Deep in the Heart

by Alexa Padgett

  But Mindy didn’t have the compulsion to lay all her pain out in lyrics, set to throbbing beats. No, that was my way of handling my formative years.

  Not sure my type of therapy was healthy, but there you go. And lots of people were willing to pay to hear more about my pre-pop-queen life.

  I smiled and posed for about twenty selfies before we made it into the actual bar. A waitress met us and led the way to a nice table stationed off to one side. Yeah, The Blue Bar staff were professionals when it came to the glitterati.

  I hated my tiny space in the group.

  But I did want to see the act. Not an easy feat—going to live shows. I nodded to Darryl, my bodyguard, and a new guy…I think his name was John. They stood off to the side but near enough to intervene if necessary.

  I would have preferred them to sit with me, but they refused. While I loved the guys, they tended to be a bit gruff and standoffish. I wasn’t sure if that was because of my age—all twenty-five years of it—or the fact I’d overheard Darryl and John talking about my smokin’ hotness. When I called them out on it, not liking, what, in my mind, seemed like a lack of professionalism, they both clammed up and backed off.

  I glanced down, as unimpressed as I normally was by myself. Sure, I kept in shape. I liked to do Krav Maga. It gave me a sense of independence, and I spent at least two hours working out in the discipline each day. That didn’t count the time I did yoga, which I also loved. But that was for relaxation and focus, not strength and kicking booty.

  I understood my features classified me as pretty, but people got caught up in my stardom and forgot I was a person who liked to veg out in sweats and watch movies, same as the next woman. Maybe more because it was so rare now.

  Not that my short jean skirt and scuffed, ten-year-old cowboy boots screamed sexy, but I did like looking nice. For myself, sure, but also because anytime I left the security of my hotel room or house, someone was going to take a picture, and it was easier to look put-together rather than face the rumors about my impending drug overdose or pregnancy.

  I settled into my chair and took in the stage. A rich red light slashed across The Blue Bar’s coat of arms at the back, giving the space an eerie, cold feel. The stage was shallower than most of the ones I performed on and raised only a couple feet off the ground.

  While I liked the intimacy of the space, the red lights reminded me of the night my mother died.

  Deep breath in, then out. Again, just as I did each day in yoga. Okay, so not the stage on which I wanted to perform, but then, the world considered me a pop princess. Everyone assumed I loved synchronized, heavy beats, not the light instrumental touch and intimate space of tonight’s singer-songwriter.

  Fact was, I liked both. After this tour ended, I planned to end my relationship with my current label and strike out in a more artistic fashion. Sure, I knew that was a risk. But it was one I felt compelled to take.

  That’s part of why I was there tonight. I wanted to see Janie Thorpe in action. If we got along as well as I hoped we would in our lunch meeting scheduled in Austin later in the week, I wanted to talk with her about a collaboration for my next EP. If she chose to see me as anything other than the airhead sexpot the media regarded me as, anyway. I hated that more than my fans’ belief of the pop princess persona, an image my own father helped create.

  A waitress waited patiently at my elbow, and I realized she wanted to take my drink order. I flushed, thankful I’d picked up the menu before I’d zoned out.

  “Sad Panda Coffee Stout,” I said, because I just had to try a beer with a name like that. I wasn’t much of a beer drinker—drinker at all—so I added, “And a water, please.”

  The waitress must have already taken Mindy’s order because she scurried off.

  I blew out a breath.

  “Well, I hope tonight’s fun,” I said.

  “Relax, Regan,” Mindy said, face lit with pleasure. “It will be. I have a good feeling about this.”

  At least one of us did.

  I was bored and had heard enough to know that Janie Thorpe’s studio albums would always be her bestsellers. I grimaced as she hit another flat note. This was why she played small clubs.

  I texted Mindy, asking her if this performance was as bad as I thought. Mindy grabbed her phone, checked her message and shot me a glance. She typed something.

  My phone beeped.

  Worse.

  I rolled my eyes. Mindy kept working on her phone, dismissing the bar and the tunes. Her ability to focus with such intensity left me awed. But that’s why I’d hired her, and she did her job with an ease I’d never match.

  I caught him staring at me sometime during Janie’s second set. His eyes penetrated my every pore, even from across the room, heating me up and making my skin plump.

  Whoa. I’d never had that kind of a reaction, especially from a man’s look.

  But there was something about him. Sexy, of course, and, well…hmmm. Predatory. Primal. Yeah, that was the right word. His desire was primal, and his face was stamped with sex and sin.

  I wanted him to keep looking. Wanted him to touch me.

  That freaked me out.

  Maybe that’s why I paused, beer raised halfway to my mouth, and I gawped like an idiot.

  “What are you looking at?” Mindy asked, craning her head. She couldn’t see him from her angle, thanks to the people milling between us and his table.

  “N-nothing,” I managed to stutter. “I just need to use the restroom. Be right back.”

  I hurried off before Mindy managed to open her mouth. Darryl would follow—that’s just how my life worked, and no, it wasn’t all due to my fame. Nope, some of it was my own stupidity in getting mixed up with the wrong guy.

  After using the facilities, I washed my hands and let the cold water run over my wrists, cooling me further. I shut off the tap and looked in the mirror.

  I shook my head, thankful for the momentary quiet to calm myself. I dried my hands and opened the door, nodding to Darryl who stood off to the left. I stepped forward, but then immediately darted into a small alcove when a herd of women scuttled past me.

  A large hand gripped my waist as one of the women nearly mowed me down, pulling me snug against a muscular chest. I craned my head back to look up into clear gray-blue eyes. A gasp fell from my lips. It was him. He’d been potent across the room, but up close and this personal, my pulse quickened and my body hummed to life.

  My reaction baffled me. I wasn’t one to take undue risks—I knew the pain and fear that could swiftly come because of them. So why was my body, my freaking heart, so interested in this man?

  “Hope you didn’t get trampled.”

  The man had an accent. Softly Southern. Combined with that deep voice washing over my sensitized skin and holy cow!

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Glad to hear that, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want anything to muss such a special package. My name’s Carter. What’s yours?”

  Oh. He didn’t recognize me. I blinked up at him, waiting for him to laugh at the joke. But I tended to be most popular with the under-thirty female crowd, so it was possible Carter didn’t recognize me without my stage costumes and big hair.

  “Regan.” I gave him my real name. For some unknown reason, I wanted to keep the energy between us even.

  “Regan. Lovely name for a lovely face.”

  His lips turned up but his eyes remained firmly trained on mine.

  Something clicked—that stranger danger my mother warned me about way back in first grade.

  “Wait. Did you follow me back here?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I stepped away. “All right. Well, thanks for the save from the ladies. Bye.”

  “You’re just going to walk away?” he asked, surprise flaring in his eyes.

  “Yep.” Keep it simple, signal Darryl to leave. Get out fast.

  “May I ask why?”

  The gaggle of women shuffled out of the bathroom en masse. As I turned to face him, th
is time my chest pressed to his. My pulse slammed in my neck. His gaze dropped there and he chuckled lightly.

  “I don’t bite,” he whispered. “Not unless you want me to.”

  “I don’t.” But the words came out breathy. Like I did. Except I didn’t. I didn’t.

  The music started up again, the crowd louder now that they had some drinks in them, and Janie was into her dance hall blues tunes.

  “I have to go,” I said.

  “What if I took you somewhere quieter? Offered you a nightcap? Coffee?”

  My brow wrinkled. “Why?”

  He reached up and gently brushed a dark brown curl from my cheek. “Because I like looking at you, and I think I’ll like talking to you even more. Can’t really do that here.”

  Even though he’d leaned down toward me, his voice was loud—almost a yell. Speaking here would be difficult.

  But did that mean I wanted to go somewhere with him?

  I analyzed my body’s reaction. I trusted it more than my mind–unlike my mind, the prey buried deep within my genetics still knew when to run. But right now, all my inner prey wanted to do was rub against this man’s hard chest and purr.

  I glanced over at the entrance to the dance hall and considered my options: sitting at the table while Mindy continued to work; take a million more selfies; maybe get asked to come up on stage to perform. Janie had noticed me earlier and winked. That was usually code for “I’ll call on you to entertain my crowd later.”

  I didn’t want to after listening to the last hour of missed cues and notes. I winced as Janie’s voice shrilled. No way could I get mixed up in this hot mess.

  I had to cancel the meeting with Janie. For my reputation, sure, but also for my ears.

  “Okay,” I said. “Just let me tell my friend where I’m going.”

  “What about your bodyguard?” he asked.

  Observant. I liked that. I also liked the fact that he didn’t seem overly fazed by my personal protection.

  I wanted to get to know him better, but I wasn’t sure going anywhere with him was smart.

  He must have seen my hesitation. “Live a little, Regan.” His voice was low, soft, and eyes held mine.

  I bit my lip.

  A couple of women stumbled back into the hallway, laughing as they fell against each other. One stopped to blink at me, her mouth opening as recognition dawned. I turned away quickly, the sick feeling in my gut lingering as tightness built in my shoulders and neck.

  I didn’t want to have to play the part. Not tonight. My head began to ache as tension coiled up my spine. Carter touched my cheek again and my good sense crumbled.

  “If you promise to play nice, Darryl can have the rest of the evening off.” Oh my…what was I saying?

  Carter smiled, his eyes dancing with pleasure.

  He rubbed his callused thumb down my cheek to the edge of my lip. My breathing stopped. He dropped his hand and I shivered, thankful he hadn’t pushed me further. Because, much as I was attracted to him, there was no way I could offer him more than my company.

  “I’d be honored to get you home later.”

  I smiled more brightly than I had in months. After texting Mindy to let her know I was heading out and to ask her to gracefully extricate me from the meeting with Janie, I faced Carter. My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. Mindy would do her best not to hurt Janie’s feelings, which would be easier to do if I wasn’t here.

  “I’m ready.”

  “So am I,” Carter said, his voice softer than spun sugar and twice as yummy.

  Carter

  We spoke about bits and pieces in the car. I told her I lived in Wyoming most of the year on the vast ranch I’d purchased after completing my computer science degree at the University of Texas. I didn’t mention I owned another place near San Francisco for when I needed to geek out with the biggest names in the industry, or that I’d just decided to move back to Austin to spend time with my family now that my twin and I had mended our relationship.

  Until Cam and I hashed out the issues that led to me cutting off contact, I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him—like one misses a lost limb, I’d expect. Cam would understand that metaphor better than I, having some army buddies who’d been through horrific accidents and firefights that cost them arms, legs, eyes. Sanity.

  I shook off that melancholy, trying once again to focus on the lovely young woman next to me. But that proved hard—for years, I’d second-guessed my decision to get a degree and not follow my brother into the military.

  I didn’t want glory or have the warrior mentality; I’d let Cam go because I was pissed he’d married Kim. I was even more pissed off when he left that succubus on our family’s ranch and decided to become a badass Army Ranger.

  Then, Kim died in an unspeakable disaster. Cam’s injury a few months later led to his medical discharge and an extra pile of guilt because I hadn’t saved my brother from any of the demons that tried to take him down.

  They’d nearly succeeded, and that was on me.

  Going back home proved hard, but I’d found I enjoyed Austin’s charm more than San Francisco’s tech-heavy charisma, or even the vast openness of Wyoming’s ranch land, the place I’d needed so desperately in order to heal.

  Just something about the vibe in Austin—the cross between frenetic and easy-going, eclectic and cutting edge, appealed to me. That’s why I’d built a tech empire based, most recently, on independent authors who sold me the rights to construct choose-your-own-adventure stories in a fun little app I put together over a three-year span. The version before my current work in progress focused on simple graphics and addictive gaming. Thankfully, I enjoyed the challenge and already had a few other apps in the works to further my portfolio. But I’d also enjoyed working my spread. The vastness of the sky as I rode across the land, checking on my cattle, always calmed me.

  “How long are you in town?” I asked to be polite, but also to get out of my head.

  “Um. A few days.”

  “For work.”

  “Yes.”

  “Me, too. Where are you off to next?”

  Regan hesitated, nibbling at that luscious lower lip. I wouldn’t mind biting it myself.

  “A few places. My calendar’s booked solid through the end of the year.”

  “Oh? You headed out to, I don’t know, San Francisco or Austin any time soon?”

  Again, Regan hesitated. The street lamps flashed light into the car, casting her face into sharp relief. She reminded me of that new American/British princess. The one my sister was so gaga over. Meghan something.

  Except Regan’s hair was curlier and longer and she was an inch, maybe two, taller. In her heels, she came to my chin, and I stood over six feet tall. And her eyes. They were a rare, deep sky-blue. Arresting, especially against the warm skin tone and surrounded by her long dark lashes.

  The light slid past and we were cast in shadow. I didn’t get the sense she needed to consult her calendar to give me details, simply that she chose not to share with me.

  “I’d need to check with my assistant about the exact timing.”

  “She handles your travel?”

  “Among other things,” Regan said.

  I frowned, not liking how evasive she was being. With bodyguards and an assistant, Regan was rich, probably famous. While she looked familiar enough to tickle a memory, I’d clearly buried myself way too deep in my tech company and cattle if I couldn’t place a woman as beautiful as Regan.

  We parked in the underground garage, and I led her to the elevator, both of us ignoring the heat of the Colorado evening.

  I inserted my keycard and pressed the floor to the penthouse. Regan didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

  Huh. I always got a response when I pressed the penthouse button, no matter where I was staying.

  I shifted, starting to wonder just who Regan was. She turned toward me, raising those striking eyes to mine, and I decided who she was didn’t matter. She was beautiful and the chemistry sizzling bet
ween us was undeniable.

  Anticipation began a slow, steady drip through my tightening body.

  Once the doors opened and I led her into the suite’s large living room, she glanced around the vast, airy space.

  “What do you want to drink?” I asked, moving closer and running my hands over her hips. The denim skirt she wore was short enough to give me a good idea of the suppleness of her tanned thighs. I wanted to drag my fingers up the inner side to see if they were as soft as I imagined.

  She stepped back, out of my embrace.

  “You brought me here to seduce me,” she said, her voice hinting at a huskiness that made my pants less comfortable.

  “And if I did?” I asked, once again shifting closer to her, but I didn’t touch her again. Not yet. Just let the heat between us build, swirl, intoxicate.

  She smiled. Not the smile of a sultry witch I wanted under me. Hell, over me worked, too. No, this smile was sad—as if she were disappointed in me.

  The last woman to look at me like that broke my heart.

  “May I ask you something?” Regan asked.

  I blinked, shoving the hot anger in those brown eyes and stiff lips from my memory. I was alive, standing next to a beautiful woman.

  All was right in my world.

  “Sure.” I didn’t lean back, but I didn’t lean in closer. Something told me now wasn’t the time to push her.

  “Is this an every-night experience?”

  I rolled back on my heels, nonplussed and unsure of how to answer.

  “What do you mean?” I hedged.

  But I knew what she was asking. And, dammit, my erection died because any answer I gave her now would destroy my evening plans.

  Her lips flipped up again. “Every night. You bring a different woman back here and screw them, don’t you?”

  “No, not every night,” I mumbled. I’d spent weeks on this newest update to my software. “Not here.” Because I didn’t actually live in this city. This was a stopover on my way home, to Austin.

  Wait. Why was me wanting companionship—wanting a chance to forget—wrong?