I was surprised at first by the answer, but there was truth in it. Hell, until the past few days, I’d been one of those people and even now I didn’t pretend to know her well at all. “If they got to know you, they would find lots to love.”
“I wonder.” She leaned against the window and sighed. “Getting to know someone means looking beyond the image and taking the good with the bad—including the ugly secrets.”
I couldn’t disagree with her. “I guess you’re right, but that’s true even if you aren’t famous. How often does anyone really let others see the deepest, darkest parts of their life?” I thought of all the reporters—and one in particular—who circled her like vultures. I turned to face her in the darkened truck cab. “We all have secrets.”
She sighed and laughed softly. “Ignore me. I’m just tired.”
I tried to see her in the gloom of the truck; something in her voice sounded off to me, like she carrying something heavy. I didn’t have the right to pry and I guessed that she wouldn’t tell me even if I asked. Why should she?
“Well, I’ve gotten to know you a little and I like what I see.”
I watched Kit, noting how she nervously bit her bottom lip—a move I found entirely adorable. And sexy. She was about to bolt, and I knew this might be my one chance.
Needing to touch her again, I moved closer, pressing my body against her and nudging her back against the seat of the truck. I rested my arms on either side of her tiny frame as she tipped her head back to look into my eyes. Her hands drifted up to rest on my chest, her fingers alternately clenching my t–shirt and petting my chest.
My body jolted with the electric shock from where we connected and, just like that, I was right there. Hard as rock and dying for her. In the silent cocoon of my truck, I leaned in close, touching our foreheads together, listening to each other breathe as the seconds ticked by.
Tracing lazy circles along the soft skin of her breast exposed at the top edge of her tank top, I murmured, “I want to fuck you and I think you want me to.”
“I do.” She laughed softly when I paused. “What? You expected me to play it another way? I don’t do games, Max.”
“You shocked me a little,” I admitted.
“My work life is full of games. Half–truths and strategy. I don’t want that in my bed.”
Jesus. She was me. Without a penis. Thank God.
“What do you want in your bed?” I leaned in to bury my face in her hair, the warmth of her skin against my cheek and her sweet scent surrounding me.
“You. For three weeks,” she murmured, arching her neck when I began pressing a series of soft kisses on her skin. She was melting under me, her body heating up with the fire we had growing between us. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I’m three weeks away from the most important tour of my life and I shouldn’t be thinking of anything except work.”
“But…” I lifted my head to look at her, needing her to say the words to seal the deal.
“I want you and I plan on having you. A lot.”
“Any way you want me. Any time. I live to serve.”
“Good.”
I leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her lips. When her lips opened slightly, I slipped my tongue inside and leisurely explored her mouth. It was like I had the key to unlock her. She opened up under me, her legs spreading to accommodate me as much as possible in the front seat of my truck. I could take her here. Peel off her jeans and panties and slide in where she was hot, wet, and tight. It would be a fast and hard fuck that would take the edge off and then we could head back to my place.
I broke off the kiss to lay out my plan of action when my phone went off.
Fuck me.
It was the ringtone for the department and I knew I had to answer it. My chances for getting lucky tonight were about as good as winning the actual lottery.
I picked it up and accepted the call. “Yeah?”
Dispatch told me exactly what I didn’t want to hear with a hot willing woman in my truck. My plans for Kit Landry were going to have to wait. I hung up and moved back behind the wheel.
I looked over at her and wished I hadn’t. A tousled Kit, lips wet from our kisses, her tits on display under that tiny tank top was not a vision I wanted to trade for sweaty guys, smelly fire gear, smoke and flames. “I’m not on duty, but I’m secondary and they need all hands who are fit for duty to report.”
“That’s cool. You’ve got to go.” She leaned over and kissed me, her hand trailing down my chest to settle on my cock. She stroked me lightly, making my eyes cross with the pleasure of it. I felt like fucking Superman when I managed to keep my hands on the wheel and off her. “We’ve got three weeks. I’m not going anywhere.”
And at that moment, I wondered if I’d gotten in over my head with Kit Landry.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kit
“He offered to do what?”
I settled back into the chair and glanced around the open, utilitarian warehouse space the label had provided for rehearsals of my upcoming tour. I took a sip of my coffee as Bridget worked through her emotions. I wasn’t surprised. My band, my friends and companions for the past five years, stuck by me through the ups and the downs of my crazy career and they worried about me—especially after the train wreck my life had been just a year ago. But Bridget had sat right by me through the whole thing, never once breaking eye contact or dumping me.
I’d been cruel to her at times—coming down from the alcohol and pills hadn’t brought out the best in me. She’d taken it like a champ, called me out like a true friend, and forgiven me when I asked for it. She was my sister, my secret keeper, my most trusted companion and she wasn’t on board the Max train. Not even a little bit.
Bridget was now looking at me with expectation, so I took a deep breath and plunged right in. “I went over to the fire station to take the photos, t–shirts, and tickets and then he asked me out. We had a good time and then… one thing led to another. ”
“Okay, I got it. He’s the reason you disappeared the other night.” She took a big gulp of her coffee and pointed at me across the table. “Get to the point where he offered the sex.”
“Keep your voice down!” I glanced around the rehearsal space, noting with relief that none of my band mates seemed to have overheard this particular conversation. “He didn’t offer the sex until I asked for it.”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better.”
“Bridget, it wasn’t like that.” I thought about how to ease her mind and explain my reasons for this. “He makes me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. With Max, I feel like ‘Kit the woman’ and not like…”
“’Kit the merchandise’. ‘Kit the paycheck’.”
“Exactly.” I pulled my hair off my face and into a scrunchie on top of my head.
“He sleeps with a lot of women,” she mumbled, suddenly engrossed in the design of her Starbucks cup.
I gave her the hairy eyeball. “Did you check up on him?”
“Ron had your security team do the usual checks. He’s a good firefighter on the job, but he’s run into some trouble in his personal life.”
“Like what?” I instantly regretted asking. This felt invasive. Unfair. Max and I weren’t about details. And if I was looking for any semblance of a normal thing with him, I shouldn’t act like a paranoid celebrity.
“He’s got a hot temper. Won’t back down from a fight but he doesn’t seem to go looking for them.” She paused and I knew the next fact was a whammy. “And he slept with the Fire Department Chief’s niece…”
“Was she legal? Married?”
“… in the maintenance closet at the department Christmas party.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t funny but I couldn’t help the chuckle that spilled out. “Not a career–enhancing moment.”
From the look on her face, it was clear that Bridget didn’t find this as funny as I did. What did I care about who he’d slept with before me? His past wasn’t any more my business
than mine was his. Although, to find out about mine all he had to do was Google me or follow the hashtag #dumbassdecisionsaboutmen on Twitter.
“What the hell, Bridget? You told me to do this.”
“Honey, I know I told you to jump his bones, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it. You never do what I tell you to do. You want something more in your life than tour buses and hotel rooms and I totally get that, but this guy—he could just be using you. He could sell his story to the tabloids and ruin all your hard work. The label would not be happy with another scandal.”
I thought about my life. I’d given up a lot in the pursuit of my career and taking care of my responsibilities. Then I’d fucked the whole thing up when I’d missed concerts and album deadlines because Jake had broken my heart. I understood it now. I knew where the feeling of no control came from, why I’d spent a year watching myself do all the things I did from a distance in my head. In fact, everyone had been briefed by my doctor on why I’d lost it—but emotional breakdowns weren’t an acceptable excuse in the music business. Unless they increased your digital download sales.
The label was giving me one last chance to prove that I was still a good investment, and I couldn’t afford to blow it. Some of the label management was looking for any excuse to drop my contract and they were all watching me like a hawk. Even at my young age, I wasn’t the newest thing to hit this town and I could feel the hot breath of all the new arrivals on the back of my neck.
My head was telling me stay away from Max—but the way he made me feel was addictive. With him, I felt like I could be myself because that was who he really wanted and this wasn’t going to last beyond this brief period in time.
“I’m in a good place. I’m taking care of myself and following the diet and exercise plan put together by the nutritionist. We’ve built in lots of down time on the tour…”
I looked around to see if anyone else was close by. Bridget was one of the few people who knew why I’d really gone into rehab and that secret would be a gold mine for any reporter who got their hands on it. The label and my management team had told us that market tests showed that “alcoholism trended better than crazy”.
Their words. Not mine.
So, I'd come out as a drunk—which wasn’t a total lie because I’d had a drinking problem. But my reaction had been extreme because I was I was also hypomanic—bipolar disorder’s manageable, but lesser known, little sister. I understood why it was necessary to pick the more marketable of my personal defects, but it didn’t mean that I was thrilled with adding yet another secret skeleton to the pile in my closet.
I was tired of the lies. I was tired of an image that was put on me five years ago. I was ready and strong enough to make the change. If the fans followed—that was great. If they didn’t, I would change my course as necessary.
“I’ve got my illness under control. I respect it and I’m on program.”
“I know you are,” Bridget said and I didn’t miss the worry in her tone. I had scared the shit out of her for a long time and she was still waiting for the other stiletto to drop.
My mother had suffered terribly from bipolar disorder. Actually, we’d all suffered—living with someone suffering from that illness and going untreated was a living hell. And it was hereditary. It had been somewhat inevitable that I was going to have to deal with some emotional issues, but I’d been as shocked as anyone to find out that my mood swings, alcoholic binging, and the disruptive behavior were due to my hypomania. I was learning to live with it, forging ahead, and that meant enjoying every aspect of my life.
“I love what I do and you know how important it is for me to provide for the people I love. But, I’ve pushed aside having anything for myself for a long time. Not since Jake have I…” I faltered. I wasn’t a good enough liar to say that it still didn’t get to me. He’d stomped on my heart big time and, even though it had scarred over, it never quite pumped the same again. “Max is here and I want this now.”
“We hit the road in three weeks.”
“Yeah, we do; and when we go, this fling will end.”
“What about finding someone to have a real relationship with?”
“I want that. And I will have it, but we both know now is not the time.”
“Look, Kit.” Bridget lowered her voice to prevent anyone overhearing. “Your illness isn’t the only thing you need to keep under wraps. Are you sure this is the right time to bring someone new into your life? Someone you need to trust not to play ‘kiss and tell’?”
She was so right; I had no argument. I could count on one hand the number of people who knew my mother wasn’t dead, but living at the Shady Grove Assisted Living home. Years of drug use and drinking due to her mental illness had fried her brain—literally. Now, she lived quite happily with private nursing care in her world of dolls, crayons, and everything a young child would enjoy. Some days she knew who I was, and other days something would trigger a mania and she would slip into the peace the sedative injection would grant her.
I was a young, poor, and hungry kid when I agreed to the lie of her death and that was my only excuse. They agreed to move her out of the state home and I signed the confidentiality agreement. Back then, I’d had no idea how much the secrets and lies would weigh on me and there wasn’t a day when I didn’t want to go back in time and say no. No matter who came into my life, I was lying to them from day one and that fact always stood in between. Jake had told me that I kept my heart locked up in a room with no door and that, no matter what he did, he was never going to be able to get in. It was why I had fought for him when he left. He was right.
I plopped my head down on the table in frustration. Just yesterday, a blogger had printed the news that the fire in the studio was deemed “suspicious” by the NFD. The information would have eventually been made public, but the article also disclosed the details of the meeting with the label reps and my management, including the fact that I’d been questioned about anyone in my life who would want to hurt me. It was clear that the leak was on the inside and the label was furious.
Hell, I was furious. Whoever it was better hope that someone else got to them before I did.
On some level, I knew Bridget was right. I didn’t know Max and I had all this crazy shit going on. I had secrets. Big ones. Now was not the time to start expanding my circle of friends—but I wanted Max. And something about him told me that I could trust him.
You want to trust him.
This year of celibacy wasn’t by choice. No one had tempted me enough to take the chance of having someone turn on me and spill it to the press.
Background checks really killed the mood.
My head still on the tabletop, I mumbled, “I just want to have sex. Good sex. Up–all–night–sex.”
Bridget lifted my hair from where it hid my face, her eyes filled with genuine concern. “Take a breath. Slow down to your usual pace of slower–than–molasses and think about this.” Her face lit up with her next idea. “Call Paul!”
No way was I calling Paul. He’d retired from being my manager and I’d bothered him enough during the Jake fiasco. Paul had left his beautiful ranch and come to me when I’d hit the bottom, checked me into rehab and made sure I was fit to face the public again. No, I couldn’t bother him with this.
“We have a lot to do before the tour starts.”
I jumped at the sound of Ron Harris’ voice just over my shoulder and I hoped to God he hadn’t heard what we were talking about. The last thing I wanted to discuss with him was sex. Looking up, I groaned at the pile of documents in his hands. Ron was an excellent manager. He organized, planned, and coordinated like the professional that he was, and I knew my recent revival was due in no small part to his hard work on my behalf.
Lately, though, we’d had quite a few differences of opinion and it had strained our relationship. Ron wanted me to take on more projects and tour longer and farther. He wanted me to record the same kind of music I’d put on my last album. I wanted a little breath
ing room to explore other options both in my personal and professional life. I wanted to go with the music that had poured out of me since I’d walked through the fire and survived.
Clearly, we needed to talk.
Ron plopped down the tour itinerary on the table and what looked like four million promotional photos for my signature. “We need to discuss some stuff. We have a few new requests for appearances, and the label…”
I cut him off. “Ron, I don’t want to add any more appearances to the next three weeks. The band needs to spend some time with their families and I want a little time for myself.”
Ron stared me like I’d sprouted a third eye. “Are you kidding me? You can take time later when you can only get booked at Branson.”
Bridget flipped through the papers Ron had placed in front of her. “Australia? New Zealand? A Christmas special? Ron, you really need to loosen up. Kit has to take care of her health, pace herself.”
He stopped her with a hand in her face and Bridget looked like she wanted to bite him. I would have paid to see that.
“Look, in the three years since I’ve taken over Kit’s management, she’s tripled her income and is now one of the most recognized faces in country music. In spite of her lapses, her smaller arena shows are selling out in a matter of hours and her face is on at least one magazine cover every month. Give me another year and follow my plan, and you’ll be back to headlining at the largest concert venues in the country.”
“All this,” Bridget gestured towards the papers on the table, “doesn’t have to happen in the next three weeks. Kit wants a little space…”
He interrupted in a voice loud enough to make surrounding conversations come to a halt. “Kit doesn’t know what she wants.”
Enough was enough.
“Stop!” Silence descended as I took control of the situation. I focused first on Bridget. “I really appreciate you looking out for me, but let me handle this, okay?” Bridget nodded and I turned to Ron.
“I appreciate you keeping my career afloat when I was sick, but I’m back now and I call the shots. I love your ideas, your enthusiasm, but you can’t make plans without asking me. You need to get a life. I don’t have one and I know you don’t because you’re usually with me.”
Temptation Page 6
