The Closer You Get (16 page)

At the moment she’d like to sock him in the nose, or other
sensitive regions. Unfortunately, she wasn’t a violent person. Then a sudden
devious thought crept into her mind. If he was hell-bent on playing the mean
man, she had no choice but to be a mean girl. No bodily harm involved, of
course. Just a little refreshing wake-up call to calm him down.

She slowly slipped off her perch and walked to the small
thermos where Brett happened to be standing. “May I?” she asked sweetly.

He stared at her for a moment, not so much in suspicion but
with annoyance. “Help yourself.” He turned away, then added, “Just hurry
up.”

“No problem. This won’t take long at all.” She took two large
squeeze bottles and filled them full of the icy water. Leaving the tops off the
bottles, she started toward Brett, who now had his back to her. She winked at
Jeremy, then looked at Bonnie and Karen seated on the ground below and
smiled.

Bonnie began to laugh when realization dawned and Karen yelled,
“Go, girl!”

Cammie took both bottles and dumped them on the unsuspecting
star’s head. When he spun around, water dripping from his hair onto his T-shirt,
she smiled and handed him the bottles. “Now that you’re cooled off, I’m ready to
continue.”

From the furious look on Brett’s face, she figured she’d
probably gone too far and could be instantly fired. Well, that was just too
bad.

Brett hurled the containers to one side and sent her a fierce
look. Even so, the way he slicked back his hair made Cammie’s heart execute a
little hip-hop.

“Rehearsal’s over,” he said irritably. “Everyone be here by
six.” Then he disappeared down the steps and into the tunnels below the
stadium.

The band remained fixed in their positions and Cammie worried
they resented the antics responsible for Brett’s spontaneous departure. Then the
laughter spread, first with Rusty, then Jeremy and lastly Bull, who Cammie
suspected had been laughing all along. Before she knew it the entire road crew
had joined in.

Cammie hugged her arms to her middle and tried to look
contrite, even if she wasn’t. “Sorry, guys.”

“Guess you showed him, Cammie,” Rusty said.

Bull laughed again. “Damn, I wish I had a camera to record the
look on his freakin’ face. Looked like someone slapped him up the side of his
head with a cow patty.”

“A really cold cow patty,” Cammie said, bringing about another
round of laughter that continued as they filed off the staged and headed into
the tunnel leading to the lot.

Halfway to their destination, a lanky guy with longish light
brown hair stopped to speak with the guys as the girls hung back and waited.
Cammie thought he looked familiar, but she couldn’t put a name to the face. “Who
is he?” she asked Karen.

“His name is Cruz something,” she said. “He’s with the opening
group that’s called...I can’t remember.”

Cammie did. “DHD. I saw it on the schedule.”

“Stands for Down Home Devils,” Bonnie added. “Devil or not, I
could get down with him.”

Karen grinned. “Give me half an hour and a hotel room and I
could tear that up.”

Bonnie laid a hand above her breasts. “You’re married, Karen.
But I’m not. And if Doug doesn’t put a ring on my finger soon, I might try to
get me some of that.”

“He’s not interested in us,” Karen said. “He keeps eyeing
Cammie. You should introduce yourself.”

Cammie did notice his covert glances. Yes, he was cute—in a
scruffy sort of way. But he wasn’t nearly as tall as Brett, six feet at best.
And although he had piercing brown eyes, they weren’t as magnetic as Brett’s. He
wasn’t Brett, period. “Sorry, but I’m not interested.” She’d had her fill of
singers. Enough to last a lifetime.

After the group of guys said their goodbyes and disbanded, Cruz
moved past her and directed a wink at her. “Check you ladies later.”

Karen hooked an arm through Cammie’s. “He means he’ll check you
out later. And you should check him out, too.”

Cammie had no intention of going there. She only wanted to go
back to the hotel, shower and take a long nap. She also planned to have a
serious conversation with Brett after the evening performance. She understood he
was still hurting over Pat’s departure, but that didn’t give him the right to be
so irritable. She could no longer tolerate his avoidance or his bad temper. If
he refused to man up, look her in the eye and tell her she’d only been a
diversion, she seriously questioned whether she could stay on for the remainder
of the tour.

* * *

I
F
B
RETT
WAS
IN
THE
THROES
of emotional
turmoil, it wasn’t obvious when he took the stage. At least not to his audience
or to Cammie. He was as dynamic as she’d ever seen him. He was also full of
surprises. During their special song, he moved over to sing in her microphone,
as if he wanted to reenact their performances in Vegas.

Of course it was an act, and she didn’t intend to play along.
But by the second time around with the chorus, the undeniable chemistry became
apparent...until she snapped out of it and shifted away from him. When he
appeared altogether confused, she shrugged and went right on singing without
giving him a second glance. Yet she was still very aware of his presence and her
continuing desire to be near him. She had to be strong. Had to be.

After the show ended, Cammie came to a decision. Life was too
short to hang on to the hope that they would ever reestablish a relationship.
For that reason,
she intended to enjoy herself
tonight
—exactly what was on her mind when she exited the stage. She
planned to freshen up at the hotel, slip on the new knock-’em-dead blue dress
Karen and Bonnie had convinced her to buy and then pay a visit to the hotel
lounge. The place came highly recommended by Jeremy, who had spent the past two
nights holding up the bar.

She’d made it through half the tunnel maze when she came upon
the mysterious Cruz, one shoulder leaning against the cement wall, hands in the
pockets of his well-worn jeans.

“Hey,” he said as she came within a few feet from him.

She almost didn’t stop but decided to be polite, then be on her
way. “Hey. Good show tonight.”

“You, too.” He pushed off the wall and offered his hand. “By
the way, I’m Jamie Cruz. People call me Cruz.”

At least he had nice manners, and a snake tattoo crawling up
his forearm, reminding her of Mark. Not a good thing. “Nice to officially meet
you, Cruz. I’m Camille, but most people call me Cammie.”

“I know,” he said. “I asked Rusty about you before the
show.”

Karen and Bonnie had been right about his interest in her.
“Don’t believe everything you hear.” Namely that she was single and on the
prowl.

“Same goes for me,” he said. “I was wondering if you might want
to have a drink with me in the hotel bar since we’re staying at the same
place.”

That’s where she’d planned to go, but somehow that didn’t seem
too wise, especially with Cruz tagging along. “Any other time I might say yes,
but in case you haven’t heard, I drive Brett’s bus as well as sing backup. We
have to head out early so I should probably call it a night.”

He smiled, yet it didn’t pack the same punch as Brett’s did.
“Just one drink. I don’t know about you, but after a show, it takes me a while
to wind down. I also know sometimes it’s nice to find a friend in all this
craziness.”

She did agree with him on that point. “True, but I’m fairly
tired. Maybe some other time.”

“Are you sure? I’m buying.”

She noticed Brett rounding the corner, and when he caught sight
of her, she swore he picked up the pace. She hoped he’d keep on walking, but no
such luck. He strode right up to them and came to a stop at Cammie’s side. “The
car’s on its way,” he told her without taking his eyes off her companion.

Cruz stuck out his hand for a shake. “Thanks for the
opportunity, man.”

Brett stared at his hand a moment before accepting the gesture.
“No problem.” He sounded as if it was.

“I was just asking Cammie to have a drink with me,” Cruz said.
“You need to tell her all work and no play can burn you out.”

Brett sent Cammie a harsh look before turning back to Cruz.
“She doesn’t drink. And even if she did, I wouldn’t be too pleased if she spent
her free time hanging out in a bar after a show.”

How dare he try to dictate what she did in her spare time.
“Don’t listen to him,” she said. “I have a drink on occasion, and I’d enjoy
having one with you.” Apparently she’d stooped to typical high-school
antics—flirt with a new guy to make the other guy jealous.

Cruz looked victorious. Brett—not so much. He looked like he
could blow a gasket. And she honestly didn’t care. “Meet me in the lobby in an
hour.”

“Sounds good,” Cruz said as he backed up a step. “See you
later, Taylor. I’ll take good care of her.”

Brett didn’t even wait until Cruz was out of sight before he
launched into a tirade. “What was that all about, Cammie?”

“That was about me having a drink with a nice guy, and FYI, I’m
well within my rights to do so.”

Cammie tried to get past Brett, but he caught her hand before
she was successful in her departure. “Nice guy? How the hell do you know that
when you just met him?”

She could no longer contain her anger. “It’s really none of
your business what I do, Brett.”

“I’m making it my business.”

She wrenched her hand away. “You don’t own me, Brett. Directing
my social life isn’t in the contract. I’m not your property.”

“No, but you are still my employee, and I have to look after
the band’s reputation. If it gets out that you’re ready and willing, every
bastard in the industry will be hunting you down.”

That was rich coming from him. “Having a drink with someone in
the industry does not mean I’m ready and willing.”

“He’s a stranger, dammit.”

“So were you when I met you. Now if we’re done, I need to
go.”

He released his hold on her hand. “Not until we’re through
talking about this.”

She rubbed her temples, her head beginning to pound from the
stress of one too many confrontations in one night. “We have nothing to say to
each other. Everything you’ve done since Vegas speaks volumes.”

Cammie did an about-face, walked down the hallway and out into
the misty night. She scanned the back lot and didn’t locate the car hired to
transport them to and from the venue. Great. Hopefully the guys would be along
soon with a cell phone to find out what the hold-up might be. In the meantime,
she could seek shelter back in the tunnel, or she could wait in the rain. Going
back inside seemed favorable, although either scenario promised a chilly
atmosphere.

When she turned around, she discovered Brett leaning back
against the cinder-block wall adjacent to the opening, hat in hand. Droplets of
water had formed on his skin, and the halogen light above made his blue eyes
seem almost unearthly. He looked like a beautiful dark angel, and she wanted
nothing more than to run to him. But that would be just plain stupid.

Brett pushed off the wall and walked to her, his expression
softening with each step. “You don’t have to go out with that guy to prove a
point. I know I don’t have any claim on your time, but I don’t want to see you
get hurt.”

The man was concerned about her feelings, yet he had dealt her
the harshest blow anyone could endure. “Hurt?
You
don’t want me to get hurt? I can’t believe you said that after what you did to
me.”

“I’m sorry, Cammie.”

He sounded sincere, but an apology wasn’t enough. “And I’m
supposed to accept that as an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

“It’s not good enough. You act like it’s my fault Pat
left.”

“I said I’m sorry, Cammie. What more do you want me to
say?”

She wanted him to beg for forgiveness, to tell her he cared
about her, that she hadn’t only imagined the strong emotional connection between
them. “All I want to know is why, Brett. Why do you keeping shutting me out?
Don’t you realize you’re punishing me?”

His gaze drifted away. “It’s no good, Cammie. When it comes
down to it, I’m no better than Mark Jensen in a lot of ways. A singing career
and serious relationships don’t mix.”

He just didn’t quite get it, and she wondered if he ever would.
“First of all, you aren’t anything like Mark. Second, for some reason you’re
just not willing to own up to the fact that you are capable of more than you
realize. Anything can work if you want it badly enough and you set your mind to
it, including a relationship. All you have to have is the same desire you have
for your singing.”

“I’ve learned from experience that commitment to anything but
the job doesn’t work in this business. At least it hasn’t for me.”

Cammie considered not saying anything else, but she always
tended to hang on until all possibilities were exhausted, especially when she
strongly believed in something. And she did believe in Brett, more than he
believed in himself. “I don’t understand why you’re so determined to drive
everyone who cares for you away.”

He continued to stare at the ground. “You’re right, you don’t
understand.”

“I want to.”

“I can’t talk about it, Cammie. Maybe one day, but not now.” He
finally raised his gaze to hers. “Don’t set yourself up again for another guy to
cut you down.”

She had no intention of doing that. “Then make me an
offer.”

He paused as if weighing her suggestion, but then he
emotionally shut down right before her eyes. “I can’t offer you anything,
Cammie. Not a damn thing.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

B
RETT
TOSSED
ASIDE
the notepad onto the coffee table and gave up on
the lyrics that just wouldn’t come. The noise in his head was second only to the
sounds assaulting his ears. “Turn down the freakin’ TV, Rusty!”

His friend emerged from the bedroom and scowled at him. “Why
don’t you turn down the attitude?”

“You’d have an attitude, too, if you were trying to write a
song with some ball game blaring in the background.”

Rusty sat on the sofa and stared at him. “It’s not the
songwriting that’s got you so rattled. It’s Cammie.”

He didn’t want or need advice. “Aren’t you and your wife going
to dinner?”

“She’s still getting ready, and you can’t brush me off like
that. We’ve been in the trenches together for a long time and I can read you
like sheet music. You’re so obsessed with your bus driver you can barely
function.”

“I’m not obsessed with her,” he said. “I’m pissed at her.”

“These days you’re pissed at everyone. You’re in love with
Cammie and for some reason you can’t handle it. A lot of men would give their
right arm to have a woman like her.”

Hearing the word
love
was a shock
to his entire system. “Yeah, like that guy named Cruz. She’s going out with him
as we speak.”

Rusty swiped a hand over his face. “I figured he was going to
make a move on her, but I didn’t think for a minute she’d fall for it.”

He’d been asking himself that same question for the past hour.
“Well, she did. I ran into them talking after the show, and right when I was
about to tell him to get lost, she told him to pick her up in the lobby.”

Rusty chuckled. “Oh, man, you are so far out of the loop it’s
not even funny. She was trying to make you jealous.”

He had a hard time buying that. “Cammie’s not a game player.
She’s a straight shooter.”

“Maybe so, but you’re not giving her a whole lot of choice. If
going out with Cruz gets your attention, even if it’s negative attention, then
she’ll do whatever it takes to make you notice her.”

Rusty could be onto something, but Brett still had a hard time
believing it. “That’s a pretty extreme way to get my attention.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Damn. “Yeah, it worked. And I have half a mind to stop her
before she makes another big mistake.”

Rusty came to his feet. “I think you should because I doubt he
told her he’s got a wife and kids back home in Kentucky.”

“That’s great,” he muttered as he stood. “You should’ve told me
sooner.”

“Good luck,” Rusty said. “Just remember that if you step in,
she’ll be royally pissed.”

Just thinking about the cheating bastard even attempting to
touch Cammie made him seethe. “If I don’t, she could get royally hurt.”

* * *

C
AMMIE
TOOK
A
SEAT
on a gold brocade sofa that was about as
comfortable as a cement slab and flipped through some fashion magazine while she
waited for Cruz. And if he didn’t show up soon, she’d return to her room and
curse being stood up for the second time in her life. But in this case, that
might not be a bad thing. She had to agree with Brett—she didn’t know a thing
about this guy. However, the hotel bar was a safe place to get to know him, as
long as she kept her wits about her and her drink in her possession at all
times.

“Hey, Cammie.”

She looked up from the magazine to see Cruz crossing the lobby.
He’d changed into another T-shirt with Bad to the Bone emblazoned across the
front and a better pair of jeans. Now she felt completely overdressed.

She came to her feet and tossed the magazine aside. “I almost
gave up on you.”

“Sorry I’m late. I had to make a couple of phone calls.” He
took a step back and whistled. “That’s a great dress.”

“I really should probably go up to the room and change,” she
said. “I don’t get out much and I thought—”

“Don’t change,” he said. “I like you just the way you are.”

At least someone did. “Are you ready to go?”

“Sure.”

He took her hand, taking her totally by surprise, and started
across the lobby toward the lounge.

“Take your hands off her, Cruz.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, Cammie glanced over her
shoulder to see Brett boring down on them, a fierce look on his face.

“Stay out of this, Brett,” she said. “This doesn’t concern
you.”

“It does now.” He pointed at Cruz. “Did he tell you he’s
married?”

She turned her shock on Cruz. “Is that true?”

The man had the nerve to look innocent. “Well, yeah, but she’s
not here right now.”

Brett stepped between her and Cruz. “Because she’s home with
the kids, you bastard.”

Cruz slid his hands into his back pockets and took a stab at an
innocent look. “Hey, you know how it is, Taylor. It gets damn lonely on the
road. My wife understands how it is. Now why don’t you just move aside and let
Cammie decide what she wants to do.”

“She’s already decided,” Brett said. “She’s leaving with
me.”

Cammie inserted herself between them and planted her palms on
their chests, holding them arm’s length apart. “Actually, I don’t plan to spend
my evening, what’s left of it, with either of you, so both of you need to go
away.”

Cruz leered at Brett before he brought his attention back to
Cammie. “Seems to me I’m treading on sacred ground here. I should’ve known
Taylor would’ve gotten to you first. I’m guessin’ you didn’t find him to your
liking. If you go with me, I’ll show you a real good time.”

Cammie didn’t have time to brace herself before Brett stepped
between her and Cruz. “You low-life son of a bitch,” he said in a menacing tone.
“She’s more woman than you can handle. Now get the hell out of here before you
regret it.”

Cruz narrowed his eyes. “I might be a son of a bitch, Taylor,
but at least my daddy liked me enough to stick around.”

While Cammie looked on helplessly, Brett grabbed Cruz by the
shirt and shoved him backward, sending him against a marble column. But before
he could go after him, a massive security guard appeared from nowhere and
wrenched Brett’s arms behind his back, subjecting him to the full force of
Cruz’s fist to his jaw. A throng of staff and two more security guards tore
through the lobby and ushered Cruz outside as he yelled obscenities directed at
everyone involved.

After Cammie came out of her stupor, she turned to see Brett
sitting on the sofa, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, and his jaw
showing signs of swelling.

The security guard approached her and pointed at Brett. “Is he
with you?”

She almost denied it, but right or wrong, Brett had defended
her honor. “So to speak.”

“He says he doesn’t need a doctor, but he needs to put some ice
on that lip.”

“I’ll take care of it.” She walked to the sofa and frowned at
Brett. “Come on, Marshal. Miss Kitty’s going to take you to your room.”

The cut in the corner of Brett’s mouth prevented more than a
partway grin. “Didn’t know you cared.”

She would not give him the satisfaction of returning his smile.
“Right now, I don’t. I just can’t stand the thought of you bleeding all over the
nice Oriental rug.”

When they reached the elevator, Cammie and Brett rode in
silence to the top floor. It brought to mind another hotel in another city,
another elevator...another lifetime, it seemed to Cammie. In this instance they
stood miles apart, Cammie on one side of the mirrored wall, Brett on the
other.

As Brett studied the floor the entire trip, Cammie wondered if
he’d been thinking about a few days ago when they couldn’t seem to keep their
hands off each other. She wanted to reach over and smooth the lock of hair
falling across his forehead, touch his cheek above his swollen jaw spattered
with evening stubble. But she was still too angry to provide that kind of
comfort. At him for believing she needed rescuing. At herself for being gullible
once again.

After they reached his room, Cammie grabbed a washcloth from
the bathroom, filled it with ice from the bucket and handed it to him. “Here.
This should keep the swelling down.”

He touched the ice to his jaw and winced. “Thanks.”

She crossed her arms over her middle. “For your information, if
I’d known Cruz was married, I would not have agreed to the drink. You have my
permission to say I told you so.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Guys like him come a dime a dozen and
it’s easy to get pulled in by their lines. Just be more careful next time.”

Did he really believe there would be a next time? Worse, he
didn’t seem to care if there was. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Before she could get out the door, he called her back. And like
the fool she’d become around him, the fool she’d been tonight, she turned around
to find him perched on the arm of the sitting-area sofa. “What?”

“Can you stay awhile?” He apparently read the reservation in
her eyes when he added, “I just want to talk.”

She should tell him no, but he looked so pitiful, she decided
to throw him a bone. “Okay, but only for a few minutes.”

Brett crossed the room and opened the minibar’s refrigerator.
“Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” She wanted to get out of there as quickly as
possible, before she made a second colossal mistake tonight.

Brett returned with a beer, sat on the opposite end of the
couch and engaged in ritualistic label-peeling. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about
causing a scene.”

“On one hand, I’m glad you told me before I left with him,” she
said. “However, the macho posturing wasn’t pleasant. But I’m partially to blame,
too. I should have never agreed to the drink.”

“Then why did you?” he asked without looking at her.

Time for the admission she felt she had to make. “I was so
angry with you I guess I thought it was a good way to get your attention.” For
some reason that made him smile, which made Cammie feel like an immature idiot.
“I know. It was a really childish thing to do.”

“Rusty told me that’s what you were doing.”

Wonderful. “You told Rusty?”

“He’s the one who told me Cruz is married.”

Might have been nice if Rusty would have told her. “Well, it’s
over and I’ll be much more cautious in the future.”

He set the beer on the coffee table and leveled his gaze on
hers. “I swear, Cammie, I never wanted you to feel that what happened between us
didn’t mean anything. I was trying not to hurt you, and I did, anyway.”

Yes, he had, but that was one confession she refused to make.
“It’s done. No harm, no foul.” No truth in that, either.

He leaned back against the cushions and sighed. “I’ve failed a
lot of people in my lifetime, and history keeps repeating itself.”

“Are you referring to your ex-wife?”

“Yeah. She was the first.”

Cammie tucked her leg beneath and prepared to have some answers
to her questions, provided he cooperated. “What exactly happened between the two
of you?”

He stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
“We grew up together, we married too young, we had a kid, I got my big break and
we grew apart. She hated this way of life, and eventually she learned to hate
me.”

“I can understand why she might feel that way about the
business.” Even if she would never understand how anyone could ever hate Brett.
“I’ve seen firsthand what it means to be in the spotlight and all the
temptations that go along with it.”

“Unlike that idiot tonight, I was faithful to her,” he said.
“Not that I didn’t have opportunities. A lot of opportunities. But my mother
drilled it into my head that when you take a vow, you keep it. I sure as hell
tried until the bitter end.”

She found both his honesty and his convictions admirable. “And
you’ve never been involved with anyone since that time?”

He leaned forward, took a drink of the beer and dangled it
between his parted knees. “I’ve had a few female friends over the years who I
could call when I needed to.”

She suspected more than a few. “Friends with benefits?”

“More benefits than friendship,” he said. “It’s sometimes hard
to know who your friends are in this business.”

“And it doesn’t bother you to live like that?”

“Sometimes.” He took a long swig of the beer and set it back
down. “But it’s the only life that works for me right now.”

Cammie felt sincerely sad for him, and a little for herself.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I, on the other hand, want more than just casual
sex and false friendships.”

He sat quietly for a few moments before he said, “Let’s start
over, Cammie.”

“How do you mean?”

“It ain’t going to be easy, but I want to be your friend. I
think I need that more than anything right now.”

Now she was really confused. “I’m not sure we’ve ever really
been friends.”

“Not true,” he said. “I’ve told you more about my personal life
in less than a month than I have with anyone in ten years. I really appreciate
that about you.”

She supposed that was something. “I guess we can try.”

He looked genuinely pleased. “That’s all I’m asking.”

And she hoped it wasn’t too much to ask. Even now, if he so
much as touched her, she’d forget about friendship for one blissful night in his
bed. Yet that would only lead to more hurt and heartbreak.

Fatigue began to set in, sending Cammie off the couch. “Okay,
friends it is.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To bed, which is where you should be going. We have to be up
early in order to get to San Jose and have enough time to rehearse. I’m still
pulling double duty for the next two weeks, remember?”

He stood and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Not so. Bud’s
flying in tomorrow morning to take over for you.”

“Since when?” she said around her shock.