Hearts on Fire (5 page)

“Well, now that I’m
dressed, I guess we should get going.”

“Jessie.”

“Yes?” She turned
to look at him.

“I think you’re
forgetting something.”

She tilted her head and
frowned. “What?”

He pointed to her feet.
“Your shoes.”

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered,
as she stalked toward the bedroom. She’d lost her damn mind, and it
was all Drew Carmichael’s fault.

Drew was wired. He
always was after a show. But there had been no show tonight. What had
him on edge and ready to jump out of his skin was how fucking hot
Jessie had looked in that blue dress of hers.

From the very first
moment they’d crossed paths at the Music City Saloon a little over
a year ago, he’d been aware of her potent sexuality, but tonight,
he hadn’t been able to keep his reaction in check. His dick had
gone from half-mast to harder than a rock from the time he’d walked
into her suite to the moment he zipped her sexier-than-hell dress.

And now, Jessie was at
her meet-and-greet, and he was nursing a beer in the VIP section
inside Rouge—a bar located within the casino.

As the music pulsed
around him, he took a pull of his Sam Adams and looked on as a couple
of guys from Jessie’s band chatted with her back-up singers. None
of the guys came on to them. It was common knowledge that Tara and
Renee had a firm rule against hooking up with anyone who worked the
tour. The band respected their wishes. If the guys wanted to get
laid, there were always plenty of groupies around to satisfy their
sexual appetites.

A table away, two
members of Trista Cantrell’s band and her manager were tossing back
whiskey shots and rating the hotness of the women in the VIP room by
using the criteria of
fuckable
or
not fuckable
.
According to Tara and Renee, Barry Downs was an ass of epic
proportions, and judging by what Drew had seen so far tonight, they
weren’t wrong.

Ten minutes later, he
was working on his second beer when Tara, a cute redhead with a nice
smile and light brown eyes, plopped down next to him on the red
leather bench. He wasn’t at all attracted to her, but he always
enjoyed shooting the breeze with her.

“You looked bored.”
She leaned back and took a sip of her drink. A pink concoction that
looked like it should have had an umbrella in it.

“This isn’t my
scene.”

Her brow arched. “Then
why are you here?”

“I needed to unwind.”
More like he needed to be in a place where the loud music would help
him forget the fact that the thing he most wanted was the one thing
he’d told himself he couldn’t have.

“I know what you
mean,” she said, then took another sip of her drink. “I normally
stay put in my room and call my boyfriend, but we had a fight.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Tara shrugged. “It is
what it is. My life is hard for him to handle because I’m gone a
lot.”

“That can be tough on
a relationship.”

“Let’s not talk
about my troubles. It’s depressing.” Her somber expression
brightened. “Hey, I’m glad you were available to help us out,”
she said, then rolled her eyes. “You heard what happened to Kenny,
right?”

“Yep.” He nodded
and met Tara’s mischievous eyes. A slow smile split her face and
she burst out laughing. Her amusement was so infectious Drew couldn’t
help but laugh along with her.

“Oh my God. You
should have seen him.” Tara put her hand on his arm. “At first he
was doing that Chuck Berry duck walk thing. Renee and I were
absolutely dying. Then he took off running toward the audience and
flew off the stage. The next thing we knew, the paramedics were
wheeling him out on a stretcher.” She wiped at her eyes. “I know
it’s not funny because he was hurt and all, but every time I think
about it, I just about bust my gut.”

“He’s never going
to live it down. You know that, don’t you?”

Tara nodded. “It’s
already gone viral.”

“You’re kidding!”
Drew grinned and with one hand, reached for his jacket next to him,
fishing around for the phone in his pocket. “What should I search
for?”

“Try ‘Jessie Grant
guitarist breaks arm’,” Tara suggested, and leaned in closer.

Drew typed in the words
and found several links. He clicked on one of the links, and there it
was in all its glory—a video of Kenny’s infamous plunge off the
stage, immortalized by some unknown fan with a smart phone. Unable to
stop themselves, he and Tara watched it three times, laughing harder
after each viewing.

“Well now, don’t
you two look cozy?” Drew recognized the voice immediately and
looked up to find Jessie looking down at them. “What y’all
looking at?”

“Kenny’s swan
dive.” Tara grinned at Jessie. “Have you seen it?”

Jessie’s eyes
widened. “There’s a video of it?” A smile lit up her face. Air
lodged in Drew’s throat and for a second he couldn’t breathe. A
smile like that should be illegal, or at least come with a warning.
“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” Drew nodded
as she sat down on the other side of him. Leaning toward her, he held
the phone so that she could see it, and pressed the replay button.
But instead of watching it with her, he studied her profile, acutely
aware of the sensual scent of her perfume. Her hair tumbled around
her shoulders like dark silk; he itched to touch it, to touch her.
Through the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of her skin burned into
his. Every damn feeling he was having went straight to his groin, and
he shifted on the padded bench to ease the ache.

Within seconds, Jessie
was getting as much of a kick out of it as he and Tara had. “Play
it again,” she said, shaking with laughter.

“You two enjoy.”
Tara set her empty glass on the table and pushed herself up from
booth. “I’m going up to my room.”

“See you tomorrow,”
Drew said, then turned his attention back to Jessie who waved a hand
at Tara as she left. “Watch the part right as he jumps off the
stage. He realizes there’s no one there to catch him, and there’s
not a damn thing he can do about it.”

A minute or so later,
Jessie wiped her eyes and sat back against the leather seat. “I
don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in like…forever.”

Drew hadn’t seen her
laugh that hard since the night they’d watched a Ron White comedy
special at her house, after she’d invited him over to help her work
on a song she was having trouble with. He’d never collaborated with
anyone before, but the minute he sat down with her in her music room
it was as if they’d worked together for years. What surprised him
most was her confession that she’d written quite a number of the
songs she’d recorded, a fact no one else was aware of because she
wrote under a pseudonym.

He set his phone on the
table and his thigh brushed against hers; she didn’t pull away.
Blood rushed to his head, and the loud thumping in his chest all but
obliterated the pounding music that emanated from the club’s
speakers.

“Do you want a
drink?” he asked, spying a cocktail waitress rounding a nearby
table and heading their way.

“No.” She shook her
head and smiled. “Thanks.”

“How was the
meet-and-greet?” he asked, after he’d motioned to the cocktail
waitress that they were fine.

“Nice.” She let out
a contented sigh. “I love my fans.”

“Why?”

“Because they always
have my back.” She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth.

Drew lowered his gaze
to her lips and tried not to think about passing up the chance to
kiss her. She’d been drunk the first night he met her at the MC,
and although he was insanely attracted to her, his good conscience
would never allow him to take advantage of an inebriated woman.

“I wonder if they
would still love me if they knew...”

“Knew what?”

She waved a dismissive
hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” he
said, quietly. He stared into her eyes and suddenly the air in the
room thickened. “Tell me.”

“I can’t,” she
whispered. “I can’t tell you anything anymore.”

“Why? We used to be
friends.”

“Used to being the
operative phrase.” The tension between them returned with a
vengeance. She stood and glared down at him. “Do me a favor and
leave me the hell alone. I don’t need you in my life, Drew. I don’t
need anybody.”

His heart hammered
against his ribs as he watched her turn and thread her way through
the crowd. After she’d disappeared from sight, Drew picked up his
phone, pulled on his jacket and high-tailed it after her. Jessie
wasn’t getting the last word, not this time.

When he caught up with
her, she’d just stepped into an elevator and her bodyguard was
about to follow. Drew brushed past her hulking six-foot-ten enforcer,
turned, and held his hand up. “I’ll make sure she gets to her
floor safely. Have a good night.”

He hoped like hell that
John wouldn’t punch his lights out, but evidently Drew’s status
as a trusted member of Jessie’s inner circle was enough for John to
move back and give him a courteous nod. Drew stepped into the
elevator car just before the doors slid shut and met Jessie’s angry
eyes.

“You don’t need
anyone?” he demanded, as she mutely pressed the button for her
floor.

She gave him a death
stare and moved to the back of the elevator as it began its ascent.
“No.” She lifted her chin defiantly as he moved to stand in front
of her.

“Seems like a sad way
to live your life.”

“It’s my life.”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “And I could ask the
same of you. You’re bound and determined not to accept help from
anyone. I know Wally offered to represent you, but you turned him
down.” She pointed at him. “And you sure as hell wouldn’t let
me help you.”

“I don’t need or
want any favors. From anyone, but especially not you,” he said, as
his blood pumped through his veins.

“Why? Would it put a
dent in that male pride of yours?” Sarcasm edged her voice. Under
the soft fabric of her dress, her chest rose and fell rapidly. She
was just as worked up as he was. “Why is it so hard for you to ask
for help with your career?”

“Why is it so hard
for you to trust anyone?” he countered.

“Because just about
everyone I’ve ever trusted has let me down.” The scathing look in
her eyes dared him to refute her statement.

“Jessie, I’m still
your friend.”

Her eyes flared with
anger. “I don’t want to be your friend, I want—” She stopped
abruptly and clamped her mouth shut.

“Finish that
sentence,” he demanded. “What do you want?”

“I want you to leave
me alone.”

“Bullshit. You want
the same thing I do.”

“And what’s that?”

“This,” he said as
he snaked his arm around her slender waist, hauled her against his
body and covered her mouth with his. If she had resisted in the
slightest he would have let her go, but she didn’t. She let out a
low moan, arched against him, and returned his demanding kiss with an
eagerness that staggered him.

For months he’d
fantasized about kissing her, but the reality of it was so much
hotter. Her soft lips parted, and their tongues met in a slow
sensuous dance that sent a jolt of lust straight through him.

Drew had no clue how
long the kiss lasted, but he did know that the only thing that
stopped it was the melodic chime of the elevator as it came to a halt
at her floor. He pulled his mouth from hers and met her dazed eyes as
the doors slid silently open.

“I think this is your
floor.” With great difficulty, he released her and stepped back to
press the button that would prevent the doors from closing. “I’ll
take the elevator back down to mine.” He lowered his gaze to her
lips, glistening and swollen from his kiss, and he wanted to kiss her
again more than anything. But he couldn’t. Not yet. There were
still a few things they needed to get straight between them.

Wordlessly, she glared
at him and then moved forward to exit the elevator. He reached out,
gently wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, and pulled her to a
halt. Her soft, floral scent was almost his undoing, and as she
stared up at him, she unconsciously licked her lips. Instantly, his
desire became a pulsing, throbbing need that made him rock hard.

“Not bad for a first
kiss,” he said. “But next time we’ll do it a lot slower, and a
helluva lot longer.”

The next morning, on
the Grand Garden stage, Drew tried, with little success, to tamp down
his annoyance as he glared at Jessie, who, of course, wasn’t
looking at him—just like she hadn’t been looking at him the
entire time they’d been rehearsing.

Silence loomed between
them until Wally cleared his throat. “Y’all sounded nice, but
something’s missing.”

Drew knew exactly what
was missing, and it had nothing to do with his or Jessie’s vocals.
As usual, their harmonies were spot-on. But while the song was
technically proficient, it was sorely lacking. The emotional
connection that he and Jessie had attained back in Nashville was
nowhere to be found today. And without being the least bit arrogant,
he could say with absolute certainty that the problem wasn’t him.
He shifted on his stool and wished he could adjust himself. His body
hadn’t gotten the message that he was irritated with her, and the
soft scent of her perfume wasn’t helping matters any.

At the moment, it was
just the three of them in the cavernous arena. Trista and Barry had
interrupted them earlier after Barry learned that CMT wasn’t going
to televise Trista’s opening set. After Wally calmed him down,
Barry dragged Trista off the stage, promising her he’d have a talk
with the network executives.

Drew stared at Jessie’s
rigid profile and shook his head. A woman’s ever changing moods
were like a mystery that could never be solved. To say that the
female of the species had always confounded him wouldn’t be far
from the truth. After a mostly sleepless night, he wasn’t nearly as
congenial as he usually was. In fact, he’d pretty much had his fill
of whatever game Jessie was playing. She had finally agreed to do the
duet. He’d shown up, ready to work, and all he gotten for his
trouble was a whole lot of nothing. Not only had she ignored him for
the past two hours, she’d also decided not to make eye contact with
him while they were singing. And in a duet, eye-contact was crucial.