Stuck On You (12 page)

He glanced at his watch. It was eight o’clock. Some people in his usual circle didn’t even leave the house before nine. He sighed.

She nodded her head. “Sure. Kissing Laura shouldn’t rattle you like this, should it? I mean, you’ve kissed a thousand pretty girls.”

He closed his eyes and wondered how she knew. Probably just read the guilt and lusty anticipation on his face.

He pasted on a smile. “I have no idea why I’m so nervous, Miss Willodean.”

“I have a guess.” She just watched him. He waited. So did she.

Finally he said, “What’s that?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I think you might be nervous because you know this one could matter.” She winked at him and walked on down the hall toward the pool. “See you in the morning, KT.”

What if she was right? He shook his head. Of course she was right. He already knew that there was something different about Laura, something that would be hard to forget. He cared too much about her already. This was new territory. And it was scary. KT never had a problem leaving, mainly because every other woman had been interchangeable, safe, no threat to his heart. Maybe it was the place. The Rock’n’Rolla Hotel was a one-of-a-kind place filled with unusual characters. Laura fit here. How often did spreadsheets and showgirls go together? Maybe when he made it back home to the comforts of his usual crowd, he’d be able to move on easily. But that kiss . . . he couldn’t imagine that fading away. No matter the consequences, he was going to go as far as Laura would take him before he left on Tuesday. He had a few nights to make memories. He’d deal with the fallout, the pain that might come from having to leave a woman who was impossible to forget, later. As he pulled the door to the conference room shut, KT did his best to ignore the knot in his stomach.

A
FTER A LONG
day of weeding through the contestants to get the show set, KT was worn out. He had about an hour to get over that because the dress rehearsal would begin and he had to be on. Charming a crowd was never a challenge for him but he couldn’t remember being this tired either. Maybe he was getting old. Life on the road used to energize him. Now all he wanted was his bed, his remote, and Laura stretched out next to him.

He hadn’t seen her since she’d sashayed out of the makeshift green room last night but he’d nearly given himself neck cramps from twisting his head this way and that looking for her.

His sleepless night probably had a lot to do with his general piss-poor outlook. No matter which way he’d turned, he hadn’t been able to find a position that wiped the memory of her lips on his or the feeling of tight muscle and denim under his hand. If she didn’t show up tonight, he was going to have to . . . do something. Pick a fight. Hop a train. Find an illegal street race. Maybe just finding someone to shoot him and put him out of his misery would be easiest. He couldn’t spend another eight hours staring up at the ceiling and the hotel’s gym closed at ten to reopen at six. He should know. He’d gone down to check the door. Twice. Both times it had been locked. He’d even contemplated asking for the key at the front desk but Ortega had been on duty. Since he hadn’t wanted to deal with either knowing looks or possessive growls, he’d suffered in silence.

Clean living was a bitch. Three months, no alcohol and no women. He’d like to blame his unrest on that stupid decision, but the prospect of inviting Marcy up to his room hadn’t set his skin on fire like a kiss with Laura. And that was another very bad sign, but at this point, there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to follow this through.

“KT, hellooooo! Hey, KT, over here!” At Willodean’s trill, KT judged his chances of escape by elevator to be very low. So, he forced a smile on his face and trudged across the lobby where Willodean waited by the door. There was a young girl standing between Willodean and a neon-blue suitcase.

He reached around Willodean to give her shoulder a squeeze and said, “Afternoon, ladies. I was just on my way upstairs to slap on a tux for tonight’s rehearsal.”

“Oh, I know you’re a busy man, but my friend Holly’s headed out for the weekend and I was afraid she wouldn’t get a chance to meet you.” There was something calculating in Willodean’s eyes but he was too tired to guess at this point.

He held out his hand and the girl slid her hand in. After a tiny shake, she stepped back but forgot to take her hand with her. He gave her hand a squeeze and then let go. The flush was damn cute. She had that awkward, gangly look of someone who’d grown too fast and hadn’t quite figured out where to put her elbows. But she was going to be beautiful someday. The pink streak in her long dark hair threw him for a minute, but it seemed fitting that any friend of Willodean’s would have a streak. And the cheap souvenir Elvis shirt that she was wearing with long shorts definitely marked her a friend of Willodean’s.

“Nice to meet you, Holly. Are you going somewhere exciting?” He had no idea how to talk to teenagers. They usually just screamed and waved things to autograph in front of his face.

He must have done fine because Willodean beamed and Holly cleared her throat to say, “Uh, Nashville. My best friend’s family is taking me.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a lot of fun.” It sounded like a lot of giggling. He was glad he wasn’t the best friend’s father.

She fidgeted with the neck of her shirt and said, “I’m happy I had a chance to meet you, Mr. Masters.”

Women from barely legal to barely alive called him KT. Apparently teenage girls were going to go with Mr. Maybe she just had good manners.

“Oh, me too, Holly. This is just like fate. You two needed to meet and here we are.” Willodean smiled showing every single tooth in her head and KT suddenly remembered how it felt to float in a cage while sharks circled. It wasn’t a good feeling. “I was just waiting for my car to be brought around. I’m doing her mother a favor, dropping her off, but I’ll be back in time for the show.”

Holly said, “If you’re still here next week, Mr. Masters, could I get your autograph? I’ll be home on Sunday night.”

Back in his comfort zone, KT relaxed. “You bet, Holly. I’ll be here until at least Tuesday morning.”

Willodean clapped her hands. “Oh, wonderful. I’ll be sure the two of you meet up. Maybe we could all have dinner together at Viva Las Vegas?”

Holly scratched her nose. “Willodean, you know my mom doesn’t like me to spend too much time there.”

Willodean nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, dear, but I think she’ll make an exception this time.”

When Holly smiled, it was a little like watching the sun rise. Her serious features lit up and she looked like a girl who wanted pink streaks, loud suitcases, and Elvis memorabilia.

KT smiled back. It was impossible not to. “Sounds good. Now, gotta run and slap on my monkey suit. Have a great time, Holly. And I’ll see you later, Miss Willodean.”

They both nodded and smiled. The cagey look on Willodean’s face made him replay the conversation in his head but he couldn’t solve the mystery of what she was really up to now.

Once he made it back to his room, he dropped clothes in a trail to the shower, hoping hot water would convince his brain to kick in. As he shaved and dressed in the tuxedo he’d managed to get to Memphis without incident, he ran through the show plan in his mind. By the time he made it back to Viva Las Vegas, he was focused. And hungry. But wearing a tuxedo.

When he spotted Laura weaving between the tight tables, something loosened in his chest. And when she smiled, he remembered every single second of that kiss.

“Hey, ready to get this almost-show on the road?” Laura asked.

He fidgeted with the tie that was suddenly choking him. “Maybe. I could use a drink.”

“Wait right here.” She pointed at a rickety stool shoved in a dark corner. Turning his nose up at it wouldn’t do much good. In fifteen more minutes, that stool would be prime real estate.

When she returned, Laura handed him a Coke and a plate. That hadn’t exactly been the kind of drink he’d been craving but . . . clean living was a bitch. Thank God she had no idea that he’d ever lived any other way. The sugar and caffeine would do him good. Probably.

“Thought you might be hungry, too, so I brought you a sandwich. It’s dry because I didn’t want you to drip anything on that . . .” KT kissed her the way he’d wanted to all day long. Almost. In his imaginings, his hands had been free to roam. Now he had to do all his seduction with his tongue. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he knew he was doing it right.

And even with his hands tied up and a crowd surrounding them, she was exactly what he needed. He reluctantly leaned back and smiled at her dazed face. He felt more alert and pretty much in love with his job, every impersonator in the place, and the whole damn world. As long as he could put that look on her face, it was all going to turn out right. When he happened to catch Willodean Jackson’s smug smile, he cleared his throat. “Thanks. That was exactly what I needed.”

Laura’s answering smile was in no way sweet or pure. It was a thing of beauty. “You mean the sandwich, right?”

He shook his head slowly.

She straightened his jacket. “Good. I’m glad.” After a quick glance over her shoulder, she said, “I guess I better get back to hell. I mean, work.”

He nodded and watched her square her shoulders and march back into the fray. After he gulped the Coke and swallowed the sandwich almost whole, he brushed crumbs off his lapel and made his way over to Bob under the sparkly Almost Famous sign. Large, red, and bedazzled, the sign was impressive. He should have expected nothing less. Even so, with the understated things they’d chosen for the stage, the place looked glitzy, glamorous, and ready to host the world’s biggest faux stars.

Bob raised his headset microphone and launched immediately into the plan. “Looks like we’ve got twenty acts. Tonight they’ll have three minutes to block the stage, plan routines, try out the audio. You’ll do an intro, run through the rules, keep things moving. We need to stay on schedule, keep things moving.” He handed over a sheet of paper. “Here’s the order of the acts.” He thumped a folder against his KT’s chest. “Here you’ve got short bios and headshots for tomorrow. Read through them, maybe throw out an interesting fact with each intro. Tomorrow, not tonight. Got it? We need to keep things moving.”

KT was really getting the idea that Bob wanted to keep things moving. KT nodded. “Got it.”

Bob glanced at his watch. “We’re ready to go when you are.”

“Then let’s do this.” He watched Bob leap off the stage to land in the tiny square in front of the empty judges’ table. They weren’t flying in until tomorrow morning. KT had the inspired idea to send an Elvis impersonator to pick them up at the airport in a pink Cadillac. Because that’s how he rolled.

When the sound guy hit the music, “Don’t Be Cruel” blared from the speakers and he could see the packed audience start to move, like they couldn’t sit still. Their feet tapped and heads bobbed. He knew the feeling. He stepped out on the stage, the lights went up, and it was on. This was his zone. He charmed the crowd, he followed directions, and he kept the show on track. This was what he wanted to do, not spreadsheets. And definitely not budgets.

After he’d ushered a nervous Lady Gaga through her three minutes, helping her up on the stage and down again when her eight-inch heels posed a problem, he found a frosty Coke beside his podium. A tiny showgirl was disappearing through the crowd. After an hour and a half, they’d run through everyone on the list so he led them down the hallway and explained what services Mandy and Shane could help with, what would be available in the green room, and told them all when to report. And when the group left, he shook his head. No matter how weird the roles got in Hollywood, they had nothing on standing in front of a group of celebrity look-alikes. He didn’t envy the judges.

Bob marched over to shake his hand. “I think we’re ready. I’ll see you back here around four tomorrow. Be here at four on the dot. We’ll double check sound and placement. Gonna be a great show, great show.”

KT yanked on the end of his tie and took a deep breath as it loosened. “Thanks, Bob. I think so too.” He watched Bob hurry away. He was already talking to the camera guys.

“I thought you looked like James Bond before.” He smiled as he turned to see . . . Marcy at the foot of the stage. A quick glance showed him that Laura was counting down her tips at the bar.

“Uh, thanks. I think it’s the tux. Nobody looks bad in one of these.”

Her heavily lined eyes swept a hot trail down the tux and KT had to resist the urge to yank his collar away. “Never let ’em see you sweat” was his motto, particularly when the girl he wanted to take home was very, very near.

“You look good in everything.” Marcy winked. “But I bet you look even better in nothing, am I right?”

Laura answered, “Quit harassing the talent, Marcy. Are you sure you can close down tonight?”

Marcy huffed. “Fine. I couldn’t let him go without taking a shot, you know? And once you’ve had your hands all over him, he’ll be off limits.” Marcy stomped off and called over her shoulder, “Go on. Get wild. I’ve got this.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrows at Laura. “You haven’t been gossiping, have you?”

Laura propped one hand on her hip. “Seriously? Do I seem like the kind of girl who’d stand around giggling about boys?”

His lips twitched but he didn’t answer.

“I think she’s just got, like, a sixth sense or something, some kind of ESP about people, sex, and who might be having it. She’s seemed to know for months that I haven’t been.”

He slowly stepped down the stairs leading to the stage. Each step thudded like his heartbeat. He stopped in front of her and had to fight the urge to yank her up in his arms. He’d probably run into one of the tables, fall, and break both their necks. What a sad ending that would be.

“Have you changed your mind?” Please, God, let the answer be no.

When she nervously rubbed her nose and shook her head, he wanted to clap wildly. He didn’t. “My place or yours?”

She wrapped one hand around her arm and hunched her shoulders. “Well, if you laugh at this, I’m going to lose my religion, maybe punch you, but those unfinished receipts are bothering me, so if we go to your room, we can . . .” She waved a hand between them. “And then I can pack them up, bring them home and finish up.”