A Little Night Music (16 page)

“It’s always good to have goals,” he managed. He cut off her breathy laugh with a kiss and lost himself in the slick, sliding rhythm of their bodies.

*

Hannah sucked deeply on the straw shoved down into the icy mochachino. The espresso-laced chocolate drink slid down her throat. Nate glanced her way, and she smiled, curling the tip of her tongue around the top of the straw. He stopped speaking, and Andre turned his head, following Nate’s attention. Hannah smiled sweetly at them both, and gave a little wave. She had to turn away before laughter overcame her.

Last night had wiped both her and Nate out and they’d slept later than either of them had intended. Consequently, they’d had to rush to be at the tour’s departure spot.

It hadn’t mattered. Sam had been held up in traffic. He’d only just arrived, and was now simultaneously talking into his cell phone and going over a checklist with the tour’s driver.

“That wasn’t nice,” Nate said from behind her. His breath stirred the soft hairs at her nape.

She turned, her ponytail sliding over her bare shoulders. The kelly  green halter top she wore was designed for comfort. The intent behind wearing it and the dangling gold hoop earrings, however, was more about sheer enticement. Besides, it went well with her jeans and boots.

“I was just enjoying my drink,” Hannah said, trying for innocence and failing completely. The warm scent of his skin surrounded her. It was hard to resist the desire to lean into him, to tongue the earlobe containing a small gold hoop.

Nate caught the hand holding her drink and took a long pull at the straw. His wicked grin made her thighs clench.

“Time to get on the bus,” he told her. “I’ll give you the tour.”

Hannah had been in tour buses before, but they never ceased to amaze her. How they could cram so much stuff into such a small space…  Gina insisted it involved inter-dimensional pockets, and Hannah wasn’t sure her friend was wrong.

At the front there was the driver’s area. Next was a lounging area with comfortable chairs and tables bolted to the floor. The small room contained a TV, a DVD player, and a bitchin’ stereo. A curtain separated a small kitchenette equipped with a fridge, a microwave, a cappuccino maker. A closet of a bathroom was opposite. A door led to a small sleeping area with bunks on each side of the bus. They were surprisingly roomy considering they were on a bus.

She tried very hard not to think about the roominess of the bunks, because that led her to calculating just how much space there was in a bunk for the various sexual positions she and Nate could get into.

And whether she could keep from screaming when they were doing so.

“Coming through,” the drummer yelled, a duffel bag held high. Scott gave them a wide grin, eyeing Hannah from head to toe. They’d met earlier, and she thought his sense of humor went right along with his T-shirt. The white shirt showed guys gathered around a barbeque, holding hot dogs on long forks. The caption read “It’s only fun until someone loses a wiener.”

Hannah patted one of the upper bunks. “I’m sleeping up here.”

“In that case, I definitely want to be on the bottom,” Scott said.

Nate smacked him on the back of the head. “Behave.” He caught Hannah’s hand, leading her to another door. “We’re sleeping in here.”

“Here” was the last area on the bus. It could hardly be called a bedroom, despite the wide bed that dominated the space, but it provided privacy that the bunks lacked. Hannah plopped onto the bed, giving it a quick bounce. “It’s good to be a rock god,” she announced.

Nate sucked in a deep breath, watching her. “Sometimes, it definitely is.”

This trip would be a relaxed one. They were driving from Los Angeles to Las Vegas during the day, which would take about six hours. They had the night to themselves, and Nate had promised to show her around.

Tomorrow would be a stage rehearsal, going over last-minute lighting cues and sound checks, before the tour’s kick-off concert.

Sam called out that they were leaving in less than a minute. She and Nate made their way back to the front. Hannah settled into a burgundy leather chair that seemed built for her body. The bus lurched forward and they were off, headed for the first leg of Nate Fox’s comeback tour.

Andre was deep in conversation with Kenny, the bass player. Kenny was a tall man leaning towards heavyset. His shaggy, blondish-brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. He didn’t move much, but his playing was powerful. He was the only band member left from Nate’s last tour. The others—Scott the drummer, Alan the keyboardist, and Freebo the rhythm guitarist—had been handpicked by Nate to join the band for
Cannibal Eyes.

“
So you two are an item, then?” Freebo asked. His dark hair and goatee were trimmed closely. Chains decorated the black leather boots he had propped on the table.

“And it’s not to go any further than here,” Sam said before either Nate or Hannah could reply. He gave them all what could only be described as a stern look. For a moment, Hannah had a flashback to high school and her sole visit to the principal’s office, after she’d led a protest against the crappy cafeteria food.

“We want all the focus to be on the tour,” Hannah explained.

“Okay,” Alan said. He pulled the sunglasses resting in his curls down over his eyes and settled back for a nap.

“Great,” Scott said morosely. “The only time I get to live on a bus with a good-looking woman, and she’s already taken.”

“Down, boy,” Kenny said. “We’ll find you a treat in Vegas.”

Scott flipped him off.

Hannah decided that the next few months were going to be very interesting indeed.

*

A couple of hours later, the ride was already getting old. The endless expanse of desert provided very little in the way of stimulating landscape. She’d never been fond of mesquite or Joshua trees. Give her a good old palm any day, or even better, some shady sequoias. She’d already seen the movie the guys had put on the DVD player. Nate had wandered back to take a nap. Up front, the bus driver was singing about low women in low places. Nate was in no danger of losing his job.

Switching seats, Hannah settled down next to Andre. He pulled the earpieces out, shutting off his iPod. He put down the book he’d been reading. Hannah took a glance at it. A delicious-looking man gazed moodily from the cover.

“You seem pretty relaxed,” Hannah said. It was true. The big man wore faded jeans and a silk pullover. The fact that the jeans were designer and probably cost as much as the iPod nano didn’t escape her notice.

 “Honey, I’m in a bus full of gorgeous men. I’m just pretending I don’t know they’re all straight.”

Hannah laughed. “Andre, if I were a gay man, I’d be
so
after you.”

“Oh, please,” Andre said. “All you and Nate have to do is look at each other…” He waved his hands. “A girl could choke on the sexual tension.”

She couldn’t help another laugh, utterly charmed by the huge dichotomy between Andre’s professional bodyguard persona and his private, unrepentantly blatant self.

“Well, like we said before, we’d like to keep it as low-key as possible,” she said. “It goes without saying that we’re counting on you to help us with that.”

“I can totally sympathize, honey. If Nate swung my way, I’d be in the same predicament as you.”

“I really appreciate this,” Hannah said, relief flowing through her.

“There’s just one condition,” Gabriel said.

Her heart sank. “What?”

His grin was wicked. “Indulge my fantasy. Boxers or briefs?”

Hannah howled. “You are a naughty, depraved man—so of course I have to indulge you. Briefs, most of the time. Except…”

Andre leaned forward expectantly. “Yes?”

“Except when he’s wearing leather. Then it’s nothing at all.”

With a groan, Andre pounded on the table.

“Is everything okay in here?” The curtain between the two lounges parted and Nate entered. His sleeveless T-shirt boasted a wraparound picture of a Magritte painting. Hannah tried not to drool over how the form-fitting shirt displayed his hard biceps. The fox-head tattoo on his upper right arm made her want to fall at his feet and beg to be his biker babe.

And that was just for starters.

“Just girl talk,” she told him with a smile. “We’re discussing fashion.”

It was Andre’s turn to laugh, the deep sound seeming to vibrate the windows.

“We’ll be in Baker soon,” Sam said, rejoining them from the front where he’d been keeping the driver company.

“Is that by your directions, or his?” Nate asked. He looked at Hannah. “Sam has a notoriously bad sense of direction.”

“Careful, boy, I know all your secrets,” Sam said. And then he smiled to show that he was joking.

Hannah stared at Sam, wondering if Nate had already told him that he’d confessed about not being able to write music. She glanced at Nate for a clue, but he’d become engrossed in the movie, one arm slung around her shoulders.

She still couldn’t believe what Nate had told her. He hadn’t written music in two years? That must be devastating for him. The fact that he’d trusted her enough to confide it left her feeling a little overwhelmed. They’d known each other so briefly, yet he’d felt comfortable enough to relate something that could potentially damage his career. He trusted her. She felt warm, happy.

And unbearably sad that he’d lost so much.

*

Baker sprawled across the desert, a huge thermometer commemorating the highest recorded temperature announcing its presence miles before the town streets were reached. Once merely a metal siding on the defunct T&T railroad, now it relied on tourism to keep its small population alive. Two-thirds of the way to Vegas, it was the most common place for travelers to fuel up, stretch their legs, and get a bite to eat before the last leg of the drive to Sin City.

The heat baking up from the asphalt of the truck stop felt good after the chill of the bus’s air conditioning. That lasted about as long as it took to walk across to the lot to Bun Boy. Then the cool air blowing from ceiling vents in the kitschy restaurant was sweet relief.

Scott held up a plastic replica of the 134-foot thermometer, the tallest in the world. “Hey, Winks, you should get one of these for the dashboard.”

“Had one,” the rail-thin driver said. He adjusted the brim of his baseball cap. “Last smartass that pissed me off had it put where the sun don’t shine.”

“I think I’ve been threatened,” Scott said.

They all ignored him.

“We could eat somewhere else if you’d like,” Nate said. He was worried that Hannah would find the touristy restaurant too casual, not elegant enough. He was used to eating in places like this. At least there was the scent of cleaner nearly hidden beneath the smell of greasy burgers and burnt coffee. He’d eaten in some places a hell of a lot worse on the last tour. What he remembered of it, anyway.

“This is fine,” Hannah said. She linked her arm with his. “It’s a tradition to stop here. Or maybe a cliché.”

“The chocolate milkshakes are really good,” Andre said.

Nate hid a smile as he followed the broad back of his bodyguard to a table. Andre was a confirmed chocoholic. If you wanted a favor, a double fudge ganache cake went a long way to securing it for you.

*

“Oh my god! I can’t believe it!” The high-pitched female voice squealing behind them was followed by the clatter of heels on concrete. “Nate Fox! Oh my
god
!”

A feminine hand caught his arm, and he swung around to avoid being pulled over. Andre stepped closer, but the woman ignored the implied threat.

“It is you! How have you been? It’s been ages, hasn’t it?”

Nate stared at the woman, trying in vain to recall if he’d ever met her. She certainly seemed to know him. He should remember her. The sleek black hair cut close to her head only accented the flawless skin, the red pouting mouth. And he’d be an idiot not to notice the curvy body in tight jeans. He was very aware of Hannah standing quietly beside him.

“I haven’t seen you since we spent the night in South Beach. Do you remember how we danced naked on the hotel balcony?” Her words were accompanied by a hand resting on his chest, over the frantic beating of his heart.

“That’s enough,” Andre said quietly.

“Oh don’t be so stuffy,” she said. She edged herself between Nate and Hannah, wrapping her hands around his arm. “I hear you’re touring again. I would really love to join you for a while.” Big blue eyes flirted with him. “I’ve really missed you.”

Nate was at a loss. He had no idea who she was. He darted a glance at Hannah, only to be met with a cool mask. Whatever she was thinking or feeling, it was completely hidden. He decided to play it off. “We had some good times, didn’t we? But this is a new tour, new shows. New everything.”

“New women?” she replied savvily.

Andre stepped closer, his big body crowding them. He angled himself so that Nate and the woman were hidden from view should anyone be watching from the restaurant. “I said that’s enough.”

“If you touch me, I will scream so loud cops will be coming from miles away.” She smiled sweetly as she said it.

Andre bared his teeth in a predator’s grin. “I remember you,” he said. His deep voice was quiet, but laced with menace. The light-hearted joker from the bus had vanished, replaced by top-of-the-line security. “I remember the night you begged me to find you a fix. Are you still using, Lucy? What would we find if we took a look in your car?”

The hands clutching Nate’s arm fell away. “You’re such a shit, Andre.”

“I’m sorry,” Nate said, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for. Maybe for not remembering her. Maybe for Andre having to do his job. He didn’t know.

“Fuck you, Fox,” she said. She nailed Hannah with a bitter smile, vicious eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up. A month from now, he won’t remember you, either. None of us could every hold him.”

She walked away, her back rigidly straight. The jeweled belt she wore around her tiny waist caught the desert sun in a blinding glare.

“I’m sorry, Nate,” Andre said. “I should have reacted quicker.”

Nate waved a hand in the air, dismissing the apology. In his line of work, there was no predicting who would approach. It was one of the reasons Andre worked for him.