A toilet flushed and the hot bartender came out and washed her hands at the sink next to me.
“Great set tonight, Sydney. You guys are rocking the place!”
I smiled weakly. “Thanks.” I dried my face and pulled out the eyeliner and powder I kept stashed in my back pocket to touch up my makeup.
“Did you see who was out there?” she asked, drying her hands.
“Yeah. I saw.”
“I read that the two of you –”
“Don’t believe everything you read,” I snapped. I immediately felt bad and turned to smile at her sheepishly. “Sorry. Bad subject.”
She grinned back. “No worries. Men are a pain in the ass no matter how famous they are, aren’t they?”
A look into her blue eyes told me she was speaking from experience. “Yeah. They’re all assholes.”
“Amen to that,” she grinned and tucked her shirt a little tighter under her boobs. “See you out there.”
The door closed behind her. The jukebox blared a Big and Rich song, the bathroom door only slightly muffling the music and excited murmur of the crowd.
I closed my eyes and leaned on the counter, trying to regain my composure. I had to go back on stage in fifteen minutes and freaking out over some guy in the audience wasn’t helping.
The door opened and closed and I packed up my makeup without looking at the woman who entered.
Until I discovered it wasn’t a woman.
“Sydney,” Dex said from behind me.
I spun around. “What are you doing in here? You can’t come in –”
But he’d crossed the distance between us and was kissing my lips with as much passion and need and pent-up desire as was coursing through my own veins. I had a lot of will power but not where Dex was concerned. It had been hard to resist him on the phone. It was impossible to resist him in person.
I gave in and wrapped my arms around his neck.
He tasted like beer and desire and he was wearing a hint of the earthy, musky cologne that mixed with his own scent and drove me out of my mind.
I heard the door open and a small squeak of surprise before it slammed shut again.
Dex raised his head. He reached behind him to flip the lock on the door and set his hat on the counter before taking up where he’d left off.
Dex wrapped me tightly in his arms and I made no complaint when he slid his tongue into my mouth and brought me hard up against his body, his hands on my ass.
Desire surged through me, stronger than it had ever been. I clutched at him, too, moaning into his mouth. My hands roamed over his shoulders, across his flexed biceps, down to his hips. To the fly straining with the effort to contain his hard-on.
This time it was him who groaned. He pulled away and stared into my eyes. I stared back and no words were necessary. In a flash, his pants were around his knees, my panties were a memory and my bare ass was on the countertop. Dex put on a condom and thrust into me before I could even think better of making out in a bar bathroom and all the people who were no doubt gathered outside listening. I just didn’t care.
The only thing that mattered was having Dex buried deep inside me, thrusting in and out. Kissing my throat. His hands on my breasts.
It was hot and hard and rough with no words, no lingering caresses, just an expression of the need that had built up over the last few weeks.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and went with it.
We were breathing too hard to even attempt kissing, so I buried my face in his warm neck and clutched at his damp hair as tension coiled tighter and tighter inside me. Blood surged though my veins until I felt lightheaded and I bit at his neck in a show of purely primal need.
He groaned my name and that was the last push I needed to send me soaring over the edge. My body clenched and released, sending my flying over waves of pleasure. I cried out, the sound echoing off the tiled walls of the ladies’ room.
His answering release was just as loud and he shuddered, his cock pulsing deep inside me with satisfying fullness.
We stayed there for a moment, just breathing and clinging to each other. The sound of the packed bar drifted back to me and the horror of what just happened washed over me. Great. This would give the tabloids a new bit of gossip. I just hoped there weren’t any security cameras in the john. I really didn’t care to star in my own porno.
Dex must have felt my withdrawal and pulled back a little to look at me.
“Why didn’t you call me?” He looked genuinely upset.
I swallowed. “Dex, I don’t think –”
He swooped in for another mind-numbing kiss, then pulled back. “Why didn’t you call me?” he asked again, softer this time.
I tried to pull back. I needed space. But his arms were clamped around me like a vice. “I don’t think –”
Another kiss cut off the words he didn’t want to hear.
He pulled back and arched a brow, waiting.
“Fine. I was scared. And angry.”
He kissed me lightly and stepped back.
He cleaned up and by the time he was re-buttoned, I was too.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I’m sorry you got pulled into all this.” He ran a hand through his damp hair. “I know how it is, especially at first dealing with the constant attention. Especially when not all of it is good.”
I rolled my eyes and washed my hands. “Oh, right. You show up in a photo with a bevy of blondes and you’re the stud-muffin hero of guys everywhere. I’m in one photo and suddenly I’m the Whore. The new Wilder Girl.”
I shut off the water and dried my hands.
Dex touched my arm. “I know, Sydney. I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t help anything, though, does it? It doesn’t take all those rags off the stand. It doesn’t keep my mother from calling, wanting to know what the hell I’m doing. It doesn’t keep the leers, the side looks, the snide comments away.”
I glared at him, narrowing my eyes with all the humiliation and anger and hurt I’d felt the past week over the pictures, over the contest, over the frustration of not making it in Nashville. “Does it make me anything than just another groupie you fuck in the back of your party bus?” I turned away. “I guess I can at least be glad I’m not having your bastard. We can just walk away now and forget it ever happened.”
I turned towards the door, but Dex was standing there. He was angry now. Well and truly angry.
“No. You’re not going to end it. Not like this.” He ran his hands through his hair again and it made me feel marginally better seeing his usual composure so rattled.
“I know this isn’t easy. Being with me and all the crap I put up with on a daily basis won’t be any easier. But we have something here, Sydney. You are so much more than some woman in a tabloid photo.” He looked away, still frowning, then leveled his gaze on me again. “I care about you. Sydney. The other night at the house was great. I just feel like I know you. That you know me in a way I haven’t ever connected with another person, and that I get you in the same way.”
Some of the anger had faded from his face. “I think you feel the same.”
I shook my head. “It’s too much, Dex. I don’t want to be just another girl in a photo. I have aspirations of my own, you know, and it’s not to be your good-time girl. There are plenty of women out there who would be more than happy to fulfill that role.”
He stepped closer to me and held my upper arms loosely, forcing me to look up into his familiar features. “Damn it, Syd. Listen to me. I don’t want a good-time girl. I want you.” He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head at the last minute and his lips brushed my cheek.
It was too much. Too tempting. Too much potential for heartbreak. Too much possibility for complete and total destruction. “Right. Until you go back out on the road and I see new photos of you and some woman you knocked up.”
He let me go and stepped back.
Someone pounded on the bathroom door. “Hey! You can’t lock the door!” A slurred v
oice shouted through the beat-up door with generations of “Bobby + Sue” type messages carved into the wood.
“I have to go,” I said, my gaze never leaving his.
“At least talk to me. After the show. We can go back to your place.”
I chewed my lip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I’d be naked within a millisecond of hitting the door.
The pounding started up again.
“Please, Sydney, just to talk. If you still decide you don’t want me in your life, I’m gone. I won’t bother you again.”
My heart fell just thinking about it. But it was for the best. I needed to close the door on this and try to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life. The only thing I knew for sure was that playing tabloid queen wasn’t it.
“Okay,” I said, eyeing the door. “Okay. After the show.”
He smiled at me and flipped the lock. “See you then.”
He shouldered out of the restroom, past several shocked-looking women. I ran out before anyone could ask me any embarrassing questions and headed back to the stage. I was late for the set and the rest of the band was already waiting for me, warming up.
“You okay, Sydney?” Dillon asked frowning. His eyes followed Dex as he made his way through the horde that now packed the bar and headed out the door into the night.
“I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Now let’s get this thing going.”
Chapter Eight
I really don’t remember the second set. I could have been singing Christmas carols for all I knew. All I could think about was Dex and the fact that he was going to be waiting for me at my apartment when I got home.
I was equal parts terrified, excited and dreading it all at once. I had to put an end to things once and for all. I knew it and he knew it, too, even if he didn’t want to admit it. I wasn’t the kind of woman he was used to and I wasn’t going to drop everything to chase him around like a fool. I also couldn’t see him as a one-woman kind of guy. Not with his busy lifestyle, constant travel and the temptation of women throwing themselves at him wherever he went. Like bar bathrooms.
There were still quite a few people in the bar by the time we finished. I had a beer with the band and let the place clear out a little before I headed home as if nothing was going on. If I’d hurried up and gotten out of there, someone would have teased me about having a hot date. All I needed was some photographer to suspect I was meeting Dex and follow me home to take more pictures that would be difficult to explain to my mother.
I’d delayed as long as I could, though, and I grabbed my gear and headed towards the door.
“Miss Stratton.”
I turned at the sound of my voice. I thought it was probably another reporter, but when I turned, I found it was the head judge from the competition. My heart beat a little faster.
“Yes?”
He walked over to me with a smile on his face. Not a leering, have-sex-with-me-and-I’ll-give-you-a-contract smile. Just a smile.
He held out his hand and I shook it. “Geoff Nolan. From the contest.”
I nodded. “Nice to see you again.”
“You, too. Great set, by the way.”
“Thanks. We had a nice crowd tonight.” I set my guitar case down.
“I just wanted to let you know that the judges really loved your song at the competition. If there had been eleven spots, you would have been in the finals.” He looked away, frowning slightly. “There was one judge who gave you low scores across the board. That’s what kept you out.”
I knew, of course, who he was talking about. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know what’s between you two and I know it doesn’t seem fair. But we had to go by the rules.”
I nodded. “I understand.” I gave him a small smile. Poor guy. Had he come all the way down here to tell me that? “No hard feelings.”
“I really was impressed by your work. I think you’ve got a real songwriting talent and I’d like to hear more.”
“You would?”
He nodded. “You’ve got a sort of honesty and plain-spoken style that’s appealing. I’m producing a project for a new artist and we need a couple of more songs to complete the album. I’m thinking you might have just what we’ve been looking for.”
I was floored. The type of guy I’d been chasing for two years was now chasing me. I felt lightheaded and stepped back.
“Do you have anything else ready?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. I have a couple of things you might like.”
“Great. Maybe you could send the lead sheets and lyrics tomorrow?” He pulled out his wallet and handed me his business card.
“Uh, sure.” I looked at the card, half expecting to wake up any minute from what was surely a dream.
“Great. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got for me.” Mr. Nolan put his wallet back in his back pocket. “And I’m sorry again about what happened this morning.”
I shrugged. “No big deal.” I put the card in my purse. “Thanks again, Mr. Nolan.”
“No. Thank you. I’ll be in touch. I’m sure of it.” He smiled, then left the bar.
“What was that?” Dillon asked, coming up behind me.
I turned and hugged him. He was surprised but wrapped his arms around my waist anyway. “Karma.”
* * * *
I was on cloud nine when I left The Tap a few minutes later. I nearly skipped home and even the lone photographer who had waited around for me outside couldn’t faze me tonight. The rest of the band had already left and I couldn’t wait to tell somebody my big news. I couldn’t stop smiling as my mind raced ahead to projects I might want to send Mr. Nolan.
I completely forgot about Dex until I unlocked the door and found him sitting on my raggedy secondhand couch, a glass of sweet tea in his hands.
“Oh. Hi.” I said taking off my coat and locking the door behind me.
“Your roommate let me in,” he said standing up. “She had to go, but said I could wait here for you. I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure,” I said and went to the kitchenette to pour myself a glass of tea.
“You must have had a good set,” Dex said, bringing his empty cup to the sink.
“Yeah, it was.” I smiled but was unwilling to share my news with him for some reason. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to know. It was just that it seemed like such a small thing to a guy that had platinum records, a big-time recording deal, and a house that made my apartment look like some flop house on the wrong side of the tracks. My news was almost embarrassing compared to what he dealt with on a daily basis.
I held up the pitcher of tea. “Refill?”
“Sure.”
We drank our tea in silence for a few minutes before he spoke.
“Thanks for letting me come up.”
I really didn’t want to have this conversation, but with renewed confidence still buzzing through my veins, I hoped it would make it a little easier.
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked.
We headed back to my ratty sofa and I hoped he hadn’t noticed the stains or the odd smell emanating from it. He didn’t seem to notice anything but me.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the club,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. “I…when I’m around you, I sort of lose my mind, I guess.” He turned to me. “I was so worried when you didn’t return my calls. I was afraid something had happened to you.”
I knew what he was really getting at. He wanted to know why I hadn’t called him back. I didn’t answer, just waited as patiently as possible for him to finish what he’d come here to say.
“I meant what I said, Syd. You’ve come to mean a lot to me.”
“I know.” I didn’t doubt his sincerity. “I just don’t see how this can be anything more than what it is.”
“And what do you think this is?” he asked, looking at me though narrowed eyes.
I shrugged. “A fling. A good time. A one-night stand…times three.”
He looked me for a moment and
I could feel myself blush under his assessing gaze. “That’s really what you think?”
I didn’t feel that way, but I sure wasn’t going to offer up my heart in return for his thinking of me as the girl of the week. I had no doubt that he meant what he said about caring about me. I just thought he’d been playing a part for so long, he didn’t know what was true in his own heart.
“Yeah. That’s what I think.”
Dex looked disappointed. “You’re wrong.”
“Look, Dex. I can tell you’re sincere. I believe that you do think you have feelings for me that go beyond crazy bathroom sex. But what happens next week when some other blonde catches your eye? The week after that?”
He shook his head. “No, this is different, Syd. I know it.”
He looked at his hands. “I’ve never been able to open up to someone the way I can you. I can be myself.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s a reason I’ve never written my own stuff before. Why I sing songs about beer and women and partying. It’s easy. It doesn’t take much of yourself to sing that stuff, you know?”
I nodded.
“But the other night, when we were working on that song, something clicked. A door opened and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid to put it all out there.”
“It’s a good song,” I agreed. “I think you need to trust yourself more.”
He frowned. “My label doesn’t want to hear it.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I played the demo for my producer. He said it was a great song. For somebody else.”
“But it’s your song.”
“Doesn’t matter. I have a certain audience that expects certain things. And love songs aren’t them.”
“That’s not fair.” It made me mad. We’d worked hard on that song. It was Dex’s and now he wasn’t even going to get to record it.
He shrugged. “That’s business.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. The label is bound and determined that the song won’t be on the album. That people won’t accept me as a serious artist. That it would totally flop.”
Nashville Heat Page 10
