by Kristi Gold
“I’m not saying that,” Rusty said. “Just be patient. You’re doing a great job. Something’s been missing in the live performances for a while and I think you may have filled that spot.”
Cammie smiled with gratitude. “Thanks, Rusty. I’ll stay, but only because of Pat, and because you’re such a sweet-talker.”
Before Brett returned, Cammie formulated a plan of action. If he was having trouble forgetting, then he needed to be reminded she was the one who needed his attention now. As soon as he returned, Cammie lifted her microphone and placed it immediately beside Brett’s.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“If we’re going to do this right, I’m going to stand over here and inspire you.”
“Inspire me?”
“That’s what I said.”
He frowned. “How?”
“Just wait and see.”
The guys shuffled their feet and stifled their laughter, prompting Brett to give them a stern look. “We ain’t got a clue,” Bull said from his position behind the drums, arms raised as if Brett had a gun pointed at his chest.
Cammie started to bring the lyrics to her self-appointed spot on stage, but decided against it. Shuffling paper would definitely spoil the mood she was trying to create.
Brett grabbed up his guitar and began to strum.
“Do you have to play that?” she asked.
“No, but why the hell not?”
“Don’t get testy. I thought we could go over the song first with only the band’s accompaniment. Once we get it down, you can go back to playing.”
Looking somewhat perturbed, he set the guitar aside against a speaker. “Anything else?”
She tried on an angelic smile, hoping to calm this devil in blue jeans and boots. “I think that about does it.”
Brett turned to Rusty. “Okay, hit it.”
As the introduction played, Cammie took Brett’s hand that rested at his side. He seemed surprised by the gesture, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked into her eyes.
The love song might have been initially inspired by Brett’s former wife, but Cammie was with him now. She stood by his side, declaring lyrical devotion with a voice perfectly in sync with his. At one point after the second verse, and before the chorus, when the words spoke of making love, his arm slipped around her waist, pulling her so close they had no need for two microphones. Their united voices belted out a heartrending message, leaving Cammie feeling completely exhilarated.
When they neared the final refrain of the ballad, he moved his face closer to hers. And when the notes died down to a soft echo in the empty auditorium, they sealed the number with a spontaneous kiss.
Applause rang out, jolting Cammie back to reality and sending her away from Brett. Clearly they’d gotten totally carried away, and she suspected they might live to regret it.
“Hot damn, Brett,” Bull shouted. “That was some singing.”
Rusty patted Cammie’s cheek. “Gal, you were definitely inspiring to the man here.”
Brett seemed unusually distant, not even bothering with any comebacks to the band’s ribbing. “Can you guys leave Cammie and me alone for a while?” he asked quietly.
“They want to be alone to take up where they left off,” Jeremy said with an elbow in Bull’s side. “Can’t imagine why.”
After everyone left the stage, laughing and tossing out innuendo, Cammie took a seat on the stool and waited. Brett stood without moving, hand to chin, as if contemplating what he wanted to say. She didn’t understand his motive for asking the boys to leave, and she didn’t care to speculate. “What is it?”
“This is all wrong,” he said.
“What’s all wrong?”
“What we’re doing. It’s not good.”
His words pierced her confidence like verbal shards of glass. It was going to be over before it had truly begun. She should be relieved because she didn’t need this responsibility or relationship. They didn’t need it. But her heart fell when she thought of what could have been, followed by an internal indictment of her foolishness.
Cammie reached out and took both of his hands, prepared to bow out gracefully. “You’re right, Brett. This isn’t good.”
He moved between her knees and bent to kiss the top of her head. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? She pulled away and searched his eyes. “Yes, I understand. You’re talking about what’s happening between us and how it’s really gotten out of hand. I understand why—”
“I’m talking about your singing, this way of life. You’re too good for it, Cammie.”
Now she was really confused. “You mean my singing with you tomorrow? It’s only temporary.”
“Maybe not. You’re damn good. This might be your big break. And it might mean you’ll be so popular with the crowd that Tim’s going to want you to continue with us. I don’t want you to feel pressured. Or maybe I don’t want you to be seduced by it. There’s a lot of power in performing. And a lot of sacrifice.”
Cammie was relieved that her future warranted his concern. She could handle that. He seemed very serious about what he’d said, but she was also determined to do right by Pat. “Look, I’m only a temporary addition. Nothing will come of it beyond my filling in for two performances. I’m not easily seduced.” She felt the color rise to her face. “Not in the musical sense, anyway.”
Brett laughed and pulled her from the chair, straight into his strong arms. “So you can handle it, can you?”
“I can handle it.”
“What about me?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Do you trust me, Cammie?”
She paused while she considered saying words she never believed she’d say to any man ever again. “I do trust you, Brett. I put my voice in your hands, at least for the time being.”
He softly kissed her. “I put my life in yours every night you’re driving my bus. Now I can return the favor.”
He kissed her again, his lips playing passionately against hers, his breath coming hard and heavy. Weary with relief, with desire, she wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and fall into bed with him. But at the moment, Pat’s welfare was number one on the list.
She ended the kiss and rested her face against his shoulder. “Before we dissolve into the stage, I think we should go pay Pat a visit.”
“Pat and his damn timing again. But you’re right, we have to go tell him how well it went.”
“He’ll be very pleased.”
“I’m very pleased.”
And Cammie believed nothing could ruin her good mood.
* * *
“I’M SORRY, MR. TAYLOR, but we’ve suspended visitors for the time being. He’s had a few setbacks this afternoon. We’re having trouble keeping his blood pressure stable and he’s been fairly agitated.”
The doctor’s words were body blows to Brett. Pat had done so well that morning, no one believed they’d still be facing a crisis. “Is there something you’re not telling us about his condition?”
The man removed his glasses and slipped them in his lab coat pocket. “We only know that he’s had some arrhythmia, but it could be from dehydration due to food poisoning. Or it could be his heart. We’re going to run a few more tests and then we’ll know more. I’ll keep you posted.” Then he turned on his heels like a drill sergeant and strode down the corridor.
After the doctor disappeared out of sight, Brett crumpled
onto the couch feeling like a deflated balloon. Cammie had gone for sandwiches, taking Jeremy along with her. Rusty and Bull claimed the chairs across from the sofa where they stared at various focal points throughout the room, avoiding eye contact.
“Think we should cancel the concert, Brett?” Rusty finally asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t think right now.”
Bull tossed a candy wrapper into a nearby wastebasket. “I’m sure they’d understand.”
“The promoters will be royally pissed,” Rusty said. “We could’ve told them this morning. It would’ve given them some time to find someone else.”
But this morning Brett hadn’t known Pat could be worse off than anyone had thought. If something happened to Pat, nothing would be the same. He would be losing another person partially responsible for his success and sanity.
Cammie entered a few moments later carrying a large sack of hamburgers and fries. Brett took a whiff of the food and knew instantly he wouldn’t be able to force one bite into his churning stomach.
“Here,” she said, handing him a paper-wrapped bundle. “One bacon-cheeseburger, cut the onions, with mayo.”
Brett took the package and tossed it aside. “I can’t eat until I know he’s okay.”
She sat beside him. “Have they said what’s wrong yet?”
“No. They’re running more tests to see if something’s going on with his heart. Hopefully we’ll find out more later. In the meantime, we can’t see him.”
She smiled and laid a hand on his arm. “He’s going to be okay. He’s getting the care he needs and he’s tough as nails. Are sure you don’t want anything to eat?”
“Not now.”
She dropped the sandwich back into the bag. “All right. You know what you can manage.”
Cammie wasn’t the kind to push him to do things he didn’t feel like doing, something Brett was beginning to appreciate. Many people, including his manager, had taken on the role of nursemaid. If they weren’t reminding him he needed more rest, they nagged him about getting too thin or needing a haircut. The nights he’d joined Cammie at the helm of the bus, she’d never scolded him about sleeping.
The thought brought a smile to his face and one to hers in return.
“What is it now, Taylor?” she asked. “Do I have mascara under my eyes and look like a raccoon, or maybe something’s dribbling down my chin?”
He gently touched her cheek. Just having her there was the one positive in this entire nightmare. “You look as pretty as you always do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Taylor. You’re certainly a good liar.” She smiled and went back to her sandwich.
He decided to use her as a sounding board. “Bull and Rusty think we might want to cancel the show.”
Cammie’s eyes grew wide. “No way. Pat’s counting on us. How do you think that would make him feel if he knew we were canceling on his account?”
“She’s right, guys,” Bull admitted.
Rusty sighed. “Yeah, she is. Pat would skin us alive if he knew we canceled.”
Brett nodded in agreement. “Then it’s settled. Walker’s coming in tonight.” He checked his watch. “He’ll be here by nine so we’ll have to rehearse late. We’ll stay until then. I’ll give the hospital my cell number in case anything changes.”
“Do you want me to stay here, Brett?” Cammie asked. “I think I’ve done enough damage for one day.”
His first instinct was to keep her nearby for his own sake, but that would be selfish. “Do you mind? At least until rehearsal’s over.”
“Of course not. You’ll all feel better knowing someone’s here with him. I can rehearse again in the morning.”
Bull leaned over and laid his bulky hand on top of hers. “You’re a real asset to this group, Cammie.”
Rusty and Jeremy did likewise, hands stacked one on top of the other where Brett placed his on top. “Tomorrow’s for Pat,” Bull said.
“Yeah, for Pat,” Brett repeated, silently hoping Pat would make another tomorrow.
* * *
AT 2:00 A.M., BRETT came for her. Cammie felt as though she’d been put through the wringer, her body longing for sleep in a real bed. Brett spoke with the doctor before leading her out of the hospital and into the warm night. At least the news had been favorable—Pat was doing better, although the test results had yet to be revealed.
He stopped and placed his arms around her when they reached the Hummer he’d rented for the duration. “It’s nice out here,” he said with a sigh. “You know what I’d like to do?”
“Pass out?”
“Take you to some remote place in the desert with no distractions or interruptions where we could just be together all night.”
She wasn’t exactly sure how she should respond, even if she did like the plan. A lot. “That sounds wonderful, but honestly, with Pat’s issues, and the fact we’re sleep-deprived, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Brett tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re right. We have to stay close by in case Pat needs us, and you definitely need some sleep.”
“I could probably sleep right here, right now, in the parking lot. But you need to rest, too. You still have back-to-back shows tomorrow night.”
“True,” he said. “But if you need me for anything during the night, I’m just a room away.”
Sometimes she believed she was beginning to need him too much.
* * *
AFTER THEY ARRIVED at the hotel room, Cammie and Brett parted at their appointed rooms without even a brief kiss, only a polite goodbye. She chalked up Brett’s sudden distance to fatigue. She wanted to try out the jetted tub but took a hot shower instead. Then she quickly dried her hair, dressed in a plain cotton gown and settled into bed. But try as she might, she could only toss and turn and contemplate her complicated relationship with the sometimes-mysterious man on the other side of the door.
She rolled to her side, fluffed the pillow and attempted to coax herself asleep by reciting the lyrics she had to remember tomorrow night. By the time she made it to the second song, she began to drift off, only to be awakened by the sound of an opening door.
She remained still as stone when she felt the mattress bend beside her. “Cammie?”
She rolled over to find Brett seated on the edge of the bed, his features unclear in the limited light, but she could see he was shirtless. “Yes?”
“Did I wake you up?”
“No.” One more minute and he would have. “Is something wrong?”
“I can’t sleep. I’m having a hard time shutting off my brain.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I was just wondering if you mind if I sleep in here with you. Just to sleep. I don’t expect anything else.”
He sounded so unsure, she couldn’t help but smile. “Can you really do that, Brett? Sleep with a woman without wanting to sleep with her in the figurative sense?”
“It’s been a long time, but I’m willing to try if you are,” he said. “I’ll stay on my side of the bed.”
When cows sprouted wings. “I guess since it’s a king, it’s big enough for both of us.”
“Are you sure?”
She flipped back the covers and patted the mattress. “Climb in before I change my mind.”
“I can’t sleep in my jeans.”
She might not sleep at all if he wasn’t wearing them. “Then take them off.”
After he complied, Cammie rolled a
way from him again and tried to ignore the fact he was basically down to the bare minimum when it came to clothes. Although she’d only had a few hours’ sleep in the past forty-eight, she would gladly make love with him all night. Instead, she decided to put him—and herself—to the ultimate test.
“Brett.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have to stay on your side of the bed. I wouldn’t mind having you a little closer.”
“Not a problem.” He fitted himself to her back and draped his arm over her hip, his bare legs molded to the backs of her thighs. Having him so near gave her an odd sense of comfort, and a deep-seated longing.
If they could make it through one night without giving in to temptation, then maybe chemistry wasn’t their only common ground. However, she’d wager her last dollar that one of them wouldn’t last more than a few hours, and it could very well be her.
CHAPTER NINE
BY THE TIME THIS WAS OVER, he’d deserve some kind of a medal of honor for uncommon valor in the face of temptation.
As Brett continued to hold her through the night, Cammie’s breathing came steady and slow, while his sounded like he’d just run a marathon. He’d been so exhausted he’d mistakenly thought that once he’d found the right position with her in his arms, he’d pass out. Not a chance.
Every time Cammie moved against him, his body sprang to life. Her hair smelled great, and so did her skin, like his mother’s favorite gardenias. He tried counting concert dates and his number-one songs, and when that didn’t work he tried counting all the reasons why he was no good for a woman like Cammie. Why he shouldn’t even consider making love to her.
Hell, who was he trying to fool? He wanted to sleep with her in every sense of the word. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her, all the soft satiny feminine parts. He’d already sampled some of the finer points. Now he wanted more. He wanted it all.
