by Mandy Baggot
Her whole body was shaking. It was like she’d swallowed a whole family of moths and they were taking flight, bumping off her insides, making her quiver and setting off a whole chain reaction of emotions.
Jared was stood so close she only had to move a centimeter towards him and they’d be touching. She could smell the heat from him, almost taste the adrenaline. His gray eyes were on fire but with what she wasn’t quite sure. Was that desire she could see there? Or was it pity? A look of consolation for all that she was and all that she had been. She wanted to know as much as she didn’t want to know.
She moved one hand from her hip and lifted it slowly, afraid if she moved too quickly the tension would break. She wanted to touch him. That’s all she knew. She wanted to feel his skin under her fingers.
The soft cotton of his vest melded with her fingers as inch by inch she traced a path from his abdomen up to his chest. The solid frame of his body was unmoved, apart from the slow and even rise and fall of his breath.
‘Honor.’
The gravel in his voice made her raise her head to meet his gaze, her fingers continuing upwards, lingering over every defined muscle they encountered.
She was too scared to reply. If she opened her mouth to speak, if she engaged with the situation she would withdraw. Right now she was caught someplace new, in the middle of a feeling she hadn’t experienced for so long. She didn’t understand it but she didn’t want it to stop.
She brought her hand up to his face, touching her fingers to his lips. Her index finger whispered over his bottom lip before moving to graze the thin layer of stubble of his cheek.
He balled his hands into fists and squeezed his fingertips into his palms. This was torture. He was the smallest fraction away from losing control and disrespecting her. Her touch was burning into him, igniting desire, forcing him to feel. She put a hand on the belt of his jeans, drawing her body towards him. His eyes locked with hers. She was an angel. Beautiful, pure – wounded, yes - but with an inner strength that had seen her through.
He could see in her eyes that she wanted him and here he was, unable to react. His body was flaming with lust but his heart was on lock down and his head was telling him he would do nothing but hurt her. The very last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
He could feel her breath; see the longing written in her expression. Any other man would have kissed her by now, put their hands in her hair and worked her out of that shirt. Should he? Could he?
Her heart was pacing so fast she could hear it in her head. She was just lost in his eyes, those deep, gray irises that seemed as if they were looking right inside her. He hadn’t moved. Not one inch. They were body to body, as close as two people could be and she was almost melting with need. This was Jed Marshall, just a name on a CD up until a week ago and now … now he almost knew her better than anyone ever had.
He raised his hand and she shifted, expectant, wanting to feel his skin on hers.
Her fingers found the edge of his top, wound their way under the fabric until he caught her hand, holding it firm.
‘I really should take you home,’ he stated.
Chapter Thirteen
The drive was a little over thirty minutes but every second was ticking by so slowly. She was tight to the passenger door of his truck, her head out the window, letting the breeze blow her hair off her face. She was pissed. And he didn’t blame her. It had been obvious what she wanted to happen and he’d rejected it, thrown the offer back at her by not reacting. The worst of it was, from what he knew of her, she wasn’t the type of girl to put herself out there. She’d shown him that sentiment and he’d panned it. Even though he’d wanted it … real bad.
He pulled down the peak of his cap and shook his head. He was a fucking idiot. He was letting this girl get under his skin when really it should be just business. Why did he want her on tour so badly? Because she was good? Or because the way she looked in tight jeans hollowed him out? Maybe he should just call Buzz and get Raintown signed up. If he left things too long he might end up with Dan Steele. Hell, what an almighty fucking mess that would be.
He was driving way too fast but she didn’t care. The wind whipping at her face was what she needed. She’d just made a first class ass of herself. She’d offered herself on a plate to Jed Marshall, the hot property of Nashville, the platinum artist Mia kept telling her was one of the world’s most eligible bachelors if you liked them a little rough and ready. Given a little encouragement, she’d have been up for anything just because he’d been a little nice to her when she’d been a hell of a lot crazy. She’d behaved like a hyped-up, panting Cougar and he’d done the decent thing. The only appropriate thing. Because that’s what her behavior had been … completely inappropriate. Her only saving grace was she hadn’t tried to seduce him in public. At least this way they could hopefully keep it between them and not share it with the local news station.
Why had she done that? Was it because he’d listened when she poured her heart out about her foster homes? She hadn’t given him much choice about listening. Full sugar Coke and Mexican food had loosened her tongue and dropped her guard.
Her street was coming up and she was glad. She just wanted to get home, clap the lights down low, pour a little wine and immerse herself in a scalding hot bath. Larry and whatever other cell phone messages she had would have to wait a little longer. The fact was, she didn’t have an answer to any of the questions they were bound to ask.
He pulled the truck to the curb and she was opening the door before he hit the brakes.
‘Thank you for coming to the studio and Target. I’m sorry about the mirror and … I’ll see you around.’
She rushed the words out as she climbed down from the cab, flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned toward the path.
‘Hey, wait up!’
Why couldn’t he just let her leave? She needed to go and rid herself of her idiocy with bubble bath and chardonnay. She scuffed the pavement with her sneakers, not raising her head.
‘So when am I gonna see you again?’
He was coming around the front of the truck towards her and right away her insides were churning up. It wasn’t the enchiladas either. It was him. The heat was at her cheeks before she could keep it in check.
‘What?’ She furrowed her brow.
‘We just made a record together this afternoon. I want to do something about that. I want you to sing on it. We should pitch it to Gear.’
What was he talking about? They’d fooled around with something he’d written, something good, warranted, but it was his song - she’d just tightened it up a little. It wasn’t a record.
‘I’m signed to Micro and I don’t do duets,’ she stated.
‘You did one with Vince Gill in 2003.’
She swallowed.
‘Micro is old school and you haven’t sung a thing for them in years. They’re throwin’ you off with this “greatest hits” bullshit.’
Damn he hadn’t meant to be so blunt. And what was he thinking anyway? He didn’t do duets. In fact when Buzz had suggested a duet one time, he’d told him Hell would turn into a Ben & Jerry’s parlor before he ever sang with someone else on a record.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ he backtracked. He stepped towards her, onto the verge.
‘Yes you did and you’re probably right. But it isn’t your issue.’
She was looking at him now, her head held up. How could someone so vulnerable be so feisty?
‘Listen, what happened back there at my place … ’ He had to say something. If they were going to work together, which was what he wanted, if he was going to have a chance of getting her on his tour then there couldn’t be any awkwardness.
‘Nothing happened.’ Her reply was instant and he felt it hard.
‘Sure. I know.’ He didn’t know what else to say. He could still sense the imprint of her fingers on his chest.
‘I’m going to go and work out what I’m going to do and stuff so … you can go,’ she said, nodding
towards his truck.
He was a pace away from her and she was taking baby steps back to get further away from him.
‘Sure. Well, I have a mirror to hang and everything so, like you, I’m real busy.’ The sentiment came out angrier than he’d really meant it. There was nothing left to say.
He was walking back to the driver’s side of his flatbed now, leaving. Was that what she wanted? Forgetting how his presence made her feel, he was offering her a golden ticket back into the game if she wanted it. Perhaps a duet would be a new start. Only half the focus on her, less pressure. It was an opportunity most singers would jump at. Jed Marshall was at the top of his industry, he didn’t just sell records, he shifted them by the truckload.
She stood there, kicking up tufts of grass, torn. He got into the truck and waved a hand at her. That was her signal. He was going and she’d made a big mistake. There was only one thing she could do.
Turning away she started off up the path.
There were twelve missed calls on her cell and the red dot told her she had voicemail. The light on the answer phone was flashing like a beacon too. She didn’t blame Larry – the messages had to be Larry. He had set this up and had probably taken a lot of time to get Micro interested in collaborating new material onto a hits album. He had her best interests on the top of his agenda, he always had. Yes, maybe for his own financial gain too, but she knew he cared for her in a surrogate father kind of way. He was a staple in her life and perhaps she didn’t respect that enough. She’d messed him around today, left him to make excuses for her when the record company representative showed up.
She stretched her arms out over the island in the kitchen and pressed her cheek to the marble, closing her eyes. Staying here in Nashville, she should have known this was going to happen at some point. There was only so much hiding you could do in Music Central.
Her eyes snapped open in response to a loud knocking on the door. Raising herself up she hurried from kitchen and down the hall as the rapping continued. That wasn’t Larry’s style. He rang the bell and if she didn’t answer he waited. Was it Mia? The last time she’d beat on her door she’d been drunk and puked on the carpet.
She put her eye to the security hole. It was Jared. His fist thumping on the wood made her step back, putting a hand to her chest. She’d thought he’d gone.
‘Come on, Honor, open up!’
She put her hand to the latch and pulled it open. He didn’t wait for an invitation to step over the threshold and into the house. She bowled back as he frisked past, startling her.
‘Now I’ve been sat in the truck for twenty minutes mulling this all over and I just … I just want you to know something.’
She widened her eyes, taking in his furious stance, the tension in his torso, the look on his face. He was mad and wild and she was frozen to the spot.
‘Back there at my place … ’ He took a breath. ‘I wanted to rip off that dumb-ass shirt you’re wearing.’
She couldn’t speak. Her lips had shriveled and the inside of her mouth had turned parched.
‘But I wouldn’t have stopped there.’ He set his eyes on her. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to stop there.’
His breathing was ragged. His gaze was on her and it almost felt like the dumb-ass shirt was being removed by his eyes alone. On instinct she put a hand to the top button and held it in between her fingers.
‘I’m a jerk. There. That’s it.’
He gave her a determined nod, then pulled the peak of his cap down lower on his forehead. ‘I’ll see you.’
He stepped out as quickly as he had entered and closed the door behind him.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Jed Marshall, wasn’t he fantastic?’
He waved a hand in appreciation and swung the guitar up over his neck as he dismounted the small stage. One of his team was there to take the instrument from him and Buzz stepped up, inputting into his iPad.
‘Nice work, Jared. That should secure us a good deal more radio station promos before the tour.’
Someone handed him a bottle of Pure Nectar. He looked at the drink with disdain but, noticing the photographers in the crowd, thought better of throwing it to the floor and uncapped the lid.
‘And speaking of the tour, Raintown are keeping their schedule free and are just waiting for the final confirmation,’ Buzz continued.
‘Man,’ he cursed, shaking his head.
He’d not heard from Honor since he’d burst into her house and told her what he wanted to do to her. It was probably for the best. The reason he’d told her was for her benefit, not his. She’d been through a hell of a lot of rejection and he didn’t want to be party to any more. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t want her because of anything she’d done.
‘Jared, I agree Honor Blackwood was a talent back in the day but I’m just not on board with this whole reincarnation vibe Micro is spinning,’ Buzz told him.
‘What you talkin’ about, Buzz?’
‘You’ve not been on-line today? Not checked out Twitter?’
‘Shit, man, spit it out.’
‘Here, see for yourself.’ Buzz passed him the iPad.
#HonorB was trending. There was a whole timeline of tweets about an apparent personal appearance at Cody’s Bar & Grill that evening. What was going on? When he’d last seen her she wasn’t in the right place to complete a recording, let alone perform a PA. What had changed in a few days?
‘You know what Micro is like. They’re labeling it as the Second Coming. If you ask me it’s all gonna end in disaster. The girl hasn’t sung a note in ten years,’ Buzz said.
Jared passed him back the iPad with a thump. ‘I’ve gotta go.’
‘What? Well, shall I confirm with Raintown for the tour? They won’t hold on forever!’
It was just one song. Just Goodbye Joe and that was it. There might not be many people there. After all, there were far more artists than ever before in Nashville, hugely talented artists who weren’t quaking with fear like her. The only reason people might come along was to see if she actually made it through the song without freaking out. And who could blame them? She’d be thinking the very same thing.
‘Hey, doll, do we have any more of Vince Gill’s When Love Finds You?’ Mia called.
‘Is the computer down?’
‘No.’ Mia raised her eyes indicating the waiting customer and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Haven’t synced the latest order on yet.’
Honor nodded her understanding and smiled at the waiting middle-aged man wearing a black Stetson. ‘I’ll go check.’
The stock room was in the basement and she was glad of the relief from the front of house. She wasn’t on her game today because of the event looming over her. Being busy was a distraction, but she was starting to wonder if it was the right one.
Should she be rehearsing? Shouldn’t she be making sure she was lyric and note perfect? Or would that just make the nerves worse and remind her the performance was a reality?
Larry would hate that she was here. He was back on his blood pressure medication after everything that happened last week. He’d reluctantly agreed to meet her at the venue but he hadn’t been happy about the idea. If she’d given him his way he’d have strapped her into a baby stroller and wheeled her into position himself.
She hadn’t explained herself to anyone about the ‘incident’ at the studios. When she’d finally got up the nerve and made her decision about the future she’d not let Larry speak until she’d said what she needed to say.
She’d set up a recording session of her own. Three days ago she’d gone into the studio with the minimum amount of people she could get away with and her guitar from home. They’d laid down Goodbye Joe, Micro had loved it and now … well now the industry machine was taking over.
But while all this was going on around her, while she took on board exactly what she was getting herself into, the only thing on her mind was Jared Marshall. She knew he was
the reason she’d recorded the track. Spending that time in his studio had taught her so much. Musically she was country through and through. Hiding away from that fact was only doing two things: making her miserable and letting Simeon Stewart win. As terrified as she was, she had the rest of her life to lead and being the town’s resident recluse was doing her no favors.
So why hadn’t she called him? Didn’t he deserve to know what was happening? He’d coached her, told her to dig deep and if it hadn’t been for him then … Well all she knew was she wouldn’t be getting ready for her first public appearance in ten years. She’d probably be wandering around Target looking for cheap homeware she didn’t need.
She found the latest delivery, the box not even opened. Tearing at the tape she checked the inventory.
What Jared had said to her had made fire run through her veins. The way he’d looked at her, the way his breath had rushed from his mouth, the words penetrating her skin and resting on a part of her that palpitated with need. For a second she had held herself still, waited to see what would happen, looked expectant. And then he’d turned and went and she was left even more confused. What had she really expected from him? Despite her almost wanton behavior in his studio, she wasn’t in the market for any sort of relationship. She still didn’t understand what had made her behave that way. The inch or two of bare abdomen above denim when his vest rode up was one explanation, but that shouldn’t have been enough to make her display desire so readily. And she had. Then he’d turned her down, and later told her he’d wanted to. Did he have someone? Maybe she should Google or ask the Wikipedia of Nashville, Mia. Was she interested in knowing? Didn’t she have enough on her plate already?
