Heartsong (Singing to the Heart Book 2)

by Sara Walter Ellwood

  “You’re bound to be a favorite of the TV cameras for sure,” Trish said.

  Michaela’s mouth fell open. “Jesus, save me.” Putting some distance between them on the leather couch, she looked at him and narrowed her eyes. “What if I don’t go? Isn’t the interview enough? At least it can be controlled. I know they’ll swing those cameras on me at the most awkward moments. What if I yawn during your performance?”

  Gabe chuckled and shrugged. Michaela had always hated this sort of stuff. Every year she’d won the NFR, she would sneak out of the arena before she could be interviewed by the ESPN reporter covering the barrel racing event. “Wouldn’t that make for some interesting speculation in the tabloids? But I think the more glaring news would be if you weren’t there to yawn at me shaking my ass around on stage.”

  Closing her eyes, she took a breath deep enough to move her shoulders up and slowly down. She’d gotten his hidden point. The last thing they needed was bad press. As long as they played their parts, anything the media caught on camera could only help their case. She opened her eyes and turned to Trish. “I suppose I’ll need some fancy sparkly nightgown pretending to be a dress for this dog and pony show.”

  “Yes. Of course.” Trish furrowed her brow as though perplexed by Michaela’s question. “You don’t have an evening gown?”

  “Nope.” Michaela laughed and leaned back. “I honestly didn’t think about it. I guess I’d better go shopping.”

  “Understandable. You just got married and crammed all of that planning into a few weeks’ time. Don’t worry. I know just the place to find what you’ll need to knock the socks off the red carpet commentators.” Trish tucked her iPad into her bag, getting ready to leave. “I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning.”

  When she stood, he and Michaela followed to their feet. Michaela nodded, but a shadow creased her forehead. “Okay.”

  He saw Trish to the door while Michaela paced around the outside of the room like a caged bull. When he returned to the living room, she stopped her trek and wrung her hands together. “Dear God, how am I going to afford a fancy dress? I should have thought of it. I could have found something in Brownwood when Lizzy and I went shopping for her dress for the wedding.”

  Gabe pulled his wallet from his pocket and removed a credit card. He held it out between two fingers. “Here.” When her face grew a stormy red, he shook his head and waved the card. “Don’t say it. I know what you’re thinking. Damn it, Michaela, you’re my wife.”

  “Don’t remind me.” She spun away without taking the credit card. “I think all this pretending to be something we aren’t has really clouded your brain.” She turned back to him. Something fleeting sparked in her eyes, but before he could name the emotion, it was gone and replaced with anger. “We are only married for Jesse.”

  He tossed the card onto the end table in front of her. “I know why we’re married. For that reason, I would like you showing up at one of the biggest nights of my career in something amazing.” As he took a step toward her, his own anger boiled to the surface. He’d been a fool to think they might actually have a chance. “I meant what I said. Every news outlet interested in country music--from the network to radio stations to tabloids and magazines--will be focused on us. We have to prove to the world that we can provide the perfect family for Jesse and that our marriage is full of love, even though we both know that will never be true.”

  Gabe turned and headed up the stairs to the loft. At the landing above, he peered down at her blond ponytail. “You can sleep in the guestroom on the right. Just make sure you’re up and the bed made before Trish shows up in the morning. She said nine, but she’ll be here by eight, if I know my assistant.”

  “Don’t worry about appearances. I know my role in this game.” She picked up his credit card and faced him, meeting his gaze with cold eyes. “I’ve already made a deal with the devil and I will follow through. I want Jesse as much as you do. I’ll show up at the show in something amazing, but I will pay you back every penny I spend if it takes me a lifetime to do so. I want nothing from you.”

  He turned away, his heart aching with love he’d never be able to share with Michaela, and entered his room, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter 13

  Micki pulled on the brass handle of the door of the boutique with sweaty hands. Despite the chill the cold rain pelting the sidewalk sent through her, she sweated under her denim jacket. The place looked like something out of a movie, with front windows filled with manikins displaying dresses she could only imagine celebrities wearing. Dear Lord, was she actually married to one? Taking a deep breath of air lightly scented with the sweet spiciness of pumpkin and cinnamon, she stepped into the store.

  To her right stood a manikin dressed in a silvery sequined gown. A slit up the side of the shimmery, fitted skirt showed off the model’s leg up to only inches from the hip. The strapless bodice, if it could be justified with the name, showed more flesh than it covered.

  “May I help you?”

  She turned toward the sales woman frowning at her. Where was Trish? How long did it take to park a car? She fisted her clammy hands. “Ah… I’m looking for a dress.” Although she’d never be caught dead in the thing, she couldn’t help but ask, “How much is this one?”

  “That is a one-of-a-kind by a new designer named Vincent D’Angelo. He’s designed for some of the hottest actresses in Hollywood.”

  Impatient with the woman’s haughty tone, she pointed at the dress. “How much?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  “Holy shit!” She gasped and stared at the woman. “You’ve got to be kidding. For that?”

  The woman pointedly looked over Micki’s scuffed boots, faded jeans, and worn jacket, before narrowing her eyes on her makeup-free face. “That dress wouldn’t suit you anyway.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “Miss, this is an exclusive boutique. Maybe you are in the wrong type of shop.”

  Micki easily translated the woman’s condescending glare and tone to mean she belonged in Walmart. She almost turned on her heels and walked out as the dress shop scene from the Julia Roberts’s movie Pretty Woman flashed into her mind. She considered pulling out Gabe’s black credit card to prove she had the money to pay for anything she wanted, but she had more pride than that.

  The door opened behind her, and she let relief flood her as Trish stepped inside. “I’m sorry, Micki. I couldn’t find a parking space anywhere.” She shifted her bag onto her shoulder and closed her dripping umbrella, then smiled at the clerk. “Hello, I’m Trish Russell and this is Micki. Gabe McKenna’s wife. We need something glamorous for the CMAs.”

  Micki didn’t hide her smile at the way the woman’s eyes widened with surprise.

  She blinked and smiled with warmth that rang untrue. “I’m sorry for my reaction, Mrs. McKenna. We get a lot of tourists who wander in here hoping to see someone famous. Welcome to Tolberts. If we don’t have what you’re looking for, no one else will either.” Turning on her sky-high stilettos, she stalked toward a rack of sparkly dresses. “Please, follow me.”

  “Micki?”

  She turned at the sound of her name. The woman handed the clerk behind her a long pale yellow gown. Over the rack, a sign marked it as maternity and listed several designer names. Micki smiled as she recognized the wife of country star Seth Kendall. “Abby, it’s nice to see you again. Trish said we’re sitting next to each other at the show.”

  Abby pushed her long dark brown hair out of her face, then rested a hand on her rounded belly. The couple’s second child was due in less than two months, and if Micki believed the tabloid rumors, the baby was supposed to be a boy. “Yes. I’m so glad. Seth and I have been married for a year, but I don’t come to Nashville much and don’t know many people. It’s nice to meet someone who is as culture shocked as I am.”

  Micki laughed and glanced around. “I couldn’t agree more. I’m not looking forward to find
ing a dress.”

  Abby looked at the clerk holding the gown she’d chosen. “Please check if you have that one in my size and hold it with the other one I chose. I’ll try them on later.”

  “Let me know when you’re ready, Mrs. Kendall.” The woman smiled and headed toward the back of the store.

  “Thank you.” Turning toward Micki, Abby took her hand. “I hate dress shopping and put it off as long as I can. C’mon. Let’s find something wonderful for you. Some of the most famous singers and their wives shop here.”

  Trish chuckled and shook her head. “You both know that list includes y’all.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Micki let Abby lead her toward a rack of gowns with a famous designer name over it. “I don’t dress up much.”

  With a laugh, Abby stopped in front of a manikin showcasing another over-the-top scrap of sequins and silk. “Neither do I. Especially now that nothing fits. But even if I wasn’t as big as a buffalo, I’m much more comfortable in scrubs or jeans. Of course, I don’t wear scrubs now that I quit my nursing job and stay home to manage our ranch.” With her hair lying over one shoulder, Abby looked very much like a Native American maiden. She regarded Micki with deep honey-brown eyes. “You were gorgeous on your wedding day.”

  “Thank you.”

  Trish and the sales lady who’d greeted Micki circled the rows and manikins. Trish stopped in front of one of the models beside another rack full of dresses.

  “I think you should try this on, Micki.” She pointed to a long navy dress with a waistline embellished with clear rhinestones that sparkled like diamonds.

  “This dress would be perfect on you, Mrs. McKenna.” The sales lady pasted on her fake smile. “I’ll have to go in the back to find your size. You’re a size two?” Now, she was just sucking up.

  “No, I’m an eight.” Micki drifted toward Trish and the manikin like a skittish horse toward a person holding a carrot. She wasn’t sure about the gown, but she liked the subdued color and the old Hollywood look of it.

  Abby followed. “I agree. That blue is such a complimentary color for you.”

  Micki brushed the organza overlay of the skirt with a trembling hand. It was one of the most beautiful dresses she’d ever seen, and excitement filled her. Gabe wanted her to look good, and as she let the soft silk of the gown soothe her fingers, a need to impress him filled her, regardless of how much it would cost her.

  She looked up and smiled. “It is a beautiful dress.”

  The sales woman returned from the back of the store with the gown in Micki’s size draped over her arms. “Mrs. McKenna, I’ll show you to the dressing room.”

  * * * *

  “Michaela?” Gabe’s muffled voice echoed from the living room below. “We have to go.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and took one last look at her reflection in the mirrored closet door of the dressing room inside Gabe’s master suite. Earlier that day, Abby had taken her to have her hair and nails done, as if they somehow became undone since the day before her wedding a week ago. She had to admit she loved the sleek, classic look of the updo the hairdresser had twisted her usually messy locks into. The dress fit perfectly and reminded her of something Elizabeth Taylor may have worn in her heyday.

  She took a deep breath and rested her hand on the cinched waist. As she filled her lungs with air, the off-the-shoulder bodice lifted, revealing a little more cleavage. The neckline dipped low but not far enough to make her self-conscious. A diamond pendant that had belonged to Frankie hung at her neck, and simple diamond studs, belonging to her mother, glinted at her ears. She’d worn them on her wedding day and was thankful for the impulse she had to pack them for the trip to Nashville. As on her wedding day, stinging nerves battered her insides. With a touch to the rhinestone leaf design at the waist of the dress, she prayed she’d survive the night, then dropped her hand. Time to face the lions.

  “Coming.” She picked up a rhinestone-covered clutch that Trish insisted she carry and stepped into the ridiculously high shoes Abby had helped her pick out. As she headed through Gabe’s bedroom, she glanced at the king-sized bed and closed her eyes. Was she crazy to wish things could have been different between them?

  She picked up the layers of the skirt in the hand she also held her purse with and applied a death grip on the handrail as she maneuvered down the stairs. So intent on not tripping over either her dress or her high heels, she paid no attention to Gabe until he whistled low in his throat.

  Stopping mid-flight, she looked at him as he stared at her with a fire in his eyes that scorched her despite the distance between them. She forced her eyes to the stairs and bit the inside of her cheek to keep a pleased smile from forming on her lips. Not wanting him to see how his appreciation affected her, she continued her hesitant journey down the curved staircase. “You startled me and are damned lucky I didn’t fall and break my fool neck.” She stepped off the last stair, let go of her skirt, and took a good look at the country music hunk that was her husband. “Oh, I see it’s perfectly okay for you to wear jeans and boots, but I have to dress up like some damn princess.”

  He set his hat on his head and grinned. She would never let him know how hot he looked in the tight black jeans and light blue western shirt open at the neck. A western-styled black leather jacket, boots, and a black Stetson completed his red carpet look. Nor would she let him know how dressing up somehow transformed her into feeling like Cinderella ready for the ball. But she knew at the end of the night she’d turn back into a cowgirl, and he’d still be the man who had broken her heart. He’d never be her prince.

  Her hand trembled at his touch as he wrapped his around it. “You look amazing.”

  His gruff voice set her heart free at a full gallop, and she shivered when he kissed her fingers.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” Did that husky sound belong to her?

  “I never doubted that you would. I am honored to stand beside you tonight.” The openness of his gaze stopped her breath.

  He leaned forward as if to kiss her, and she wanted it, but she broke the trance she was under by taking a step back. “We better leave.”

  “I have a gift for you before we go.” He picked up a long, white fur coat off the couch.

  “What’s that?” She hadn’t seen it there before she’d gone upstairs to dress.

  He held out the coat. “It’s November in Tennessee. You forgot to get a coat.”

  As beautiful as it was, revulsion flooded her. How many poor exotic animals gave up their lives for a coat? By no stretch of the imagination was she a tree hugger. She worked on a ranch that raised beef and she wore plenty of leather made from cattle, but killing some defenseless animal for its skin alone went too far. “I can’t wear it.”

  He laughed and lifted the coat for her to put on. “It’s not real, Michaela. The coat is faux white mink. I wouldn’t buy you a coat made from the fur of an animal that’s only raised for the purpose of being skinned to make coats. I’m not that heartless.”

  She smoothed her hand over the silkiness of the coat. “I hope no one thinks it’s real.”

  “They won’t. Not many people wear real fur anymore.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Now the thing is to get a fake coat that looks more real than anyone else’s, not to compare whose dead animal is more exotic and expensive.” As he helped her into the coat, he leaned over to whisper into her ear from behind. “I can’t wait to show you off. I wasn’t exaggerating about tonight being the most important night of my career, and I’m glad you are here beside me to share it with me.”

  She turned and met his gaze, not sure which heated her more: the intensity of his eyes or the coat. “I’m glad I’m here, too. Thank you for the coat.”

  He feathered his fingers over her cheek to her lips. Before he could kiss her, the door opened and Trish bustled in. “Gabe, we’ve got to leave now.”

  Grinning, he winked at Micki and took her hand. “C’mon, Mrs. McKenna, time to show th
e world how much we love each other.”

  She swallowed hard and forced a smile. Inside her heart, she found it harder to distinguish between what was an act and what was fact.

  * * * *

  “Gabe, you’re on in ninety seconds.”

  Gabe looked over his shoulder at the stage director. “Thanks, Natalie.”

  His heart still raced from being named Male Vocalist, but it also thumped heavy in his chest for a different reason now. Despite his always getting nervous at award show performances, tonight was different. His stomach churned and his skin was clammy. He wasn’t only singing on national TV and to his peers; he was singing to the woman he loved, which scared him to death.

  With a deep breath, he picked up his guitar and headed to the stage. As the hostess announced him, he took his place in front of his band.

  Joel watched him with a pucker in his forehead. “You’re sweating. You okay, man?”

  His bass player had always been too observant.

  “Yep.” When the panel concealing them from the audience split and opened behind him, he turned into the blinding lights of the Bridgestone Arena. Despite the glare, he knew exactly where Michaela was in the crowd and looked in her direction. He swallowed and strummed his pick over the strings of his guitar. “This is for my beautiful wife.”

  He took another deep breath, hoping to calm the jitters, and played the intro of the ballad he’d written on their wedding night after leaving Michaela and going to his own room across the hall. As his backup singer, Jessica, joined in with the mournful sound of a fiddle, the song poured out of him. On their way to Nashville, he’d changed some of the verse he’d written that night. He’d made it a love song that apologized for all that he’d done wrong. As he belted out the story of a romance gone wrong and the joy of finding love again in lyric and rhyme, his heart ached with the painful truth. He wished he could see Michaela’s face as he asked for a second chance and that he’d always love only one woman--her.

  When the song ended and the audience applauded, he bowed and waited for the panel to close again, anxious to get back to his seat. As the show went to a commercial break, he handed his guitar, wireless mike, and earpieces to a waiting stagehand, then hurried for his seat.