by Kristi Gold
He stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “We grew up together, we married too young, we had a kid, I got my big break and we grew apart. She hated this way of life, and eventually she learned to hate me.”
“I can understand why she might feel that way about the business.” Even if she would never understand how anyone could ever hate Brett. “I’ve seen firsthand what it means to be in the spotlight and all the temptations that go along with it.”
“Unlike that idiot tonight, I was faithful to her,” he said. “Not that I didn’t have opportunities. A lot of opportunities. But my mother drilled it into my head that when you take a vow, you keep it. I sure as hell tried until the bitter end.”
She found both his honesty and his convictions admirable. “And you’ve never been involved with anyone since that time?”
He leaned forward, took a drink of the beer and dangled it between his parted knees. “I’ve had a few female friends over the years who I could call when I needed to.”
She suspected more than a few. “Friends with benefits?”
“More benefits than friendship,” he said. “It’s sometimes hard to know who your friends are in this business.”
“And it doesn’t bother you to live like that?”
“Sometimes.” He took a long swig of the beer and set it back down. “But it’s the only life that works for me right now.”
Cammie felt sincerely sad for him, and a little for herself. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I, on the other hand, want more than just casual sex and false friendships.”
He sat quietly for a few moments before he said, “Let’s start over, Cammie.”
“How do you mean?”
“It ain’t going to be easy, but I want to be your friend. I think I need that more than anything right now.”
Now she was really confused. “I’m not sure we’ve ever really been friends.”
“Not true,” he said. “I’ve told you more about my personal life in less than a month than I have with anyone in ten years. I really appreciate that about you.”
She supposed that was something. “I guess we can try.”
He looked genuinely pleased. “That’s all I’m asking.”
And she hoped it wasn’t too much to ask. Even now, if he so much as touched her, she’d forget about friendship for one blissful night in his bed. Yet that would only lead to more hurt and heartbreak.
Fatigue began to set in, sending Cammie off the couch. “Okay, friends it is.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To bed, which is where you should be going. We have to be up early in order to get to San Jose and have enough time to rehearse. I’m still pulling double duty for the next two weeks, remember?”
He stood and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Not so. Bud’s flying in tomorrow morning to take over for you.”
“Since when?” she said around her shock.
“Since he decided you needed a break.”
On one hand, she was glad to have Bud back. On the other, she worried what might happen if he got wind of her extracurricular activities with the star of the show. “Just promise me one thing, Brett.”
“Name it.”
“Don’t let on to Bud about what happened with us. He’ll go ballistic.”
* * *
“WHAT’S THIS I HEAR about you and Brett?”
Cammie had barely boarded the bus before Bud launched in with a question she didn’t care to answer. But if she didn’t say something, he’d only continue to hound her.
After tossing her bag onto the sofa, she returned to the cab, gave him a quick hug and sat in the seat beside him. “It’s nice to see you, too, Bud. How’s the baby?”
He presented a proud-daddy grin. “She wasn’t quite cooked to done, but she was done enough. She’s getting fatter by the day.”
“You make her sound like a Thanksgiving turkey. You should have stayed home the entire month as planned.”
“My mother-in-law came in and I’d had about all the woman talk I could stand,” he said. “Besides, I figured I might be needed more here.”
It had become all too clear why he’d come back early—to police her. “I’m getting by fine, Bud. I could have managed until you got back.”
He rubbed his scruffy chin. “Maybe so, but you still haven’t answered my question about you and Brett.”
She shrugged. “I agreed to sing backup to fill in for Pat, at Pat’s request.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about the singing. Rusty says the two of you really heat up the stage together. I’m wondering if it’s just the stage you’ve been heating up together.”
Cammie hoped her flushed face didn’t give her away. “We’re friends, Bud. That’s it.” That much was true, for now.
“If you say so.” Cammie thought she might be able to escape until he added, “How come you haven’t called home?”
She tried unsuccessfully to tamp down the guilt. “I called Granddad in Vegas. He told me the business is doing well and they have two contracts for college charters during football season.”
“They’re worried you might not come back home.”
No surprise there. “They don’t have to worry about that. This is only a temporary situation. Once the tour’s finished, I’ll be heading back to Memphis and the business.” Funny, that notion didn’t seem all that appealing. Necessary, but not that much fun.
Bud stared out the windshield for a time before he nailed her with a serious stare. “Are you sure nothing’s going on with you and Brett aside from the singing?”
“I’m sure.” She couldn’t have said that a few days ago. “Now can we get on the road?”
“Might be nice if we waited for Brett to get here.”
Cammie glanced back at the closed stateroom door where she thought he might be. “I assumed he was already here.”
“Not yet.”
As if they’d willed his appearance, Brett scaled the stairs and stepped inside, looking freshly showered, clean shaven and extremely sexy, even in black T-shirt and jeans. “One of the tractor trailers blew a tire,” he said. “So it’s going to be at least another hour.”
Bud shut down the bus and shifted toward Brett. “Have you been happy with Cammie’s services?”
If Brett was at all rattled by the question, he didn’t show it. But he did lay a palm on her shoulder. “Cammie’s been great, and you weren’t kidding when you said she could sing.”
From the disapproving look on his face, Bud was clearly bothered by the gesture that seemed fairly intimate. “I’m just glad to know you appreciate her. She deserves that, and your respect.”
“You can count on it.” Brett finally dropped his hand and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going back inside to meet with Tim in the restaurant.”
“Just be sure you’re back when we’re ready to roll,” Bud called after Brett as he left the bus, raising a hand in acknowledgment.
Cammie climbed out of the seat before she had to tolerate more questions. “I’m going to do some laundry while we wait.”
“I’m not done talkin’ yet, Camille.”
Bud’s use of her given name meant this wasn’t going to be good. “What else do you want to know? I brushed my teeth twice a day and ate right, although I did miss my curfew a couple of times. But hey, at twenty-seven, I figure it’s acceptable to stray now and then.”
“How far have you strayed?”
Too far to take it back. �
�Don’t worry, Bud. Your little Cammie’s a big girl and she can take care of herself.”
With that, she headed to the back of the bus before she gave herself away. Yet Bud could probably see through her lies like she was made of cellophane. Could probably see the way she felt about Brett in her eyes alone. If he knew how much she cared about him, he’d escort her off the bus and ask more questions later.
Lucky, lucky Brett. How convenient that he’d made a hasty exit before he’d had to undergo the third degree.
* * *
“WHAT’S GOING ON with you and Cammie?”
Ignoring Tim for the time being, Brett signaled the waitress to refill his coffee, although he’d like a shot of eighty-proof whiskey. “Nothing’s going on, Tim. She’s filling in for Pat.”
“That’s not what your band says.”
Damn the band. “Exactly what does the band say?”
Tim adjusted the purple tie that looked like a noose around his flabby neck. “I hear you’ve gotten pretty cozy with her onstage. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing at all. In fact, it’s a good thing, having a lady with talent like that backing you up. But...”
There was always a but with Tim. “You’re worried she’s going to ruin my rep with the ladies.”
“No. I’m worried what’s going to happen after the tour’s over. Chemistry onstage is one thing, a serious relationship offstage is another.”
Brett smiled at the waitress as she poured the coffee. “Thanks.”
She grinned like a kid when she backed away. “Yes, sir, Mr. Taylor.”
Tim pointed at the woman’s back. “That’s what I mean. We need to keep that adoration going. No need to mess it up with you going off and getting married again.”
Married? Where the hell did that come from? “I promise you I’m not getting married in the foreseeable future, if ever. And as far as Cammie’s concerned, once we’re done with the tour, that’s the end of it. She’s going home and so am I. We’ll probably never see each other again.” That reality hit him with a force he didn’t expect, right in the heart.
Tim leaned forward and dumped half a canister of sugar in his coffee. “I’ve been meaning to talk you about that very thing. How do you feel about Cammie going into the studio and backing you up on a couple of tracks?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said. “She’ll never agree to it.”
“She might if you asked her nicely. I see a future for that little gal, and I’d be glad to manage her. She could even open for you and then we’d have men coming to see her and women coming to see you. Best of both worlds.”
Brett didn’t like the thought of men lusting after Cammie, nor did he like to think of her thrust into a life that she admittedly didn’t want. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Tim. First, she has no intention of breaking into the music scene. Second, she’s too good for it.” Just like she was too good for him.
Tim sat back and rimmed the cup with a bulky thumb. “You should ask her just to be sure.”
He could ask, but he already knew the answer—no. “I need to go before Bud takes off without me.”
“One more thing,” Tim said. “Don’t forget the studio’s sending a crew to Seattle to shoot the rest of the video for the next single.”
Just what he needed, something else to do. “Fine. Any idea what they have in mind?”
“They mentioned they don’t want good ol’ Texas boy and they don’t want the band. They want sexy with you and a woman. They’re holding casting calls for prospective actresses to play opposite you.” Tim released a gruff, seedy laugh. “I’d pay to have that job.”
Great. He’d be expected get personal with a perfect stranger. Not that he hadn’t done it before, and not only in front of a camera. “Let me know the details so I have some time to prepare. And tell them to pick someone who’s older than twenty and isn’t texting her damn boyfriend all the time like the last one.”
“I don’t know what you’re bitching about. A lot of men would give their right eye to make out with a sweet young thing.”
“It’s not as easy as you think,” he said. “It’s kind of hard to generate chemistry with someone you met two minutes before you step on set.”
“I’ll do what I can, but it’s not up to me. You’ll just have to live with what they give you.”
Something suddenly occurred to Brett. A great idea. “I want Cammie in the video.” That would guarantee some hefty chemistry.
Tim shook his head. “They’re pretty strict about who they use, Brett.”
“Make it happen, and I’ll try to talk her into cutting the track with me.” And the devil could be living in a deep freeze before he convinced her to take on either project. He’d have to pull out all the stops to persuade her.
“I guess it could work,” Tim said. “She’s a good-lookin’ woman and real sexy.”
Didn’t he know it. He’d have no trouble making a video with Cammie and pretending he wanted to make love to her. Only he wouldn’t be pretending.
Brett pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m going to do my best to get her to agree, but just so you know, she could shoot me down.”
“Or she might surprise you and say yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“NO WAY.”
“Come on, Cammie. It’s not a big deal.”
Being immortalized in a video was a huge deal. “Oh, look. You can see the Golden Gate Bridge from here.”
“Sweetheart, pointing out the sights isn’t going to keep me from trying to talk you into this.”
She turned from the hotel window so Brett could see exactly how little she welcomed this ridiculous suggestion. “I don’t know the first thing about making a video, much less acting in one.”
He brought out his best sexy look, the one that would make her crawl over hot coals to get to him. “You just follow the director’s instructions and take it from there.”
He made it sound so simple. Too simple. “I’ll let you know when we get to Seattle.”
His smile faded out of sight. “I need your answer by tomorrow. If you won’t do it, they’ll be forced to find some tall, leggy blonde to rub up against me all day.”
He’d stooped to an all-time low with that argument, and she did have to admit thinking about Brett wrapped up with some nubile actress could easily sway her to his side. If she let it. “Good. I hope you have a marvelous time with the blonde and the mutual rubbing.”
“I don’t want anyone but you,” he said. “Besides, it’s for ‘When You Know It’s Real,’ and no one knows that song better than you do aside from me.”
The song they’d sung together every night. Their special song. “Would I be expected to sing?”
“No. They’ll play the studio track during the shoot, so the audio won’t be an issue. We just have to act like we want each other.”
That wouldn’t take a whole lot of effort. And that in itself seemed dicey. The friend thing had been going so well, she didn’t want to mess it up. For the past two days, they’d done nothing more than share meals and talk and rehearse on the bus. No touching. No hanky-panky. No sneaking off into the stateroom to hide from Bud and make good use of Brett’s big bed. Not that she hadn’t imagined doing that very thing.
“Will you just think about it?” he asked.
“Fine. I’ll think about it.” And then she’d give him another emphatic “no.” Right now she was curious about the box Brett had been sorti
ng through when he summoned her to his room.
She brushed past him, claimed a seat at the table and took inventory of the items strewn over the glass top—a folded piece of paper and several guitar picks. “What is all this?”
He pulled back a chair, turned it around and straddled it backward. “It’s some stuff Pat sent me.” He held up the yellowed paper. “This is the first song we wrote together on the bus. I didn’t know he’d kept it. Never realized Pat was so damn sentimental about things.”
“What about the guitar picks?”
Brett picked up a black plastic triangle and studied it. “Pat stole them from the bands we opened for, and eventually performers who’ve opened for us. He liked the challenge of taking them without getting caught.”
Very weird. “Wouldn’t they have just given him one if he asked?”
“It’s all a part of the game. All done in fun with no harm intended. It’s what makes everyone a part of the family.”
A somewhat dysfunctional family. Cammie gestured toward the cardboard container. “Can I look?” she asked tentatively, not wanting to intrude.
“Sure.” After he shoved the box in her direction, she removed a medallion dangling from a silver chain.
Brett slowly pulled the pendant from Cammie’s grasp. “Pat liked the idea of a saint watching over us while we traveled. He swore it kept him safe for the twenty-odd years he owned it. He told me on the phone the other day that he wanted me to have all of it for luck.”
“You spoke to him?”
He dropped the medallion back into the box. “Yeah. I called him after this came. I thanked him and I apologized for being an ass the day he left.”
She was go glad he’d put away his pride. “Good. I’m sure he appreciated it, especially the apology.”
Brett’s gaze drifted back to the box. “I remember the first day I met him. Pat was between bands and decided to audition. After he finished, he looked me over and said, ‘Damn, you’re nothing but a pup. Here’s another one I’ll have to raise.’ He was so freakin’ confident I was going to hire him. And I did. Been a fool not to.”
