Temptation

by Robin Covington

  “Good.” She sounded inordinately pleased with herself and then confused. “So, what does that mean exactly?”

  Maybe Ashley hadn’t explained everything to Mom.

  “It means that it’s… umm… casual.”

  “I see.” Her voice was slightly disapproving.

  I waited and occupied myself by watching the bees buzz around the honeysuckle on the fence. I knew this trickMy mom would sit quietly and patiently wait for her victim to cave in under the weight of the silence and spill the beans.

  Oh, hell.

  “Mom, we’re just hanging out until she goes on her tour. Well, we were. It’s no big deal.” How could I explain this? And why wasn’t I telling her that Kit kicked me to the curb? She’d said it was over but I wasn’t ready for her to end our time together. “Kit works too hard and she’s got no one to take care of her. We started just to give her a break, to have some fun, that’s all.”

  My mom turned and nailed me with her cool, gray eyes. “Max. What are you doing?”

  “I just told you.”

  She shook her head slowly. “You just told me you care about this girl enough to notice that she needs someone to take care of her.” She stopped me when I tried to interrupt. “It doesn’t surprise me that you stepped in to try to help, but I am surprised you picked her.”

  “Mom. We’re spending some time together. End of story.” I needed to make this clear. “This was never going to be anything more than these three weeks. Our worlds wouldn’t work together.”

  “Here we go again.” she sighed, and set her beer bottle on the deck with a loud clunk.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Ever since Sarah died, you’ve divided up your life into these tiny little compartments. Work. This house. Sex.” She smiled at the look of surprise on my face. “I’m your mother; I’m not deaf, dumb, or blind.”

  “Mom.”

  “Don’t ‘Mom’ me.”

  Her voice had that scary “don’t mess with me or you’re grounded” tone, so I shut up and let her finish.

  “Sarah cheated on you and then she died and you never got the chance to come to terms with what happened. No one blames you for having lots of ‘friends’.” She gently smoothed back my hair from my face. “But you can’t expect to live like this forever to protect your heart.”

  I ducked out from under her touch and away from her piercing gaze. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Big surprise. You’ve never been a talker—so be a listener.” She chuckled lightly and patted my knee. “Some of the best things in life are the ones you don’t see coming.”

  Smiling, my mom stood up and handed me her beer, leaned over to kiss me on the cheek and walked down the steps. She got to her car and paused, shouting across the yard, “Call your dad. He wants to know if you kicked Bobby’s ass. He’s always hated that guy.”

  I laughed, lifting my bottle as she drove away. Leave it to my mom to come by, bust my balls, and get me thinking about shit I did not want to think about. Like Sarah, relationships, and Kit Landry.

  The last few hours had been a nightmare—worse for her. The thing with Kit had been going along fine and now it was a mess. And while I’d normally be out of here with all the crap happening, I wasn’t headed for the door even though she’d opened it up and told me to find my way out.

  What the hell was I doing?

  I knew what.

  Kit was amazing. She was easy to talk to, to laugh with, and she was the hottest little firecracker I’d ever had in bed. I was only signed up for a three-week gig and I was already dreading the day when she would no longer be part of my life.

  I wanted my three weeks. After that? I had no clue.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kit

  You know it’s a bad day when the main evidence in a lawsuit is a picture of you giving a guy a blowjob.

  I exited the judge’s chambers with my full entourage behind me—Ron, Bridget, my attorney, and my bodyguard. In spite of what the public thought, my life was more late night drive–thrus than red carpets but I was glad for the perks today as we headed out the back of the Federal Courthouse and avoided any press in the front.

  I settled into the backseat of the black Suburban, kicking off my heels as I sank down into the leather seat. I leaned back and closed my eyes, wishing I could take the day off but I only had time for a quick nap, rehearsal, and then a late flight to New York City for several promo appearances.

  “Well, I’m glad the judge ruled in our favor,” Bridget said.

  “Judge Fairfax is known to be fair and sympathetic to violation of privacy cases,” my attorney, Patrick Sweeney, commented while he checked the messages on his cell phone. “The Daily Scoop has to destroy the photographs and they cannot print that story, but they can still run one about your love triangle with Max and Tyler.”

  “I’m not involved with Tyler,” I grumbled, not even opening my eyes. I don’t know why I bothered to protest; that story had taken hold and was running on every major media source. Ron was getting his wish, as my record sales and radio play were picking up. He never passed up the chance to give me an “I told you so” look.

  “If they base the story on “unnamed sources” then they can do it,” Patrick explained. “I’ve got a paralegal at the firm who will be monitoring their stories on you. If they screw up, I’ll be all over them.”

  I looked over at him, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done if they’d printed those pictures.”

  “Well, let’s try not having public sex again and we won’t have to find out,” Ron muttered from the front seat of the car.

  I ignored him. I’d be doing a lot of that since yesterday in my apartment when I’d discovered he was stirring up the Tyler crap in the press. Patrick shot me a look and I knew he was thinking that I needed to do something about my manager. I was glad I had him working on that, as well.

  “I’ll call the NFD later and tell them the ruling. As you can imagine, they were concerned about the photo getting out as well since it also involved one of their firefighters. They will use your statement and today’s case in the disciplinary hearing against Bobby Taylor.”

  “What about Max?” I asked, looking out the window as downtown Nashville slid by. I had another two weeks here before hitting the road and I couldn’t wait. On tour, I could just focus on the shows, the music, and my career. It was my norm, my comfort zone, and I was so ready to get back there. But I couldn’t even fool myself that I wouldn’t miss Max. I would; very much.

  “He was suspended for the fighting, not the photo, so there isn’t much I can do for him unless you want to send a note and try to get it lifted from his record.”

  “He did beat the crap out of Bobby for you,” Bridget said. “I think it’s the least you can do for a guy who is such a hero.”

  “I can’t believe he got the SD card for me.” Dean had shown up and handed it over and filled in the blanks on what had happened at the fire house. Max had done it again—saved my ass from the fire but I still couldn’t call him.

  If I did, then we would keep going for the next two weeks and I’d be in danger of getting in over my head. I was already into him and fourteen more days wouldn’t slow that down. The other night at the Bluebird I’d sung a new song, the one about not wanting to risk getting too close because I knew I would fall. At the time, I didn’t have anyone in mind but now I did. The song seemed almost like wish fulfillment.

  I could fall in love with him.

  I was half–way there already.

  I wasn’t sure if he would ever feel the same way.

  Max wasn’t a player. He was a straight–up guy who didn’t want any type of commitment and I got that. I didn’t really understand the why but I knew it involved a woman in his past. I knew that fighting against a memory was the hardest thing to do and I didn’t want to lose that battle a second time.

  But I owed him thanks for what he di
d for me and it was a debt I could not fail to pay, no matter what it might cost me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Max

  I was acting like a crazed middle–school girl.

  While the rest of A–shift was downstairs in the TV room, I flopped down on my bunk in the firehouse and hit the speed dial on my phone. Again.

  Kit was in New York making the rounds of the talk shows, but I persisted in trying to talk to her about what happened.

  The love triangle story had broken and the number of reporters stalking me was ridiculous. I wondered if they really thought my response to their questions was ever going to be anything but “no comment”.

  I wasn’t ashamed of being with Kit, but I was embarrassed for her and what the article and photos made her out to be. Most people congratulated me on scoring big, while some of the public treated her like a fallen woman. Luckily, her real fans stuck by her and the sales for her concerts had skyrocketed. I guess the saying was right—the only bad publicity is no publicity.

  My only real problem was the reaction of the NFD—they weren’t thrilled, but after a very long apology session with the director and a statement from Kit, I was off suspension, had received my back pay and the incident was wiped from my record.

  But Kit wasn’t so forgiving

  Since the day in her loft, she’d frozen me out of her life. She refused to take my calls or answer my emails and texts. I was one restraining order away from stalker status but I couldn’t stop myself. I’d tried to give her the space she’d asked for but after four days, I was officially going out of my mind. I had to talk to her.

  Kit was one of the strongest women I knew and I cringed at the thought that I was part of the stress that had brought her to her knees. Not telling her about the reporter was stupid. But letting her find out about it the way she did was just stupid.

  I let the phone ring and I jumped with surprise when I heard a real, live voice come over the line. Kit’s voice. Not a recorded message.

  “Max.”

  It was the same, sexy voice I heard in my dreams. Not the sparkly, pre–packaged version she used in interviews, this was the totally genuine voice that latched on to something deep inside me and wouldn’t let go. I refused to think about how close that something was to my heart.

  I hesitated, waiting for her to tell me off and demand I lose her phone number.

  “Max? Are you there?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry about?” I heard her breath catch over the line, giving away her emotion. I wasn’t the only one struggling with what this had become. “You got the SD card for me. Thank you.”

  “I’d do it again. I’m no Boy Scout or even anybody you’d take home to your parents, but I’m not an asshole and I’m not cruel.”

  “I believe you.”

  “But?”

  “I’m not in a place to handle what’s going down between us. This has gotten complicated.” Kit sighed heavily, her voice edgy. “I want to trust you, but my head’s telling me I don’t really know you.”

  I cut her off. “You do know me.” I leaned into the phone, as if I could get physically closer to her by focusing on her voice. “You know me. Just like I know you.”

  The moments passed like an eternity until she spoke and I could breathe again. “I don’t know how to cut you off right now.”

  “Then don’t. I’m holding you to my three weeks.”

  “And then?”

  “One day at a time.” I lived in the moment all the time. Why treat this any differently?

  The silence on the line stretched out but I could be patient. I knew when I was going to get my way and Kit was already considering it. She hadn’t shot me down, so I was still in the game.

  “One day at time,” she said.

  I closed my eyes. The relief I felt at her words almost made me dizzy.

  Not wanting to overstep the boundaries of our ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement, my next question was cautious. “I heard you after I left.”

  “What do you mean? Heard what?”

  “I don’t know who Lilah is, but if you’re in trouble—”

  She cut me off right away, the fear in her voice when I expected anger freaking me out.

  “Max… I can’t talk to you about that.”

  “Kit, please.”

  Her voice was firm. “Max. I can’t.”

  “Alright. Alright. Don’t worry about it.” I hadn’t missed that she’d said “right now”—did that mean she might someday? Did I want her to? This whole situation was fucked up, totally out of my comfort zone but I couldn't find the energy to back away. I also hated to rock the boat with my next comment, but it needed to be said. “You can trust me. I hope you know that.”

  Surprisingly, she shifted the subject entirely. “Who couldn’t you trust, Max? Who is Sarah?”

  I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bunk, my entire body rigid with tension. Now it was my turn to let the silence stretch out between us as I considered my options. I could refuse to answer her questions or I could offer her the trust I kept asking of her. “So, we’re going to have this conversation?”

  “Is there a reason why we shouldn’t?” Kit countered softly.

  “Oh, I can think of about a million.” I chuckled, my throat dry. “Including the one that says this is crossing the line of the terms of our agreement.”

  “You said we know each other. This will help us get to know each other better.”

  “Uh huh.” Fuck it. I could do this. Kit and I had already crossed the line; what was going on between us was so blurry, I’m not even sure I could find the chalk line.

  “Sarah was a girl I loved. She broke my heart and then she died.”

  “Oh, Max. I’m so sorry.”

  I swallowed hard, fighting every instinct to shut down this conversation because thinking about it made it feel like yesterday instead of six years ago.

  “We lived together and I found out she was cheating on me with her boss, a record producer. He was older, had more money, and she fell for every slick line he fed her. I was in the fire academy, making no money, and all I could offer her was little pay and a future of wondering if this was the time I never returned from my shift.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “I saw a text from him and everything suddenly made sense—all the traveling together, the nights she was working late at the office.” I swallowed hard because this is where the story got rough. There were some things you never got over and this was mine. “We got in a fight at a party and she took off in her car. She’d been drinking, so I followed her and when I caught up with her, she’d flipped it on a curve. It was too late.”

  “Oh, my God, Max.”

  “When Dean found us, I was working on her even though I knew.” I coughed, my throat tight. No matter what Sarah had done, no matter how much she’d hurt me, she didn’t deserve to take her last breath on the side of the road. “That’s my story.”

  “You still love her.” It sounded more like a statement than a question to my ears but I heard what she was asking.

  “No. But I did.” I was in for a penny; might as well give the pound of flesh, too. “I really did and then I was really hurt. I never want to feel that way again. I just don’t think the high is worth the low.”

  As the words passed my lips, I realized that I wasn’t so sure anymore. Just two weeks ago I would have guaranteed my answer, but with this woman in my life my limitations felt more like shackles instead of safety nets.

  “Enough about me. If I keep this up then I’ll have to turn in my man–card.”

  She laughed and just the sound loosened the tightness that I’d been carrying around since she’d kicked me out of her apartment.

  “So, Kit. What’s your story?”

  “Don’t you read People magazine?”

  Her laugh was awkward and I recognized it for what it was—a lame attempt to avoid the spotlight. She wasn’t getting off that easily.
<
br />   “Didn’t you tell me not to believe anything I read in a magazine?” When she hesitated, I leaned into the phone and whispered, “Baby.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I loved Jake Cooper and he loved me. I know he did no matter how it turned out. For a year, we were able to keep it together. I cut back on my touring and he turned down a movie but eventually our careers demanded more of our time. He wanted me to scale back my ambition, but I couldn’t make the leap. I was afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  “Career suicide. Lost opportunity. Missed chances to make money and secure the future for me and the ones who depended on me. It was only a few years ago that I was a homeless teen living on the streets. Jake grew up in the suburbs in a gated community and he had no way to understand where I was coming from.”

  I knew what came next. Unless you were living under a rock, the whole world knew.

  “Things were bad between us and then he went to Japan to work on a movie and I stayed in the U.S. His ex–girlfriend was his co–star and they started sleeping together again.”

  “What an asshole.”

  “Yep. But, that wasn’t the reason I left him.

  “I think it was reason enough.”

  She hummed in agreement. “I ended it because I wasn’t the woman who was going to make him happy. The things he wanted us to do to be together—it wasn’t wrong. That’s what normal people do and I figured that if I couldn’t or wouldn’t do it for him then I needed to let him go.” Kit attempted a non–committal tone as if the decision hadn’t been a difficult one to make, but the pain in her voice gave it away. “We loved each other—I loved him—but it wasn’t enough.”

  I remembered the headlines that followed Kit the year after the break–up. There were the missed concerts, the delay of her album because she was a no–show at the recording studio, and the reports of drinking and rehab.

  Kit guessed my train of thought. “Everything printed about me was true. The drinking. The men. I missed work because I was drunk or hung over or in some random guy’s room. I haven’t had a drink in a year. Haven’t wanted one until recently.” Her voice was weary. “I’ve been hitting extra meetings, talking to my sponsor as I work through it all.”