by Kristi Gold
After wiping her damp hands on a towel, she joined him on the sofa and crossed her legs before her. “What’s on your mind?”
He streaked one hand through his hair. “I have something I need to ask you but I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”
He sounded so blasted serious she wasn’t sure, either. “Just ask.”
Leaning forward, he laced his hands together, forearms resting on his thighs, and focused on the floor beneath his boots. “Tim wants you to cut a track with me for the new CD.”
Every dream she’d ever possessed told her to say yes. Every instinct told her to say no. She answered with a question. “Why?”
“Because he says you’re too good a prospect to pass up. He has this idea that he’s going to manage you and build your career.”
“He’s making a huge assumption that I actually want a singing career. I don’t.” She couldn’t let herself want it. “I have to consider the family business. My grandfather’s not getting any younger, which he mentioned on the phone yesterday. He’s terrified I’m going to get caught up in the jaws of the music-industry machine.”
Brett looked totally perplexed. “Do you plan to drive buses the rest of your life?”
Not willingly. “I owe my grandparents that much.”
“And you don’t owe yourself a chance to have a shot at a music career.” He posed the statement as a comment, not a question.
She realized how it all sounded—that she was willing to settle, at least when it came to a career. As far as her personal life went, just the opposite. “Call me old-fashioned, but I eventually want marriage and kids, hopefully before I turn thirty in three years.” When she noticed the alarm in his eyes, she added, “Don’t worry, Brett. I know we don’t want the same things.”
He seemed to consider that for a moment before he stared at her dead-on. “You’d really ignore once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for an ordinary life?”
She surely wasn’t surprised he’d feel that way. “Maybe it’s hard for you to fathom, but having a family means a lot to me. Fame and fortune doesn’t.”
“I get that,” he said, although Cammie doubted he did. “Why don’t you come to Nashville and at least tour the studio, see what it’s all about?”
She sighed. “It wouldn’t matter, Brett. Songwriting is the only part of the music scene I’d be interested in pursuing. But everyone knows how hard it is to break in.”
“Not if you have connections.”
She refused to use those connections—namely him. “I want to do it on my own, if I do it at all. At the moment I don’t have anything that would interest anyone.”
“You have that song you’ve been working on.”
The song hadn’t come up since the day he’d heard her sing it. “Why on earth would you believe someone would want to record it?”
“Because it’s good,” he said. “Real good.”
“I think you’re crazy.”
He smiled and touched her face lightly, yet it weighed heavy on her heart. “You know I am, but that doesn’t mean your song’s dead in the water. If you’ll let me see it again and maybe make a few suggestions, I’ll give you an honest opinion.”
She saw no real harm in letting him take a look. “Okay. But I’m warning you, it’s a hopeless cause.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Go get it.”
“Now?”
“Yep.”
After unfolding her legs, she slid off the sofa to retrieve the weathered spiral from the cabinet above the flat-panel TV. When she turned around, she discovered Brett sporting an amused expression. She’d been caught red-handed engaging in covert activity with a ring binder.
“Have you been hiding it from me?” he asked.
He was too intuitive for her own good. “Hiding it from me, actually. There are a lot of memories in these pages. I think I just wanted to forget everything for the time being. But if you have anything to contribute, have at it.”
She leaned back against the counter and watched him open the notebook to the dog-eared page containing her most recent effort. When he scanned the text, closed the book and fell silent, Cammie collapsed onto the sofa. “Don’t just sit there and leave me in suspense.”
“I was right,” he said. “It’s good.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I’ve been lying to you,” he said, again failing to make eye contact.
Figured. “The song sucks.”
He refused to look at her directly. “This isn’t about the song. It’s about me. About us.”
She feared she knew what that might entail. “Just spill it, Brett. I can take it, whatever it is.”
“Tim isn’t the only one who wants you to come to Nashville,” he said. “I want you there, and I want you to stay with me.”
She hadn’t let herself hope that he’d propose seeing each other after the tour was over. Granted, she could be reading too much into it. “Define ‘stay with you.’”
Brett finally made eye contact, yet his expression didn’t provide one clue as to what he was thinking. “I have a big house and a big pool and a big bed. Or you could have your own room. I have three more.”
Maybe he just wanted his temporary bus driver to fill in as a temporary bed buddy. “I still don’t understand your motives.”
“I’m ready to try and see how we work outside of this atmosphere, Cammie,” he said. “I really like being around you. Hell, I like being around me. I couldn’t say that before we met.”
She was flattered by his comments, thrilled that he wanted to pursue a relationship, but not too stupid to stay cautious. “Yes, things have changed with you and between us, in a good way. It’s pretty remarkable. But I wonder how long that would last and how much time you’re going to give us. Do I plan to stay a few days or weeks, or until you decide you’re done with me because you’re afraid to get too close?”
“I want you there for as long as it takes to explore what we have together. I want us to be a...you know.”
She almost laughed at his obvious discomfort, but she didn’t find his hesitancy all that funny. “A couple?”
“Yeah. We can do things normal couples do. Go out on dates, that kind of thing. Get to know each other better.”
“I assume you mean inside and out of bed.”
She could swear he was starting to sweat. “Well, yeah. I figure if we’re going to do it, we should go all in.”
Cammie would love to go all in—emotionally and intimately—but she feared the possible repercussions to her heart. “Can you really give up your freedom and your other female friends?”
That brought about his frown. “There hasn’t been anyone else but you since you came on board.”
“Not that I’m aware of.” She sounded like a suspicious girlfriend.
He left the couch and leaned back against the counter as she had. “I was with you almost every day until at least midnight.”
“That still leaves seven or eight hours during the day.”
“So what do you want from me exactly, Cammie? A promise ring?”
“A promise that you can be faithful to one woman.”
“As long as that woman’s you.”
“And you’ll talk to me if we hit a rough patch instead of running away?”
He looked a little hesitant, the ever-present uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m pretty screwed up in that department. Truth is, I used Pat’s departure as an excuse to stay away from you. I figured if I gave
you a tough time, you’d eventually realize I’m not worth the effort.”
She smiled at his insight. “You’ve been subconsciously putting me through a test to see if I’m going to give up on you. And guess what?”
“You’re still here, taking what I throw at you. But from this point forward, I promise I’ll do whatever it takes not to disappoint you.”
Soul-baring was so unlike Brett, and so, so welcome. Still... “To be perfectly honest, I’m scared.” Scared of shattering into a million little pieces if he rejected her again and then never being able to put her heart back together.
“I’m willing to take the chance. Question is, are you?”
Was she? “It’s a huge step, Brett. I’ve never lived with anyone aside from family, but I know it’s not always a picnic.”
“I know,” he said. “But we won’t know until we try.”
“True.”
He pushed away from the counter and rejoined her on the sofa. “You don’t have to decide right now. We still have a couple of days and a few hundred miles to go.”
Even that didn’t seem like nearly enough time to make such a monumental decision. “Okay. I’ll definitely give it some serious thought. Right now I’m going to finish cleaning the kitchen.”
She returned to the sink and began to wash and weigh the pros and cons. She had so many things to consider—namely her grandparents’ reaction. She couldn’t just leave them high and dry to pursue a relationship that might not last. But she couldn’t keep letting their needs take precedence over her own unless she wanted to remain at a stalemate. And she thought about Bud’s reaction if he learned she’d been lying to him about her real relationship with Brett—that was unthinkable.
When Brett’s arm came around her, a mug gripped in one hand, his other resting on her hip, she momentarily stopped thinking. “You forgot this.”
She hadn’t forgotten how good it felt to have him so close. “Thanks.”
“Can I do anything else for you?”
She thought of several things, none involving dishwashing. “Not that I can think of at the moment.”
When she felt him push her hair aside, she froze. When Brett’s warm lips drifted over the back of her neck, she darn near quit breathing. “What are you doing?”
“Just trying to show you what you’d be missing if you turn me down.”
A little more of that, and she’d probably agree to anything—to a point. “Are you having some sort of domestic goddess fantasy? Because if that’s the case, and you want me to come home with you to do your dishes, the answer is no.”
“I have a housekeeper.” He traced his tongue along the shell of her ear, sending a series of chills down her spine and a surge of heat elsewhere. “But I have to admit, watching you do the dishes turns me on. Watching you do anything turns me on.”
Pretending to ignore him, she took another glass from the counter and began to wash it. “Do you plan to seduce me senseless until I agree?”
“Is that a problem?”
“If that’s the only reason you want me to come home with you, then yes, it is.”
He took her by the shoulders and turned her around, a hint of anger in his eyes. “I live in a world where sex is as readily available as cell phones. If I wanted to screw a different girl every night, I only have to tell a roadie to scour the crowd and find me a willing woman, and there are plenty out there. I don’t have to give her roses or tell her the details of my sorry past to get her into bed, only the promise of a good time. I sure as hell don’t have to invite her to my house. So if you think that’s all I want from you, think again.”
He’d definitely put it in perspective, and she felt somewhat ashamed over her assumption. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, but I do owe you an explanation. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been killing me not to touch you. Sometimes I want you so bad it hurts like hell, and it’s not just about sex. So I’m sorry if you still feel that way. I just wish I knew how to convince you that what I want from you is something I haven’t wanted since my marriage ended.”
She reached up and rested her hand on his jaw. “I’m convinced. Now kiss me.”
The minute his lips touched hers, she ignored the warring emotions, the fleeting fear of being totally powerless in his arms. She didn’t notice the lights of passing vehicles filtering through the shades, or the occasional jolt beneath their feet. She was too lost in wanting him, too keyed up with anticipation. She was only mildly aware that the counter’s edge bit into her lower back, and very aware of the proof that Brett wanted her when he pressed against her.
He broke the kiss and framed her face in his palms. “Every night when I go to bed alone, all I can think about is you. I think about making love to you, and only you, every minute of every day. I swear, Cammie, I’d lay you down right here, but...”
“But what?” It sounded like a fantastic idea to her.
Brett released her and stepped back. “You’re going to have to come to me this time. That’s the only way I’ll know you’re sure.”
He walked away, leaving her with a desire that transcended anything she’d felt before in her life.
Cammie turned on the faucet and dabbed some water on her face, then made her way to the berth where she found Brett stretched out on his back, a forearm covering his eyes. And bunched on the floor next to the small bed—his shirt, jeans and shorts.
The thought of him naked underneath the covers was almost her undoing. But she remained motionless, hovering over him, waiting until he acknowledged her presence.
When he didn’t, she sighed. “I’m here.”
“So am I. It’s your move.”
He seemed so sure she’d crawl all over him at that moment, and although she truly wanted to, she decided to make him wait and wonder.
She walked into the stateroom, closed the door behind her and leaned against it for support. If she had any sense, she’d make him suffer another day. Okay, maybe another hour. At least a few more minutes...
* * *
WELL, HELL.
Brett rolled onto his side and tried to get comfortable, but he couldn’t find a satisfactory position that didn’t add to his misery. He should’ve left well alone following the conversation. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He had no one to blame but himself. He could have carried her into his bed right then, before she had a chance to change her mind. But he’d been determined to allow her to take the next step. Apparently she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Literally.
Brett’s entire body tensed when he heard the door reopen. He didn’t dare look up...or hope too much. He remained still as stone until he heard the overhead light click off, sending the compartment into darkness. But when she tugged the sheet away and the narrow mattress bent, he could barely stay still.
As she squeezed in beside him, it didn’t take him long to figure out she wasn’t wearing a stitch. And even though the bed was barely adequate for a man his size, it took no time at all for them to find a comfortable position—her leg draped over his bare thigh, her head resting on his chest and her fingertips coming dangerously close to the end of his tattoo.
Somehow, someway, he had a moment of clarity. “We need to go into the room in case Bud decides to check on us during a fuel stop.”
She planted a kiss on his neck. “The divider’s closed.”
“He can still open it from the other side.”
When she planted another kiss low on his
belly, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to move except to maybe pole vault off the bed. “It’s kind of a thrill knowing we could get caught,” she said.
For her maybe. “He’ll kill me and spare you. Plus the condoms—”
“Are on the floor beside us.”
Damn, she’d thought of everything—up to this point. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to my bed? Seriously, Bud’s going to be really pissed if he finds us here. I can handle him, but I’m worried about you.”
She raked her nails down his thigh, coming awfully close to Joe. “I’m not going anywhere for the time being. That is, if you still want me.”
“Oh, yeah. Me and Joe need you real bad right now.”
She laid her hand on his chest and pressed her fingertips against his pounding heart. “But will you ever need me with this?”
I already do...
The thought exploded inside his brain with the force of a grenade. He didn’t know exactly when it had happened, but he’d fallen lock, stock and barrel in love with her. He wanted to tell her, but the words wouldn’t come. “I’m learning, Cammie. Just give me a little more time.”
“That’s all I need to know.”
She took the lead then, rolling on the condom with unexpected ease, although he could tell her hands were shaking. But she wasn’t so nervous that she showed the least bit of hesitation when she moved on top of him and guided him inside her. He didn’t know how he’d gone so long without this, without her.
She rocked back and forth to an erotic beat in sync with the motion of the bus. He touched her without mercy, brought her closer and closer to a climax. He heard the catch of breath in her throat and the soft moan as she swayed above him, letting him know she was almost there. With one more stroke, she softly cried out, and that led to his downfall. He shook with the force of his own climax and after it finally subsided, he experienced the emotions that before could only be found in his songs.
Just the way she said his name meant more to him than a thousand triumphs on stage. The way she accepted him, flaws and all, meant more than a hundred top-ten hits. He held her tighter, but he couldn’t seem to get close enough even though they were as close as two people could be.
