There Goes the Bride, page 7
part #2 of Runaway Brides Series
“Shall we go?” His hand moved to the small of her back.
Actually, he barely touched her. It was the briefest brush of his fingers on the silk of her dress. But it was enough to let her know his hand was there. Her skin still tingled from the imagined warmth of his palm.
She was keyed up already and they hadn’t been together for more than two minutes. How would she manage a meal with him? Inhaling deeply, she meant to steel herself but only managed to catch a hint of his aftershave. Spicy and exotic, the scent made her want to plaster herself to him and kiss his jaw until she located the source of it.
“Maybe we could just talk here.” She pointed to the parlor with two comfortable couches. She knew setting foot in his car would only lock them in more privacy and accelerate this crazy attraction. “I’m sure it wouldn’t take long—”
“You’re staying here, right?” Myles leaned closer, lowering his voice in a way that made her pulse thrum like mad.
“Yes.” Nerves fluttered through her. “Jules is a friend from—”
“I don’t think it would be wise to talk business in your hotel, Lindsey.” His dark eyes fixed on her. “Knowing we’re so close to your bed is going to be very distracting for me.”
Chapter Seven
Myles must have made a good case for leaving the B&B for the evening because Lindsey was out the door and in his car in no time. He wanted to tell her not to worry. He was a newly divorced man not in any frame of mind to start up another relationship.
Except saying as much would acknowledge the attraction between the two of them. And he suspected that would make things even more uncomfortable between them.
Quite frankly, the ache in his pants was already downright painful.
“So where are we going?” She fidgeted with the hem of a silky dress that floated around her knees. Suede boots covered the rest of her legs. She wore a pair of feather earrings that tangled in her long hair.
She looked beautiful even if she was giving him a real run for his money with his research.
Beyond wanting her until he hurt, he liked Lindsey and he wished she wasn’t hiding secrets to protect the family that had cut Mary Louise Emory out of her rightful place in musical history. He didn’t know how yet, but he knew it had happened.
“Blue Hound Dog Lounge.” If not for the traffic, they’d be there already, but tourists flocked to this part of Music City even though the place they were going was more of a locals’ hangout.
“Now there’s a blast from the past.” She shook her head.
“You know it?”
“It was the scene of the second most humiliating experience of my life.” She stared out the windshield, the headlights from oncoming cars casting shadows on her face while they waited for a light to turn green.
“We can go somewhere else.” He reached for her hand on instinct, regretting the troubled expression on her face and knowing he’d put it there.
“No. It’s fine. It’s a great bar. Or at least, it used to be. Lara brought Sam and me along sometimes and ordered us Cokes while she sang to the smaller crowds that she really liked.”
“I didn’t know that about Lara,” he admitted, taking a left onto a side street where the crowds thinned out.
“There’s a lot you don’t know. We figured the public has staked enough of a claim on her life. We like to keep some parts to ourselves.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “Although I guess it won’t hurt if you use that in your book.”
“How about we make tonight off the record?”
“It sounds too good to be true, so there must be a catch.” She pointed to an empty spot on the street. “There’s an opening.”
Grateful, he put the car in reverse.
“There’s no catch.” Sliding the gearshift into park, he turned in his seat to look at her. “I’d like to have a good time tonight, Lindsey. You could probably use a friend right about now. And I’m going to be honest with you—I could too.” Her eyebrows lifted in unison. One feather earring slid forward to tease her cheek.
“I’m at a disadvantage. You know why I need a friend right now. But I don’t know much about you.”
He wanted her to trust him, so he needed to give her a reason. Share something of himself. He knew how it worked. That didn’t make it any easier to admit a truth he’d kept out of the press for months.
“Remember I told you about the coked-up performer who tried to take my head off for questioning his creative approach?”
Her green eyes held his as she nodded. “Yes. The incident that made you want to take a break from the studio.”
“Right. Except that’s only half the story. After my altercation with the kid—and he’s twenty-two at most—my ex-wife decided he was the perfect candidate for an affair.”
Her shocked gasp told him what a good job he’d done keeping the details private. Thankfully, the performer had gone into rehab after Tabitha broke up with him, and she had wised up enough to know her behavior didn’t look good even for a woman who cultivated a rock ‘n’ roll reputation.
“How could she be so cruel?” Lindsey shook her head, her hand clasping his arm.
It felt good to have someone be indignant on his behalf. At the time of discovery, Tabitha had been too drunk to really appreciate the level of betrayal he’d felt.
“I think she was trying to get my attention. I was a workaholic and she was the type of person who needed... more than I gave her.”
“Still.” Frowning, she stared down at her hand on his arm, but didn’t move it. Instead, she squeezed his hand. “No wonder you understood what I felt like when I walked in and saw Beau with someone else on my wedding day.”
“I actually had no idea what happened, but I knew it was bad when I saw your face.” Hearing his suspicions confirmed didn’t give him any satisfaction. “You looked like a different person going in versus coming out of there.”
She fidgeted with an earring. “Beau was my best friend for a long time before he convinced me we should get married. But it all sounded so rational when he spelled out the plan.”
Myles lifted a hand to her cheek and swiped aside the feather that brushed her chin. He took his time, skimming a knuckle along her soft skin at the same time.
“That sounds way too cool and sensible for a woman who has lived by her own lights and bucked family expectations.” He wanted to know more about her and not because of the damned book.
Her eyelids closed for a moment, her cheek tilting ever so slightly toward his touch before she dragged her lashes upward again.
It was the smallest concession. The barest fraction of a response, yet it lit him up inside.
“That’s just the thing, Myles. I have been trying to shed a reputation as a man-stealer ever since I left Nashville.” She paused as if waiting for his reaction then continued, “I can’t believe you didn’t hear all about my reputation after talking to my sister before me.”
Man stealer? She was hot enough to have any man she wanted, but somehow the negative image didn’t fit with his gut impression of her. “Your sister didn’t have much to say before she called her gardener and the pool boy to act as security and escort me off her property.”
Lindsey cracked a smile, her face transformed by the wicked gleam in her eyes. “That sounds like Sam. She was a little more volatile the day she brought her new fiancé home from college and I realized he was the same guy I’d let pick me up at the bar the night before.”
“Seriously?” Damn bad luck, but it sounded like the guy was the one to blame.
“I was eighteen. Sam was twenty and she wanted to kill me. I was feeling too low to defend myself even if my pride would have let me. My first time was with a creep of the worst kind, but I had no way of knowing he was my sister’s new man.” She shrugged. “My only one-night stand effectively cured me of my wild side. I’ve been hunting for respectability ever since and maybe that’s part of the reason I thought I’d opt for a more practical relationship for marriage by choosing my best friend – Beau William.”
“Sounds to me like you have a serious case of hyper-correcting your mistake to go from the creep to Beau William Greer, III.” He hung his head for a second. “Not that I am in any position to point fingers when it comes to choices in love and romance.”
“Thank you.” She leaned forward and surprised the hell out of him by kissing his cheek. “It was nice of you to share something about yourself. And even kinder of you not to suggest I was a total hussy for the whole mess I made as an eighteen-year-old.”
He resisted the urge to touch the place where she’d kissed him. The scent of honeysuckle made him want to inhale deeper. Lean into her for more.
“It wasn’t kindness.” He pocketed his keys, knowing he needed to exit the car before he did something really unwise like kiss her senseless right here. “Your sister should have been mad at the fiancé, not you. He was the one who made a promise to her.”
“Well, no one else in the family thinks like you. They’ve never believed me. They think I did it on purpose to wreck my sister’s engagement, like I was the same kid who threw her Barbies into the creek.” She released his hand, sliding back onto her side of the car. “Should we go in and hear who’s playing at the Blue Hound Dog?”
A crowd was gathering around the front entrance. They’d lucked out claiming the parking spot so close.
“I know who is playing. Why did you throw her Barbie dolls into the creek?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Did you know you’re the first person to ask me that? My mother just assumed I was being a brat – which I was – and punished me.”
“What did happen?”
“My sister and I were both brats, actually. She broke my tea set.”
“You don’t seem like the tea set sort – no offense.”
“None taken. I wasn’t, but our grandparents gave us each a tea set from their trip to Japan. And Sam broke mine, uhm,” she hesitated, studying her fingernails, “because I gave her Barbie dolls haircuts and dye jobs, not very good ones.” She glanced at him and scrunched her nose. “My skills have improved. Anyhow, she broke my tea set because I wrecked her Barbies. I tossed the dolls into the creek to destroy the evidence but got caught.”
“Why didn’t you show them the tea set?”
She looked up quickly. “If they believed the worst in me, that’s their problem.”
She was prideful. He understood the feeling.
Lindsey sighed. “That was years ago and I don’t want to talk about my sister or my mother. Let’s go listen to good music. Please tell me the singer’s good.”
He opened his door and moved around to the passenger side to give her a hand out of the sports car. “In country music circles, she’s rumored to be the next Lara Kane.”
Lindsey felt the eyes of every woman on the street as she walked toward the tiny club with Myles. Part of it was Myles, of course. The other reason was the sleek Maserati he’d parked nearby. It was definitely more of an L.A. car than a Nashville one, and it still had the California license plates. Idly, she wondered if he’d driven it all the way across the country himself.
Maybe he’d been as desperate to leave behind his ex-wife as she’d been to run away from the Lanier Islands and the wedding that wasn’t meant to be. Hearing about his past and a secret he’d kept carefully hidden had shifted her view of him.
He’d shared something personal with her for a reason, perhaps. To gain her trust. But he’d shown a good deal of trust of his own to put that secret out there. She felt certain whatever she shared tonight would be just between them. The wariness she’d always felt around him faded. That was good because it made her less nervous about slipping up and sharing something about Lara she wasn’t supposed to.
But the lack of wariness had a troubling side effect too. It took the brakes off the attraction she’d been keeping at bay. Also, it made her realize how much she’d been deceiving herself with Beau William since they’d never had romantic chemistry. And while she still blamed her former fiancé for asking her to marry him when he secretly cared for someone else, she also realized she’d been lying to herself that they could make a marriage work based solely on friendship.
At the door to the bar, Myles handed his card to a buff bouncer in a worn Stetson who led them to a table front and center. A table that had to be brought out to the dance floor just for them. But the business was quickly arranged and Lindsey took a seat while Myles greeted the drummer who was checking his equipment.
She’d known, in a theoretical way, that Myles must be well-connected in the music business. She hadn’t fully appreciated the way his power and prestige would extend to Nashville too. When he took a seat beside her again, she felt nervous. Breathless. Confused.
This was not a date, damn it. She wished it would stop feeling like one.
“I didn’t realize you were such a big fish in this pond.” She peered around them, but the crowd was focused on their drinks and the music. Any attention they’d drawn with their hastily arranged table had dissipated quickly. “I’d hate to end up in tomorrow’s social pages on the arm of a new guy.”
“If that happens, everyone will think I’m doing research on my book.” He drew his seat closer, his knee brushing hers under the table. He draped his arm along the back of her chair. “But I don’t think anyone is snapping pics in here. The beauty of a dive bar is that everyone is minding their own business.”
“You mentioned you’re familiar with the band.”
“The singer is being courted by two different indie labels, and she’s expressed an interest in working with me. I thought I’d see if the feeling was mutual.” He waved over a waitress wearing a Blue Hound Dog tee and high-heeled boots with a denim mini skirt.
The wait-staff’s attire hadn’t changed in the last eight years, but the rest of the place definitely had a few upgrades. The floors were clean and free of beer spills. The acoustics and lighting were better as the band took their seats and began to play.
Their drinks ordered, along with a few appetizers, Lindsey and Myles listened to the singer’s first few songs.
“What do you think?” Lindsey whispered midway through a ballad that had a few older couples up swaying on the narrow strip of dance floor. “Is she worthy of the Myles Emory production magic?”
“You tell me.” He watched her over the rim of his bourbon glass, the food and drinks having arrived shortly after they’d ordered them. “I’m curious what you think.”
“Well, it’s been a long time since anyone’s asked my opinion on music.” But she’d been brought up in a household filled with it, whether it was her grandfather’s love of classic hillbilly music or her mother’s determination to drown out any trace of country with her string quartet parties. “I think this performer has the technical skills but not the It Factor.”
“Is that really your opinion or is that the wisdom of musical reality TV shows?” He turned his gaze back to the stage where the singer/songwriter was joking with her bandmates behind the drums as they relaxed between sets.
“All I know is that she doesn’t have a lot of stage presence. Her voice is beautiful, but I don’t connect with her.” Lindsey shrugged. “Lara Kane didn’t have major vocal pipes, but she wrote her own songs and she delivered them in a way that made you know she lived them. Listeners identified with her.”
She noticed the stony set to Myles’s features. Something was bothering him and she couldn’t pinpoint what.
“You don’t agree with me?” she prodded when he didn’t say anything.
“Doesn’t it seem unfair that we reward performers based on how they look? You know how many singers from the seventies would have never had careers in the post-music video era?”
“Different technologies reward different kinds of talent. And I don’t think it’s all about looks now. It’s about identifying with a performer. Feeling like they’ve walked in our shoes.” She peeled the label on her beer. “Good songwriters translate everyday experience and make it resonate.”
A hint of a smile curved his hard mouth.
“I was curious about your opinion, but I’ll admit I didn’t expect such a thoroughly thought-out answer.”
“Just because I’m a hair stylist doesn’t mean I don’t understand art.” She tried not to be offended. She’d fought stereotypes about her work before.
“I wasn’t suggesting that.”
“No?” She tried to keep the defensive tone out of her voice. Easier said than done. “Because I consider my work a kind of art too. Beauty is unique to the individual and I try to find that and enhance it. A great hairstyle wasn’t meant to be worn by everyone any more than a great song can be delivered by just anyone. You need passion and personality behind art.” She lifted her beer bottle. “At least, that’s what I think.”
She took a sip of a local microbrew and leaned back in her seat. Too late, she recalled Myles’s arm draped along her chair. The warmth of his touch made her skin tingle through the sheer silky dress.
“You’re a tough critic.” He toyed with a lock of her hair, winding it around his finger as he watched her in the shifting blue lights over the dance floor.
“Just being honest. I like people being up front with me, so I try to do the same.” She stared into his eyes, getting lost in the dark depths.
What a peculiar relationship they had formed.
“Honesty is a serious turn-on,” he admitted, “whether I agree with you or not.”
“Do you?” She turned to face him. “What do you think of the singer?”
“I agree with what you said. But I also love an underdog, so I might just produce her anyway and see what I can do to help her out.” The fierceness in his voice told her how much he liked a challenge.
For some reason, that made her smile. Maybe because she’d tilted a few windmills in her time too.
“Cheers to the underdog, Myles.” She clinked her beer bottle against his bourbon.
He picked up the glass and finished the drink.
