Black Ember

by Ruby Laska

  He sat next to her on the couch, slinging his arm around her. On television, the evening news anchor was interviewing an elegant older woman and a portly, silver-haired man in a navy blazer.

  “Aren’t you worried about her, Mrs. Billings? Assemblyman?”

  “Caryn is quite capable of choosing how she spends her leave,” Georgia Billings said calmly, a chilly smile leaving no doubt as to how she felt about the interviewer. “The creative retreat is a long-established tradition for those in the arts.”

  “Early reports did suggest that she was behaving erratically,” the anchorman said. “She was spotted in a tavern in Conway, North Dakota last week, wearing what one witness described as disheveled clothing. This same witness says she’d cut off all her hair.”

  “I’m sure your viewers understand that Caryn didn’t attain success in the world of high fashion without being ahead of the trends,” Georgia snapped. “Whatever she was wearing, I’m sure it was exceptional. As for her being in North Dakota, I’m quite sure you’re mistaken. She called us yesterday from Indianapolis. She said she was going to see the giant arch.”

  “That was St. Louis, dear,” Assemblyman Billings said. “The racetrack was in Indianapolis.”

  “We’re just delighted that our daughter is exploring the heartland,” Georgia said. “Taking the time to see so much of our beautiful country, especially the nation’s breadbasket. As you know, my husband is a big supporter of agribusiness back in our home state of New York.”

  The interviewer looked only a little disappointed as he took the bait and segued into a discussion of Harry Billings’ Senate prospects. Georgia and Harry bantered easily for a few more minutes until it was time to wrap up the interview.

  “Is there anything you’d like to say to Caryn, just in case she’s watching?”

  “Why yes, there is,” Georgia said warmly. She turned toward the camera and gave it a regal smile. “Wear a hat in the sun, dear, and don’t go in the water for an hour after lunch.”

  Jayne snapped off the television. “Leave it to Carrie to get the upper hand with that pack of jackals,” she said with admiration. “I only hope she’s going easy on Zane.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, he’s kind of new to the whole committed relationship thing. Didn’t you tell me he’s never had a serious girlfriend before?”

  “True,” Matthew conceded, “though I wouldn’t worry about him too much. People used to think that Zane was a quitter, back when he left the law firm. But I always knew he was just waiting for the right opportunity to come along.”

  #

  Seven hundred miles away, in a dim bar in the middle of Kansas, a man slid onto a barstool and ordered a couple of draft beers.

  “Drinking two-fisted tonight, honey?” the bartender asked as she pushed the frosty mugs across the bar.

  “Oh no, my girlfriend will be along in a minute.” Zane picked up his mug and took a sip, ignoring the bartender’s look of disappointment. “She’s just freshening up.”

  Then he sat back and waited to see what would come walking through the door. In Saint Louis, she’d surprised him with a long, red wig. In Topeka, it was a crisp pink uniform borrowed from the motel maid. And in South Bend, she’d transformed herself with nothing but a bikini and a lifeguard whistle.

  With Caryn, he never knew what he was getting, and he liked it. Sure, eventually she’d get tired of traveling incognito. She’d go back to New York, to the business that bore her name, the work that energized and satisfied her.

  But in the past week, as they’d traveled around the Midwest, Caryn had realized that her company could survive without her if she took some time off. Her team was ready to take on greater challenges, leaving her to focus on the creative tasks that she liked best. For the first time in her life, she was thinking of adjusting her work-life balance…especially when Zane had a few weeks off between hitches.

  The door opened and a woman walked in. She was wearing a baseball cap with her hair tucked under it, an oversized jersey, and slider shorts tight enough to highlight every pretty inch of her well-shaped legs.

  “Hi hon,” Zane said, grinning at this latest incarnation of the woman he’d fallen for. “Tough game?”

  “Yeah, you can say that again,” she said, taking her place beside him. “You might have to help me work on my…stance.”

  Zane grinned and thanked his lucky stars. One day, his Carrie would be ready to give up the disguises when they were out in public together.

  But for now, all Zane needed to know was that she was his.

  The End

  The Boomtown Boys series continues with three other books available now! Read an excerpt below, or check out more sweet, small town romances by Ruby Laska:

  The Boomtown Boys Series:

  Black Gold

  Black Heat

  Black Flame

  Black Ember

  The Cupid Island Series:

  Larissa Learns to Breathe

  Mandy Makes Her Mark

  Plain Jane’s Birthday Wish

  Other Novels:

  Mine 'til Monday

  Heartbreak, Tennessee

  A Man for the Summer

  Along for the Ride

  Mountain Song

  Join Ruby’s newsletter to stay up-to-date on new releases and automatically be entered for giveaways.

  Visit Ruby on Facebook or Twitter

  …or keep reading to enjoy an excerpt from Black Gold, Book 1 in the Boomtown Boys series.

  Excerpt: BLACK GOLD

  Boomtown Boys #1

  RUBY LASKA

  The girl singing on stage was nearing the end of her set. Sweat poured down her face, taking what remained of her eye makeup with it. Her cheap tank top had lost a few sequins during the performance and there was a long, ragged thread hanging from the edge of her skirt. Only her boots looked like they'd come from anywhere other than a thrift store: fire engine red with swirls of fancy stitching on the side.

  Regina McCary hung on to every note the girl sang, hoping that the familiar adrenaline rush might finally signal a surefire winner. This girl was practically made of talent, but that wasn’t enough to make it in Nashville. She’d have to have stage presence, an online following, and enough determination to sink a ship. Regina drained the last of her weak gin and tonic and forced down a bite of her sandwich. It wouldn't do to let hunger or dehydration interfere with her focus, not this close to a deal.

  "Not bad, is she?" a familiar voice grated in her ear when the song ended. The small audience filling the shabby tavern clapped enthusiastically, especially a group of drunk guys taking up most of the back of the bar around the pool tables, and Regina could barely hear him. But she'd know that voice anywhere. Her heart sank and she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed: not here, not now. Surely, he wouldn't have followed her all the way here from Nashville, not when this was supposed to be her first vacation in six years.

  But when she finally opened her eyes, it was Carl Cash who had slid into the chair across the small table from her. He pushed her plate out of the way to make room to set his canvas knapsack on the table.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" Regina demanded.

  "Following up on a hot tip. But, honey, you don't want to talk about work, do you? Not while you're on vacation."

  "How do you know I'm on vacation?"

  But Regina could guess, and her heart plummeted because there was only one person who could have told Carl where she was, and the betrayal stung: Meredith Jester wasn't just her boss, she was supposedly her friend.

  "I'd have to be your friend to do this," Meredith had said the day she told Regina she had two choices: take a vacation, or find another job. "It would be easier to just cut you loose. Or let you work yourself to death."

  Meredith had always had a soft spot for Carl, who had worked at her talent agency before striking out on his own. Never mind that Carl had become her number one competitor. Meredith was loyal to all of her former employ
ees. That had worked out well back when Regina had been dating him, and even better when she’d been engaged to him. Meredith had even helped plan their wedding.

  When Regina and Carl broke up two months before the wedding was scheduled to take place, Regina suggested it would be a good time for Meredith to let go of her friendship with Carl, too. But Meredith replied that there were enough rising country music stars to keep both Cash Professional Management and the Jester Group busy, and besides, she enjoyed the competition. So ever since then, she and Carl continued to try to poach each other's hottest clients, while trading friendly barbs and gossip about Regina.

  Would Meredith sink so low as to send Carl to spy on Regina? Absolutely—if she thought Regina needed a babysitter, someone to make sure she was taking it easy. Ever since the broken engagement, Regina had done little besides work, because keeping busy was the best way she knew to keep from focusing on her failed relationship. Every new client she signed felt like a personal triumph. And when their songs failed climb up the charts, no one felt more disappointment than Regina. But the long hours were taking a toll on her health, and she spent so much time in the office that her social life was every bit as dead as her houseplants.

  At first she’d fought Meredith’s insistence that she take time off, but when she realized she had eaten nothing but take-out for three weeks straight, she decided Meredith might just have a point. But that didn’t mean that she was going to pass up an opportunity to court a hot prospect. Even if she had to stretch the truth to do so. Which was why she’d chosen a vacation spot that just happened to be home to one of the hottest leads she’d discovered in ages. When Meredith found a few amateur videos of Stiletta while scouring the Internet for new talent, she knew she had to see the girl for herself. And if that meant she had to lie to her boss and pretend she was taking in the sights, well, Regina thought it best to apologize later rather than asking permission first.

  "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath and looking her ex-fiancé squarely in the eye. "Look. I suppose Meredith told you to come up here and keep an eye on me. But I do know how to take a break from work, Carl. I'm on vacation, nothing more."

  "In a bar," Carl said, raising an eyebrow, "with live music."

  "There aren't a whole lot of entertainment options in Conway, North Dakota," Regina hedged. "Haven't you noticed?"

  "Which makes it seem like a very odd choice for a vacation."

  "No, wait, there's hiking—"

  "Yeah, Meredith told me about that. Miles of unpaved trails with views of... nothing. Come on, Regina, there's way better hiking around Nashville. And besides, you don't even own a pair of hiking boots."

  "But there's rafting on the Little Yellow River. And there's a historic fort around here somewhere—"

  "Right. Maybe Meredith fell for all of that. But I think I know you just a little better than she does." Carl tugged the leather laces of his knapsack and reached inside, pulling out a sleek top-of-the-line laptop.

  The knapsack, like so much about Carl, was part of the disguise he had cultivated. He never actually came out and denied the rumors that he was Johnny Cash's nephew, but he made damn sure to cover up the fact he was the one who started most of those rumors in the first place. Regina was one of the only people who knew he'd been born Carl Bettendorf from upstate New York, and gotten himself a fancy East Coast education before coming to Nashville and transforming himself.

  After a few taps of the keyboard, Carl spun the laptop around and Regina found herself looking at a publicity shot of the same girl who'd exited the stage only moments earlier. Underneath were the columns of data that Carl was so good at digging up: the handful of venues she'd played in the last few years, the few minor acts she'd opened for, the unknown bands she'd belonged to before they broke up.

  Exhaustive research along with relentless determination was what Carl was known for. Just as what Regina was known for was discovering indie artists who were sure to become critics' darlings—and earn next to nothing.

  "You wouldn't," Regina breathed. "This girl could actually earn me some money, for a change. Besides, she's mine. I found her." Regina was determined to finally land a client who'd be a financial success as well as a critical one, someone who'd attract the big labels and land the sort of contract that would finally make her colleagues stop treating her like an intern.

  "Oh, yes, I certainly would," Carl said. "That was a very expensive wedding we cancelled, Reggie. I've got to recoup those expenses any way I can."

  "I told you I'd pay you back for every cent!"

  "Yeah, that would be kind of hard to do on your income, unfortunately," Carl said mildly, closing the laptop and putting it away. He signaled for a passing waitress—the same one who'd ignored Regina for the first half hour that she'd sat at the table—and the woman made a U-turn and headed their way.

  "Not if I sign Stiletta! She's solid, Carl. With a little cleanup, a little coaching, a little media training, I'll have her booked in Nashville by next month."

  "Now that's a funny thing," Carl said. "Seems like Meredith told me something about you swearing on your grandmother's Bible that you wouldn't even think about working while you're up here."

  "You can't tell her. Please, Carl."

  "It's kind of sweet," Carl said, considering her with his head tilted to the side. "Hang on a sec," he added as the waitress sidled up to him, letting her eyes rove over Carl's gym-muscled shoulders straining the seams on his pearl-buttoned western shirt. Carl was a looker, Regina had to give him that much. Too bad all that pretty was only skin-deep. "Sweetheart, I'll have a rye and soda, and something a little more ladylike for my friend here. She's on vacation, so she deserves to cut loose. Something tropical with a pink umbrella, maybe?"

  "I could do a Bahama Mama," the waitress purred, "or maybe a Sex on the Beach." She was in her sixties, but appeared to be as susceptible to the legendary Carl Cash charm as every other woman.

  "Oh, definitely a Sex on the Beach." Carl winked.

  "I don't need another drink!" Regina protested. But Carl had tossed a twenty onto the waitress's tray, and she made a beeline for the bar.

  "Anyway, as I was saying, it's kind of sweet the way Meredith trusts you. A few brochures for white water rafting, and she's ready to believe you're actually going to take time off."

  "I should never have told her where I was really going," Regina said.

  "No, probably not," Carl agreed. "You could’ve said you were going to Cozumel or Key West like a normal person. You know that it only took me about fifteen minutes of searching online to figure out what caught your eye up here, once I knew the name of the town. Buzz is building on Stiletta, but still mostly local. Nice work, Reggie. Got to say, I didn't think you had it in you to sign someone who could go mainstream."

  "This is completely unethical!" Regina could feel the familiar sensation building inside her—embarrassment mixed with a profound sense of unfairness. After all, her clients had won over a dozen industry awards, and all of them had received great reviews, but none had sold more than a few thousand copies. Meredith didn't mind. She always said Regina's client list gave the firm cachet. But Regina knew that until she brought in a big breakout, she'd be stuck with the smallest office and worst parking space in the firm—not to mention, a cash flow situation that had her counting pennies between checks.

  Stiletta was going to change all of that. "I found her. I'm going to sign her myself!"

  Carl was already shaking his head. "All's fair in love and war, Reggie. I think you were the one who said that to me, weren't you?"

  "Yes—when I found you in bed with your assistant."

  "You make it sound so tawdry. She was a full grown woman."

  "Oh, right, so just because she made it all the way to grad school before she got exploited by her boss, I should overlook the fact that we were about to get married? You know what? Never mind. There’s no way I'm going to get sucked into this all over again." It would end with her nearly having another nervous brea
kdown, and there was no telling where Meredith would send her next. Regina would be lucky to avoid going to Siberia—Meredith might finally make good on her threat to fire her so Regina could find a less competitive profession. Like drag racing, perhaps, or trial law.

  Competition among Nashville's talent scouts was fierce. But competitiveness had been ingrained in Regina when she was only five years old, when her parents first sent Regina to the piano teacher who'd taught her two elder sisters, both of whom were now concert pianists. Regina was the only one who didn't have the talent to perform, and she still carried the sting of failure. But those lessons hadn't gone to waste. Regina could spot talent from miles away.

  Still, her desire to win—at something, anything—had been honed by time into a fierce and untamable drive.

  Which gave her an idea. "Tell you what, Carl. If I sign Stiletta, you forgive my half of the wedding expenses."

  Carl rolled his eyes. "Come on, Reggie. I've told you a thousand times that you don't need to pay me back. I'm the one who screwed up. I'm the one who ought to pay for my mistake."

  "And if you sign Stiletta," she went on, ignoring him, "I'll convince Meredith to give you Buckeye Brown."

  Carl's eyes went wide. Regina knew that behind them, Carl’s brain was doing feverish calculations. Buckeye Brown had sold thirty-five thousand copies of his first album, enough to make him a hot young star. There was one problem with working with Buckeye, though. He had no respect for women. He'd made Meredith's life a living hell since she found him in an Alabama roadhouse, where she should’ve left him. She’d been considering offloading him for a while now, especially since he was five months late on his new album and spending a little too much time at the racetrack. A problem client, in other words, but Carl didn't need to know that.

  "Deal," he said, much too quickly. He tried to cover up his error by grabbing her hand and holding onto it a little too long. "Aw, Regina, we were good together, weren't we?"