Amy sank against him and gave over to the moment. His lips were supple, sweetly flavored. Desire sang through her bloodstream, but she trusted him implicitly. The truth that she rested within the circle of his arms, her entire universe reduced to Tyler and the dimly illuminated kitchen—their two hearts beating an erratic tattoo—left Amy to soar.
Out of necessity, the moment ended way too quickly. Incrementally Tyler tempered the kiss, reducing the long and lush exploration to soft, sweet repeats of a connection that stirred heat and longing into a heady flow.
Finally, he leaned back, casting her a long look. “That…was well worth the wait.”
She blushed furiously and looked down, toeing at a seam in the ceramic floor. But suddenly, up rose the Amy of old. She looked into Tyler’s eyes head on. “We came close. Once.”
Tyler grinned, but the gesture was touched by sadness, and a haunting sense of loss. “Most terrifying sixty-or-so seconds of my life.”
She didn’t buy into the humor. Instead, she used a soft touch to stroke his chin, then his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head, combing his fingers very gently, very slowly through the loose strands of her hair. “For what?”
“For making you doubt that your love, your show of affection, wouldn’t be accepted. I wanted you to kiss me that day. Did you know that? Did you sense how much I needed everything you offered? Mostly I’m sorry for all the time I wasted. For how stupid I was in not seeing the truth—that the best thing in the world was right in front of me.”
“Honey, do not go back down that road, OK?” He leaned a hip against the counter and slid his hand against her arm lightly, automatically. He closed the distance between them once more to nuzzle her cheek for a moment and give her a kiss with a sigh before backing up, and looking her straight in the eyes. “There’s one thing I know to be true in my heart: God’s timing is perfect. If we’d tried this all those years ago, it may have ended differently. It might not have worked. We weren’t the same people back then.”
But he was. He truly was the same caring, wide-open person she had always known. Amy glided her fingers through the fall of his hair. “Not much change took place in your case,” she murmured. “You were good to the core then, and you’ve stayed that way.”
In the instant that followed, Tyler’s eyes clouded, darkening with his own inner turmoil. Amy turned off the heat on the burner and poured milk into a mug to take with her to bed. She knew the pattern of his thoughts without benefit of words. He was in his own quandary—this one of a professional nature, and it required resolution before too long. Tyler Brock, one of the straightest, most forthcoming people she knew, faced heavy temptation—a pathway to mega-success, mega-exposure and perhaps a mega-loss of his soul.
Or not…depending…
After caressing his cheek, Amy lifted up on tiptoe and kissed him once more, taking her time with the gesture. The ready way he answered the summons and held her caused a pulse rush.
“G’night, Tyler,” she finally whispered. Regret layered her tone. An intense need had built ever since he entered the kitchen, a need that would only know surcease when she belonged to him in fullness and a mutual, life-giving commitment. Tears stung her eyes.
As if such a thing could ever even happen.
Hearts Key
15
The next morning, Tyler rose from bed following a long, invigorating stretch. Outside the bedroom window, a view of the distant mountains greeted him. He looked out, over the curving bowl of a verdant green valley presently blanketed by a thick layer of ghostly white fog. The view never failed to take his breath away. Air-cooled vapors blanketed the base of the mountains, swirling upward and dissipating beneath the rays of a golden sun just rising above the peaks.
After a quick shower, he changed into shorts and a polo shirt. He jogged down the stairs, drawn by an unexpected smell: cooking meat. It seemed RuthAnne was already active in the kitchen. God love her and bless her, he thought with a sincere sense of devotion.
Upon entering the kitchen, however, he came upon a surprise. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt that were covered by an apron, Amy stood at the stove, fussing over a couple of pots. His heart pumped; a thick, heady thrill worked through him at the natural way she moved through his home, and his life.
She greeted him with a distracted, adorably frazzled glance. Tyler moved in on her from behind and lifted the lid of the largest pot. Steam curled upward, as did the tantalizing aroma of simmering chicken and seasoned sauce. He breathed in appreciatively. “RuthAnne’s been busy this morning.”
“No. I have.” Amy took advantage of his lid retrieval to dump in an array of fresh vegetables—carrots, celery, green pepper, onion, corn, and cubed potatoes.
“Really? This is her classic. How’d you get her to give you the recipe?”
Amy spooned broth over the meat and veggies. She stirred slowly. “I love RuthAnne. She’s great, and very generous.”
Tyler replaced the lid and Amy set the now-empty strainer in the sink. “I wanted to do something special for you. To say thank you for everything you’ve done for us. When I explained, she surrendered the recipe.”
Her subdued mood troubled him. Amy toweled off her hands and untied the apron she wore so she could pull it over her head and hang it on a nearby wall peg. He thought about her comments from last night and adrenaline spiked through his system, performing a dance that prickled against his arms and rang in his ears. He walked over to the counter and slid a knife from the wooden holder. Armed, he diced up a few more vegetables, preparing cauliflower and broccoli by separating the heads and rinsing them in the strainer.
“Pyper and I have been having a great time with you, Tyler,” Amy continued. “To be honest, I don’t remember ever feeling as happy and just…good…as I have during the times I’ve spent with you lately.” She lifted the lid again and resumed stirring, occupying herself with unnecessary business. Tyler carried his prepped vegetables to the pot and slid them in while trying not to let his imagination get the best of him. But then, Amy gave a sad sigh. “I don’t want to lose this.”
“Then we won’t.” His answer contained a calculated force of conviction and finality. After last night, he didn’t want her thinking about goodbye. Not yet. There was still time enough left on the clock to convince her that a conclusion to this week together would—and should—be nothing but temporary. So, he moved ahead with his own thoughts and ideas. “Did you happen to bring anything kinda dressy?” he asked in an offhand manner.
Amy went to the sink and began cleaning dishes. “I brought a dress and a pair of heels. Why?”
“That’ll be fine.”
She tilted her head, and gave him an expectant look. “Fine for what?”
“Well, see, my record label is throwing a promotional party tomorrow night.” Tyler let pleasure run free through his system. He couldn’t resist the idea of attending a glitzy function with Amy at his side. He crossed behind her and whisked a baby carrot from the extras that were stacked on a nearby cutting board. “Want to come? It’s going to be at the Grand Ballroom of the Hermitage Hotel.”
Amy’s most immediate response was wide eyes.
“I’d love for you to be there with me. You’ll get to see some of my band mates again, and you’ll also meet Kellen Rossiter.”
“Really?” That piqued her interested, but he detected her disquiet as well. Unless Tyler misread the slight furrow to her brow, and the hesitance in her eyes, Amy seemed a touch intimidated by the idea.
“Kellen will be recruiting. I’m sure I can line up RuthAnne to take care of Pyper for us so we can indulge in a five-star meal beforehand, then some necessary schmoozing and networking. And on Saturday—”
Amy laughed. “I see there’s no rest for the wicked in your world. Is that the point you’re trying to make?”
Tyler sighed dramatically. “On Saturday,” he tried again, “you and Pyper can spend some time at the recording studio with me. After the way she en
joyed playing on the piano, I think Pyper will go nuts for it, actually.”
“No question about that. Sounds like fun.”
“I’m putting together a couple of new songs I wrote that I think will be part of the next release. I want to get some preliminary recordings down. The studios are in downtown Nashville, so after we record, we can play tourist.”
Amy shook her head, obviously still overwhelmed, but less taut in the shoulders; her answering smile appeared genuine. “OK, I’m officially impressed.”
“No need to be. It’s just a job.”
“Yeah. OK.” She spared him a wry look on her way to recheck the bubbling pot.
Tyler grabbed an extra celery stick this time and crunched away. He arched a brow. “So are you in?”
Amy lifted her hands in mock surrender. “Ah…sure. Why not?”
She stepped close. Tyler reached out easily and drew her into the circle of his arms, which tucked neatly around her waist. He rested his cheek against her hair and gave an inner sigh of delight. “Thanks. I’m actually looking forward to it now.”
****
The sounds of a creaking floorboard and carpet-cushioned footsteps at the top of the stairs drew Tyler’s attention. Paused in the landing, he stood before a picture mirror where he adjusted the knot and fall of a silk tie. He looked up, and could do nothing but stare.
Amy gave him a fast, hesitant look, and then walked slowly down the staircase. She was a vision in delicate, pale blue lace. Lined beneath by fluid, darker satin, the v-necked, knee-length dress moved like it was a part of her. The color drew his focus to her fair, creamy skin, her large blue eyes.
The overall impact left his throat dry and knocked him straight back to those enchanted moments in high school when he had imagined sharing just such a moment with her. Now, like then, his knees went weak.
“I, umm, I hired a driver for tonight. A limo. It’s out front. It’ll be easier that way.” He was babbling. He nearly burst out laughing at the crazy thought that crossed his mind: he somehow felt like he should have gotten her a corsage.
He saw her intimidation return when she tilted her head, and looked up at him almost plaintively. Tyler thought, once more, about the badlands she had traveled in their years apart and the changes life’s imprint had left on her formerly free, confident spirit.
“A limo? That’s deluxe.”
Tyler took her hands in his and gave her arms a gentle shake. “Nah, it’s not deluxe, just easier to navigate. There’s going to be a lot of traffic out front of The Hermitage.” He looked deliberately into her eyes, and did his best to telegraph assurance through a smile. “You OK?”
She nodded, but the gesture was too fast, and she looked away.
“Do me a favor—relax. Relax and enjoy being treated well. Sometimes it’s OK to be the belle of the ball, and to me, that’s what you’ll always be. I want you to have fun tonight.”
He touched her cheek to punctuate that statement. Amy had pinned up her hair; a number of tiny, sparkling clips held it in place. Blonde curls swirled and danced around her neck, making him want to reach up—just for a second or two—and twist a satiny strand around his fingertip to enjoy the texture.
Amy smoothed her fingers beneath the lapel of his suit coat. “You look great, by the way.”
“Yeah? Thanks, because you wrote the book. I’m just tryin’ to keep pace.”
Pink color bloomed through her cheeks. Amy glanced into the great room just beyond. There, Pyper was on her stomach, scissor-kicking her legs and watching television. RuthAnne sat in a rocking chair and worked on her cross-stitch pattern that was gradually taking the form of a flower-filled meadow. Once Tyler realized Amy was comfortable and satisfied by the homey scene they would leave behind, he offered his arm. “Are you ready?”
Amy nodded, taking hold and letting him lead the way.
****
Exclamation Point Records had pulled out all the stops for tonight’s networking event. Tyler kept a guiding hand on Amy’s waist as they joined the crowd that milled through the wide-open space of the Grand Ballroom. During the span of his five years in Nashville, Tyler had never visited the Hermitage Hotel. The Nashville landmark was impeccable—the definition of elegance and old-world influence. Not a bad underscore to the idea of promoting a Christian music label to the agents, producers, and performers who would help the company grow.
Directing their progress toward the spot where Dave and Rebecca stood, Tyler left Amy in their care while he went to the bar to pick up a pair of soft drinks. He entered the line. While he waited, he nodded at a few people he knew; he smiled into the lenses of a few cameras that flashed and popped. The ballroom was lush and extravagant, featuring ornate ceilings with deep, textured coves punctuated by dark, walnut paneling. Elaborately framed paintings accented the walls.
The line moved forward, and he centered on the people around him once more. That’s when he realized Kellen Rossiter stood just ahead, at the head of the queue.
The bartender greeted Kellen with a courteous smile. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“Two tonics with lime, please.”
Tumblers were filled promptly. Tyler waited just behind him, but moved close enough to enter Kellen’s field of vision and give him a questioning look. “Not a drinker?”
Kellen shrugged. “If I drank at even half the events I’m forced to attend, I’d be out of control, so, I don’t drink at all. I like to keep a clear head.”
Tyler couldn’t help but smile. “Impressive.”
“No. Necessary.”
“Mm-hmm” Tyler ordered two colas—one for him, one for Amy—but he longed for the snappy spice of his favorite—ginger ale.
Kellen took a generous sip of his beverage, eyeing the crowd. “Nicely done, by the way. Your girlfriend? She’s stunning.”
“Nothing gets past you, Rossiter,” he jabbed lightly, giving his would-be agent a territorial grin. “And keep your distance.”
“No problem. I’d never interfere in your potential happiness as a well-grounded Christian recording artist. Given the chance, I could sell the idea of a solidly committed and caring singer by the mile. It’s an appealing image. Besides, my wife wouldn’t approve.”
Tyler was about to take a sip of his drink, but stopped midway. Kellen. Married. The fact added a new dimension to the man. When Kellen lifted his glass again and drank, Tyler considered the second tumbler and took note of the wide, gold wedding band, noticing the ring for the first time. “Is she here?”
“In the same circle as your girlfriend, as a matter of fact. Right over there.” Kellen gestured and Tyler took note of a beautiful, petite-framed woman dressed in jewel green. She had softly waved, auburn hair, gentle curves, and the face of an angel.
“Nicely done yourself, Rossiter.”
“I’m keenly aware of the fact. Come on over and meet her. Juliet’s heard a lot about you. Besides, I’d like to meet this famous photographer and blast from the past of yours.”
Tyler gaped. “Honestly. How do you know all this stuff?”
Kellen’s smile was hard to refuse. “I’m good at my job. I connect dots, do some research, and voila…a picture comes to life.”
Tyler chuckled. This guy was unique to his experience. Very unique. “You never give up, do you?”
“Nope.”
They joined their group just in time to hear Dave filling Amy in on the history of the hotel. “…yeah—even presidents come here. Kennedy, Roosevelt, Wilson and Nixon—they’ve all slept at The Hermitage. Plus, from Al Jolson to Al Capone, all kinds of celebs have stayed here, too.”
Tyler stepped into the circle of his friends. “Jolson and Capone. That kinda covers the spectrum of human endeavor, now doesn’t it?”
“For better, and for worse.” Dave greeted the newcomer to their group with a quirked grin and an arched brow. “Kellen. It’s good to see you. I’ve already decided your wife here doesn’t deserve you. You lucked out in the marriage department.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. It’s good to see you, too, Dave. Juliet, here you go, love.” He handed his wife her drink, which she accepted with a smile that moved straight from her eyes and into Kellen’s. Something in the natural, easy intimacy of their interaction left Tyler compelled, and intrigued.
“Dave’s not just a world-class tour manager. He’s a history geek, too,” Tyler spoke, recapturing the conversation at hand.
“Which is why I love Nashville so much, hot-shot.”
Tyler handed Amy her drink. “Amy, meet Kellen Rossiter. Kellen, this is Amy Maxwell.”
“Great to meet you, Amy.”
“And Amy, Kellen is truly my better half,” Juliet interjected, her green eyes sparkling when she looked up at her husband. “I was telling Amy how much I wish I had an eye for imagery and photography like she does. What a wonderful gift.”
Amy received Kellen’s handshake. “And obviously I’m enjoying getting to know your wife. I understand she’s a native to Nashville, like Dave.”
Kellen tucked into Juliet’s side in an automatic way, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Meanwhile, I followed my heart to the south from California. I’m a Los Angeles transplant.”
Paul Jacobs, president of Exclamation Point Records took his position behind a podium on a dais at the front of the room. Conversations came to a standstill. Opening remarks prompted people to move to their seats, each of which were identified by name cards crafted in calligraphy. Gift bags prompted Tyler to lean close to Amy’s ear. “Enjoy the swag. I remember at last year’s event there was a pretty nice selection of treats.”
Kellen and Juliet settled in across from them. Dave and Rebecca arrived as well and sat down. Expansive and oval-shaped, the table they shared featured rose-hued linens, simple bone china, crystal goblets and silver flatware. Tyler took in the details and atmosphere but sat back to listen as formal proceedings began. His attention alternated between Amy, who watched with an expression of subdued awe, and Kellen, who kept his eyes trained on the dais and his arm draped loosely along the back of Juliet’s chair.
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