The Closer You Get (11 page)

“Living on the road is hell,” he said. “Some guys miss their
wives and girlfriends so much they use that as an excuse to cheat—”

“He never missed me that much. We never even...” She was
getting carried away with the baring of the soul. Some things were best left
unsaid.

“You never even what?”

“Never mind.”

She knew the moment Brett figured it out by the frown on his
face. “Are you saying you never slept with Jensen?”

“No, I didn’t, and frankly, I’m glad I made that decision.”

“No wonder he’s so determined to get you back,” he said. “He’s
finally come to his senses and discovered what he’s passed up.”

She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended. “Is that
in the way of sex with me, or a relationship with me?”

He rubbed his shaded jaw. “I personally suspect that’s probably
a pretty severe loss in both departments.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

They exchanged a brief, knowing look, followed by a lengthy
span of silence as Cammie turned her complete attention back to the road, where
it should have remained in the first place. After a few minutes ticked off, she
started to comment on the weather, the full moon hovering above them, anything
to veer from any talk of relationships and sex and, of course, Mark. But before
she could speak, she glanced to her right to discover Brett had leaned his head
back against the seat, his features slack with sleep.

Soon the only sound in the cab came from the lull of passing
trucks, the occasional bump in the road and the cautioning voices in Cammie’s
head telling her she needed to be very, very careful from this point forward. If
not, she could once again become another captivating singer’s latest heartbreak
casualty.

* * *

“I
F
HE
WAKES
UP
AND
WANTS
something to
eat, tell him it’s too late.”

The comment jolted Brett out of sleep. When he opened his eyes,
he saw Cammie still planted in the driver’s seat, sipping her coffee, totally
unaware of the dream he’d been having about her. A really dirty dream involving
pulling the bus over, getting naked and getting down to business.

“Are you okay?” she asked when he groaned.

Brett turned his face away, guarding his eyes against the
all-night diner’s too-bright lights and Cammie’s inspection. He sure didn’t feel
okay. He wasn’t exactly sure what he felt. Disappointed it was only a dream? Mad
because Bull’s booming voice had forced him out of it? Sexually strung out? All
the above.

His mouth felt dry, like he’d eaten a whole box of crackers,
and his body still hadn’t calmed down. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A half hour or so, right after our conversation about
Mark.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. That’s the last thing I
remember.” That and her long legs exposed by the white sports shorts that had
ridden up her thighs, and thinking how easy they’d be to remove. “Where are
we?”

“In search of a three-egg omelet.”

“Bull’s hungry again?”

“Of course.”

He scooted up in the seat, every inch of his body stiff from
the damn uncomfortable
position he’d maintained for
too long.
The song that began to play didn’t help with his
uneasiness, even if it did bring back some bittersweet memories.

In spite of that, he reached over and turned up the classic
country tune.

Cammie sighed. “I love this song. It’s one of my granddad’s
favorites. Yours, too?”

“Yeah. I used to sing it to someone.” That admission would
probably encourage more questions. Questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to
answer.

“Your wife?” she asked.

He could change the subject, or tell Cammie the truth. He chose
the truth. “My daughter. I know that sounds crazy since it’s a cheatin’ song,
but something about it used to calm her down.”

“Maybe it was just the melody.”

He smiled when he recalled those long-ago days. “Must’ve been.
When she was a baby, she used to wake up every night at 2:00 a.m. I was on the
road most of the time, so my ex-wife would call me and I’d sing Lacey back to
sleep over the phone. She always wanted to hear it, even when she got
older.”

“I’m sure she cherishes those memories.”

“I doubt she even remembers.”

“I’m sure she remembers. I still do when it comes to my
dad.”

She’d had a good dad. “Again, it was a long time ago.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but how long has it been since you’ve
seen her?”

Way too long. “About seven years, right after her fifth
birthday. Not long after that, Jana remarried and then convinced the court I was
an unfit father. She got full custody, and I got four hours of supervised
visitation one weekend a month.”

“And you haven’t even spoken to her since then?” she asked.

He realized how bad that sounded. Probably because it was. “She
used to send me letters and pictures from school and we spoke by phone. But
eventually the letters and pictures stopped coming and so did the phone calls. I
finally decided it was
all for the best
. Jana
and Randy can give her a stable home, something I can never give her as long as
I keep doing what I’m doing.”

“I’m sorry, Brett,” she said in a sympathetic tone. “I’m sorry
for both of you. It’s clear you still love her very much.”

And sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

The conversation had taken its toll on Brett’s energy, and he’d
probably live to regret confessing his sins to Cammie. For some reason, he
wanted her respect as much as he wanted her, and he’d probably lost what was
left of it. Without saying another word, he stood and headed toward his
stateroom. “Are you going back to bed?” Cammie called after him.

“Yeah.”

“Sleep well.”

Not likely that was going to happen. He had too much weighing
on his mind, and enough remorse to fuel a furnace. The realization that Camille
Carson was chipping away at his emotional armor also made him nervous. He could
handle the physical attraction, and had no problem seeing where it might lead.
But getting too involved with her would only spell trouble for the both of them.
If he hadn’t already crossed that rickety bridge.

Regardless of what happened between them, she’d eventually
leave, just like every other important person in his life.

* * *

L
AS
V
EGAS
SPREAD
OUT
before Cammie, brightly
illuminated and gloriously seductive, even in the morning sun. She watched with
amazement at the bustle of activity on the streets, casinos aglow, billboards
sporting the names of some of the world’s finest entertainers, including
Brett’s. She suddenly felt very limited in experience, never having seen
anything quite like what she now witnessed.

She followed Dennis down the strip, turning off the main drag
and into the rear parking lot of the massive five-star resort. As soon as she
shut down the bus, she debated whether or not to wake her boss. Her dilemma was
solved when she heard Rusty hollering, “Let’s party!”

Brett emerged as she opened the door to admit the raucous
group. The guys crowded in, all but Pat. When Cammie asked about him, Bull said,
“He ain’t feeling too well. I think it was a combination of beer, truck-stop
chili and celibacy.”

Everyone laughed―everyone but Brett. He seemed completely
uninterested in taking part in the camaraderie.

Bull turned his toothy grin on Cammie. “Are you going to join
us in some blackjack and watch us lose our asses...I mean, assets?”

She didn’t dare admit she’d never played before. “As much as
I’d like to watch you lose your asses and assets, I’ve had no sleep.”

“Come on, Cammie,” Jeremy said. “You’re in the city that never
sleeps.”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “That’s New York. But no one sleeps
here, either. Day or night. Too much to do.”

She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Thanks, but no thanks right
now. I’ll see you guys this afternoon when I’ve had a long nap.”

After the group made a hasty exit and rushed toward the hotel,
Cammie stayed to pack. And surprisingly, Brett remained behind to watch her,
just as he had that night in Fort Worth. The night that had changed the course
of their relationship.

“No one can leave Vegas without at least pulling a one-armed
bandit, Cammie,” he said.

She stuffed a couple of T-shirts into her bag. “In all honesty,
I’ve never gambled before.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I personally prefer poker,” he said. “But the slots might be
the best place for you to start. If you need to save your money, I’ll float you
a few bucks to play on. Consider it a bonus.”

For what? Allowing him to cop a feel? “I personally plan to
hang on to what I’ve got.”

His smile arrived, slow as sunrise and just as bright. “Vegas
is a great place to let loose. I think you’ll like it.”

She zipped her bag and threw the strap over one shoulder. “I’ll
probably like it better after some sleep.”

Brett leaned against the divider, blocking her exit. “I always
come here in December, during the National Finals Rodeo.”

“Is that to sing or to pick up another one of those?” She
pointed to his belt buckle.

“Nah. But maybe I should take a break from singing and start
roping again, in case the luck’s run out of this buckle.”

“I doubt that.”

“You ought to come with me.”

That nearly shocked her out of her sneakers. “Bud will be back
long before then.”

“Not as a driver. As a—”

“Cook, laundry aficionado and maid?”

“As a woman who likes to have a good time. You do know how to
have a good time, don’t you, Camille?”

She hated it when he called her by her full name. It made every
part of her come to attention. “Yes, I know how to have a good time.”

As she started past Brett, he caught her arm. “We still haven’t
talked about what happened the other day,” he said.

Her pulse began to race in response to his touch. “Probably
just as well. There’s really nothing to talk about, is there? So let’s just
forget it.”

“Can you forget about it?” he asked. “I sure as hell can’t, and
believe me, I’ve tried.”

No, she hadn’t forgotten one minute of their little interlude.
She simply didn’t feel it would be best to admit it at the moment. Not when the
bed that facilitated said interlude was only a few feet away.

She ducked under his arm and moved toward the door. “I’ll see
you later.”

“Cammie.”

Her instinct told her not to turn around, but his voice had the
pull of a high-power magnet. “Yes?” she asked as she faced him.

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Again, we don’t need to discuss it any further.”

He took a few slow steps toward her. “I meant about letting me
show you a good time. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

She had no doubt about that. But she might be too foolish to
live if she took him up on his offer. At least they wouldn’t be sharing close
quarters for the next three days. Maybe she’d be better off spending that time
catching up on sleep.

* * *

W
HEN
THE
BLARING
ALARM
startled Cammie out of deep,
dreamless sleep, she fumbled for the bedside radio and muttered a mild oath. The
last thing she remembered was emerging from the shower with her hair and body
wrapped in a towel, thinking she’d just rest her eyes for a moment before
retrieving the hair dryer. The towels had fallen to the floor and she was
totally sprawled out on top of the blue silk comforter on her back, naked as the
day she was born.

Even after four hours’ sleep, she still didn’t have the energy
or desire to move, so she rolled onto her stomach and bunched a pillow beneath
her. When she heard laughter filtering through the door connecting the suites,
followed by Brett’s deep voice, her body came to life. Gooseflesh covered her
arms and legs, contrasting with the undeniable heat flowing through her from
breast to toes and all points in between. She clutched the pillow tighter,
confused by the desire, the sudden need to be touched...but not by just anyone.
She wanted Brett to touch her again. Anywhere he pleased.

She let out a disgusted breath, tossed the pillow aside and
flattened her face against the mattress. Absolutely absurd to feel this way.
Hadn’t she learned anything at all? Brett only wanted one thing—a quick roll in
the sack. If she bent to his will, he’d eventually toss her aside like a holey
T-shirt and move on to the next conquest. Then again, she could do the same. She
wasn’t searching for a permanent relationship, either, and they were both
consenting adults. Maybe she’d been the good girl far too long. Maybe she should
just go for it.

And maybe she’d have that opportunity sooner than she realized,
she decided when she heard a rap at the door before it creaked open.

“Are you awake?”

She slowly propped up on elbows and ventured a look behind her,
thinking he would have stepped qui
ckly back into the
other room when he noticed her state of undress. She’d been sorely
mistaken.

Brett leaned against the now-closed door, his gaze slowly
skimming her body. Her bare backside was the only thing exposed, but she
couldn’t very well lean over and scoop the towel off the floor or crawl under
the covers without exposing something else, so she opted not to move at all.
Funny, she didn’t really care if he looked his fill. And Brett didn’t appear to
be going anywhere anytime soon, either.

She scraped her brain for something innocent to say, but only
one thing came to mind. One question that could produce an interesting
answer.

“Do you need something?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

H
ELL
,
YEAH
. H
E
NEEDED
a drink. He needed her to help him out of his
clothes. He needed to leave. If he were any kind of gentleman at all, he
would’ve retreated the minute he caught sight of the fact she didn’t have on a
stitch. But no one ever accused him of being a gentleman. Now all he could do
was gawk at her.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her slim, golden back and one
hell of a perfect butt where he located the mystery tattoo—a small red rose
centered right in the middle of one cheek. He fought the urge to walk over to
the bed and examine it more closely. And while he was at it, he’d run his hand
along the valley and up those hills and whatever else she’d let him touch.

He cleared his throat and studied his boot to keep from acting
on those urges. “You didn’t lock the door.” Talk about stating the obvious.

“No kidding.”

“I just wondered if you’d changed your mind about joining me,”
he said as noncommittal as a man could with a growing ache in his groin.

“Join you in what?”

Was it an innocent question or was she playing a game? Maybe it
was some sort of weird seduction. Maybe he was just engaging in some heavy-duty
wishful thinking. “Gambling.”

“I think clothes would be in order for that, don’t you?”

He risked another look, only making matters worse. “Yeah. Might
be less distracting.”

When she smiled, Brett figured she had to be the sexiest woman
he’d ever seen. She looked posed for a centerfold, her long dark hair damp and
tangled, face glowing with a sexy blush, an incredible body laid out before him
like a holiday feast. He better run now before it was impossible to move in any
direction except toward her.

“How much time do you need?” he asked.

“How much time do
you
need?” Her
grin deepened and she sounded like she was having a damn good time playing with
him. Too bad that wasn’t literal playing.

When he didn’t answer, she scooted forward on her belly to the
end of the bed and grabbed a towel from the floor. She sat up and covered
herself as best she could, giving him only a peek of the rest of the bounty, but
enough to shoot his blood pressure straight into orbit.

“I can be ready in about thirty minutes,” she said. “You can go
on with the boys. I’ll find you.”

He didn’t really want to leave. He only wanted one thing at
that moment, but he knew better than to stay any longer. Four men waited in the
other room. Four men with big-time imaginations and bigger mouths. “We’ll be in
the casino. Just ask the host to point you to our private table.”

Before he could prepare, she left the bed, secured the towel
and walked toward him. He clenched his fists at his sides and waited for her
next move.

“I’m going to lock the door,” she said, bursting his fantasy
bubble. “As soon as you leave.”

He reached behind him and fumbled for the knob. “Yeah. Good
idea.”

Brett stepped back into the suite with a dazed shake of his
head. He turned to find Pat stretched out on the couch, Jeremy sitting
cross-legged in front of the TV, Rusty slouched in a wing-backed chair and Bull
drinking a beer on a stool by the in-room bar.

“Is she up yet?” Jeremy asked.

Rusty chuckled. “Don’t know about Cammie, but Brett sure
is.”

Pat lifted his head and scowled. “I’m telling you, son, you
need to have that looked into. You keep raising your flag every time you see
her, we’ll have to start saluting.”

“You’re imagining things, old man,” Brett muttered.

“Nope, I’m not,” Pat said. “You have a bad case of Cammie-itis,
and there’s only one cure.”

Damn if Pat hadn’t diagnosed him right. He wondered if anyone
ever died from a perpetual erection. “I kind of walked in on her, that’s
all.”

“Define ‘walked in on her,’” Rusty said.

He damn sure didn’t like the way they were enjoying his
predicament. “She was kind of...” Brett began, growing warm at the thought. “She
was...well...”

“Just say it, Taylor,” Pat said. “She was nekkid.”

Rusty and Bull rubbed their faces simultaneously while Jeremy’s
cheeks turned as red as a hothouse tomato. Pat dropped his head back onto the
sofa and groaned.

Bull downed his beer and set the mug down hard on the counter.
“I can’t believe you came out of there so soon. You’re a better man than any of
us.”

“Guess not or he’d still be in there,” Pat added, encouraging
more laughter from the group.

Bull slid off the stood and patted his belly. “If you’re done
ogling Cammie, let’s go do what we came here to do.”

Brett picked up a baseball cap and settled it on his head,
thinking that was the best advice he’d heard all day. Yeah, just forget about
it. If that was even possible. Probably not. “You with us, Pat?” he asked when
he noticed his friend hadn’t moved.

Pat stretched his arms above his head. “You boys go on ahead.
I’m still feeling a little puny. I’ll rest up now and join you after the show
tomorrow night.”

He looked at his long-time partner with concern. “Do you need
to see a doctor?”

Pat frowned. “Nope. The day I see a doctor is the day I’ll be
ready to wear a suit and lie down in a satin-lined box with my toes turned up.
Don’t worry about me. I’m gettin’ too old for this crap, anyway.”

Before he could follow the guys out the door, Pat called him
back. “I need a few minutes before you head out, son.”

Brett pulled up the chair where Rusty had been seated, more
than a little worried over Pat’s serious demeanor. “What’s on your mind?”

“Tim called,” he said. “They want to know about the two slots
on the album still needing to be filled. Are you workin’ on anything?”

Not since he’d met Cammie. “I’ve got a couple of ideas rolling
around in my brain. There’s plenty of road time ahead to write.”

“That’s what I told Tim. He’s worried something’s distracting
you and I figure he’s right.”

Brett shot Pat a dirty look. “What’s that supposed to
mean?”

“Don’t get your dander up, Brett. He didn’t say it was a
woman.”

“Nothing’s distracting me.” Hell, he sounded too defensive.

Pat forked a hand through his silver hair. “Brett, a word of
advice. You’ve been alone a long time now—”

“I’ve got plenty of friends.”

“Shut up, son, and let me finish. You’ve got very few friends
outside the industry, and we’re basically your family, which ain’t saying much.
I don’t mean to lecture, but I’ve lived my life regretting I’ve never settled
down long enough to have a family. Now it’s too late for me, but for God’s sake,
don’t wait until it’s too late for you. Find a good woman and be a father to
your kid.”

Brett rubbed his jaw when it began to twitch. He hated it when
Pat got sentimental on him. He was used to the macho bullshit, but he didn’t
like discussing emotions except within the context of his songs.

“Can’t settle down unless you find someone to settle down
with,” Brett said.

“You think maybe you’ve found a prospect?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Taylor. Cammie’s a great gal.”

Nothing he didn’t already know. “It’s just a physical thing
going on between us.”

Pat slapped at the bill of Brett’s cap. “I kind of like her,
Brett. So do the guys, especially Bud. She’s a truly nice girl. So before you
take your johnson out of your jeans, be prepared to answer to us if you break
her heart. We won’t stand for it.”

Brett came to his feet and shoved the chair away. “It’s none of
your damn business what I do, but I’ll tell you right now I don’t plan on
anything of the sort. And if I wanted to nail the entire female population of
Las Vegas, none of you could stop me unless you chained me to this chair.”

Pat smiled. “Now, that’s an idea.”

Brett headed to the door, choosing to ignore the last comment.
“Go to hell.”

Pat, as always grabbing for the last word, said, “You know what
they say about the best-laid plans...or is that the best plans to get laid?” He
turned up the volume on the television and laughed heartily.

Brett rushed out of the room in order to regain some composure.
Hell, yes, Cammie was a nice girl. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.
And hell, yeah, everyone believed he was a user. A few weeks ago they would’ve
been right. Until Camille Carson had come into his life, his needs took priority
over a woman’s feelings. But he did care about how Cammie felt. And because of
that, he probably should stay out of her life.

He should just make it his goal to leave her alone.
Accomplishing that was still a major dilemma.

* * *

T
HE
LITTLE
BLACK
DRESS
had called to Cammie like an old-fashioned ice
cream soda. She should have turned away. She definitely should not have gone
inside the store. If she’d been thinking straight, she would have exited on the
casino floor instead of taking the elevator to the lower level where shops and
boutiques lined the corridors. Instead, she’d bought the dress, and right now
she seriously questioned her decisions. Both of them. The dress and the
well-orchestrated seduction.

By the time she was close to being ready, guilt began to nag
her over her intent. But Brett Taylor coursed through her blood like a shot of
top-grade whiskey. She was high on him, and like her impulsive purchase, she had
to have him. The only way to get him out of her system was to let him into her
bed. Or so she thought.

This move was irrational, inadvisable and probably the craziest
thing she’d ever done. But maybe it was time to go a little crazy. She was
normally a sane, strong person. She could usually handle anything.

What she and Brett felt for each other had mostly to do with
sexual chemistry, a strictly physical attraction. And what was wrong with that?
She was a grown woman who, for most of her life, had always walked a straight
line, avoided anything too daring or controversial. What could possibly be the
harm in indulging her fantasies?

Because it was only a partial truth. Not only was she drawn to
his sensuality, she longed to get under his skin and find the man beneath. She
wanted to know what made him so sad. What made him so determined to be alone.
What drove him every night when he gave his all for thousands of people, yet he
didn’t seem inclined to give himself to one woman. And if she could do that, she
deserved an award.

With a large shade of doubt, despite the mental pep talk,
Cammie applied the rest of her makeup, inserted her faux diamond studs and
dabbed on her favorite perfume. She took a last look in the mirror and hoped she
hadn’t overdone it.

The halter-style dress had a triangular shape cut at the
bodice, revealing a glimpse of cleavage. The hem ended a good four inches above
her knee and the fabric adhered to every curve of her body. Of course, she was
forced to buy black heels, bringing her total charges to an amount exceeding any
balance she’d ever had on her credit card. At least she got paid next week. She
smiled to herself. Indirectly, Brett had paid for this dress.

Clasping her small black bag to her chest, she inhaled a
cleansing draft of air before leaving to search for the object of her
desire...before she changed her mind.

* * *

“H
ELL
,
NOT
AGAIN
!” Brett had been cursing his luck for the past hour. He’d only won
two hands and was about to give up when Rusty talked him into just one more. Now
he watched the last of his chips sliding into the clutches of the dealer.

“You ain’t concentrating, man,” Rusty said.

Brett swung off the stool. “I give up for now.”

Rusty shot him an evil look. “Hell, Taylor, you’ve got more
money than the government. Why don’t you just spend a little?”

Brett threw him a fifty. “You play for me. At least you’re
still on top.”

Rusty smiled and shook his head. “And you wish you were on top
right now, but not of your game. Just remember, if you walk out on the floor
you’re liable to get mobbed if someone recognizes you.”

The reason why he’d intentionally skipped shaving and wore
clothes fit for a farmhand. “I’ll take my chances,” he said, then walked away
headed for who-knew-where.

Brett ambled to the bar for a beer, less than enthusiastic to
be drinking it alone. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need for one now. Of
course, he was lying to himself. He knew exactly why he needed a drink, why he
hadn’t been concentrating at the table. He was having a lot of trouble focusing
on anything but Cammie’s image now burned like a brand into his brain.

Since she wasn’t apparently going to show, he should find
someone to get his mind off her. But he didn’t want anyone but his all-fire
sexy, hardheaded, great-kissing bus driver.

As he visually scanned the casino, Brett spotted a woman
leaning over a table, seemingly interested in the screaming patrons engaged in
the crap shoot.
Woman
was the operative word. She
wasn’t skinny and shapeless like a lot of women these days. Her long legs flowed
out of a tight black backless dress that hugged every bend of her body,
especially the rounded curves of her hips. The satin skin on her back looked
real touchable. She could be any man’s fantasy, but she wasn’t Cammie.

He started to look away, but then she kicked up one high-heeled
foot and laughed over the antics of a man who couldn’t be a day younger than
eighty, flirting with her like a teenager. She was probably a gold digger,
someone looking for a rich catch. But damn, she did have great legs. She could
also be married or a hooker or, in Vegas, she could even be a he. More
important, she wasn’t the woman he wanted. Then she turned toward him, and he
realized she was exactly who he wanted.