Sweet Seduction Serenade (3 page)

I opened my eyes to loud cheering - Kelly and Gen - lots of applause - more than double the amount of people than when we started - and the shock of my life.

Standing next to Genevieve Cain, with his muscular arm casually wrapped around her shoulder, was someone I had hoped never to see again.

Oh darn. Gen's fiancé was Nicholas Anscombe. A guy I lost my heart to in one night of wild passion. The night before I left for Nashville, Tennessee.

I didn't think, I just acted. The instant I saw him, I decided I'd pretend I didn't remember that night. Or him.

"How about we just start at the top of the set?" I suggested to the guys.

"Your call, Tennessee," Gus answered on behalf of everyone.

I threw myself back into the songs, despite my elevated heart rate and I was so sure a blush that I couldn't possibly hide. It wasn't hard, I've been performing since I was three. Granted back then it was to Mum's loser boyfriends and their mates, or to the other kids at daycare, but I knew how to keep
the show on the road
. Distractions weren't allowed when you had an audience to appease. Professionalism on the job. That's me.

I didn't look at Gen or her fiancé again, my songs were for me. The only concession I made was to sing one particularly moving song that I'd written myself, to one of the new guys who'd entered the room while we'd been playing
Thunder Rolls
. Sometimes certain songs have to be sung to a person. The crowd demanded that interaction, and the song meant so much more if you picked a random guy out of the audience and made him - and everyone else - feel like the song was written just for that man alone.

It's not all about being able to carry a tune. You have to be able to perform.

The guy was cute, so no hardship singing the lines I'd written when I broke up with a guy who'd taken a piece of my heart with him. Thick blonde hair swept back off a ruggedly handsome face. He was a big boy too, just how I like 'em. Dressed in black, which seemed to be the theme for those guys he was standing with. But there was a mischievous glint to his eyes that caught my attention. You have to pick your targets well. There's two types, those who will believe it and turn into stalkers when the show is over and those who know it's all part of the act and will play along.

He was definitely the second. So I hammed it up, received excellent feedback from him and the group of guys he was standing with, and turned the song into an absolute winner.

I forgot all about him on the next song on our play list, and fell back into the words written by another's hand. Songs move me, especially Country music, it has a certain way of pulling you in, tugging at your heart strings, making you wish you were the object of that person's heartache. Country can sound upbeat, but it is laced with broken hearts. My childhood matched the Country music theme to a 'T'. All my life my heart has been broken. Country music fills the shattered gaps.

Nothing else ever did.

Except that one night in Nick Anscombe's arms.

I stumbled over the next line of lyrics, but the guys expertly covered for me. I don't make mistakes when I sing. I am so far in the zone there's nowhere else to go. So the fact they covered said something about how experienced they all were. I swung back to face the band and flashed them all a funny-face as an apology, getting a drumstick twirl around Spike's fingers and then the flick of one in my direction. It went sailing through the air and I side stepped it with a little dance, as he deftly picked up another and carried on with his beat without missing a step.

Gus came closer and offered me a kiss on the cheek, none of us losing our places throughout the entire routine. We'd turned my faux pas into part of the act and the small crowd we had watching loved it. My band back home is good, they are dedicated musicians, professionals, all trying to make a living and catch a break. They are serious about their music though. But there was something to be said for a group of guys who play for the hell of it, loving the atmosphere as much as the adulation and money made on the simple pub circuit.

For a brief moment I felt clarity. This is what I had hoped to find in Nashville, and although I love my band back home, this here felt more real. My band in Nashville would have taken my lack of concentration as an affront to them. They would have covered, that's just what you do if you want to get paid at the end of the night, but more than one look of condemnation would have been given when their backs were to the crowd.

Nashville was a serious place, this band here I'd scraped together was with guys I'd known for years - except Spike and he just seemed to fit in no matter what - who all simply wanted to jam for a while, for as long as it lasted. To make good music, maybe a bit of cash to pay the bills, but mainly, to have a good time.

By the end of our hour long set - we'd chosen a shorter performance for tonight's practice and demonstration - I was floating on air. Soaring, I call it. That's what happens when the songs seep into your bones and the music makes you sway and the words take you away to another place. You soar. Tonight I had soared, and I was picking there was more than one person in the make-shift audience who had soared as well.

The guys were buzzing as we came down from the thrill of a good show and a well received performance. Gus gave me a bear hug, lifting me up off my feet and swinging me around.

"Tennessee, I have so missed working with you!" he announced at the top of his voice for everyone to hear.

"That was brilliant!" Gonzo added, slapping me on the back, while I was still being spun by Gus.

"We do work well together," Spike added from behind the drums. "Eva, you're a shining star," he said as he pulled himself up and came out from behind the kit. "And I do believe your beautiful sultry voice has made my job a hell of a lot easier."

I frowned at him, but Gus managed to explain away his comments with his next words.

"We've still got a week before the show, Spike, don't go pissing off the owner of the venue by hitting on one of her staff."

"I won't be hittin' so much as receivin'. That blonde with the curls couldn't take her eyes off me throughout the entire performance."

"Which would mean you didn't take your eyes off her, to have noticed that," I said back.

"Yeah, well," he said running a hand over his tied back hair. "Someone's gotta a do a bit of PR work and you're too busy getting cuddles from Big Bear."

"I told you not to call me that!" Gus ground out.

"Call it how I see it, old man."

"You do look like a cuddly big bear," Gonzo added unhelpfully.

"And your hugs are cuddly big bearish," I thought I'd throw in for good measure.

"Casey loves my hugs," Gus said a little petulantly.

"We all do, big man," Gonzo said in a mock serious voice.

"Yeah?" Gus asked, releasing me and taking a step towards Gonzo. "Then come and get it, snuggle-wuggums."

"Bring it, Big Bear!" Gonzo shouted back, puckering up his lips and making smooching sounds.

"I'm gonna give you some lovin'," Gus announced starting to pick up speed towards Gonzo, who promptly made a squawking sound and took off towards the back of the shop, Gus in hot pursuit.

I shook my head at them, realising just how much I'd missed their crazy banter. If only they'd come back home with me to Nashville. And then I frowned at how disloyal I was being to my
real
band. I really should give them all a call tomorrow and make sure they're surviving without me to keep them all in line.

"I wouldn't mind a bit of lovin'," a deep, masculine voice said from behind me.

I spun around to see the blond who'd been the recipient of my song.

"You're not going to be a stalker, are you?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and tapping my booted foot on the floor.

"Whoa there, cowgirl. Man's just expressing an interest, is all." His hands came up in a slow down motion between us. I couldn't help but smile at his ridiculous over-the-top gesture.

"Sorry, got a boyfriend back home," I admitted. Which was the truth, although Derek was more of a casual lay than a boyfriend. Still he had sent several text messages since I'd been gone. Absence obviously does make the heart grow fonder.

"Can't be much of a boyfriend if he didn't follow you here," blond said. "If you were mine, I'd not let you out of my sight."

"Yeah well, you see, that's the definitive definition of a stalker, right there" I advised him on a smile.

"Oh, I don't know," he argued, leaning closer as if to tell me a secret, "I promise to make it worth your while if you run and give me a good chase."

"Ah," I said sagely. "The thrill of the hunt."

"I like to work up a bit of a sweat before the actual catching is all done."

"Stalker," I said resolutely.

"Hunter," he corrected and we both started smiling. "Evangeline, that's a real pretty name," he said softly.

"What's your pretty name, Stalker?" I was just being polite, but enjoying it at the same time.

"Adam, Adam Savill. You're really good, you know," he told me.

"Thanks. Years of practice."

"And you're based in Nashville, Gen was saying."

I nodded, but the mention of Gen's name had me automatically looking for her. I needed to see whether she liked the routine, whether she thought we were right for opening her new
Showcase Local Talent Nights.
I wished I hadn't. She was standing in the middle of a group of her friends, talking animatedly to them, while a scowling Nick stood silently at her side. His eyes on Adam and me.

I swallowed, shook my head, and then returned my gaze to Adam.

"So, what brings you to Gen's tonight?" I asked, wanting something to distract me from Nick's intense stare.

"I work for Nick," Adam advised and I bit back a groan.

"Doing what?" I asked, again to be polite. I had no idea what Nick did, now or back when he became acquainted with every inch of my naked body. Darn, why do I do it to myself?

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you, and that would be a damn shame," he admitted, giving my body a slow once over from head to toe.

"Stalker," I said through a fake cough, making him burst out laughing and causing the rest of the room to look at us. I've never been afraid of attention, hell I perform on a raised platform in front of a horde of people, but in that moment I kind of wished I was somewhere else.

Gen's smile turned assessing, her eyes darting between Adam and me. Kelly gave a nod of approval in my direction and then turned her attention back to Spike. The group I'd been introduced to on arrival all watched avidly from the side, as though this was some soap opera on TV and they couldn't look away for fear of missing some juicy titbit. While the guys who'd been standing with Adam while we performed all made some obviously rude or hilarious comments that only they could hear at our expense.

And Nick? Well, Nick had disappeared, which left me feeling enormously relieved and strangely empty.

"How long are you intending on staying in Auckland?" Adam asked, bringing my attention back to him. I decided to pounce on it and block all the rest of the place out. My nerves were frayed for some reason. Maybe tiredness. Maybe seeing Nick the sexy blast from my sordid past. Whatever reason, I was not my usually-detached-but-make-'em-feel-welcome self. The persona I put on for "fans" after the show. Just a hint of friendly with not too much depth to reveal my inner soul.

"Um, unsure, but not long." I hoped and then felt incredibly bad for wishing a speedy death for my father. It was hard to want something that would essentially mean he was no more. But I really did want to get back to my life in Nashville. To escape this reality I'd managed to elude for eight years.

"Well, in that case, I better work fast," Adam declared. "Dinner tomorrow?"

I frowned down at the floor. He was a nice guy, funny, cute, big, and determined. A better combination there couldn't be. But what was the point? One dinner, two. Maybe a little fun along the way and then I'd be leaving. I was twenty-eight years old, my life had been one meaningless encounter after another. Hell, proof of my bad girl ways had been standing across the room all night watching me sing. If I was honest with myself, I'd got tired of the same old same old.

It's not like it wasn't easy to pick a guy up after a show. I could take my pick, practically, from those who watched me perform. But never, not even with my current flame Derek, had I ever felt anything more than mild intrigue and a dash of hormonal excitement.

Except that one night. The night before I left for Nashville, Tennessee.

And, of course, there was Dad. The reason why I was here and the time waster of my days. I figured I had another two weeks before his house resembled a normal home. If there was an award for hoarding, my father would have won it fifteen years in a row. I was now moving on to the last of the rooms inside and then I'd have to call in the garbage trucks to haul the "shed's" contents to the dump.

"Um, you know, that's tempting," I started, but he interrupted.

"Aw, come on, cowgirl, don't give me the cold shoulder." He gave a full bodied mock shiver to send the point home. "I fell in love with you on that song."