by Mari Carr
One minute, she and Hunter had been just going about their merry way, trying to get their lives on track. The next, he’d had his fingers buried deep inside her, and now she couldn’t stop feeling things she didn’t want to feel.
She couldn’t fall in love with Hunter. She wouldn’t.
But not for the reasons she’d told him.
Ailis had played the fool for love before. Been a very stupid smart girl, settling for things that didn’t really make her happy. Hovering in the background while Paul’s dreams came true. And she did all that with a man she’d believed to be honorable, steady, stable, safe.
Hunter was the opposite of that. He was impulsive, adventurous, and about to take the world by storm. If she hadn’t believed that before—which she had—this past month had proven it to her beyond a doubt.
He’d worked his ass off. When he wasn’t working at the inn, the two of them were together. The competition consisted of putting the contestants through a series of challenges, including their takes on a mix of hits from other musicians, as well as original works and instrumental solos. None of the artists knew what songs they were going to cover, so Ailis had assigned Hunter a different music genre each week, insisting that he familiarize himself with a wide array of numbers in that genre.
He was actually at an advantage with his background as a pub singer, because his repertoire was already quite vast. He could switch from country to rock to folk without blinking an eye. But his R&B was rusty, as was his heavy metal. And they needed to be ready for anything. God only knew what Les intended to throw at the performers.
The second Hunter was selected to compete, and Les had assigned her to represent him, she’d been removed from all aspects of planning the competition.
Les had reacted to the “fight” at the pub the way Hunter had feared. His first instinct had been to yank Hunter from the show. Until Ailis told him what Victor had said. Then he went quiet, introspective.
She didn’t mistake the flash of anger in the older man’s eyes that proved there would be a day of reckoning for Victor after the competition. However, he’d relented, allowing Hunter to remain in the contest.
As she’d thought, Les was pleased with the way his original plan was twisted in a way that served his purposes even better. He liked having her manage Hunter, determined it was a better trial run for her in terms of following what he still insisted was her destiny.
Even so, just two days after Hunter had been selected to compete, Les had pulled all the performers and their managers into a meeting, where he explained the voting procedure in great detail—including how the winner would be selected by votes from the audience, and that management, including Sky and Teagan, had no control of the outcome.
Les then asked for questions, determined to clear the air. When Victor’s agent pointed to Hunter and Ailis, Les assured everyone that Hunter was going to have to pull his weight on the stage to sway the crowd, and that he had no advantage simply because Sky and Teagan’s daughter was managing him. Leah then made a snide comment about Hunter being her boyfriend. Les shut her down pretty fast, assuring her that no one’s personal life meant a damn thing in the competition and she’d be smarter to focus on her performance.
Ailis appreciated Les’s efforts on their behalf and she’d been determined not to let him down. He’d given her yet another good reason to push Hunter away. She didn’t want to lose focus on her own performance—managing Hunter in such a way that he didn’t embarrass himself or the competition. Les had put a lot of faith in her and she wanted to make sure she made him proud.
It had also helped that she and Hunter had been in nonstop motion since his audition. They’d bought at least a half a dozen different outfits for the first show—and God willing, the second—because Ailis wanted to see which of the looks they’d gone with worked best with the audience, particularly the females.
In addition to rehearsing potential covers, she’d spent some time with him, tweaking the wording, as well as the actual tunes, to some of his strongest original works. She was by no means a musician, but she’d been around singers and songwriters her whole life. As such, she was familiar with what words evoked stronger emotions for listeners, and she appreciated the subtle science of slowing down or speeding up a melody to draw out the perfect effect.
Then she’d coached him prior to the three interviews Les had set up for each performer. Les was determined to have a full house for all four shows, so he’d arranged for radio and local news stations to interview the eight contestants to help build the excitement. She wasn’t sure if Les had told the reporters that her role as Hunter’s manager was off-the-record or if the journalists didn’t know who she was, but mercifully, none of them had questioned him about her.
Through it all, Hunter had taken every piece of her advice, soaking up every drop of her guidance like a sponge. She’d been pleasantly surprised by his earnestness to learn, expecting to have to fight to convince him that some things needed to be planned, not improvised.
That fight never happened.
“How far away are you going?” Hunter asked into the microphone.
“You have to play to the entire audience, Hunter,” she yelled. The room was huge. “You have to be able to project yourself effectively to the back as well as the front.”
“I feel like I should be able to make that into a crude joke, but I’m struggling in this space. I don’t think I realized…”
His words faded away and she was glad they had this opportunity, no matter how brief, to feel out the arena. The competition started tonight, and as such, Les had made arrangements for each performer to spend forty-five minutes on the stage to test out their instruments and to get familiar with the setup. While that would probably be enough for the others who had played on countless stages, Hunter needed the time to become accustomed to playing in such a large space. The Baltimore Soundstage was a far cry from Pat’s Pub.
“Okay,” she called out. “Go ahead and start your first number. Remember, you need to make every single fan in the audience feel as if you’re singing to them, as well as the ones watching on their computers at home. You can’t focus on the first three rows just because those are the only faces you can see. Focus on the cameras part of the time and even though I’m way back here in no-man’s-land, I’ve paid my money to come listen to you as well, and I get a vote too. So grab it.”
Hunter strummed the first few chords of his guitar. They’d checked the sound prior to her journey away from the stage. It sounded great.
He started singing an upbeat number. She watched him for a few moments before calling out his name.
“Hey! Hunter!”
He stopped playing. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to fill the space.”
“What?”
She gestured to the stage. “It’s a large area, and you aren’t moving. We’ve rigged you up with that wireless headset mic so that you can walk around. Work the stage!”
“I feel like a goddamn marching band.”
She laughed. “Don’t march. Just take a casual stroll back and forth with some meaningful pauses. You’ll get the hang of it.”
He resumed playing, and, though it took him a couple of trips across the stage before he loosened up, eventually he made it look somewhat natural.
Once again, she was impressed by how willing he was to listen, as well as how quickly he picked things up. She’d said it a million times in the past few weeks, and she meant it. He was a born entertainer.
He was handsome in a rugged, just-rolled-out-of-bed-after-fucking-you-senseless way. Women were going to fall in love with him. Hell, he already had a fair number of groupies at the pub. She could only begin to imagine how that number would swell after this performance. Every woman in Baltimore would be tossing her panties onto that stage.
Which was why she needed to shed these unwanted feelings of lust as soon as possible. While he might think he wanted her at the moment, that was going to change the second he saw h
ow much his playing field was about to grow.
She tried to ignore the pierce of jealousy that flashed when she considered all the beautiful women he’d encounter once he started touring. Ailis had witnessed countless groupies throwing themselves at her father, even though they knew he was happily married and his wife and children were right there. She never ceased to be amazed by the outright audacity and tenacity of some of the women.
She had asked her mom once how she could stand it. As always, her mom’s response was simple and from the heart. She said it didn’t bother her because she and Dad had two things that even the most beautiful woman in the world couldn’t destroy. Love and trust.
Love and trust.
Ailis had spent her entire life longing for those things, but after Paul, she wasn’t able to trust herself when it came to finding love. Her battered heart was scared and her pride wouldn’t let her trust easily.
Fool me once, shame on Paul.
But fool me twice and the fault will be all mine.
Then she recalled Hunter’s comments at New Year’s. He’d asked her to trust him. And for a very brief moment, she had. And he hadn’t abused it. Hadn’t hurt her.
But that didn’t mean she could offer him more. There was a big difference between thirty minutes and a lifetime.
The song came to an end and Ailis silently chastised herself for letting her thoughts drift instead of paying attention. Hunter was counting on her to guide him. She couldn’t keep wallowing in self-doubt.
“Well?” he asked when she didn’t speak.
“You’re getting it. That sounded amazing.”
“Really? Because I feel super self-conscious up here.”
She started walking back to the stage so she didn’t have to keep yelling. “I thought you liked being the center of attention.”
He grinned. “Very funny. You sure that walking around didn’t look…stiff?”
Once she reached the stage, she looked up as he approached her, reaching down to half drag, half lift her until she stood next to him. He took the headset off and placed it next to his guitar stand.
“I think you just need to work out a pattern. Like this.” The two of them meandered to the left, pausing for several beats before strolling to the far right. “Let your music decide when you move and how fast. If it’s easier to walk when you’re just playing and not singing, let that be your cue to move.”
“I actually think it’s easier when I’m singing.”
“Then go with that. Pick a person’s face near the front as your guide and just sort of walk to them as you sing. If you choose a pretty girl and you flash that damn lethal smile, her panties will melt away and she’ll start declaring her undying love for you.”
“Is that right?” he asked, shooting her the exact grin she’d just described. “So where are you going to be standing tonight? I might give that a try.”
It was the first time in a month he’d said anything even relatively sexual to her. She thought they’d turned this corner.
“Hunter—”
He placed his guitar in the stand and stepped behind her. She offered no resistance when his chest pressed against her back and his hands found their way around her waist. Her head wasn’t finished waging the battle, but her body had been feeling the serious effects of deprivation. It was winning at the moment. Especially when his fingers drifted beneath her shirt, coming to rest on the waistband on her jeans.
“Could I make your panties melt away?”
“Hunter—” she repeated.
“Don’t run through that same old grocery list of excuses either, mouse. I’ve got the damn thing memorized. Just think about the question and answer it honestly.”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
Her quick response clearly shocked him. But he recovered fast. His lips hovered by her ear as he whispered, “If I dipped my fingers inside these jeans, would your panties be wet right now?”
She nodded.
For a second, she thought he was going to test that theory. Her hands flew up to grip his wrists to stop him. “There are people all over this place setting up for tonight.”
“They’re busy. They’re not looking at us.”
He seemed to be speaking the truth. The place was a hive of activity as everyone worked double time to complete preparations for the show.
“Come home with me after the show tonight.”
Ailis twisted in his arms, trying to put some space between them. It didn’t work. Hunter held fast. “Why won’t you—”
He kissed her. Goddammit. She was not this woman. She didn’t let a guy manhandle her or shut her up with sexy-as-fuck kisses every time she was about to say something he didn’t want to hear.
Except she did with him.
Her hands were around his neck and her tongue was in his mouth in an instant. The last month had been pure torture. He’d turned something on inside her over New Year’s and she couldn’t find the switch to turn it off again.
His hands lingered beneath her shirt, his thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of her waist. She hadn’t lied about the current state of affairs in her panties. Primarily because she’d been dealing with wet panties for a fair amount of January. There was something about the scent of Hunter’s shampoo combined with his voice as he sang or when he laughed. God, everything he did turned her on, fired her libido up until it was unbearable to be with him and not touch him.
The kiss would have lasted a lot longer if not for Rory.
“Hey. Hate to interrupt because that was a hot fucking kiss, and given my current dry spell, living vicariously through you two is sort of giving me urges I thought were gone forever, but it’s my turn to practice.”
“Does that mean you’re not dating Eddie Keene anymore?” Hunter asked.
Rory shook her head sadly. “It’s never smart to date your lead guitarist. When we fell apart, so did the band.”
“I’m sorry, Rory. About Eddie. And um, you know,” Ailis said, hating how hot her cheeks were. PDA wasn’t something she had much—okay, any—experience with.
Apparently being a natural redhead meant that every other part of her felt the need to follow suit. Her chronic blushing was the bane of her existence. It always made her feel as though she was that same shy four-year-old hiding behind her mother.
“No problem. You two make a cute couple. Look, I hate to rush you, but I want to make sure I grab as much stage time as possible so I can get out of here before Victor shows up. Prick always tries to offer me advice. As if I’d listen to anything his talentless ass has to offer. Twenty bucks says he’s out tonight.”
Ailis considered taking Rory up on the bet. Not because she had strong feelings one way or the other, but because she’d clearly been hanging around her family too long. There was something in the Collins’s genes that made it impossible for them to resist a bet.
She smiled to herself when she realized how strong the pull actually was. And here she was, thinking she didn’t fit in with her crazy family. She liked discovering she was wrong.
“Down girl,” Hunter joked, looking at Ailis. “Your Collins’s colors are shining through. Pretty sure Les would kick your ass if you started wagering on the outcome. Even if it would be nice to see Victor voted out tonight.”
Ailis grimaced. “Les seems to think Victor has a decent shot at winning.”
Rory shrugged, clearly not concerned with the competition. “We’ll see. My gut says he’s going to choke. Big time.”
“Hope you’re right. We’re done,” Hunter said, unplugging his guitar. “Be out of your way in a jiffy.”
“No worries.” Rory started setting up as Ailis caught sight of Les backstage. He was staring directly at her, looking pensive. There was no doubt in her mind Rory hadn’t been the only witness to that kiss. When he caught her looking at him, he turned and walked away.
Great. How could she have been so stupid? This wasn’t going to end well.
“I’ll meet you at the car, Hunter,” Ail
is said. “There’s something I need to take care of really quick.”
She took off in the direction Les had gone, catching him near one of the dressing rooms.
“Hey, Les. I wanted to…” She stumbled at the scowl on his face.
“You and the pub singer an item?”
She shook her head, trying to quickly deny it. “No. That was just, um…” So much for being an intelligent woman. Every vocabulary word she’d ever known flew out of her head.
Les narrowed his eyes. “You’ve never lied to me before, kiddo. I’d hate to see you break that streak.”
“We’re not a thing,” she insisted a little too loudly. “I mean…I think he might want us to be, um, I don’t know, something.” She wasn’t going to say “fling” because that would send Les into orbit. He was as overprotective of her as her dad, uncles, cousins and grandfather. Jesus. No woman should have that many alpha male relatives in one family. “But I…”
“You what?”
“The timing isn’t right. I mean, he’s got the show tonight and he needs to concentrate on that. And then there’s the chance that this contest might lead to bigger and better things for him. If it does and his career takes off, he’ll be heading out on the road, touring. And that’s not to mention the fact we’re a complete mismatch. He’s a show-off, a charmer. I’ve always seen myself with a quieter man, someone happy to sit on the back porch and read with me, or watch indie films, or go to wineries to do tastings, or…”
“Damn. That’s a lot of excuses. You had all those at the ready, didn’t you?”
She frowned. “They aren’t excuses.”
“Of course they are. But tell me, Ailis, who are you trying to convince? You or me?”
“You always say never get involved with the talent.”
He nodded. “That’s right. I do. And believe me, before you launched into all that bullshit, that was exactly what was on the tip of my tongue to say.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Because I’m not about to give you another lame excuse.”
She bit her lower lip, not wanting to get into a fight with Les. She loved the man, respected him and his opinion. But he was wrong about this. She’d given a lot of thought to her and Hunter as a couple these past few weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that anything between them would be destined to fail. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough yet. Strong enough to fall in love, to trust a man…hell, to trust herself not to get lost again.
