His Cinderella Housekeeper 3-in-1

by Various

  “Sorry about that,” Celeste repeated awkwardly.

  Phillip was ashamed of his feelings and didn’t know what to say. “Let’s just get on with our evening.”

  “I know you don’t like thinking about my music or my…career.”

  “Damn it. Is that what you call it—a career?”

  Celeste looked startled. She was about to say something, and then choked back her words when the waitress brought their beers and placed them on tiny white napkins. He shoved a few bills on the table and ordered himself a second beer before he even started the first.

  “Long day,” he said to the waitress.

  “Cheers.” He lifted his frosty bottle to Celeste and was aware of Hornung and his bunch at the pool tables watching Celeste and talking about her more excitedly than ever. He felt left out, so he drank deeply.

  She didn’t touch her drink.

  “Are you ever going to tell me why you left Vegas?”

  “Not now,” she whispered.

  “When, then?”

  “Maybe when you tell me who’s killing your livestock. Okay?”

  “Not okay. My livestock has nothing to do with you and me. Your secrets do. Okay?”

  They sat at the table, not knowing what to say to each other. Hell, maybe she was listening to the band. Her fingers began to tap the table in time to the beat. Maybe she didn’t need him at all. Maybe she just wanted her music. When he finished his second beer, he ordered two more. She frowned when he finished those.

  “Don’t worry,” he muttered, tossing her the truck keys. “You can be the designated driver—

  Stella. ”

  “Stella? Why…why you’re still sulking because I got a little attention.”

  “The hell I am.”

  “You hate my music, but it’s part of me.”

  “I don’t hate your music, but it led you into a dangerous life. You landed on my doorstep scared and broke, and you won’t tell me why.”

  “Can’t we discuss this when we get home?” she asked.

  “Ha! You won’t talk…except in bed. How long will we last if sex is the only thing holding us together?”

  “Sex? You think that’s all—” The devastation in her face cut him to the quick, but he wasn’t about to let it show.

  The band took a break.

  “Stella. Stella. We want Stella.”

  Phillip turned just as Hornung got on the stage and told everybody that his favorite country-western star, Stella Lamour, was here tonight, and if they were nice and clapped for her, maybe she would sing.

  “Hell,” Phillip whispered as everybody else began to clap and yell her name.

  “Oh, God—” His brown hand curled into a fist.

  “Take me home, Phillip.”

  “Hey, your music’s everything to you. Who am I to stop the great star, Stella Lamour? Sing, Celeste, sing your heart out. You know that’s what you really want to do.”

  “I want you, too.”

  “In bed maybe. But I wonder how much…and for how long? There’s something you’re keeping—”

  She paled. “You keep things from me, too.”

  “To protect you, damn it.”

  “I don’t want to quarrel like this…. Not with you.”

  Hornung got down on his knees and said please, pretty, pretty please into the mike.

  “Maybe I will sing. It’s better than quarreling.”

  “You’re right,” he whispered, ashamed suddenly. He didn’t hate her music. He hated that she wouldn’t level with him. Phillip stood and forced a smile as he helped Celeste out of her chair. “Break a leg—”

  She took a deep breath and then, cocking her head to one side, Stella Lamour strutted up to the stage like the star he knew she wanted to be more than anything, more than she wanted him. She took the mike and paced nervously a moment or two.

  “I wrote the song I’m about to sing for a very special guy.”

  Oh, God.

  She turned toward Phillip, her gaze locking on his face. Did she have to be so exquisite in that red dress that was almost a carbon copy of the one his mother had worn the night she’d decided to send her little boy to military school?

  Celeste shook her blond hair so that it caught the light and sparkled as it tumbled over her slim shoulders. She smiled at Hornung, at the rest of audience, at all the important people in the room. She was a born star. Suddenly Phillip realized that was one of the things that made her so special to him.

  Only when she had the attention of every man in the room, did Stella turn back to him and begin to sing. Soon she was belting out her one and only country music hit, which, of course, Phillip knew by heart.

  In the middle of her number, a man walked into the bar. Two more let themselves in a minute after he did. Not that anybody noticed them. Stella had everybody spellbound, especially Phillip.

  Her blue eyes stared straight into Phillip’s and he stared straight back. When she looked at him like that, with her heart in her eyes, he could barely breathe. She held him motionless in his chair until she was done.

  “Nobody but you/Only you/And yet I had to say goodbye…”

  Why, damn it? Tell me who you are and what you’re so afraid of.

  Only when she finished singing was he able to look away. Her music truly was a part of her.

  How strange, he thought that when she’d sung to him, he’d felt as connected to her as he did when they made love.

  The other customers must have received a thrill or two themselves because they started clapping and stomping their boots and yelling for more. Hell, one song and she had the place in an uproar. The bar was charged with some new sensual power. Phillip remembered the first night he’d met her. She’d sung more than one song that night, and the place had gotten way too crazy. He’d fallen in love with her voice before he’d even known her.

  Stella put the mike down and ran back to Phillip, her slim body carving its way through the excited throng as silently and gracefully as an elegant cat.

  “Sorry about that,” she whispered.

  “No. You were great. Really great,” he said.

  “You really thought so?” Her big blue eyes seemed to burn his face.

  Did his opinion matter so terribly? “Yes. I love to hear you sing. I always feel I’m the only one you’re singing to. You were great!”

  For an instant he thought he saw the spark of tears in her eyes, and he ached for the lonely little girl who’d grown up in foster homes. Gently he threaded his fingers through hers. Her smile was so radiant, his own heart nearly burst with happiness.

  “Yes, you were great,” said a hard voice behind them.

  “Oh,” Celeste gasped, caught off guard. “I didn’t see you.”

  The stranger in the gray flannel suit was one of the newcomers. Phillip didn’t know him, so he wasn’t a local. The man tossed a business card onto the table. “Mind if I join you?”

  Celeste picked up his card and flipped it nervously while she read. “Oh, dear! Greg… Greg Furman?”

  The short bald man beamed, his teeth white, when he caught the shock of recognition in her voice. “The one and only.”

  “But you never once answered my letters—How’d you find me—”

  “You put your address on every single envelope. I’m closing a deal in Texas. So, I went out to your ranch, and this guy on a tractor said you were here. The last song you sent me was pretty good. Oh, it needs some work—”

  “Pretty good? Oh, dear.” She flicked a rapid glance up at him. “Pretty good? You really think so—”

  “Good enough for an audition in Nashville, Miss Lamour.”

  “I—I can’t believe…” She turned to Philip. “Oh, Phillip, this is wonderful. Just when I was about to give up forever…and settle….”

  Settle? The word jarred Phillip’s soul.

  She looked past Phillip, but her dazzling smile faded when she focused on something or somebody behind him.

  “Oh, dear….” Her dying words were low-
pitched and nearly inaudible. Phillip felt an icy prickle of danger. Something cold and deadly suddenly charged the air. Celeste went paper-white.

  Furman was too full of himself to notice. “Sorry, this has to be a short meeting, doll. So, look me up if you’re ever in Nashville.”

  When Furman got to his feet, he had to dodge a dark man and his paler companion, who were rapidly approaching their table.

  The men sidestepped out of Furman’s way and stared at Celeste with cold, flat eyes. Her lips quivered and she seemed to forget Furman and his exciting offer.

  The two men were obviously some sort of threat. Her eyes grew huge when the dark man and his pale companion yanked chairs out and sat beside her without an invitation.

  Phillip placed his hand over hers and pulled her closer. He didn’t need a formal introduction to know these were the two sleazes Mabel had warned him about.

  “Please don’t hate me forever,” she pleaded under her breath to Phillip. The sadness in her eyes brought a bleak feeling of inevitability over him, too.

  “Don’t be ridiculous—” He broke off. “I couldn’t ever—”

  The band was still on break. The bar grew ominously quiet. Phillip’s heart slammed against his chest.

  “Whatever it is, it’s time we face it…together,” he said, tightening his hand over hers as the men stared at Celeste.

  She licked her tongue over her dry lips and kept her wet lashes lowered.

  “You two want something?” Phillip asked sharply. “I don’t remember asking you to sit down.”

  “Yeah, we do…something from your lady friend…if you could call her a lady. You been hidin’ out, using him to protect you?”

  Celeste winced.

  Using him? “Go to the ladies’ room, Celeste,” Phillip ordered in his Marine-issue drawl.

  “They’re my problem, not yours.” Her guilt-stricken tone was jerky. Her hand was shaking in his.

  “No arguments, Celeste.”

  She pushed back her chair.

  “Hey, now, you ain’t gonna run off from The Pope here, without giving him a little kiss for old times’ sake?” jeered the pale reptile with the pimples and glasses.

  “Go, Celeste!” Phillip’s lips barely moved. “Now!”

  “Hey, wait a minute, buster. We got business with Stella here.” No sooner had the man with the pitted olive skin and big nose spoken than he lunged for Celeste.

  Faster than lightning Phillip sprang between them.

  “Whatever it is you’re after, you’re dealing with me from now on. Understand?”

  Celeste swallowed a sharp, convulsive sob as Phillip pushed her away. “Go,” he repeated.

  “Phillip, please, please, please…let me stay and explain….” Her breathing was labored, and her beautiful blue eyes were luminous. “I didn’t know how or where to begin before, but—”

  He shook his head. “You’re a little late.”

  She stared at him, as if to memorize his frozen features. “Oh, Phillip—”

  The two men beside him began to fidget. They were getting restless. Celeste’s eyes grew huge as she waited for them to tell Phillip about her.

  Was it really so terrible? Why couldn’t she have opened up to him before? If only she had trusted him enough to tell him whatever it was, dealing with these lowlifes would have been child’s play.

  But she hadn’t. Just as she hadn’t told him about her secret correspondence with Furman. His home had been a hiding place, a rest stop, a brief interval in a journey she’d intended to take alone to stardom.

  Celeste’s yellow hair gleamed. Why did she have to look like an angel even in her flashy red dress? She was very pale, scared to death and yet gorgeous. So gorgeous. A natural-born star.

  Suddenly she seemed so far away…unreachable, like a star, heaven bound while he would always be an earthling. As he looked at her, he could feel his heart hardening, his body shutting down as it always did before a battle.

  She seemed to sense the change in him, sense the total coldness. After a long time her breathing came under control and she raced toward the back of the bar.

  Because of Celeste Phillip was about to cross a line he’d never crossed before. He was going to pay off these thugs or do whatever it took to get them off Celeste’s back forever. He didn’t care what she’d done, even if it was murder.

  “How much?” he said angrily to the two men.

  Chapter 9

  A hand with long black fingernails curled over the top of the metal door to Celeste’s toilet stall. “Celeste, you in there?”

  Celeste had put paper on the toilet seat and was sitting down with her shoulders hunched forward. Elbows in her red silk lap, her head was in her hands. When she didn’t answer, the door jiggled.

  “Go away,” Celeste pleaded.

  “Your big guy’s right outside. He wants to talk to you somethin’ awful. Says your friends from Vegas are gone and won’t be back to bother you ever again.”

  “Not right now—”

  A door banged open. “Man in the ladies’ room!” Phillip shouted.

  “Oh, my,” the woman on the other side of Celeste’s stall said. “Do you want me to call security?”

  “No,” Phillip said. “I want you to get the hell out of here.”

  “You’re rude. That’s my purse you’re throwing….” The woman screamed and ran out the door after her purse.

  A door lock clicked. Then a large brown hand jimmied her stall door.

  “Celeste, damn it, do you think that flimsy door is really going to keep me out—”

  She opened it. “I can explain—”

  “Nero and your friend The Pope saved you the trouble.”

  “What…”

  “Let’s just say, I agreed to pay them a great deal of money. You’re free to follow your big dream.”

  “But what if I don’t want—”

  “You came here to hide from those goons. True or false?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “True or false?”

  “True.”

  “You used me.”

  “No… I just wanted to hide. I needed a job.”

  “You seduced me so I’d protect you from them and pay them off so you’d be free to go on your merry little way.”

  “No…”

  “Well, now you’re free. Everything, the pretty smiles, the sex…. It’s all been an act. Lies.

  You never wanted me. You wanted to be Stella Lamour, and you used me to make that happen.”

  “I love you.”

  “You knew they’d come.”

  “I didn’t owe them anything. You shouldn’t have paid…”

  “They said they’d kill you if I didn’t. They threatened me, too.”

  She blinked nervously. “They were after Johnny. He set them on me. I didn’t tell you…because I couldn’t bear for you to think badly of me. I didn’t do any of those things they probably said I did. I’m not some—”

  “I know exactly what you are—a woman I paid a great deal to sleep with. You let me use your body, but you gave me nothing else.”

  The room seemed to spin. His dark face was at the center of whirling white tiles and mirrors and fluorescent lights. Somebody was pounding on the door outside.

  “Security!” a man shouted.

  “Don’t worry,” Phillip said. “You were worth every penny. You’ve got Furman’s card. And this, too.” He pulled out a wad of cash and stuffed it into her red purse. “That’s way more than you’ll need to get to Nashville. Give your friend Johnny a call—”

  “He’s not my manager. He used their money to gamble and told them he gave it to me. Why won’t you listen—”

  “Maybe because you never trusted me enough to talk. Get the hell out of my life. A girl with your talents should go far.”

  “You said you loved me.”

  “Love.” He laughed shortly. “There’s no such thing. Not between us. You taught me that lesson—twice. We had sex. We used each other. Yo
u were scared and needed a soft landing.

  I was bored and needed a diversion in between wars. It was fun while it lasted, honey. But now it’s goodbye. If we’re smart, we won’t pretend it was more than it was.”

  “You asked me to marry you.”

  “That’s before I knew who and what you were. Why would I marry a shameless woman I’ve bought and paid for?”

  “Shameless… How dare… Oh… You big, stupid lunk! You were a fool to pay them money I didn’t even owe. You… I hate you. You’re heartless…. You won’t listen.”

  “Oh, so this is all my fault. I saved your life, and it’s my fault?”

  “You asked me why I wouldn’t talk to you. Well, it was because I knew you wouldn’t listen.

  You didn’t before. You’re arrogant and pigheaded. I knew you’d think the worst of me just like everybody else did when I was a kid. And you do. I just wanted a few more days with you…and a few more nights. I was that starved for love, that pitiful.”

  “Shut the hell up!”

  “No wonder you’re all alone in the middle of nowhere—”

  She flung open the door and raced past a short, fat man in a brown uniform.

  “Miss—”

  Phillip leaped after her, forgetting that she had the keys to his truck.

  She was inside his truck and backing out before he caught up with her. Lunging at her door, he pounded on her window. She floored it, and roared out of the parking lot, her tires shooting gravel at him just like the chopper had in Mezcaya. All he could do was step back and cough in the dust. Another truck roared to life and raced out of the lot after her.

  Hell. She was in no condition to drive. He stumbled after the trucks. His booted toe hit a thick root in the drive, and he nearly fell.

  Hell. He wasn’t any more fit to drive than she.

  “Celeste! Come back!”

  His stomach went hollow when her red taillights disappeared into the gloom. Then the thick humid night wrapped him. Anything could happen to her out there.

  “Damn it!”

  He couldn’t allow himself to feel protective or to worry about her. She didn’t want him—

  period. Now that she was gone, now that he knew why she’d come and stayed, he felt gut-sick, rejected. He was alone. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it…except drink.