Hearts on Fire

by Alison Packard

  Drew stared pointedly at her outstretched hand. “If you wanted fries, why’d you order a salad?”

  “Because I like salad.” She stole another French fry from his plate, popped it into her mouth and wrinkled her nose at him. “And I also like fries. If I’d ordered some for myself, I would have scarfed them all down. Have you seen my ass lately? It doesn’t need fries.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have seen your ass lately, and I like it just fine.” Stuffed from the cheeseburger he’d just finished, he pushed his plate aside. “Where’s your next stop?”

  “Oakland.” She picked up her iced tea and took a sip.

  “I was there once. Well, not Oakland, but across the bay in San Francisco. Nice city. A little too congested for my taste though. I prefer Nashville.”

  “Me too.” She sighed and set her glass on the table. “But I’m not sure I’ll live there much longer.”

  Drew suddenly he felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. “Why?”

  She averted her eyes and stared at the large flat-panel TV that was mounted in the center of a wood-grained, built-in wall unit behind him. “I—we moved around a lot when I was a kid. I’m not used to staying in one place.”

  “You never talk much about when you were a kid.”

  She swung her gaze back to him and stared at him thoughtfully. “Neither do you.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” he said, as he shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned chair. “I grew up just outside of Nashville, and I had a pretty normal childhood.”

  “You told me once that your dad died right after you graduated from high school. That must have been tough.”

  “It was.” He forced away the image of his father’s gaunt face, staring up at him from the hospital bed. Cancer had taken a strong, able-bodied man, and reduced him to a shadow of his former self. The only thing the insidious disease hadn’t destroyed was his father’s spirit. “I still can’t believe I’ll never see him again,” he said, blinking away the sudden moisture that blurred his vision. “I still have the guitar he bought me when I was eight years old. He taught me how to play.”

  “Your dad was a musician?”

  Drew nodded. “Dad was a damn fine guitar player.”

  “So is his son.”

  The admiration shining through Jessie’s impossibly beautiful eyes took him by surprise. Until this moment, he’d had no idea how much her opinion of him mattered. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “If you want, I’ll finish out the tour with you.”

  Her brows lifted. “You’d do that?”

  “Sure. It’s only three weeks.”

  “But what about the MC? Don’t you have to work?”

  “I’m sure I can get the time off.” Sudden doubt clouded his mind. Maybe she didn’t want him to finish the tour with her. He hadn’t considered that possibility. “Did you want to get someone else to sub for Kenny for the rest of the tour?”

  “It’s not that, I just didn’t want you to think that I expect you to drop everything just to help me out.” She pushed up from the table and moved to stand before the window that overlooked the strip. “And I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay on because of what just happened between us.”

  Drew got to his feet and moved behind her. “What just happened between us was pretty damn amazing, but it’s not the reason why I’m offering to stay on.” He slipped his arms around her slender waist, pulled her against him, and lowered his head to inhale the sweet smell of her hair. “You and Wally took a chance on me a year ago. Being on tour with you got me noticed.” He tilted his head and spoke quietly, his mouth right next to her ear. “It’s why I got on the first plane to Las Vegas when Wally called. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, Jessie.”

  She relaxed the curves of her body into his. His T-shirt, which looked better on her than him, brushed against his bare chest. “Do you really mean it?” she asked softly. He’d pulled his Levi’s on right before room service arrived, and now his cock strained against the denim as she nestled against his groin. He’d only had the one condom in his wallet, but he could think of several things they could do that didn’t require one.

  “Yes.”

  She twisted in his arms and stared up at him, her eyes shining with excitement. “Would you take me zip lining?”

  “Zip lining?” He stared at her for a couple of seconds. That was the last thing he’d expected to come out of her mouth. Round two in the bedroom sounded a lot more appealing.

  “Yes. I’ve always wanted to do it, and there’s a zip line place not far from the strip.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I looked it up before we got to Vegas. I was going to ask Wally to go with me, but then I remembered he’s afraid of heights.” She leaned back to rest her palms on his biceps. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Please?”

  Drew doubted flying through the air on a wire could be classified as fun. Crazy maybe, but not fun. “Are you sure? You’ll be mobbed the second someone recognizes you.”

  A clever smile curved her lips. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks that no one will notice me.”

  Not notice her? Was she insane? A blind man in a raging blizzard would notice her. “You’re on. And don’t try to welsh on the bet when I win.”

  “You’re not gonna win,” she said confidently, then gave him a sexy smile. “And I’ll expect payment in full tonight.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “So will I,” he said, just before he kissed her.

  Less than an hour later, as he climbed into the back seat of a white and green taxi and settled next to Jessie, Drew’s expectation of a fifty-dollar payout had diminished greatly. To be honest, all his confidence had deflated rapidly the moment Jessie stepped out of the bathroom wearing: a short blonde wig, a black T-shirt with the words Graceland – Home of Elvis emblazoned in pink across her chest, and a pair of hideous black and white striped spandex shorts. Completing the outfit were a pair of hot pink sneakers. Forget anyone else recognizing her, if he hadn’t known it was her, even he wouldn’t have been able to guess her identity.

  “Where to, folks?” the driver, an older man with wiry salt and pepper hair pulled back into a short pony-tail, asked, looking at them in the rear-view mirror.

  “The Fremont Street Experience,” Jessie said, eagerly. She turned to Drew and grinned. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the large dark sunglasses perched on her nose but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind they were lit up like a department store Christmas tree. “We’re going zip lining.”

  “Then you’re braver than I am,” the driver said as he pulled away from the MGM’s front entrance. “Sounds like you don’t mind heights. You should try out the High Roller.”

  “The High Roller?” Drew echoed. “What’s that?”

  “The world’s tallest observation wheel,” Jessie interjected.

  More of her online research, he assumed.

  “Most call it a Ferris wheel. We’ll pass by it on the way to Fremont Street,” the driver said. “It’ll be on the right just past the Flamingo.”

  Jessie leaned forward. “Have you been on it?”

  “Nope, and I don’t plan to.” He glanced in the rear-view. “If the good Lord wanted us to be that high up in the air he would have given us wings.”

  Jessie’s delighted laugh filled the cab, and as she asked the driver another question, Drew studied her. Being seen in the unflattering disguise hadn’t bothered her one bit. She actually seemed to relish being anonymous.

  Anonymous was one of the words that came to mind when it came to her past. That, and mysterious. She rarely spoke of her life before she became famous, and every time he’d asked her about it, she’d either change the subject or give him the same spiel she gave to the rest of the world— her parents died when she was a toddler, and she’d lived with her grandmother until Wally discovered her busking outside the Memphis Farmer’s Market. On the surface, her story seemed plausible enough, but her uneasiness whenever the subject
came up made him wonder if she was hiding something. Despite his suspicions, though, he’d never pushed her on it. Considering he hadn’t been completely on the up and up about his own past, he couldn’t very well stand in judgment of Jessie’s, or anyone else’s for that matter.

  After the cab driver dropped them off on a corner near Fremont Street, they, along with the other tourists, navigated their way toward the older, but newly revitalized, downtown area, Drew found himself standing next to Jessie in front of SlotZilla—a ten or maybe twelve story giant neon slot machine that stood in the middle of the street.

  “This is where we pay.” Jessie clutched his arm and dragged him towards the entrance at the bottom of the structure, dodging other tourists along the way.

  Although it was early September, the merciless heat already had sweat beading on the back of his neck. If it was this hot now, he could only imagine how intense the heat had been in July and August.

  After he paid the entrance fees, they walked up a flight of stairs to a loading area, where they were weighed and strapped into their harnesses. The attendant bagged Jessie’s purse, and hooked it to her harness. Then he led them to an open-air caged elevator. As the elevator lifted them and two other tourists to the zip line platform, Drew watched as the pedestrians below got smaller and smaller. Sweat trickled down his spine. Shit. The zip lines hadn’t looked this high from the street.

  “I can’t wait.” Unrestrained enthusiasm edged Jessie’s voice.

  Drew closed his eyes. He never thought he had a fear of heights, but suddenly his stomach felt queasy.

  “Are you okay?” Jessie grabbed his hand. “Drew?” she said, when he didn’t answer.

  He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” Worry pinched a crease between her slightly arched brows. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  “I’m doing it.” He took a deep breath against the panic, then gave her a reassuring smile. “My dad always said fear is good for you. It keeps you on your toes.”

  Drew silently repeated his father’s mantra until the elevator doors opened, and they were shepherded onto the launch platform. In front of a metal gate he, Jessie and their two elevator-mates, were each hooked up to their own separate zip lines. His heart pounded as the gate opened, and as instructed, the four of them stepped down a short set of stairs until their legs dangled freely and the only thing supporting them was the harnesses they were strapped into.

  He heard nothing but the sound of his quick and shallow breathing, until the attendant released the brake and they shot out of the platform at a dizzying speed. Then Jessie’s ecstatic whoop of excitement split the air as they zipped along Fremont Street. Drew gripped his harness tightly and dared to open his eyes just as they passed under the canopy that covered several blocks of the downtown corridor. A few feet ahead of him, Jessie had leaned back with her legs extended in front of her, and was hanging on to her harness with only one hand. He envied her lack of fear, and hung on to the straps of his harness like they were the only thing keeping him from extreme bodily injury or worse, death. He was a guitar player, damn it, not a daredevil.

  After what seemed like forever, but was probably less than a minute, the braking system kicked in and their speed decreased as they approached the landing platform. The instant Drew’s boots came into contact with the solid platform, he exhaled the breath he was pretty sure he’d been holding since take-off. Then he looked at Jessie, who was busy adjusting her wig. He shook his head, surprised that the ugly-ass thing hadn’t flown clean off her head. She turned toward him, and the luminous smile that brightening her face almost stopped his heart, making every second of the harrowing ride he’d squeamishly endured worth it.

  “Let’s do it again.” Her voice was high-pitched with exhilaration.

  Drew surveyed her pink cheeks and sparkling eyes and didn’t have the heart to disappoint her. “Okay, but you’re buying me a beer after this is over.”

  If he lived through it.

  By the time the sun had set, Jessie had gotten used to the strange looks from the tourists strolling along Fremont Street. It wasn’t the first time she’d donned the short spiky platinum blonde wig, the garish spandex shorts, and black Graceland T-shirt. Although she liked John, there were times when she wanted to sightsee on her own, without her bodyguard drawing attention to her. Concealing her identity seemed to be the only solution. As far as disguises went, it was effective. Most people were too horrified by the outfit to look at her face. And if they did, the wig was so different from her long dark hair that they failed to recognize her anyway.

  If Drew was embarrassed to be seen with her, it wasn’t apparent by his actions. After zip lining, they sat at the Kings Bar inside the Four Queens Hotel and Casino, to escape the heat. Over a couple of beers, they had people-watched and talked about their favorite subject—music—for a few hours. Other than Wally, Drew was the only person who knew she wrote many of the songs on her albums. Afraid her young age would prevent people from taking her songwriting seriously, she’d chosen a pseudonym, then kept it after she’d hit it big. A great many of her songs were personal, and she didn’t want to feel obligated to explain them. And after seeing how the media and tabloids dissected every song Taylor Swift wrote, she was glad she’d made that choice.

  After leaving the Four Queens, they each sampled a deep fried Oreo, and then hung out in front of the Mermaid bar and listened to a local group called The Party Rockers perform on the 1st Street stage. The lead singer, a woman, had a great voice, and the band seemed to specialize in a variety of dance club hits. The large crowd that gathered around the stage danced and sang along with enthusiastic abandon. Then, they watched in awe as one of the hourly light shows played on the canopy high above Fremont Street. The kaleidoscope of colors combined with the music and the archival footage of the legendary rock band, The Who, was mesmerizing.

  Now, as she and Drew walked hand in hand against the steady stream of tourists, they navigated their way toward SlotZilla with the intent of catching a cab that would take them back to the MGM. Despite the crowd, Fremont Street had an intimate, laid-back party atmosphere, totally unlike the more sophisticated vibe of the strip. When they reached Las Vegas Boulevard, Drew led her away from the crosswalk to wait for a cab.

  “Did you have fun?” He moved to stand in front of her. “Blondie,” he added, with a grin.

  Jessie laughed and touched the wig with her free hand. “Yes.”

  “I guess I owe you fifty bucks. No one recognized you.”

  “I’ll let you off the hook for the fifty since you paid for the zip line three times.” She smiled up at him. “I could tell it wasn’t as fun for you as it was for me.”

  “You know what? By the third time, I actually liked it,” he said, then tugged her hand as a cab sped past them. “Let’s walk to the corner. It’ll probably be easier to catch a cab there.”

  As they headed for the corner, Drew put his arm around her shoulders. The sun had long since set, but the temperature hadn’t dipped much. The warm air brushed over her skin and she let out a contented sigh. Although she and Drew hadn’t talked about what had happened between them in her suite, the smoldering glances he’d thrown her way for the last several hours told her he’d been thinking about it. And so had she. Especially when he touched her. “This has been a perfect night. I wish it didn’t have to end.”

  “Who says it has to end?” he asked, as they stopped near the corner. “All we’ve eaten since lunch is a fried Oreo. Why don’t we go back to the MGM, shower, change our clothes, and then meet for dinner?”

  “I’m kind of done with crowds,” she said. “How about after we shower and change, you come to my suite, and we’ll order dinner from room service?” She paused and hoped she’d been reading him right all afternoon. “I want to be alone with you.”

  “I want that too.” The light from a nearby streetlamp slanted over his face and revealed his darkened eyes. �
��Jessie, we should talk—”

  “No.” She lifted a quick hand to his lips. “Not tonight. Let’s just enjoy being with each other and worry about what it all means tomorrow.” At his silent nod, she lowered her hand. “Look, there’s a cab,” she said, as she spied a taxi slowing to make a left hand turn at the corner.

  Seconds later, Drew opened the door of the cab, but before she could duck inside, he gently wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. She turned her head to look at him. “It means a lot.”

  Her stomach fluttered at the low, rough sound of his voice. “For me too,” she said softly, then slid into the cab.

  An hour and a half later, she ran a brush through her freshly washed and blow-dried hair, and gave herself a quick once-over in the bathroom mirror. She hadn’t planned on washing her hair, but after wearing a wig for most of the day, it was a necessity.

  The knock on the door forestalled any further thoughts of changing into another outfit. She took a steadying breath, smoothed the palms of her hands down the fabric of her green jersey, halter dress, and left the bathroom. By the time she reached the door, her nerve endings had shifted into high-alert mode, and when she opened the door and saw Drew, she couldn’t ignore the thrill of happiness that fluttered in her heart.

  On any other guy, a white button down chambray shirt with the sleeves carelessly rolled up, and a pair of faded blue jeans would look ordinary. But not on Drew. Someday, when he got famous—and she was sure he would—she wouldn’t be the only woman appreciating his understated, yet sexy good looks.

  “Hey.” His gaze slid casually down her body then up again. “You look…amazing.”

  “Thank you.” She motioned him inside. As he brushed past her she caught his scent. Clean, fresh, and masculine, it sent her senses into overdrive. She closed the door, locked it, and then took a breath to calm her thundering heart. They hadn’t even had dinner and she was already yearning for what she hoped would come afterward.

  Jessie turned and sucked in a surprised breath to find Drew standing right behind her. Before she could speak, he slipped his hand around her waist, pulled her roughly against his body, and claimed her lips in a searing kiss that drove all coherent thought from her mind.