by Hailey North
“Have you discussed this with her?” Sami said.
“Not yet. I wanted to see your reaction.” He smiled at her. “I can tell it’s a ‘yes.’”
“She may laugh in your face,” Sami said. “She doesn’t seem like a woman with the patience for making a film.”
He winked. “Leave it to me.”
“I do believe it is possible you could talk an octopus into giving up ten legs when the whole world—and the octopus—knows it only possesses eight.”
“You give the darnedest compliments,” he said, picking up Violet’s drink and holding it out to her.
The singer took a long swallow. “Don’t fucking talk,” she said.
Sami fixed her gaze on the young man on the stage. His voice lacked control and depth in the two covers he performed. He came across like a dim light after Violet was no longer singing beside him. The buzz of conversation built again. Violet glared but said nothing. When he was done, she turned to Flynn. “Cosey told me you’d be in town again.”
Flynn nodded. “She tell you anything else?”
“Some crap about making me a movie star.”
Flynn nodded again. “Not crap.”
Violet finished her drink and held out the glass to Flynn.
Sami slipped off her high stool. “I’ll get it,” she said. “You two can talk business.”
“Grey Goose,” Flynn said, with a wink, and passed her his AmEx. Sami hesitated, and then accepted the card. It was, after all, a business meeting. She worked her way to the bar and finally managed to order the drink.
A man close to her right smiled at her. “That’s a real drink, little lady.” He ran his eyes over her. “I like a woman who can handle her liquor.”
Sami opened her mouth to deliver a lecture, starting with his condescending terminology and concluding with his incorrect assumption that she was ordering a drink for herself. And then she closed her lips. The man was dressed in jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved shirt open at the neck. He wore a heavy silver watch and no wedding band. He lifted his bottle of beer in a salute to her, obviously realizing she was looking him over.
He smiled and somehow he was standing close enough now that their hips were touching. “I bet you’ve got a highway of broken hearts behind you,” he said.
Sami widened her eyes, let her tongue just touch her lip and shook her head.
The bartender brought her drink.
“Put that on my tab,” the man said. “And bring me another Bud.”
Sami started to object.
The bartender disappeared.
“Bottoms up,” the man said, clinking his bottle to the drink glass.
Sami hesitated. She should open her mouth and explain the drink was not for her. The man took a swig of his beer. “Name’s Rod,” he said. “Rod Parks.”
Sami almost fell over. “The Rod Parks?”
The man nodded. “Don’t hold that against me,” he said with a wink.
Sami lifted the glass and took a sip. She grimaced and started coughing.
Rod patted her on the back, his big hands warm. And rather comforting, Sami thought in surprise. Of course she knew who Rod Parks was. Everyone in Nashville knew the name. He’d been on radio for years and years. She wondered what he was doing in a bar alone.
“Something tells me you’re not used to straight vodka,” he said into her ear. “Maybe you ought to let the fellow behind the bar soften that up a bit.”
Sami took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I must confess the drink is not for me. I never should have allowed myself to pretend that it was my beverage. This drink was meant to be delivered to Violet, the singer. I was to have paid for it with this credit card.” She flashed the AmEx she held in her hand.
Rod motioned the bartender, ordered another Grey Goose and asked for tonic and ice. He was served at once and poured a bit of the first drink over the tonic and ice. He handed it to Sami, picked up the fresh drink and his own and said, “Let’s go deliver this. If I know Violet, she’s getting pretty cranky having to wait.”
“Do you? Know Violet?”
Rod shrugged. He leaned close to her ear. “Yep. She’s quite a girl.”
Sami hesitated. Surely she should inform Mr. Parks that he should refer to Violet as a woman and not as a girl. And then she decided to skip the lecture. Instead, she added a bit of a sway to her walk. Wouldn’t Flynn be impressed that she’d met a man and hadn’t scared him off? And not just any man, but a celebrity.
Flynn and Violet had their heads close together. They appeared to be whispering to one another, lost to the crowd around them.
“They make a nice-looking couple,” Rod said. “I sure would like for Violet to settle down with a steady man.”
Sami thought he sounded rather paternal, but then, he probably was old enough to be Violet’s father. “Are you related?”
“She’s a friend of my niece. But never mind that,” Rod said. “What’s your name, pretty lady?”
“Sami,” Sami said. “Short for Samantha.”
“Sami,” he said, rolling the word on his tongue, as if tasting it. “Nice. Very nice.”
“Brought your poison,” Rod said, as he handed the drink to Violet.
“Hey, Rod,” said Violet. “Meet Flynn Lawrence. He wants me to make a movie.”
Rod and Flynn shook hands, each eying the other as if they were trying to decide whether to step outside and brawl or do business together. Rod was standing close enough to Sami she could feel his breath ruffling her hair.
“You two know each other?” Flynn asked, looking at Sami.
She fluttered her lashes. “We met at the bar.”
Flynn frowned. “Practicing, Sami?”
She did the eye-widening trick.
Flynn frowned.
“I’m not stepping on your territory here, am I?” Rod said to Flynn.
Flynn shook his head.
The next thing Sami knew Rod had slipped a hand around her waist. “Tell me about the movie, Violet,” he said.
“I play me. And I act like I like having hot sex with Cameron Scott.” She rolled her eyes, which was the greatest show of expression Sami had seen on the singer’s face. “Like he’s old enough to be my father.”
“Not quite,” Rod said, skimming a thumb in a circle on Sami’s waist. “But you know us older guys are a lot like whiskey.” He tightened his hold. “Just get better with every passing year.”
Flynn frowned a second time. Violet wrinkled her nose.
Sami found she was having difficulty taking a deep breath. Every time she tried, Rod’s hand seemed to edge closer and closer to her breast. She was mortified to be standing there glued to his side like a Barbie doll while he talked to the others. And yet, in some perverse and very unfamiliar way, she did feel a teeny bit flattered.
“I’m a personal manager,” Flynn said. “I handle Cameron Scott. I’m offering to handle Violet.”
Rod stroked Sami’s side. “Hmm. Sure that’s not what we might call a conflict of interest?”
“Wouldn’t offer if it was,” Flynn said, almost glaring at Rod.
“Violet, you two come see me tomorrow and I’ll have my agent there, see what he says.”
Violet downed the last of her drink. “Got another gig.” She picked up her guitar case and made her way to the door.
“She doesn’t expend excess energy on needless dialogue,” Sami said, worming her way a bit free of Rod’s grasp.
“As usual, Sami Pepper, you hit the nail on the head,” Flynn said. “Got my credit card?”
Sami passed it over, managing to slip free of Rod’s arm. She reclaimed her seat.
“Join me for dinner, Miss Sami Pepper?” Rod smiled at her.
Flynn glared yet again, rather pointedly Sami thought. No doubt he was waiting to see if she’d correct Rod’s use of ‘miss’ and inform him pointedly that she was Doctor Pepper. But Sami was nothing if not a diligent student. Flynn had given her lessons and she was going to show him just what a straight A
pupil she was. “Why, Rod,” she said, drawling his name just a bit, “I’d love to, but I already have plans.”
“Now that’s just plain old disappointing,” he said. He pulled out a card case and handed her a business card. “Call me. Soon.”
She accepted it and tucked it into the deep V of her neckline, something she’d certainly never done before.
He chuckled, kissed her on the cheek, and tossed a card on the table for Flynn. “You and Violet come see me. We’ll talk business.”
Flynn gave the old geezer a curt nod and shoved the card in his pocket. As soon as he’d moved away, he turned to Sami. “Ready?”
She drew back slightly, as if surprised at his tone.
“We’ve heard Violet,” Flynn said. “Or do you want to stay and add a few more scalps to your belt?”
“Excuse me?” Now she looked annoyed. “What’s your problem?”
Flynn shrugged and got off his seat. Another singer took the stage and whatever Sami said to him was drowned out. She headed toward the door, Flynn following. She walked with a sexy sway, the black dress clinging to her hips and flowing with her movements. He frowned. He should have stayed the hell away from Nashville.
Out on the sidewalk, Sami halted. She put her hands on those gorgeous hips of hers and lifted a hand. “Will you please explain why you have transmuted into one of the grumpiest human beings to grace the planet?”
Now that was more like the Sami he knew. The Sami he liked. But what could he say? He had no right to complain about her flirting with Rod. “Hungry,” he said, his voice terse.
“Then let’s go to dinner,” she said starting toward where they’d parked the car.
He opened the passenger door. She slid in. The black dress slipped high on her thigh. She seemed not to notice. Flynn reached in, twitched the fabric so it fell to her knees, and slammed the door.
Instead of heading to the restaurant where he’d planned to take Sami, Flynn turned the car in the direction of Belle Meade. He had to get away from Sami. Now. Before he did what he knew he shouldn’t do.
“Did you notice how well I applied your teaching principles?” She was smiling and leaning forward, effectively giving him a luscious view of her breasts.
“A little too well?”
She widened her eyes. “Are you giving me an A plus?”
Flynn took a corner too fast. The tires squealed and he backed off the gas a bit. “Is that what you want for letting that old fart maul you?”
“He was not mauling me. He was expressing interest in me as a—an attractive and interesting woman,” Sami said.
Flynn snorted. “He was looking for a one night stand. A quickie. Any idiot could see that.”
“Any idiot?” Sami sat up straight. “I’ll have you know I am a—“
“Fucking genius.” Flynn swung onto the road leading to the estate and the garage apartment. He couldn’t get there fast enough.
“I think you should slow down,” Sami said.
Flynn knew that as wrong as she’d been to think Rod was a decent dating prospect, she was right about his speed. What the hell. Did he want to end up like his brother? He braked and gentled the car. “Sorry.”
“For speeding or for calling me an idiot?” Now she sounded plain old mad.
“Both.”
“Apology accepted.” She shifted and that damn dress showed even more boob. “You will note that I did not accept Rod’s dinner invitation, which means he would not have achieved what you say was his goal. But just how did you surmise he was interested in a meaningless sexual interlude?”
Flynn drew into the drive, punched the code into the gate, and didn’t speak until he’d stopped the car in front of the garage. Then he turned toward Sami, breathing fast. She watched him, her big eyes wide and unblinking. “God,” he said, “forgive me.” He pulled her close, across the console, plunged his hands into her hair, and, drawing her to him, lowered his mouth and kissed her hard. Hard. Greedy. Too damn needy. He couldn’t think, he could only take.
She moaned and lifted her arms, cradling his neck, mating her tongue with his. Flynn managed a sane enough moment to pull away, thrust open his door and barreled around to her side of the car. He held out his hand and she stepped from the car.
“I’m the one who is an idiot,” he said, “but I can’t seem to help myself.”
She gave a shaky laugh, reached up and kissed him.
Flynn pulled her close and lifted her in his arms. She gave a gasp of surprise but linked her hands behind his neck. He took the stairs two at a time and waited with her in his arms while she fumbled in her small purse for the key. Once inside, all three dogs ran toward them.
“Do they need to go out?” Flynn didn’t want to let Sami out of his arms. He didn’t want his rational mind to take control again. Or hers.
She shook her head, stroked the side of his cheek and whispered, “Let’s go to my room.”
He strode down the hall, pausing inside the frilly blue and white bedroom long enough to shut the door behind them, and then lowered her to the bed. Her dress was hiked up to her thighs and one strap had slipped down her arm. Flynn caught his breath. Kicked off his shoes. A sliver of moonlight came through the French doors, highlighting the swell of Sami’s breasts. He lowered himself close to her and tasted her breasts, pushing the other strap off her shoulder. Soon he had the dress pulled down and her bra free. Normally, he was all about the hunt, the chase, the play and the games.
But right now, what he wanted was to bury himself in Sami. It was a crazy, irrational driving need, but he didn’t care.
Sami arched against Flynn. His touch, his tongue dancing on her nipples sent shivery, so delicious sensations throughout her body. When Rod had had his hand around her waist, she’d felt confined. With Flynn, she threw herself open, wanting him to touch her. Everywhere. She moaned his name.
Flynn lifted his head. “Yes, Sweet Stuff?”
She smiled. “Let’s not ruin Jonni’s dress.”
“Right.”
She held her arms over her head, stretching out on the coverlet. “Pull it over my head?”
He made a growling sound in his throat and did as she asked.
Lying there wearing only her bikini panty, Sami gazed up at Flynn.
He yanked his shirt off, tossed it over his shoulder, and unzipped his pants. “You’re driving me crazy, Sami Pepper,” he said.
“And you are overdressed,” Sami said, feeling rather daring and sexy. She rose on one elbow and tugged on his slacks.
The pants joined the shirt. He stood beside the bed, still wearing his briefs, the bulge showing just how crazy she was driving him. Sami ran her tongue over her lips and beckoned Flynn to her.
He kicked off his briefs and straddled her, one knee between her thighs. “Now who’s overdressed?” He ran a finger along the edge of her panty, and then traced circles lower and lower.
Sami gasped and shivered the way she did when eating her favorite ice cream. She ought to stop, ought to consider how she’d feel in the morning when Flynn had moved on.
Because he would. He’d been quite frank and open about his lifestyle.
His fingers teased her lips open, dipped and circled.
His breath was quick and raspy.
Sami opened her legs wider and lifted her hips slightly, her arms still splayed over her head.
Flynn bent and she felt his lips moving gently and then tugging at her panty. He pushed the fabric down her legs, so that it tangled around her ankles, and lowered his mouth to taste her.
Sami moaned and sighed his name. She twisted her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer as she moved in tandem with his devilishly wonderful greedy tongue.
She gave herself up to the sensations. As she came, she cried out his name again. He slid up to her face and swallowed her words with his mouth. Sami clung to him.
“Hot, hot Sami,” Flynn said, his lips against her cheek.
“Hot for you,” she said, reaching for his erecti
on nudging against her tummy, wanting the same deliciousness he’d just given her. Then part of her brain, her so-called genius brain, kicked in. “I don’t have any, um, her…”
“Protection?” Flynn kissed one eyelid, then the other, caressing her breasts. Then he got up and seemed to be feeling around on the floor. When he climbed back on the bed, he was ripping open a condom packet.
Sami felt a flutter of apprehension. Flynn the playboy. Of course he was prepared. Had he intended to have sex with her? Or did he carry it in case he got lucky, no matter who the female happened to be? Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face.
Flynn lay beside her and took her in his arms. “Let’s not think. Not tonight.” He kissed her on her neck, her throat, and moved to her breasts. She arched, offering him what he wanted. What she wanted.
Sami nodded. “No thinking.”
Flynn sat up, tugged on the condom, and rolled her on top of him. “I want to see every bit of you,” he said. He held her gently by the waist and lowered her slowly, slowly onto him, filling her with his heat.
Sami danced against him, drawing him deeper and deeper. She wasn’t a virgin by any means, but somehow she’d never known the freedom of being the one on top. She gasped and rode the rhythm of his surging movements. Flynn was kneading and sucking her breasts. Just when Sami thought she couldn’t feel any better than she had, she rode a hot wave of orgasm. Flynn grabbed her cheeks harder and harder and exploded into her.
Sami fell against his chest, dots of perspiration on her face blending with Flynn’s sweaty chest. They lay together, breathing hard, saying nothing.
And for once, Sami didn’t need to utter a word.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sami couldn’t believe she had fallen asleep wrapped in Flynn’s arms. The last thing she remembered after the gloriously amazing sex was Flynn drawing her close, spoon-fashion. But now, coming unwillingly awake, she no longer felt his body next to hers. Slowly, she edged her eyelids open, wondering what to say to Flynn, wondering how disheveled her hair must be, how smudged her eye makeup.
Gray, predawn light filtered into the room, replacing the moonlight that had lit the room when Flynn had carried her to the bed. Sami patted the bed beside her hip and found nothing but the tumbled bedcovers. She tugged a sheet up to her neck and rolled over.
