Nashville by Heart: A Novel (8 page)

“You’re
beautiful tonight,” he whispered. Her pulse raced, and she responded by
pressing her cheek against his chest. Feeling the crisp fabric of his western
shirt on her face, she found herself inexplicably wishing it were the warmth of
his skin instead. He whispered something else that she couldn’t hear over the
beat of the music, and she lifted her head to hear.

“What
did you say?”

She
could feel his breath quicken. His palm tightened around hers, and he pressed
her gently back to his chest.

“Nothing.”
His voice was low in her ear. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

She
burned to hear what it was he shouldn’t have said, but before she could insist
he repeat it, he pulled her tighter, resting his chin on top of her head.

“It
can wait,” he said, running one hand lightly up her back and leaning over her,
breathing softly into her hair. When the music ended, the two stood for a few
beats longer, the electricity drawing them together.

His
hands slid up to her face, and he ran a thumb lightly along her jaw. “Lord have
mercy, woman.”

Gillian
stepped away, shaken. Will gave her a look that said he wished there could be a
lot more where that came from before escorting her off the dance floor. All she
wanted to do was drag Will to the parking lot or somewhere they could talk
about what just happened, but Tasha was in the mood to celebrate. Gillian had
barely recovered from the shaky feeling in her legs when Tasha and several of
their friends swept her back toward the dance floor. Gillian reached a hand out
to Will.

“You
coming?”

He
laughed. “No. I’d sooner eat barbed wire than line dance.”

She
laughed, surprised there was anything at all he wouldn’t do. She personally
loved line dancing. It was great exercise, and the songs were always fun. Every
now and then she’d smile back at him from the dance floor, showing off her
moves. He stood there smiling back with his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets,
and she wondered how they were going to define their relationship now.

“What
was happening to you two out here?” Tasha was huffing beside her as they did an
intricate move with their feet.

“I
think that was obvious,” Gillian answered, no longer trying to deny it.

Tasha
smiled. “You two
are
hot for each other.”

“We
aren’t in high school.”

“No,
but I bet you wish you were. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about that
agent-manager thing.”

“We
were caught up in the moment.”

“A
very hot moment,” Tasha pointed out. Before Gillian could answer, she tried the
next step. Failing, the two crashed into each other, exploding into giggles.
They walked off the floor together.

Will
stood off to the side, hat now on his head. He was a sight to behold, and a
glance around reminded her that she wasn’t the only one to notice.

“I
think I’ll get home,” he said. “I’ve a lot of work to do.”

“You
work too hard.” Gillian gave him a light punch in the arm before boldly sidling
up close to him.

He
slid one arm around her waist, yanked her closer, and gazed down at her. “Probably
not as hard as you’ve been working.”

“Thank
you for noticing.”

He
shook his head. “I’ve never seen a musician who works harder. I’m only sorry to
say you’re about to be even busier.”

“Then
I better party while I can.” She was conscious of how his hand pressed against
her lower back, locking her securely against his body. She stared up at him
under the shadow of his hat.

“Why
don’t you stay and have some more fun?” she said. “It’s been forever since I’ve
been in a place like this without an apron and a tray of drinks.”

She
recognized the desire in his eyes because it mirrored her own as he leaned
close to say something in her ear. She tilted her head, shivering as his lips
brushed her cheek.

“I
believe if I don’t leave now, I might say or do something we’ll both regret
later.”

Emboldened
by his frank admission, she turned to whisper in his ear.

She
let her lips graze the sideburns of his temple and whispered, “How do you know
I’ll regret it?”

He
caught her around the waist with both hands, pressing her firmly, but tenderly,
against him. He smiled.

“Woman,
you don’t know what you’re saying. We barely know each other. You’re just
caught up in all this excitement. Have you had anything to drink?” His eyes
traveled around the room and landed back on her.

“No,
I haven’t, and how do you know what I’m caught up in? I know who I am and am
not attracted to.”

His
grin widened. His eyes slipped down to her lips and back up to gaze hungrily
into hers. “OK, I do know what you’re caught up in tonight, but you need to focus
on that guitar. And I’m going to let you, no matter how crazy just being around
you makes me.”

“Maybe
it’s you who makes me crazy,” she countered, her chest rising and falling from
the breathless feel of being so close.

Backing
slightly away, his eyes now traveled appreciatively over her. He let out a
sigh, shaking his head back and forth.

“Where
this is leading is a bad idea, Gillian. Trust me on this.” His hand trailed
lower on her hip and he squeezed. “Or rather, don’t trust me, darlin’.”

He
gave her a rueful smile. She gulped a breath.

“You’re
the boss,” she said, gently backing away.

“No,”
he said. “I’m working for you.”

“Then
do what I say,” she teased, trying not to beg. “Stay.”

“But
you see?” He leaned over her again and whispered, his voice low and hot against
her ear. “I don’t want to stay here with you.”

Her
heart fell.

“I
want to take you home.”

Her
pulse rushed to her head, and she felt woozy with the extremes of emotion
sweeping through her body. He gave her a wicked smile and straightened up to
his full height. She was torn, wanting to take him up on his offer, and yet the
last thing her heart wanted was some tryst with Will—she wanted much more than
that.

She
opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand.

“Shh.
It wasn’t an invitation, darlin’. I don’t want you to be a one-night stand.” He
turned and walked away, leaving her heart pounding and raw.

That
was it, then—the end of a tryst that never even happened. She tried to convince
herself she didn’t want it anyway, and a commitment at this stage in her career
would break her own rule, never mind Will’s professional standards. And Will
wasn’t even the commitment type, manager or not. She didn’t know why she’d ever
entertained the idea in the first place. And yet, as she watched him walk away,
she did know.

Casting
a look at her friends, she saw Tasha duck her head. Gillian hoped she didn’t
look as dejected as she felt, but that’s what she got for forgetting her own
rules. She watched the back of Will’s cowboy hat swimming away across the sea
of people and resolved to forget about this by tomorrow. They’d let their
obvious attraction to each other get in the way, but tomorrow it was back to
agent and client. Gathering up her feelings, she was turning to join her
friends when she saw Will’s cowboy hat change direction.

He
was walking back to her, with purpose, his eyes determined as he reached for
her. His feelings must not have been cooperating with his intelligence any more
than hers when he nuzzled into the cascade of her hair and she felt his warm
lips pressing the soft skin of her neck, and briefly on her lips, the warmth
making her long for something deeper, before he tore himself away and left,
leaving her head spinning.

She
grasped the rail separating the dining area from the dance floor and tried to
force away the thoughts that made her want to rush and catch up with him.

“That
didn’t help,” she whispered.

Her
momma used to tell her not to give up her music dreams for boys, but she hadn’t
warned her that once the boys grew up, they might be impossible to resist.

~~~~

Will
slammed the door of his pickup truck.

“Idiot.”

He
rested his hands on the steering wheel with a heavy sigh, letting the rumbling
truck idle for a minute before he would hit the interstate and head off to his huge
empty mansion in Brentwood. At the rate he was going, it would continue to be
empty too. He’d known plenty of women, but he never offered them Brentwood. Not
even the woman he’d been serious with a few years back, choosing to instead
live with her in a luxury Nashville apartment.

Gillian,
on the other hand, was different. For some inexplicable reason, he wanted to
show his home in Brentwood to her. It was idiotic, perhaps, but he wanted to
show her the barn where he planned to have horses someday, the bedrooms his mom
decorated for him and the big kitchen where he secretly envisioned kids eating
breakfast before school. These thoughts had been running through his head since
he met her, and it wasn’t appropriate—he was trying to get her a record deal, not
turn her into a housewife. And yet, she was so beautiful, so alluring, and she
didn’t even know it. He knew he was playing with fire, but he could barely keep
his mind—or his hands—off her.

It
could only end in heartbreak. Even without their business relationship, they
were too different. He was what his sisters called wild. Always had been. The
only women he dated were older than Gillian and wanted exactly what he wanted:
no strings. Gillian, on the other hand—he shook his head in the cab of his
truck—was a good woman. She had an innocence about her that made him feel
protective, but still an unexpected ability to flirt—and a body—that made him
want to sleep with her and wonder what their babies would look like. The last
part scared the hell out of him. In fact, she was the kind of woman he’d grown
up in his own small town thinking he’d end up with someday after all his
carousing was over.

Flipping
the AC on, he waited for the gush of cold air, but nothing could cool the
emotions burning through him. A buzz in his pocket interrupted his thoughts,
and he pulled out his cell. A text from Gillian. His heart gave a little lurch
that made him feel like a teenage boy.

“Come
back,” she’d written, followed by a smiley face emoji. He chuckled. Even she
wanted to play with fire, and it made him want to show her how he was starting
to feel.

Hell—not
starting to feel. It’d already happened. From the moment he saw her wobbling
around in those crazy shoes in his lobby, he’d fallen for her. He reached for
the gear shift, knowing he needed to get her out of his system, and the memory
of her hips against him sent his mind reeling.

He
paused. The heck with it all. Maybe he should go back inside, get to her
apartment and see what happened—see if they could get it out of their systems
and move on.

Then
he slapped the wheel. No way.

He
didn’t think he could face himself the next day if he used Gillian Heart. Her
dreams were on the line, and she was too inexperienced to realize it. And if by
some twist of fate it ended up being more than a fling, would she blame him if
he couldn’t get her a deal? What would she do then? He didn’t think she’d have
a problem getting a new agent, but one never really knew in this business.

“Why
me?” The memory of her eyes right after he kissed her seared through him. She’d
looked so vulnerable, so beautiful, he’d barely been able to tear his eyes off
her long enough to leave The Spur.

He
reluctantly texted her back. “Wish I could. Gotta get home.”

“Damn
it all.” He jammed the truck in gear and drove toward Brentwood, driving fast
enough to get a ticket. He knew what he needed to do.

“He
did?” Gillian tried not to look hurt, but she felt smacked in the jaw.

“Will
changed your schedule,” Josie said apologetically. “You’re now with Dorothy.”

“But
Dorothy’s not my manager.” Gillian lowered her voice. “What’s going on?”

“He’s
still your agent,” Josie said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “He just
put Dorothy in charge of your day-to-day management.”

Gillian
shook her head. “Why?”

Josie
shrugged.

“But
I don’t even know Dorothy.”

Josie
smiled. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna be in good hands, honey. Dorothy has a ton
of experience in this town.”

Will’s
office door swung open before she could work out what to do. She could see he
was all business with his arms crossed impatiently across his chest, as if he
hadn’t wrapped those same arms around her last night in The Steel Spur. Behind
him stood a pretty black woman who appeared to be in her thirties.

She
smiled at the woman who must be Dorothy, then cast her attention on Will.

“You
don’t want to manage me any more?” She hoped she didn’t sound whiny, but she
felt like crying. Will was the only one besides Tasha and her momma who really
knew about her hopes and dreams. She’d shared some of her deepest feelings,
even the real story behind her dad, with Will. It’d been an act of trust to
open up about some of those things, and she couldn’t imagine establishing that
relationship with someone else. Plus, when would they be able to spend any time
together now?

He
looked at her, his face unreadable. “I take it Josie explained it to you.”

Then
she realized he must not want to spend time with her. He’d made it clear last
night he didn’t want a one-night stand, and he was a one-night stand kind of
guy. How else did he ooze sexual charm the way he did? Her chest tightened as
the truth sank in. She was a fool.

“No,
I did not,” Josie said. “I just broke the news. You’ll need to explain it to
her yourself.” She sat down and turned to her computer screen.

Will
sighed and crooked his finger at Gillian. She followed him and Dorothy into his
office.

“I
know what this is about.” Gillian looked at Will.

“You
might think you do, but you don’t,” he said softly. “The main point, Gillian,
is that I don’t have time to add you to my daily schedule.”

“I’m
sorry,” she said, thinking of all the time they’d been spending together.
Somehow she knew it wasn’t normal to hang out with your music manager that
often, but she’d told herself it was because she was a new client and he was
trying to show her the ropes. It must have been the attraction that made him
spend all that time with her, and now they were getting back to business.

He
smiled. “Don’t be sorry, darlin’.”

Dorothy
chose that moment to stick her hand out. Gillian shook it. She had nothing
against Dorothy, now having remembered seeing her in the office once before,
but they’d never even been introduced. Now she was in charge of Gillian’s career?
Gillian took a calming breath, wanting to give Dorothy a chance but frustrated
at Will.

Dorothy
cleared her throat. “I’m one of Will’s day-to-day managers, which is exactly
what it sounds like. Will brokers all the deals, but he can’t handle all the clients.
I take some of them and handle all those daily things like accepting calls
about you, scheduling appointments and interviews, going with you to events,
recordings and television appearances. That kind of thing.”

Things
like The Steel Spur, Gillian thought. And she bet Dorothy didn’t dance with her
clients either. In that regard, working with her could be simpler.

“Like
a publicist?” Gillian asked.

Dorothy
nodded. “I’m a little bit of that too. Now, I know Will has a busy day ahead,
so if you will, let’s move this meeting over to my office.” She walked out,
leaving Gillian alone with Will.

“She’ll
just be a minute,” Will told Dorothy before closing the door to his office.

“What
are you thinking?” he asked. “You look upset.”

“Why
are you giving me up?”

“Darlin’,
I could never give you up. I’m trying to give you a career.”

“By
handing me off to a lower manager?”

“First
of all. Dorothy wouldn’t like hearing you describe her as a lower manager.
She’s got an important job, and trust me, she’s on her way up. She could run
this company without me.”

Chastened,
Gillian nodded. “OK, I’m sorry. I get that, but this just isn’t at all what I
was expecting.”

“You
think it’s normal for a manager to spend all his time with one client?”

“No,”
she said.

He
gave her a crooked smile. “So, what do you think my other clients think about
you hogging all my time? What kind of client does that?”

She
was taken aback for a second, not knowing if he was teasing or serious.

“I
guess the kind of client you kissed and danced with and wanted to take home.”

He
nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She
leaned against his desk, turning what he’d said over in her mind.

“What
are you going to do while I’m being managed by Dorothy?”

“Besides
paying some attention to my other clients, several who are getting jealous,
I’ll have more time to negotiate the big things for you. The things that’ll
make you a star, unless that’s not what you hired me to do.” His jaw twitched.

She
knew Will worked for her, but since she had no cards to hold, the concept
seemed ludicrous.

“I
was caught off guard,” she said. “I guess I’m all right with it.”

“That’s
my girl.”

His
girl. She wished. Then a thought flitted through her mind.

What
if?

The
memory of him, so close to her on the darkened dance floor, his hands on her
hips, the pulse of his neck, made her want to say how she really felt. She
wished she knew what he was thinking right now, but he was silent. To keep from
looking at him, she studied the awards, the photographs, the small trophy
sitting in a glass case.

“Wait.
You won a Grammy?” She wondered how she’d missed it during their first meeting?
It must have been nerves.

The
corners of his mouth tugged upward, but he didn’t smile.

“How
come you never told me?” She crossed the room to study it closer. “Will. This
is amazing!”

“No
big deal. It’s for songwriting, way back when I first came to Nashville.”

“You
didn’t tell me about it.”

“It
was a long time ago. I was barely out of high school.”

“Hey,
wait a minute.” She leaned closer, studied the trophy, not believing what she
was seeing, but there it was, etched into a Grammy. Her dad’s name. She slowly
turned to Will, who gave her a guarded look.

“Why
wouldn’t you have told me that?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

He
shrugged. “It didn’t seem to matter.”

A
heaviness gathered like rocks in her belly.

“I
wish you’d told me as soon as you knew he was my dad.”

“Would
it have made a difference in your signing with me?”

She
honestly didn’t know, but it made her stop and think a minute now. “You wrote
songs with Cooper Heart, and the two of you shared a Grammy?” She felt like she
was being rammed in the side by a two-by-four.

He
stood, took a few tentative steps in her direction. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s
just a shock,” she said. “One more thing my dad shut me out of.” She wondered
why her momma hadn’t told her. Moisture was building in the corners of her eyes
like a bucket on a water wheel about to reach the top of its rotation.

“How
did you end up working with him?” She kept her eyes glued on the trophy.

“I
was only a kid,” he said. “Sometimes your dad participated in a roundtable of
songwriters who—”

“I
know. He came here every month to work. He used to take me with him, but when I
was about eleven or so, he started leaving me at home.”

Will
nodded. “I wouldn’t have wanted to work with him if I’d known what a poor
father he was—”

“Oh,
he wasn’t poor.” She added her own meaning to the word and angrily swiped her
eyes. “He was rich.”

“That
was probably true.”

“But
you wouldn’t have known if you’d seen that his only daughter lived in a
single-wide, run-down trailer with her mom who had to work two and three jobs
at a time to pay the bills. I even had to help out. Did you know that? I come
by my waitressing skills honestly.”

Will’s
eyes filled with compassion. “Hell, I didn’t know it was that bad for you.”

She
sniffed and crossed her arms at her chest. “We didn’t need a fancy house or
anything like that, but a phone call would’ve been nice.”

She
plopped down in a chair beside the trophy case and gazed resentfully at the
award.

“I
guess my dad has one of these trophies too, right?”

Will
nodded.

“I
didn’t even know he won a Grammy,” she said, her voice cracking, and in that
moment she realized how utterly banned she and her mom had been from her dad’s
life.

She
pressed her hands against her eyes.

“How
often do you talk to my dad anyway?” she asked through her hands. “Have you
told him about me?”

~~~~

Will
gazed at the trophy that’d always made him so proud. The trophy was one of the
things he could usually point out to a potential client who was on the fence,
and he’d win them over just like that. Now he felt almost ashamed of it. He’d
looked up to Cooper Heart back then, grateful for the step up. He’d had no idea
about Cooper’s family—no idea about Gillian.

Now
he knew about his daughter. Hell, he was in love with her, and it killed him to
see her staring at the trophy case, her face a mixture of fury and sadness.

“I
probably hear from your dad a few times a year,” he said, honestly. This
admission made her flinch, but he was afraid to touch her. She looked like she
might shatter.

“When
is the last time you talked to him?”

He
walked to his desk and consulted his calendar. “Three months ago.”

She
looked up, her wide red eyes moist, but her cheeks dry. “Really?”

He
nodded.

“He
hasn’t called me in ten years, at least.”

“He’s
obviously not who I thought he was,” Will said.

“At
least not to my mom and me.”

He
sighed. “But listen, sweetheart. Maybe you two can patch things up, write some
songs together, maybe—” The look in her eyes stopped him mid-sentence.

“Please
don’t ever say that again.” She sniffed.

“People
in music are going to find out,” he said.

“I
don’t care. I’ve disowned him.”

He
turned away, wishing she’d change her mind. She’d be ticked, but he’d already
had to play the Cooper Heart card with one of the biggest labels around, and as
a result, they wanted to listen to her demo. He would’ve been crazy not to do
it.

When
he turned back, his eyes fell on her sagging form. Oh, good Lord. What kind of
father could leave his little girl?

She
was burying her face in her hands, her small shoulders quaking. It filled him
with remorse, and damn it, with a feeling that was more than mere attraction.
He wanted to shelter her, to guard her heart, to make her feel safe. He wanted
to take her home, and not just to make love to her, but to make her part of his
world. He wanted all of her. Will’s heart pounded with each realization that
he’d already fallen hard for his newest, most inexperienced and most promising
client. The situation was like a dynamite stick waiting to ignite.

With
two strides he walked to his office door and lowered the shades. Dorothy could
wait. He strode back to Gillian. Gently taking her by the shoulders, he lifted
her to her feet. Her hands were still pressed over her face.

He gripped
her shoulders, his heart ripping with every sorrowful shake.

“I’m
so sorry, darlin’. I should’ve put that stupid trophy away.”

Her
face was still buried in her hands and damp strands of hair were plastered to
her cheeks. Tissues. She probably needed a whole box. He let go of her long
enough to search his office, opening and closing drawers until he found them.

“Darlin’.
You’re killing me.”

She
sniffed, choking on a remarkable amount of snot. It made him laugh in spite of
himself.

“I’m
a mess.”

He handed
her the box of tissues.

“You’re
definitely not a mess. Unless it’s a hot mess you’re talking about.”

“That’s
a really bad come-on line.” She pulled herself up straight and attempted a
smile. “Does it usually work?”