is.”
Silence dropped like a stone into the room. “We’ll discuss that when I’ve got her safely back here at the ranch. But, for damn sure, no whistling gypsy is going to get his hands on her or her money or this ranch.”
T.J. shook his head and stood up. “Fine. We’ll discuss it then. Meanwhile, I’m going home, change clothes, and go to my office. I sure don’t feel like practicing law today, but I can make calls and see who I haven’t already talked to who can turn over rocks.”
When he was alone again, Rance leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. To save his life, he couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Why Erin had run away from a life millions of women would have hung onto like barnacles. When he got her home, he’d damn sure find out. But not before he sent Grady Sinclair running like his ass was on fire.
***
A handful of people had stayed after the last set to compliment Grady, and Erin had watched him smile and chat with them until, finally, they were able to leave. Now it was one o’clock in the morning, and they were back at the motel.
“I hope you weren’t too bored tonight,” Grady said, carefully laying his guitar case on the table and placing his hat on top of it.
“Are you kidding?” Erin grinned at him. “I could listen to you sing forever. Your music is enchanted, Grady. Or maybe enchanting is a better word.”
He cupped her face in his big palms and kissed the tip of her nose. “Darlin’, you make my head swell.” He moved himself against her and said in a low voice, “And other parts of my body, too.”
She slid her arms around him, pressing herself to him. It seemed all he had to do was touch her and she was on fire. Hot and ready for him. Oh, sure, she’d had a lot of sex in her life. It had always been…pleasant. Except, of course, with Cal, after the first few months.
No. Don’t let thoughts of him ruin this.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
He obliged willingly, his mouth hot on hers, his tongue thrusting inside, dancing everywhere. His hands rubbing up and down her back sent shivers skating over her spine. He slipped one hand up through her hair to cup her head, tilting it to give him a better angle. When he broke the kiss, she was panting for air and her pussy was so wet she was sure he could catch the scent of her musk.
He licked a line beneath her jaw, a light caress with his tongue before finding the spot behind her ear that electrified her. She placed her lips over the hollow of his throat where his pulse beat so hard, and when he gently bit her earlobe, she moaned into that warm place.
Grady tugged the shirt from her jeans and moved his hands beneath it to touch her bare skin. Erin shifted enough to unbutton the Western-style shirt Grady had worn to perform in, desperate to feel his chest, the soft hair curling on it, the hard muscles beneath. Feel the steady beat of his heart.
Her fingertips brushed across his skin, and she found his nipples, dragging her nails over them lightly. Lust building in her when he sucked in his breath and his cock flexed behind the restraint of his jeans. She slid her hips from side to side, her pelvis brushing his. His hands tightened on her.
“That’s it,” he said, pulling her T-shirt over her head. “I want you naked. Right now. One of these days,” he went on, “I’ll be able to take my time and undress you slowly. But not right now.”
She finished removing her jeans and panties while he stripped out of his own clothes. Then they were on the bed, the energy of the music still flowing through both of them. In her mind, Erin could hear his low, smooth voice and the clear notes of the guitar. The songs reached right into her heart. And she couldn’t get enough of the man who created them.
He slid one leg between both of hers, rubbing his thigh against the liquid folds of her pussy, brushing against her clit with the slight motion. One hand cradled a breast, and his mouth fastened onto the taut nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth, the suction going
straight to her womb. Erin clasped his head and held it firm against her while she tried to ride his leg, her clit crying out for more stimulation. The hot ridge of his cock pressed against her hip, long and thick.
Grady moved his mouth to her other nipple, lightly raking his teeth over it, molding his fingers to her breast as he sucked and pulled. Erin was desperate to touch him, too, but she couldn’t get her hands in between them. Finally, she managed to move his head away, momentarily bereft by the loss of his mouth, and pushed him onto his back.
“Erin,” he began.
“Let me. Please.”
On her knees beside him, she took his shaft into one hand while her other cupped his balls, rubbing the soft, lightly haired sac holding them. With great care, she wrapped her mouth around the head of his cock and took him deep inside her mouth. The thick vein running along the underside pulsed against her tongue.
Lean fingers threaded through her hair, moving her head this way and that. Shifting the angle at which his cock slid in and out of her mouth. His guttural groans of pleasure made her hotter and wetter, the muscles in the walls of her pussy fluttering with tiny spasms in response. She squeezed and sucked, losing herself in the pleasure of his scent and his taste.
She was startled when he jerked her head away.
“My turn.” His voice was husky, thick with desire.
He rolled her to her back, spread her legs, and opened the lips of her cunt with his talented fingers. One long, slow glide of his tongue over her raging clit and tremors of response rippled through her. She teetered on the edge, knowing she couldn’t take much of this before exploding, and she wanted his hard cock in her cunt when she did.
“Inside me,” she panted. “Please, Grady. I need you inside me now.”
He was sheathed in seconds then poised over her, his gaze burning into hers.
“I don’t know what it is, sugar, but we’ve got something here. I hope it doesn’t burn us alive.”
Then he drove into her with one powerful thrust of his hips, the head of his penis bumping the mouth of her womb. Her head dropped back as she felt the fullness of him everywhere inside her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in even deeper. He drew in one deep breath, let it out, and pistoned hard into her body, the rhythm so forceful it drove her into the pillows behind her head.
