“And?” her friend prompted.
“And I wouldn’t let him tell me his last name.” She covered her eyes and hunched her shoulders around her ears, waiting for the response.
She didn’t have to wait long. “You what?” LeeAnn practically shrieked, somewhere between outrage and laughter.
“I didn’t want to know. It was supposed to be my honeymoon and I was there all alone. So when some beautiful man offered to be my rebound guy, I said yes.”
LeeAnn cocked an eyebrow at her. “And yes, and yes, and yes, from the looks of the photos.” She paused, stretching both arms up to pull her shin toward her nose. “You realize, of course, that he didn’t lie to you. He just didn’t tell you who he was.”
“He might as well have lied. He didn’t warn me that there might be photographers.”
“Nope. This one’s your own damn fault, sweetie.” LeeAnn raised both her arms toward the ceiling, then dropped them down beside her. “Does anyone else know?”
“Not that I’m sure of.” With a shrug, Kylie dropped the last of the T-shirts back onto the pile. “Anyone who reads tabloids, I guess. It’s not like I asked, and no one told me if they did.”
“This really explains a lot, you know. I never could figure out why you came back feeling so wretched—it clearly wasn’t because of Tom calling off the wedding. We both know you were done with him before he ended it, but you’ve been moping around here ever since you got back from the un-honeymoon. That’s almost a whole year of moping. Do you even know how miserable you’ve been?”
“Great. Thanks. You’re a real friend,” Kylie said, rolling her eyes.
“You had hot beach sex with one of the biggest names in country music and then came home to swan about looking all pinched and sad for months on end.” Narrowing her eyes, Kylie’s friend pointed toward the Talk of Texas display. “And what’s that crap? If you don’t care, then why put his face up all over your store?”
Kylie ignored the question. “So what’s going to change? What will going to his concert possibly do?”
“It will help you get over him. Once you see him again, you’ll realize that whatever you’ve built up in your mind is some fantasy.”
“I haven’t built up anything, in my mind or otherwise.” But Kylie didn’t sound as certain as she wanted to.
“And a year of moping argues otherwise. You still have that paper with all the pictures?”
“Not here.” But her glance flicked toward the cabinet under the counter. Dammit. Was her friend right? Why hold on to the tabloid if she didn’t care?
Balancing carefully, LeeAnn stretched out her arm, palm up. “Liar. Gimme.”
The electronic chimes over the door jingled, and a middle-aged woman leading a ten-year-old girl stepped into the store. The woman’s eyes widened behind her glasses at the sight of LeeAnn, twisted into a half pretzel on the counter.
Dropping her legs back into a lotus position, the wannabe yogi bowed slightly and intoned, “Namaste.” The woman blinked nervously and moved toward a display of rhinestone-encrusted wallets.
“Get down,” Kylie hissed. “Hello, Mrs. Miller,” she called out. “Hi, Amber. Anything I can help you with today?”
“We’re looking for a gift for Amber’s mother. It’s her birthday this week.” She waved Kylie away. “I’ll let you know if we need help finding anything.”
“We got some new necklaces in,” Kylie offered. “One of them would look great with the bracelet you got for her on Mother’s Day. They’re on that wall.” She pointed.
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Miller said.
LeeAnn grinned and hopped back off the counter. “So. Paper?”
Kylie moved back behind the cash register and crouched down to reach back into a cabinet. She pulled out a tabloid magazine and flipped through it. Folding back the page, she passed it across the counter. “There,” she said.
“Holy hell,” LeeAnn breathed, pointing to the picture of Cole stretched out over Kylie. “That is some seriously hot beach action.”
Kylie stared down at the pictures, too, trying to see the layout as if for the first time. The photos were a little blurry, obviously taken with a telephoto lens. In the first one, she was facing the camera and laughing with her head thrown back. Cole was half turned, bending down and splashing water up from the turquoise-blue Caribbean toward her. In the second one, she was thrown over his shoulder, still laughing.
He had carried her up onto the Mexican beach and dropped her onto the blanket he’d spread out earlier. He fed her cheese and crackers and fruit he had ordered from room service. And then he kissed her. The first picture of a kiss was tightly cropped—nothing but their faces showed. The next picture, though, was a full-body shot, and it captured the way their fingers intertwined as he stretched out above her.
“Cole Grayson’s New Mystery Woman?” the headline screamed across the top of the photo spread.
“So did you ever hear from him again?” LeeAnn asked.
“Get that look out of your eye. There’s no happily ever after here. I need someone stable, someone who will actually stick around.” Her fingernail tapped against the headline and she chewed on her lower lip as she stared down at the photos.
LeeAnn nodded sagely. “Not someone who’s likely to dump you at the altar and leave you to take your honeymoon by yourself.”
“Yes. Definitely. But also, not someone who’s on the road all the time, hooking up with whatever groupies happen to be there.” Her gaze flickered between the pictures of her father and Cole in the Talk of Texas display and the tabloid in front of her.
“And that’s why you need to go to the concert. I’m telling you, you’ll feel different about him once you see him again. Get some closure.”
Kylie groaned. “God. Don’t go all New Agey on me.”
“Promise to go to the concert with me and I’ll stop.” Her friend glanced toward Kylie, then went back to staring at the tabloid, shaking her head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this. You had sex with Cole Grayson.”
“Pardon me,” Mrs. Miller interrupted, her lips pursed in apparent disapproval, “but do you have this in pink?” She held up a wallet in a neon-green cowhide print with a sequined cross on it. Amber blinked at Kylie from behind her grandmother.
Kylie could have sworn they had been all the way across the store only moments ago. Her face grew hot. “I’ll check in the back,” she muttered, glaring at LeeAnn as she brushed past her. This was precisely why she hadn’t told anyone when she finally figured out who Cole really was.
In the stockroom, she pulled down a box from a top shelf and rummaged through it.
Telling her friend the reason she was reluctant to go to Cole’s concert had made sense when she made the decision as she ate lunch.
She had been dreaming about him again the night before.
In her dream, they were back on the beach. Cole kissed her, rolling her under him on the blanket and pulling away to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Maybe we should go back up to the room,” he whispered.
“Why?” Kylie asked, feeling reckless. “There’s no one else here.” She pulled him back down to her, reaching up to nip at the scar on his lower lip. He laughed and flipped her again so that she was on top of him. She threaded her fingers through his and pulled his arms up over his head. He wrapped his leg around her and pulled her closer. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and he groaned.
“Oh, God, Kylie,” he whispered. “Come on. Let’s go back to the room.”
It hadn’t made sense to her then, but she had decided he must have been oddly modest.
Yeah, right. He hadn’t wanted the paparazzi to get full-frontal pictures.
They would probably be worth a fortune.
Kylie realized she had been standing completely still over the box she had pulled down. Snarling, she grabbed the wallet she’d been searching for. She stomped back out to the front of the store and offered it to the waiting customer.
Mrs. Miller was standing at the counter, holding a beaded necklace and flipping through the magazine with the pictures of Kylie and Cole. LeeAnn had moved to the back of the store, where she was practicing handstands against a wall.
As Kylie rang up the wallet and necklace, Amber moved up beside the older woman and held up a mug. “Can I have it, Granna?” she asked.
Her grandmother glanced at the cup, then shrugged and added it to her other purchases.
A Cole Grayson collectible. Of course. Cheeks burning, Kylie wrapped it in Bubble Wrap and taped the package closed. She placed it carefully inside a separate sales bag and bent forward to give it to the child. “Here you go,” she said.
She gave Mrs. Miller her change. “Thank you,” ,” the grandmother said, then paused, tapping the center picture in the tabloid layout. “Cole Grayson really does seem like a lovely young man, at least in the papers,” she said, her eyes crinkling in a suppressed smile. “If I were you, I’d go to the concert.” She ushered her granddaughter out of the store, letting the door swing shut behind them, but Kylie could still hear her laughter, matched by LeeAnn’s.
With a moan, she dropped her head onto her forearms on the counter. “Fine. I’ll go.” Looking back up at the Talk of Texas display, she added, “But it’s not going to change anything.”
She could make it through seeing him this once. And then she would get back to her quiet life.
Chapter Three
Although it was fairly small for a concert venue, Jimmy’s was probably the biggest bar Cole had ever seen. In addition to the concert hall, it had an enormous dance floor, several grills set up to serve food, and even an indoor rodeo. At eleven o’clock in the morning, it was an empty, cavernous space, cold and a little tattered around the edges.
The idea of a rodeo inside a bar had always amused him, so he’d glanced in at the small arena to check it out on his way by. A group of maintenance guys were raking through the dirt inside the barricaded ring, wiping out the hoofmarks in preparation for the night’s shows.
Cole smiled in memory. He had tried bull riding exactly once, when a fan invited him out to his ranch. His entire career as a cowboy lasted about two seconds, and that was without the flank rope they used to spur on the animals in rodeos.
The tech guys were doing light checks. They wouldn’t really need him for a while—not until it was time for the sound checks—so he took a seat out in the audience area and stared up at the stage. The lighting was good from this angle. Yeah, the room might be cold now, but it would warm up quickly when all the seats were filled.
“Hey,” Billie said from the aisle. “You ready?”
“Always.”
His manager slid into the seat behind him and draped her long arms around his shoulders. She leaned her forehead on the back of his neck. “I need a break. You?”
Shrugging, he reached up to grasp her wrist and gently squeeze it. “Not until after the show.”
With a laugh, she patted his arm. “Right. You’ll knock ’em dead. You always do.”
A flash of light made Billie raise her head and sigh. “More photographers. Want me to kick them out?”
“If it’s Stuart Jeffries, you have my permission to beat the shit out of him.”
Billie laughed. “How about I take out a restraining order instead?”
“You’re the best,” Cole said.
“That’s my job.” She stood up and stretched, flipping her long blond hair back over her shoulder. A camera flashed several more times. As irritating as Cole found the paparazzi, he had to admit that Billie was certainly picture-worthy. She looked more like a model than a manager.
“Okay,” she said. “As soon as I deal with this jackass, I need to call home—Evan seems to think he should be able to talk to his wife, even when I’m on the road.”
“Is he going to be able to join us in Little Rock?” Cole asked.
“God, I hope so.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, after I talk to him, I’ll be backstage riding herd on the crew. Let me know if you need anything.” She dropped a light, sisterly kiss on his temple, then moved to the front of the room.
Cole grinned as he watched his manager stalk toward the stage. He almost pitied the photographer who was about to be on the receiving end of Billie’s wrath, ferocious as she was in her protection of him—almost as fierce as she was in promoting him.
Billie had picked him out of a college bar band seven years ago, and as far as he could tell, she had spent almost every waking moment since promoting him and his music. She was a key component to his success, as well as his friend and confidante.
He trusted her to deal with any distractions.
Then again, letting Billie deal with distractions was how he had ended up in Cozumel in the first place.
“You’re burning out, Cole,” she had said. “We’ll check you into the resort under a fake name, you’ll spend two weeks decompressing on the beach—mai tais, margaritas, sun, sand, surf—and then you’ll come back relaxed and ready to go again.”
It had worked, too. By the beginning of the second week, he felt calmer than he’d been in years. Until he’d spotted Kylie floating in the pool against the swim-up bar, sipping something punch-colored and watching the couples around them splashing and laughing in the turquoise water.
“Hey,” he said, pulling up onto the underwater seat hooked to the bar next to hers.
“Hi.” She had barely glanced at him. Something about her had tugged at him. The skin around her eyes looked thin and fragile, and stress lines pulled her mouth tight. Even so, she was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had seen in a long time.
He needed to see her smile.
“I’m Cole,” he said, waiting for the double take of recognition that he had grown accustomed to over the past few years.
“Kylie,” she replied, finally looking up to meet his eyes—but without any hint that she knew who he was.
He should have told her right then. He knew it. But the chance to spend time with a gorgeous woman with no interest in his fame or his money had proven too alluring.
As had Kylie herself.
And by the time he tried to tell her, it was too late.
“Shh,” she said, placing her fingers over his lips. ”Three more days. That’s all we’ve got.”
“But you’re on your honeymoon,” he whispered. “Don’t you want to know who you’re spending it with?” Tiny grains of white beach sand spun between his lips and her fingertips.
“I’m spending it with you. That’s enough.” She brushed the sand away and replaced her fingers with her own lips, pulling him down to the blanket tucked back into the secluded beach cove.
He blew out a breath at the memory. Time to get his head in the game. Picturing a gig ahead of time always helped Cole prepare for his performances, so he leaned back in the chair. Propping one boot on the back of the seat in front of him and crossing the other at the ankle, he closed his eyes.
The show was sold out, so the seats would be full. The imagined roar of the crowd swept past him, drawing him up in its wake. In his mind, he scanned the faces in front of him, squinting past the bright lights shining down onto the stage.
Would Kylie be out there, somewhere in the crowd, watching him perform?
With a curse, he sat up, boots thudding to the floor. “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered to himself.
He wasn’t going to look up and see her in the crowd.
She wasn’t going to come to him.
No. If he wanted Kylie, he was going to have to go after her.
And he definitely wanted her.
So be it.
One more show, and then he had almost a week before he had to head to Little Rock. He would use the time to track her down.
…
“Come on, Kylie,” LeeAnn shouted. Kylie could see her friend through the windows on the front door of the duplex, standing behind the open door of her Prius, leaning in to hit the horn. “It’s time to go.”
Anticipation fluttered in her stomach, but Kylie pushed it down. She couldn’t be excited about seeing Cole again—it would only lead to heartache. She was going because LeeAnn insisted. It had nothing to do with a desire to get one last look at the most handsome man she’d ever been with.
Right?
He was a total man-slut. She knew it—she’d Googled him exactly once after she saw the tabloid, and hundreds of photos had popped up, with a different woman in virtually every one.
Anyway, she was going to be in the audience, anonymous and safe.
Of course, that didn’t explain why she had spent so much time getting dressed in her cutest jeans and fitted, rhinestone-covered rose T-shirt—and matching pink boots.
Kylie glanced into the mirror, then took a deep breath. She wasn’t nearly as pretty as LeeAnn, whose blond hair and gray eyes generally garnered more attention when they were together. Usually it didn’t bother her, but tonight she wished she could trade in her curvy figure for her friend’s willowy grace.
Right. And maybe she could be someone else altogether.
Someone Cole wouldn’t recognize.
Now might be the time to start practicing some of LeeAnn’s yoga techniques.
“Kylie.” Her friend honked the car horn again.
What if Cole saw her? They were going to be in the front row, after all.
She swayed on her feet, suddenly gasping and dizzy.
No. Deep breaths were no good. She was about to hyperventilate. Instead, she pulled the door open. “I’m coming.”
LeeAnn grinned and climbed into the driver’s seat as Kylie took shotgun.
“Ready for this?” LeeAnn asked.
“Absolutely not.” Kylie buckled her seat belt. “But I’m here.”
LeeAnn reached down to flip on the stereo, and Cole’s voice crooned out of the speakers. Kylie leaned her head back against the headrest. It was going to be a long, awful night. Her temples throbbed in time to the music.
“We don’t really have to go, you know,” LeeAnn said. “We could get some wine and hang out at your house.” She paused long enough for Kylie to consider the possibility. “And then you could tell me more about sex with Cole Grayson.” She snorted.
Taming the Country Star: A Hometown Heroes Novella (Entangled Bliss) Page 2
