All Smoke No Fire (4 page)

Her calling him smokey had the same effect as throwing ice water at his groin. He stepped back, nodding. “That’s probably a good idea.”

She grinned. “A wise idea, but not much fun for either of us, right?”

With a laugh, Dax picked up his duffle bag from beside his guitar on the floor. “I appreciate that you’re thinkin’ straight right now, because I’m acting on impulse only.” His cock wanted to lead him to her, take her tight against him, and kiss her senseless. “Which bed is mine?” He gave her a look, letting all his desire for her show in his gaze. “For now?”

Sucking in a breath, she shivered. “Wow, you’re making this difficult.” She pointed to the bed on the right. “Yours.” Opening a tall panel between the nightstands, she pulled out a thick, black curtain, sliding it along the track in the ceiling. When she got to the opposite wall, she peeked around it. “Give me a solid six hours of sleep, then we’ll get down to business.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grinned at her double meaning. “Sounds good to me.”

She shook her head. “Oh smokey, you’re gonna be a handful, aren’t you.” Rolling her eyes, she groaned. “I’m just blathering out all kinds of double entendres.” She left the curtain open a foot. “Let me brush my teeth, then the bathroom’s yours.”

He dropped his bag on the floor and sat on the bed. The window covering was the same as the thick curtain material, attached on both the top and bottom. It would most likely be pitch black in here, even on the sunniest day. Could he get used to this lifestyle? Riding around the country, performing, then riding some more?

What if Marilou invited him to be her opening act? They’d ride around together, spending their nights in one of these beds, naked and sweaty, using their mouths on each other, riding each other into screaming orgasms. “Shit.” Thinking like that wouldn’t help him get his erection under control.

The bathroom door opened and he waited until her light went out. Grabbing his kit, he headed for Marilou’s side of the curtain, taking a quick look at where he could barely make out her form under the covers in the light spilling from the bathroom. Would she say no if he got naked and slid in beside her? She might not, but he’d feel like hell taking advantage that way.

In the bathroom, he unzipped his jeans and let his pulsing shaft free, seriously considering a cold shower. He wanted her like no one he’d wanted before. Gazing at the reflection of his eyes in the mirror, he stood for long minutes, thinking. Was it because of her stardom? Because he’d admired her for years? Or was it just her, the woman, intelligent and sensual, and on the same sexual wavelength as him?

When he finally plopped down onto his bed in his underwear and turned off the light, he listened for her breathing, but the curtain acted like a wall between them. Then his mind switched to practicalities. “Aw, hell.” He didn’t have any condoms.

****

Dax woke when the bus’s forward movement stopped. He peeked out the window at the gas station then slipped into his clothes and boots. Using the light from his phone, he found the edge of the curtain and slid it open a few feet.

“Dax?” Marilou’s voice came quiet and soft.

“Want anything from the gas station?”

“Yeah.” Her light snapped on and she sat up, a T-shirt the only thing between his gaze and her lush breasts. “Get me some cookies and a can of whipped cream.” She’d braided her hair and it hung long and thick over her shoulder.

He laughed. “Okay, any particular brand of cookies?”

“Chocolate. That’s all I care about.”

Dax left the room, closing the door. Beth stood at the front of the bus with her husband and they both turned and smiled at him. “Hey, how’d you sleep?”

“Not bad, considering we’re on a moving vehicle.” He looked out the window at the brightly lit gas station. “How long do we have?”

Joe held out his hand, palm up. “You’re the guest here. Whenever you’re ready to go. Take your time, buddy.”

“Thanks.” Dax followed Joe off the bus, leaving him to the diesel fuel pumps, and walked into the small store. He headed for the personal items aisle first.

Ten minutes later, back on the bus, Dax tossed the bag of condoms into his side of the room and set the cookies and whipped cream down on the table next to Marilou. Reaching to shut off her light, he jumped when her eyes opened.

“Hey.” She sat up, cross-legged under the covers and patted the bed in front of her. “Sit a minute.” Setting the cookie package on her lap, she opened it and shook the can of whipped cream.

He plopped down, a thrill skittering through him at being so close to her, on her bed. “What’s with the midnight snack?”

She squirted whipped cream on a cookie and offered it to him.

He shook his head and she popped it into her mouth, leaving a tiny fleck of white on her lip.

“Comfort food.” She offered him a plain cookie, and he accepted it.

“You nervous about something?” Was it the same thing he was nervous about?
Things
. Time off from his job, on a bus to Louisiana, playing and singing with Marilou Roselle, and, number one: making love to her.

“Just this situation. I…” She glanced down. “I don’t want to screw this up either way around, you know what I mean?” Her sleepy gaze met his. “If we start a relationship, how will it affect our business dealings? And if business doesn’t work out between us…” She frowned.

“Marilou.” He picked up a cookie and used the can to spread whipped cream onto it, holding it in front of her mouth.

She took the treat from him, her lips brushing his fingers.

The touch of her soft warm mouth on his hand shot wild urges down between his legs. He leaned forward, too tempted by her, by that dot of whipped cream resting on her lip. Kissing her soft and slow, he licked off the cream. “Let’s take it one day at a time.” His lips played over hers. “And work toward making things easy between us.”

Her eyes opened, dark and sexy as she pulled back a few inches. “Easy.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

He leaned in for another kiss.

“Go.” Marilou shooed him off her bed. “We need to set some rules first. Don’t you dare distract me with your bedroom tricks.” She smiled, softening her words.

With difficulty, both physical and emotional, he stood and walked away, stopping at the curtain. “Just promise me one thing.”

She nodded, watching him.

“Save some of that whipped cream so I can show you my favorite bedroom trick.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned.

Dax grinned as he closed himself off from her with the curtain. He’d agree to damn near any rule she put out there, just to have her in his arms.

Marilou pulled back the curtain, looking in on Dax, who’d slept through the last pit stop. He lay on top of the covers in a pair of black underwear, his back to her. Her fingers tingled for a touch of his round, manly ass, muscled legs furred with dark hair, strong back, big biceps.

He turned his head, his hot blue eyes half-open, and held out his hand. “Come and lie next to me for a while.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Oh no, don’t even think you can lie there all buff and nearly naked and lure me in.” Licking her lips, she took another long look at him. “Tempting, but I bought breakfast for us at the last stop, and we have work to do. First.”

His stomach rumbled loudly. “Breakfast?”

“See how you are? Always food first with men.” She slid the curtain closed.

Setting two plates on the table, she placed burritos on them. Opening the two cups of coffee she’d gotten along with the food, she put a little carton of milk and packets of sugar next to his cup.

In the gas station, even though Marilou wore stretchy exercise pants and a baggy T-shirt, someone noticed her and asked for her autograph. It was always flattering, but she was glad it had been just one person and not the whole store. She was content being semi-famous. Or maybe half-semi-famous.

Dax came out wearing a black T-shirt that clung to his pecs and showed off his big biceps.

She collapsed onto the bench seat as her knees went weak. The man was all-tight, firm muscles and handsome face. He didn’t think he’d do well on stage? Hell, just his physical presence alone would sell albums.

He slid in across from her and took a long sniff.

She passed him a napkin. “Breakfast burritos. Sausage, eggs, cheese, sour cream. The works.” The scent had her stomach rumbling. “We try to time our runs so we hit this great little diner in the morning.”

“Thanks.” He took a gulp of coffee then picked up the burrito and bit into it. His eyes opened wide. “Mmmm.”

“Yep.” She bit into her own, the Mexican spices mingling with the dairy and vegetables on her tongue. They ate for a few minutes, then she set down her food. “Let’s discuss what’s going to happen when we get to New Orleans.”

He nodded but kept eating, finishing his burrito, and washing it down with the coffee.

“Still hungry?” She slid the remaining half of her breakfast his way.

“You don’t mind?” He smiled at her.

How could she resist that gorgeous grin? “No, go ahead.” She sipped coffee while she watched him eat. He was a big man, worked a hard-labor job. She probably should have gotten him two burritos, but she’d remember to do that on the way back.

Less than a week and they’d be passing through this way again. Would they still be lovers? Because there was no doubt in her mind she’d be sleeping with him real soon. But would their business arrangement get in the way of their personal one? She couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t make plans and dream of things out of her reach.

“What’s on your mind?” He’d finished eating and sat watching her.

“Business.” She set down her cup. “Here’s what’ll happen when we get to New Orleans.”

She talked about the parade, the gig at the bar, meeting her manager. He asked plenty of questions, and she told him about her little condo in the French Quarter and how it’d been three years since she’d been back for Mardi Gras. She didn’t mention that it had also been three years since she’d had her heart tugged out of her chest and stomped on.

“And after?” He pressed his hand on the table, not moving, not blinking.

“If things work out, I could see you opening for me on this tour.” She waited, but he didn’t move. “If you’d want to, that is.”

“If I’d want to?” He shook his head, his mouth open. “Of course I’d want to.” He reached for her hand and squeezed tightly. “But I’m not ready. I don’t have an act, songs prepared, a—”

“I’ll help you with all that. We’ll have time to go over your songs, to come up with a script, and I won’t throw you up there the first night back. You’ll have time to get it right, get accustomed to what goes on backstage.”

“But if I wanted you to throw me up there the first night?” He winked. “Would that convince you I have fire instead of smoke?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’ve got that much fire in you, then okay, we’ll make it happen.” Taking her hand from his, she stacked the plates and empty cups. “Go get your guitar and we’ll start with that song you played last night.” She paused a few seconds. “It’s one of the best songs I’ve ever heard, Dax.”

He let out his breath. “Coming from you, that’s an incredible compliment.”

“That’s one thing I’ve never been able to do: write songs. I can tweak the songs I buy, make them mine, but to sit and start writing a whole fresh song…” She shook her head. “That’s your key talent. The rest of it—the stage presence, the audience chatter—that’ll follow.”

“Yeah, but what if the song I played last night was my only good song?” He had a half-grin, but his brow furrowed, revealing his worry.

“Smokey, there’s no way I would have asked you along on this trip if I hadn’t heard a dozen of your other songs.”

He paused for a few seconds, then his brows lifted. “The CD your agent requested?” He tipped his head. “You listened to that?”

“Of course I did.” She’d wanted to be sure it’d be worth her time meeting him to hear his songs. If she hadn’t heard the level of professionalism he exhibited on his CD, she would never have invited him on stage with her, tested him in front of a packed theater the way she had.

She dumped the trash in a compactor and took a notebook and pencil out of a drawer. “And they’re all good, so let’s get started.”

They settled in the seating area and he played all his best songs for her. They picked out four and worked on them together, Marilou picking up the lyrics easily, writing them down so she could practice. They settled on two songs that he’d play on his own at the Bourbon Street bar on Mardi Gras, and two that she’d sing with him, one before and one after his solo set.

“You can’t believe how nervous this makes me.” He set his guitar in its case.

“Oh, yes I can.” She brought them each a bottle of soda and stood looking out the window at the world going by. “When I decided to leave the talent agency and start my own career, I had an agent, a manager, a songwriting team, and a band, all thanks to working hard for those eight years for the agency.

“But the one thing I didn’t have was a mentor, someone to help me with the little things, the split-second decisions that needed to be made. I’d made careers for some big-name singers, but when I asked them for help with my own career, they were too busy.” It’d hurt. A lot. She’d come to know these people as friends as well as business associates, and for them to turn away from her because she would be their competition seemed more than unkind.

He opened his soda and drank. “Is that why you’re taking on an amateur like me?”

She couldn’t tell if he was insulted or flattered, but she’d tell him the truth. “I promised myself I’d help someone someday.” She’d tried twice already, first Owen, then Bradley, but both times ended badly, the last time, with Bradley, changing her in ways she’d never imagined could happen to her.

“I want to be there for a person who has raw talent and drive.” She smiled. “Otherwise known as fire.”

He stood. “I appreciate the confidence you have in me, but what if I’m just not equipped for this kind of work?”

“That’s what we’ll find out over the next week. The bar gig will be your test, and we’ll make decisions based on what happens there.” Marilou knew he’d do well. He had everything it took to make it in the business, including a mentor who would stay with him as long as he needed her.