Gypsy Hearts (4 page)

Blue suit. Blue suit.

Brock pulled a chair from the desk and sat next to her, listening to the song replay. Once again, she was
drawn into it.

"It's beautiful. You must have loved her very much,"
Josie whispered. Or still do, she thought with a pang of
envy.

He turned to her, his deep blue eyes filled with emotion and she knew he did. But he didn't confirm her suspicion. He swallowed and said, "I can do this a little
better."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"You don't?"

She shrugged slightly. No one was watching them.
She almost wished the studio players were still in the
game room playing with a pinball machine instead of
home in their beds. It was just the two of them now, and
the silence of the studio was wrapping around them in
a way that made her wonder if it was such a good idea
to agree to work with Brock Gentry.

"Sometimes too many takes pulls the life and emotion out of a song. Sometimes that first take is the best
simply because it's raw, powerful with true feeling."

"I think it's missing something. Something didn't
come through."

She simply nodded. "Then let's do it again."

It took another hour or so to lay the rest of the voice
tracks. When Josie finally glanced at the clock, she
wasn't surprised. 3:15 A.M. She'd been in the studio
later than that before, sometimes until the early hours
of the morning, leaving just in time to see the sun rise.
But they'd made good time tonight. She was pleased
with what they had accomplished and she could tell
Brock was too.

"You'll have a good demo CD to shop around when
this is done," she said, punching the stop button, then
the rewind. "I'll have some rough CD's ready for you
before you come in for tomorrow's session. We can
make any changes tomorrow night."

"Wonderful." Brock just stared at her. She had a feeling he wasn't talking about the demo.

He followed her into the studio and began wrapping
cords.

Startled, she said, "You don't have to do that. I can
take care of all this."

"We'll get it done in half the time if we do it together." He finished wrapping a cord while she unhooked the microphone and brought it to the supply
cabinet.

Her hands stopped mid-motion closing the door
when he came over and leaned against the cabinet.
"What is it?" she asked.

He bit his bottom lip. "Come with me."

Josie blinked. "What do you mean? Where are you
going?"

"On the road. It'll be loads of fun."

She laughed, couldn't help herself. "I don't think so."

He gently gripped her by her upper arms, his face in
a wide smile that made her heart stop.

"I need you, Josie. You're incredible. I've got some
gigs lined up and some important people are coming
out to see us. I don't want some part-time sound guy
who doesn't know what I'm about doing my sound for
me. That was fine when all I was doing was playing at
the dance hall back in Steerage Rock. But this is important."

Still feeling the sensation of his hands on her, she
sighed softly. Brock Gentry wasn't just some slick
musician. He had the kind of talent that didn't come
from years of practice or paying dues. It was just part
of him. He was that good. She knew how important it
was to get exposure and how annoying technical mistakes on the road, no matter how little, could make or
break what might ultimately turn into a record contract.

She also knew she wasn't going to go on the road
again. Not ever.

Blue suit. Blue suit, she muttered to herself for a full
thirty seconds as she played tug of war with the idea in
her head.

"No, thank you. I'm done with the road." Josie moved
to go past him, to just get some distance because somewhere deep down she recognized something dangerous
building inside her. She wanted to go with Brock. The
problem was she couldn't identify exactly why.

Was it because on some level she longed to be in that
atmosphere again, among people who shared her love
of music? Or was it the man himself that drew her
toward packing her bags and leaving again? Either way,
it was going to derail a path she'd been determined to
stay on for the better part of four years.

Brock shifted, just enough to move closer to her,
making it difficult for her to make a quick getaway. Her
breath hitched as the scent of him drifted to her. He ran
his hand gently up her arm, but didn't say anything.

He was completely male in all the ways she hadn't
wanted to see, Josie realized. His musky cologne
blended in with the scent of his skin, not overpowering
it, but enhancing it. They were close enough so that she could smell the coffee on his breath and feel the heat of
his body even though they weren't touching.

She'd lied to herself big time, thinking this was just
another session and that Brock was just another musician.

"We're good together. I can feel it," he whispered
after a moment.

She felt it too, although she'd rather chew her tongue
off than admit it.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, tilting her chin
up with his fingers.

She wanted to laugh. There was plenty to be afraid
of, not the least of which was Brock Gentry.

He's just a kid, she reminded herself. He doesn't
know what's ahead of him on this road. He was looking
at her all starry-eyed as if she was his one-way ticket to
success.

She opened her eyes and looked directly into his.
Yeah, she'd been lying to herself. Brock may be a few
years younger than her, but he was a man, strong and
determined, with a wild fire that right at that moment
was sparking a flame so strong in her she could hardly
breathe.

She pulled away and took a step aside.

"Look, I've been on the road before. It's fun for a
while, you see new places, meet new people. But before
long it all looks the same. You don't remember what
city you're in or even what day of the week it is."

"It's Tuesday," he said with a smirk. "I can keep
track of the days for you."

She shook her head when she realized he wasn't
going to give up easily.

"I'm not looking for what you're asking," she said
resolutely.

"You think you've seen it all. Is that it?"

"I've seen enough."

"You've never been on the road with me."

Then she laughed. What was this guy all about? "I
don't need to."

She waved her hand toward him and started to pace,
if only just to get a few more feet away from Brock and
clear her head.

"I've seen a hundred bright-eyed country boys like
you walk through that door this year alone. You're too
green to know what's ahead of you and believe me
that's okay. Ignorance is bliss in this business."

"What made you so cynical? Was it Grant Davies?"

Her insides fell. Her relationship with Grant had
been discrete. He'd wanted it that way at first. Only
those people in their close circle knew they'd been in
love. She'd been in love, she reminded herself.

Sighing, she propped herself on the edge of the stool
sitting next to the empty mike stand and bit her lip.
"I'm no gypsy, Brock. I found that out a long time ago.
I know going on the road would be fun. For a while,
that is. But after a short time, it'll be just another place
that's too far from home. I'm not your girl."

"I'm not looking for you to be anything more than
my sound engineer."

Now he was the one lying. What's more, he knew she
knew and still, Brock didn't do anything at all to hide
that fact.

"I can't commit to anything. Going on the road means leaving here and forgetting the plans I've been
making."

"I'd like to hear about those plans. Maybe we can
get out of here and find an all night diner, grab some
breakfast."

She laughed, covering her face with both hands.
"First dinner, now breakfast? You do move quickly,
cowboy."

"Hesitate too long and you lose the moment." Brock
stared at her for a lingering moment. "It's just some
coffee, maybe steak and eggs to go with it or a bagel.
You like bagels, don't you? It can't hurt. Besides, if
you're so wed to the plans you've made, there isn't a
thing I can say to you over breakfast to talk you out of
them."

"I have to go home. Dexter's been alone for too
long."

"Dexter?"

She wanted to avoid the discussion about how obviously pathetic her life seemed. Josie had to admit she'd
loved every moment working on Brock's demo tape.
It'd been a while since she'd been able to sink her teeth
into anything other than fluff radio spots, Now that
she'd stretched her arms and legs into a new place, she
knew it was going to be hard to curl them back into her
little box.

"He's my cat. He's old and ornery, but the love of my
life. And don't you say anything smart about it," she
said, pointing a finger at him.

He laughed, something rich and deep and ... it did
things to her. Darn, if her heart didn't flutter just a little.

"I wouldn't dare. Besides, I like animals. Had an
ornery old farm dog myself. I've lived my whole life on
a ranch in Steerage Rock. And as much as I'm sure
Dexter's been missing you, I know he'll survive another
hour or two while we share a bagel."

Josie was being ridiculous. She'd planned on being
at the studio the whole night. Using Dexter as an
excuse to flee from Brock Gentry was taking the coward's way out. "Who said anything about sharing?"

Brock's lips tilted to one side. "Okay, you can have
your own. I'll help you lock up and then we can go."

Unlike Brock, Josie knew the places to go this late at
night that served the best breakfast in this part of Texas.
She'd been there before with Grant's band and then just
with Grant. Something about tonight made all that
come back to her. As they walked through the doors of
the diner, it felt as if she'd been there just yesterday, but
it had been many years since she'd taken on a late night
session. She had to wonder if maybe she'd made a mistake in accepting this invitation.

Brock ordered them a couple of coffees while she
blankly looked at the menu, not really reading it. She
was hungry for something, but didn't see anything
that jumped off the menu. She settled on an apple
cinnamon muffin when the aroma from one the waitress was delivering to a nearby table reached her
nose.

"So what's the real reason you won't go on the road
with me?" he asked.

She lifted her face from the menu she still held in front of her despite having made her selection.
"Because I don't want to."

He smirked and shook his head. "Not good enough.
I figured you for at least some wild, elaborate story
about how your long lost uncle or somebody needed
you to come back and work the family farm."

She sputtered. "Who'd ever give a lame reason like
that?"

He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
"Actually, that's what happened to my sister-in-law,
Mandy. Came back to Texas to help her uncle with his
ranch and ended up falling in love all over again with
my older brother, Beau. Been married now a couple of
years."

"Well, ain't that sweet," she said, trying to sound sarcastic, but the envy of it all got the better of her. She'd
become a sap in her adult life. Happily ever afters made
her weepy and long for one herself.

"Yeah. I've got a pretty little niece named Promise.
My little sweet pea. She likes to pull at the strings of
my guitar when I'm playing. And they've got another
one on the way now."

"I get it. So the house is getting crowded and it's
time to pack up and go on the road? Is that your story?"

"You want to know my story, but I've already told
you and I think you can pretty much figure on your own
what I didn't tell you. It's pretty simple stuff, and I'm a
simple man."

Josie doubted that. There was something very real
and compelling about Brock Gentry. Words couldn't
quite capture him. Not anything she could come up with anyway, and she'd tried over these last days to do
just that. When she'd seen him walk into the studio that
first time, she thought she knew him or at least his type.
She'd been dead wrong.

"I want to know your story, Josie," he was saying as
he played with the paper napkin, dipping it in the water
ring on the Formica table and then twisting it as if he
were ringing out a wet rag. "You tell me you don't want
to go on the road. But I saw you in that studio. You love
what you do. You were as lost in what we were doing as
I was."

Josie couldn't deny it or push back the smile that
pulled at her cheeks. She couldn't remember the last
time she'd enjoyed working in the studio this much.
There was room to grow here, to be challenged and find
the creative energy that sparked her to life-things she
wasn't likely to find taping dog food commercials.

And there was this man, who with every breath he
took, intrigued her.

She wanted to go on the road again. Sure. But that
wasn't going to happen. She'd been there, done that, as
the saying went. She didn't need a repeat of her broken
heart. She didn't need to be trampled by studio executives who only looked at the bottom dollar and not at
the artist or his craft. People who molded, shaped, and
dressed a person until you no longer recognized the
man beneath all that flare.

It would happen to Brock. And that was a crying
shame. The man had talent in every inch of his being.
And the dogs of the recording industry would chew
him to pieces.