Sweet Seduction Serenade (14 page)

Nick stood up, having completed getting dressed by now and placed his own hands on his hips. He towered over me, took up all the available space in the room, and commanded my attention just by being him.

"Do you love him?" he asked, bold faced.

I hesitated, here was my chance to get Nick to back off, to say I did love Derek and Nick had no chance. But that would be using Derek, not a particularly nice cowgirl thing to do. Besides, it didn't matter, the hesitation said it all.

"Angel," Nick said, face and voice softening. I interrupted with a raised index finger.

"Don't. Don't say a thing. I am so pissed at you right now. You knew they were in the house. You knew he'd walk in on that. No matter what I feel or don't feel for him, he did
not
deserve that."

I turned around and started hunting for my hairbrush. It obviously wasn't on the dresser, as I'd lost it in the Neanderthal bashing last night. I found it eventually under the bed, having to get down on all fours to retrieve it. I purposely ignored Nick standing there watching the show, legs crossed at his ankles, back resting against the wall - casual as you like.

I started to tug it through my knotted hair. I really needed to make sure I plaited it loosely before bed, but the past few nights I'd been so exhausted - what with tending to Dad all day and then practising with the band most of the night - I'd barely changed before falling into bed. Brushing my hair took way too long and way too much energy.

No more than a minute into yanking the brush through my auburn strands, Nick came up and carefully took the torture device from my hand, separated a portion of my hair and began to softly brush the knots out, ensuring he didn't tug against my scalp.

"I can do it," I said, glaring at him in the mirror. His ice-blue eyes flicked up to mine briefly, then returned to his task.

"You'll destroy it when you're angry like this," he commented.

"It's just hair," I said, the first thing I could think of to argue with.

"Angel, your hair was never just hair. Believe me."

I blinked at him, then watched as he oh so carefully finished one segment, then moved on to the next with an equal amount of care and attention, as though we had all the time in the world. As though my best friend from Nashville wasn't waiting to catch up on all the gossip in my Dad's lounge after surprising me with a visit. As though I didn't need to get my dying Dad up for the day and see to his needs. As though I didn't need to ensure Aunty Jessie would be here by four so I could get to Sweet Seduction in time for the big opening night performance.

As though Derek, my kind-of-cowboy-boyfriend, hadn't taken time off from his long-haul run to come all the way here from Tennessee and ensure I was still his.

Despite all of that, I watched mesmerised as Nick slowly, lovingly, tended my hair.

It would have taken a good five minutes, for almost the entire time neither of us said a word. When he finished, his ice-blue eyes came up to meet mine in the mirror, and held my gaze for a further few seconds. Then he leaned his head forward and kissed the curve of my neck where it meets my shoulder. Lips to skin.

"There," he said, his voice a little husky. "My perfect angel."

"I'm not perfect," I said immediately. I was as far from perfect as you could get. Look at my childhood. Look at my fucked-in-the-head relations. My trailer-trash Mum. Skank-loving Dad.

"
My
perfect angel," he repeated, emphasis on "
my
".

"What are we doing?" I asked in a daze.

"Finishing what we started," he said without hesitation.

"Sometimes I wish I'd never met you that night," I admitted softly and watched as a little frost entered those beautiful ice-blue eyes. It pained me to see that, but I couldn't explain my words, tell him that the reason I wished I'd never met him was because I have been unable to love another since him. To admit that would be my downfall.

And what good would it serve? I'll be going back to Nashville before too much longer and there was no way I could allow him to follow. To give up his life and to bring a part of my old life with him into my carefully crafted and hard worked for new life in Tennessee.

We stared at each other, but neither of us spoke for several moments. My heart wanted to confess everything. To make that little bit of frost melt. But my mind new better.

Finally he said, voice devoid of anything, "Get dressed, Eva. You've got guests."

I expected him to walk out then. I would have, had I been him. But he just sat down on the bed, made himself comfortable and waited for me to finish getting dressed.

"You don't have to wait, you know," I pointed out, unsure if I could get changed in front of the man.

"Not letting you out of my sight, whether you want it or not," he said conversationally. "Eventually I'll wear you down," he added and gave me a wicked grin. The man was determined, no matter what I said to throw him off, he had decided to stay.

I shook my head at him and then frowned down at the ground.

"Eva, angel," he said softly, "get the fuck dressed."

So, I got the fuck dressed. Hell, he'd seen it all before. He'd practically touched most of it this morning. And I was beginning to realise he remembered every second of
that
night as vividly as me. Every beautiful, delicious moment.

I don't think I had ever been as scared of someone as I was of Nick Anscombe right in that second. And that was saying something. Men didn't scare me usually. Well, I'd not let any get under my skin since Nick. But even the jerks, like Levi Russell and his brothers, hadn't had a hope in hell of scaring me as a kid. I'd built up a resistance to the filth in my life as a child. I'd ignored the trash piled up at the door. I'd held my head high, guitar in hand, Country song on my mind, and blocked out all of the low-rent lifestyle I was born into. Including my bullying cousins and their friends. Including the drunk as skunk asshole boyfriends my mother had. Or the skank women my father entertained. Or the druggies and petty criminals my brother hung with.

I had cut myself off from everything and when even that tactic no longer worked, I'd scraped together enough cash to escape and get as far away physically as I could. I had avoided my old life and then I'd sailed through my new life, letting people only so far in and no further.

Until Nick Anscombe walked back into my world and turned it upside down.

I finished plaiting my hair and tied it off, then threw it over my shoulder. I hadn't bothered with make-up, just shoved a cute little red mid-thigh crinkle skirt on, simple black fitted T-Shirt and rhinestone studded, square belt-buckled belt around the middle. And of course a pair of dark brown, almost black, cowgirl mid-shin boots. My matching hat was in the lounge, so if I needed to go anywhere, I was set.

I turned to see Nick had stood up off the bed, his eyes running lazily down the length of me. Why he bothered, I didn't know, it wasn't as if he hadn't just had front row seats to the entire getting-dressed episode. But for whatever reason, it was clear he was enjoying the finished effect.

I did my best to ignore his attention and stepped towards the door. My hand wrapped around the handle before his wrapped around my stomach and hauled me back against his chest.

"Let's a couple of things straight before we head out there, angel," he whispered against my ear. I stiffened automatically from his tone, it was whispered, but there was no denying he meant business. "He doesn't touch you. Ever. His chance to touch you has gone."

"Nick," I said on a warning note.

"You are mine, angel. Whether your cute little head has cottoned on to that fact or not,
you are mine
." He emphasised the last three words.

"Nick, I don't think..."

"Just tellin' you how it is, cowgirl. Now, he gets to say his piece, then you put him right. You send him home."

"Nick, this has nothing to..."

"It has everything to do with me," he cut me off, reading my mind. "If you don't do this, Eva. I will. And you're not gonna like my way."

"This is ridiculous!" I hissed, not wanting our guests to hear a word of this.

"Is it?" he asked and then spun me in his arms, ran a hand up the side of my neck, wrapped his fingers around my plait and tilted my head back. All in a matter of a couple of seconds. His other hand had gone around my waist, hauled me tight against his body; chest to chest, stomach to stomach, hips to hips, legs to legs.

Then he kissed me.

It was hard and fast and I was thinking a little bit angry, but it was
so
good to feel those warm lips against mine again. Despite the force with which he was kissing me, his lips were so soft, his breath so hot, and when his tongue urged my mouth to open and slipped inside, he tasted out of this world.

To my absolute shock, he tasted better than I remembered. And I had a darn good memory.

I should have stopped him, but there was no way in hell my body was on board with that plan. And my heart? I'd lost my heart eight years ago and in that kiss, in my father's council flat's spare bedroom, I found my heart again.

It didn't take long for me to wrap my arms around his neck, to press my body harder against his, to run my fingers through his short cropped hair, scrape my nails on his scalp. To kiss him back as though I'd dreamt of this moment for eight long years and now I finally was living it, I was throwing everything I had at him, every fantasy brought to life, every desire that had consumed my nights and stolen my days. I kissed him as though I'd never get the chance to kiss him ever again. And that thought
was
in the back of my mind.

But for that moment, for that brief delve into my deepest desires, I pushed reality aside and kissed Nick Anscombe, my perfect ice-blue eyed cowboy, as though he was mine.

And he kissed me back just as fervently, just as eagerly, just as passionately. All thoughts of the rest of the world forgotten, just the two of us. Our lips and tongues and teeth, hands, bodies, hearts. One.

Nick pulled back suddenly, breaking my dream, ruining the moment and embarrassingly pulling a mewl of protest from my lips.

"Fuck, angel!" he breathed against my lips from a mere inch away, just as breathless and flushed as me. "Tell me now that I'm wrong."

I blinked a few times, unsure what the original question was, just knowing I'd lost something precious, something that for a briefest of times was mine, but now never would or should be again.

"What?" I said dumbly, licking my lips in the process.

"Ah, fuck it," Nick groaned and then kissed me again, this time slower, softer, but no less exquisitely. When he pulled back he was taking my entire weight in his arms. My legs no longer solid beneath me. "Angel, tell me, after
that
, that you are not mine."

Oh. Well. But...

"I..."

Someone must have been watching out for me, because in that second there was a loud banging on the bedroom door. My legs found their strength again and I automatically tried to pull back from Nick as though caught in the act of something illicit. His arms tightened, pulling me flush against his body again, his ice-blue frosty eyes on the door.

"What?" he demanded in a bark.

"I know y'all haven't forgotten us," Cary said from the other side of the thankfully still closed door, "so I can only assume we ain't picturing too highly on your choices of things to do right now. Not that I can't blame you, sweetie, but Derek is about to start trashin' the place, if you don't get that cowgirl ass of yours out here toot sweet."

My head came down with a thump to rest on Nick's chest, his arms tightened minutely around me at the action, I was guessing he liked it. I was thinking life was too darn hard right now and I so did not need this hassle with my Dad to see to and the most important performance of my time yet in Auckland scheduled for tonight. Nick's hand came up and rested in my hair, softly stroking.

"We'll be there in a sec, Cary," Nick said for me. "Is Gen's Dad up?"

"Yep, we been havin' us some Lipton Tea," Cary announced, making me pull my head upright again at his words.

"They got my Dad up?" I whispered, feeling like the world's worst daughter and an impossibly useless hostess to boot.

Nick ignored what I thought was an important question and said instead, "We on the same page, angel?"

I stared at his now no longer frosty, but melty ice-blue eyes and sighed.

"Nick," I said, trying one last time for some reason here.

"It's easy, angel. You don't kiss someone you have no feelings for like you just kissed me. If you can't admit that yet, then at least admit we need to see where this takes us and it does not include that cowboy out there in your father's lounge."

I tipped my head down and attempted to frown at the ground, but Nick's body was in the way, so all I got to look at was his well defined chest and hard, flat stomach. Not exactly an ideal thinking position.

Finally, deciding I really needed to get out into the lounge and stop Derek from going cowboy crazy and see to Dad and make my best friend feel welcome, I chose these words for now, "I'm not sure about the first part of that statement, but I do agree with the second. I'll talk to Derek." And before Nick could argue for more, or insist on less, I added, "But I'll do it alone. Just him and me. He deserves that and I want to give it to him."