Hot Nashville Nights

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “Hell, yes.” He leaned over and slanted his mouth over mine, using his tongue to tempt me.

  I closed my eyes and returned his kiss, needing him, wanting him. In the background, I could hear the rumble of the engine. I jolted as the plane bounded into the air.

  But mostly, it was my lover jarring my emotions and lifting me straight off the ground.

  Nine

  Spencer

  The Chateau Marmont had been inspired by a Gothic French chateau, and the bungalow I’d rented was artfully crafted, offering a breezy sitting area, an elegant bedroom and bath, a private patio and a fully stocked kitchen. I’d requested groceries ahead of time, giving us the option of dining in or going out, depending on our mood.

  Alice seemed impressed. She wandered in and out of the rooms, with a girlish light in her eyes.

  After we entered the bedroom, she removed her sandals and flopped back on the ornately carved bed, her sundress billowing around her. I wanted to free my mind and simply enjoy looking at her, but my thoughts were too damned scattered.

  Was Kirby her father? I wondered.

  There was no way to know for sure, not without a paternity test. Kirby seemed certain of it, making me inclined to believe it, as well. Yet, if Alice was his daughter, I was still baffled about why Cathy had kept quiet about it. I hadn’t considered this before, but maybe Kirby himself had been the problem. Maybe Cathy had concerns about his addictions back then and didn’t want him participating in Alice’s life. Whatever her reasons, things were different now. Alice was a grown woman, and Kirby was clean and sober. If Cathy were alive today, she wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

  “What made you choose this hotel?” Alice asked, pulling me back into our surroundings.

  “The music director I’ll be meeting with lives nearby, so I figured it would be a convenient location.” I glanced toward the window. Sunshine slashed through the blinds, creating a mysterious pattern on the floor. “I was fascinated by the things I’d heard about it, too. In the old Hollywood days, they used to say that this was the place to go to get into trouble. It has a history of celebrities behaving badly here.”

  “Really?” She sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Oh, how fun.”

  “Yes, but the really wild stuff was kept secret. All of the rooms, bungalows and cottages are soundproof, and the staff has always been discreet, particularly during that era. The Chateau was considered a luxurious hideout back then.” I almost felt as if Alice and I were hiding out. Former lovers renewing their affair. That, in itself, seemed sort of scandalous.

  “Can’t you just imagine what old Hollywood must have been like?” She struck a glamorous pose, as if she was tossing a long, sleek scarf over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I can imagine it.” I could actually see her dressed like a movie star. “But tragic things occurred here, too, later on. John Belushi overdosed in one of the bungalows.” I figured she would know who he was, given her interest in the ’70s and ’80s.

  “Do you know which bungalow it was?” she asked.

  “I think it’s over that way.” I’d already looked it up on the net. “I’m sure they’ve remodeled it since then, but there have been reports of him haunting it over the years. I don’t know if that’s true or just people making up stories.”

  Her gaze sought mine. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  “I’d like to think that they’re real. When I was a teenager, I used to go to our old apartment and park in front of the building, wishing my mom would appear. She never did, though.”

  She gave me a sympathetic look. “Was it hard for you when you left LA? Did you feel as if you were leaving her behind?”

  I nodded, my heart clenching at the memory. “She loved this town. But it changed for me after she died.”

  “Will you take me to see your old apartment? We can park out front the way you used to do.”

  “Maybe we can do that tonight.” She understood my loss. Her mother was gone, too. But how was she going to feel when she learned that Kirby might be her dad?

  She got to her feet and came over to me. I put my arms around her, stroking a hand down her back and inhaling the citrusy scent of her perfume.

  Now that her paternity was on the line, should I work toward discovering mine, too?

  We separated, and I said, “I’m going to look for my dad. Once we get back to Nashville, I’ll submit my DNA to the ancestry websites and see where it leads. There are two main sites I’m going to use.”

  “That’s wonderful. I think it’s important for you to know where you came from and who your father is.”

  “It’s worth a try.” Was my old man out there somewhere? Would I find him? “But I’m not going to idealize him like I did when I was a kid.”

  “Are you still concerned that he might reject you?”

  “Yes.” In her case, Kirby wanted to be her dad. She was lucky in that way, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  She comforted me, skimming her fingers along my jaw. “Just try to be positive.”

  I embraced her again. “You’re right. I need to believe it’s possible.” Because who could say what would happen for sure? Maybe I would get lucky and my father would be as interested in me as Kirby was in her.

  * * *

  In the evening, after Alice and I dined at a new steak house in Studio City, I drove the Porsche Cayman I’d rented to my old apartment. It wasn’t the best neighborhood, but it wasn’t the worst, either. Mostly it catered to striving actors, models and musicians. Some regular folks, too. Not everyone had stars in their eyes. Some of the surrounding areas were laced with drug activity, but I’d always steered clear of those parts. I’d never been a druggie, not like Kirby and some of the other addicts I knew. For that much, I was grateful. I didn’t need any more demons.

  I parallel parked, wedging the car into a tight space, with a streetlamp overhead giving us a bit of light.

  Alice sat in the passenger seat in a slim black outfit and designer heels. She’d changed out of the sundress and into something sexier.

  And now here we were, where I used to live. It looked the same to me. The Spanish-style accents: the tile roof, the stucco exterior, the arches. There wasn’t a lot of foliage, just a few low hedges on either side.

  “Which unit was yours?” she asked.

  I pointed to a second-story window. “That was my bedroom. I used to keep some of my toy soldiers on the windowsill, lined up and ready for war.”

  “I wonder who lives there now.”

  “I have no idea.” The blinds were closed. “When it was my room, it had blackout curtains. I thought those were cool. Mom decorated her room with a seashell motif. She was even buried at sea.”

  Alice turned to face me. “Did you sprinkle the ashes?”

  “My aunt didn’t think it was appropriate for a child my age. She had the captain of the boat do it.”

  Sorrow edged her voice. “That wasn’t fair to you.”

  “Nothing ever really was. But later when I started surfing, I felt at peace in the ocean. Sometimes I would run my hands through the water and imagine that Mom was there, all around me.”

  “I know what you mean. My mother was cremated, too. Mary and I sprinkled her ashes at a park she used to take us to when we were kids, and that’s where I’ll always think of her.”

  “I wish I could have met your mom.” I didn’t know much about her, other than what Alice or Kirby had told me. But I was beginning to feel a kinship toward her. “We could’ve shared our experiences about songwriting.”

  “I think she would have liked that.” She glanced out the windshield. “But now I’m getting emotional, sitting here on your childhood street, talking about life and death.”

  I felt it, too. But I didn’t want to admit how deeply this moment was affecting me. “You suggested coming here.”

  “I
know. But normally the only other person I ever have these types of conversations with is Tracy.” She hesitated, squinting at me. “Did you know that she used to be engaged to Dash Smith?”

  I frowned a little. “No, but is there a reason I should be aware of that?”

  “Not necessarily. Except that you’re going to be working with Dash on his next album, aren’t you?”

  “We haven’t collaborated on any songs yet. But we plan to once he gets off tour.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Not well. We’ve only met a couple of times.”

  “He’s been asking Tracy to do a duet, but she isn’t interested in making a record with him.”

  That was news to me, but all of this was. “If she changes her mind, then maybe I’ll be working with her, too.”

  “I don’t think she’s going to change her mind.”

  I didn’t ask what the problem was or why their engagement ended, but I did say, “Just so you know, Kirby figured us out.”

  She flinched. “What?”

  “He could tell that I was lying about my past with you.”

  She set her mouth in a grim line. “Did you tell him that we were together now?”

  “Yes, but I explained that it was only temporary.”

  “And what was his reaction?”

  “He made me promise to be good to you.”

  She scoffed. “As if he cares.”

  “He does care.” I couldn’t tell her how much. She wasn’t anywhere near being ready to hear the truth. But at least I was planting whatever seeds were possible.

  She huffed, headstrong as ever. “It’s none of Kirby’s business what we do.”

  “Yeah, but it’s still nice of him to be looking out for your best interests. Speaking of which, do you think we should just be open with everyone else, too?”

  “I already told Tracy that I slept with you again.”

  I should have suspected as much. “Does your sister know?”

  “She knows I took this trip with you.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter if people see us together in Nashville, does it?”

  She scrutinized me, looking me up and down. “I guess we could be open about it. That’s probably better than keeping it a secret, like we did in the past.”

  “Gee, thanks for the enthusiasm.” I leaned over and gave her a rough kiss, refusing to let her get the best of me.

  I almost expected her to push me away, but she climbed over the console and onto my lap. Was she trying to prove that she was the boss?

  She straddled me in my seat, rocking back and forth, a triumphant expression on her face. I wanted to reach around to fondle her ass, but I kept my arms at my sides, refusing to let her win. She rubbed me some more, bumping my fly, causing friction.

  Electricity. Human sparks.

  Was she proposing a quickie in the car? Was that her intention? I groaned and said, “We can’t do this here. If we get caught, we’ll get busted for indecent exposure.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not exposing anything, are you?”

  I glanced down the front of her blouse and spied her bra, the push-up kind that created extra cleavage. “You’re torturing me.”

  “That’s the idea.” She returned to her own seat, leaving me with a raging hard-on. She knew how to make me suffer.

  But I knew how to seduce her, too.

  “This isn’t over,” I said, letting her know that I was going to do unspeakable things to her.

  As soon as we got back to the hotel.

  * * *

  After a night of rowdy sex, I awakened before Alice. I leaned on my elbow and watched her sleep. She looked innocent, with no makeup and wispy hair. Her spiky do was flat this morning.

  What was going to happen when our affair was over? Would I become abstinent again? Or would I take another lover? Replacing her was going to be difficult. I hated to even think about it.

  I crept out of bed and climbed into my jeans. Alice stirred, turning sideways in her sleep. We’d left the windows open, and now a breeze was dancing around the room.

  I stood back and leaned against a wall, wondering if she was dreaming. If she was, I hoped her dreams were soft and safe.

  I used to have recurring nightmares of monsters clawing at me, chasing me inside my aunt and uncle’s mansion. Sometimes I still had them, except the monsters attacked my sobriety now, taunting me to fail, to take another drink, to destroy the man I was working so hard to become.

  Alice stirred again, coming awake. She reached over to my side of the bed and found it empty. Had she been hoping to cuddle?

  She sat up, and the sheet fell to her waist, giving me a delicious view of her breasts. She glanced toward the wall, where I was, and gasped.

  “Oh, my God, Spencer. You scared me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What an image to wake up to.” She blinked as if I was a tall, dark mirage, coming to life from the desert air. “My heart is still pounding.”

  “I’m going to make a pot of coffee.”

  She adjusted the sheet, pulling it back up and over her breasts. “Should I meet you in the kitchen?”

  “Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll bring you a cup.”

  She ran her hand through her hair, letting it flutter through her fingers. “Are you going to make breakfast, too?”

  “I can whip up some eggs.” I quirked a deliberate smile. “Unless you want frozen pizza.”

  She grinned. “Nice try. But I’ll take the eggs.”

  I left her alone and went into the kitchen. I’d never actually cooked for anyone before, at least not from scratch. But I could handle breakfast.

  I brewed the coffee, fried four strips of bacon and scrambled three eggs. I made toast, too, and buttered it. I looked around for a spot of color and went onto the patio, plucking a purple-and-yellow bloom from one of the pots.

  I prepared a tray, placing the flower beside her plate. I included milk and sugar for her coffee. I preferred mine black.

  I returned to the bedroom, set the tray in front of her and removed my cup.

  She glanced up at me. She was dressed now. While I was in the kitchen, she’d borrowed one of my T-shirts. For all I knew, she was wearing a pair of my boxers, too. I couldn’t see her lower half, but I rather hoped that she was. Her interest in wearing my clothes turned me on.

  “Thank you. This looks great,” she said. “But why aren’t you eating?”

  “I’m not hungry. Besides, I’ve got my business meeting today, and it’s supposed to be a brunch.”

  She added a dollop of milk and two packets of sugar to her coffee. “I’ll probably take an Uber to Rodeo Drive while you’re gone. It’s on my list of places to see.”

  I sat at a nearby desk and pushed the hotel stationery out of my way. “There’s some nice stores on Sunset, too.” I made a deadpan expression. “You could check out Hustler Hollywood.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The erotica boutique? I think I’ll pass.” She hesitated, seeming a bit more serious. “Unless you want me to go there.”

  “It’s totally up to you, but I was only kidding around.”

  A few breathless beats later, she said, “I think I better stick to regular stores.”

  I sipped my coffee, amused by her newfound sense of propriety. “Yeah, after all of the raunchy stuff we did last night, who needs sex toys, anyway.”

  She threw the flower at me. But it flopped onto the floor, missing me by a mile.

  I came up with a legitimate plan. “You know what we should do? Take some vacation selfies together and post them online.”

  “I guess that would be all right. But let’s not go overboard with kissing pictures or anything like that. I don’t want to seem unprofessional.”

  “Actually, I think it’ll boost your profile to be roma
ntically linked to me. Not to brag, but I have lots of followers.”

  “I know how popular you are.” She gazed at me from beneath her lashes. “And I suppose you’re right. Your followers will probably take an interest in me. A positive one, I hope.” She bit into her toast. After she ate half of it, she added, “We didn’t take selfies with each other before.”

  “No, but remember how we used to sext?” My cup clanked when I put it down. “And the nude pictures you sent me?”

  Her cheeks went pink, an uncharacteristic blush for such a naughty girl. I didn’t call her on it. I kept the visual to myself, wanting to remember it later.

  “You sent some to me, too,” she said.

  “Mine were dick pics. Any idiot can do those. The stuff you did was beautiful.” Alluring, sensual, sweetly wicked. I wished I’d saved them, tucked them away in a secret file. “Will you send me one later today?”

  Her jaw dropped. “While you’re at your meeting? I wouldn’t dare.”

  I challenged her, flirting, playing a lover’s game. “Then at least come over here and kiss me.”

  She set the tray aside, baiting me right back. “I think you should come over here.”

  She didn’t have to ask me twice. I leaped onto the bed and tackled her, making her laugh and squeal. I lowered the sheet. She wasn’t wearing my boxers. She didn’t have any bottoms on at all.

  I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and snapped a picture of her butt. She tried to wrestle the device away from me, and I took another one. I knew she would make me delete them, but for now, I was having fun.

  I liked the feeling, the freedom. At times like this, I wanted to pretend that my life was easy. But there was nothing easy about what I’d been through. Alice’s past wasn’t easy, either. But at the moment, we were together—and enjoying every playful second of it.

  Ten

  Alice

  Spencer and I sat side by side on a bench, sipping blueberry slushies. As we looked out at the ocean, dusk dimmed the sky.

  We’d spent the entire day here at Venice Beach, soaking up the sun, gathering seashells, swimming in the ocean and eating junk food. Spencer had also bought me some trinkets, including a temporary tattoo, but I hadn’t applied it yet.