The Closer You Get (14 page)

“Do I look okay?” she asked Rusty after she made her way behind
the stage.

Rusty whistled when she did a quick turn. “Brett won’t be able
to hit a note when he sees you in those jeans.”

“Thanks.” She kneaded her hands. “So I guess this is it.”

“Try to relax, Cammie,” he said. “Don’t think about the people
out in the audience. The lights will be so bright you won’t see much. Pretend
it’s another rehearsal.”

Hard to do when she realized it was the real thing. “Okay.”

A family of battering rams soon took up residence in her belly,
and her palms had already begun to perspire. If she could just find Brett, she’d
feel better. She hadn’t seen him since she left the hotel that morning and she
had to wonder if he’d purposefully been avoiding her.

“Five minutes,” someone called from behind her. She could swear
her heart lurched and lodged in her throat, which could make it darn difficult
to sing.

Bull rushed passed her but stopped before taking his spot
behind the drums. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, hon. You
can do this.”

You can do this,
she chanted. She’d
done it before. Just not in front of so many people in a first-class venue. And
where was Brett?

A man with a clipboard approached her, flipped up a page and
scanned the one underneath. “Are you Ms. Carson?”

She could deny it and make a quick getaway. “Yes.”

“Stage left, just a little way past Mr. Taylor.”

“Now?”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re on in two.”

Two minutes? In two minutes she was making her debut, if she
could get her legs to move. Her hands trembled like a leaf in a breeze. She
shook them repeatedly at her sides—until someone gripped them and she felt the
kiss on her neck. “Lookin’ good, sweetheart. You’re going to make the men in the
audience real happy.”

Her runaway heart had been calm compared to the dance it did
the moment she caught the first glimpse of Brett. He wore a navy tailored shirt
that contrasted with his gorgeous blue in his eyes. His black felt hat had been
replaced by a white straw, clearly indicating tonight he was playing the good
cowboy.

When her hand automatically went to his smooth, shaven face, he
kissed her palm and set her back away from him. “I think I’m in trouble. I won’t
be able to keep my eyes off you long enough to sing.”

“Let’s go, folks. Forty-five seconds!” the man with the
clipboard called.

Brett leaned to give her a slow, sultry kiss. “It’s your night
to shine, sweetheart.”

She wiped the residual lipstick from his mouth and smiled. “As
long as my brain doesn’t burn out before the second song.”

“You’ll do fine. Just follow my lead.”

He turned her toward the stage and swatted her bottom, sending
her reluctantly forward toward her position. She made her way to the microphone
where a glass of water rested on a small round table nearby. She took a quick
drink and glanced at the posted order of the songs to be performed. She said a
quick prayer for Pat in hopes of making him proud, then cleared her throat.

When the ribbon of light peeking from under the curtain went
down, Cammie took a hasty glance back at the boys. Rusty and Bull smiled at her
and Jeremy gave her a thumbs-up. Even Bob Walker waved, and she’d barely met
him.

“Three, two, one...”

The introduction began.

The stage lights came blaring down in a brilliant red.

The curtain opened.

Showtime.

Rusty was right. She could barely see anything beyond the first
few tables running perpendicular to the front of the stage. Having a few moments
to tune into the atmosphere proved to be a blessing for Cammie. The crowd seemed
more sophisticated and subdued than usual. She relaxed somewhat while waiting
for the end of the instrumental, inhaling and exhaling several times in an
attempt to calm her nerves.

Then the announcer introduced the headliner.

Brett didn’t bound out as usual. Instead, he ascended on a
recessed platform at the back of the stage like some wild angel, minus the halo
and wings. As the spotlight centered on him, he strode forward to rousing
applause, cries and whistles of the crowd.

Welcome to Las Vegas.

Cammie’s heart clamored again when she met his gaze and he gave
her a sexy wink. She managed to tear her gaze away to glance at the first number
listed on the sheet. The gesture was pure reflex since she’d memorized every
song in order of appearance.

Brett said a few words, mostly about enjoying Vegas. If asked
five minutes later, Cammie couldn’t tell anyone what he’d said beyond that. When
the bars of the first song began to play, she worried her voice might fail her.
But whether it be instinct or adrenaline kicking in, she belted out her portion
of the vocals as if she’d done this every night of her entire life.

Brett turned to her and smiled as soon as the song ended. If
she suddenly keeled over or her vocal cords disintegrated, nothing could ever be
as memorable as that smile. It gave her the confidence to continue and the
strength to do more than an adequate job.

After the fifth song, Brett paused to introduce the band and
began with Pat’s replacement. “I’d like to thank Bob Walker on bass guitar for
filling in tonight. Our band’s leader, Pat Jordan, is in the hospital. He’s
pretty sick, so we ask you to keep him in your thoughts and prayers.”

Then he approached Cammie and took her hand. “This is, by far,
the prettiest backup singer this band’s ever had and she can stand proud with
the best. Ladies and gentlemen, Camille Carson.”

The crowd roared when he called her name. At first she thought
the show of approval was a product of her imagination, but when the noise failed
to calm, Brett led her to the front of the stage where she took a small bow.
When she turned back toward the band, she found the guys applauding, as
well.

Then Brett moved her microphone next to his for their rendition
of the song they’d sung earlier. The song that had ended in a kiss. Assuming she
would remain back during the number, she sent him a look of confusion.

He leaned over and whispered, “Can’t do it without some
inspiration. If I don’t kiss you this time, it’s because Tim’s in the audience
and he’d kill me for ruining my single-guy-on-the-prowl reputation with the
ladies.”

Brett introduced the debut song and when the intro started,
Cammie leaned toward him. “I expect to be repaid after the last show.”

“You bet. And one more thing. Sing melody on the second
verse.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Even though she couldn’t understand the reason for the sudden
change, it was far too late to argue. When Brett sang the first few lines, the
emotional lyrics lilted over the vast hall like a soothing breeze. Brett’s and
Cammie’s voices melded together during the chorus in perfect harmony, as if
they’d always sung together.

When the second verse came, she did as she was told, singing
the melody instead of the harmony. And then she realized he wasn’t singing, just
standing in place with guitar in hand and a sexy grin on his face. Heaven help
her, she was performing solo. Now she’d have to throttle him later.

During a pause in the final refrain, Brett took her hand and
gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re unbelievable, Camille.”

How could she possibly stay mad at this man?

When the song ended, regardless of his earlier concern about
his reputation, he held her for a long moment. Most people would assume it was
the embrace given to a good friend, but Cammie felt so much more. More than she
should.

The rest of the concert seemed to fly by, each of Brett’s songs
supercharged with energy. Cammie became caught up in the chaos―the ultimate
power trip―when the audience called for two encores.

Brett dedicated the finale to Pat, and Cammie watched offstage
as he delivered a solo performance unparalleled to any she’d seen before. And as
he lowered his head and the lights went down, she recognized she was dangerously
close to falling in love with the man, not just the performer.

After the curtains went down, Brett hurried offstage, straight
to Cammie’s side. Despite all the harried activity, he made his way to
her
.

He took her in his arms. “You kicked ass, sweetheart.”

“And I ought to kill you dead for that little surprise,” she
said.

He kissed her forehead. “Think about it. If I’d asked you
beforehand to do it, you would’ve told me to go to hell. Right?”

“Probably. But why would you want me to sing when it’s your
show?”

“Because you’ve got a lot of talent, Camille Carson.”

“And you’ve got a lot of nerve throwing me out there like that,
Brett Taylor.”

He laughed out loud. “You loved it and you know it.”

“Okay, okay. It was a rush.”

He kissed her lips this time. “Get ready, Cammie. Tonight’s
just the beginning of the journey.”

CHAPTER TEN

T
HE
HOUR
BETWEEN
performances passed
quickly on a wave of adrenaline-induced energy. Brett barely left Cammie’s side
for the duration and occasionally sneaked a kiss when no one was watching. When
the final concert went off without a hitch, including the duet Brett had
originally forced on her, she felt as if she could break down the equipment
singlehandedly.

“Time to party, Brett,” someone called as soon as the curtain
came down and the houselights went up.

Brett took her hand, led her down a narrow corridor and into a
dressing room. “I have an after-party here in the hotel that I’m obligated to
attend. I have to rub elbows with a few promoters and high rollers who’ve paid
big bucks to be there.”

Cammie saw their evening together coming to an abrupt halt.
“Okay. I’ll just hang around in the room and watch a movie or—”

“I want you with me.”

Her optimism rose to an all-time high. “Are you sure?”

He slid his arms around her waist. “You bet. You’re a part of
the band now.”

Not exactly the answer she’d wanted. “The show’s over, so it’s
back to the bus duties for me.”

“Maybe not. We don’t know when Pat will be back on his feet.
You might have to fill in for a while longer. If you’re game.”

As tempting as that might be, she had to be logical. “I guess
we’ll just have to wait and see.” First and foremost, she had to find out what
he expected of her tonight. “What should I wear to this little gathering?”

“Do you still have that dress from the other night?”

“Just got it back from the cleaners.”

“That will definitely do.” He gave her a brief kiss. “Now let’s
get out of here and get this party started.”

* * *

S
OME
PARTY
.
C
AMMIE
basically stood in the background in the opulent ballroom and
watched while Brett schmoozed with the attendees, including a few attentive
female fan club members who’d won their admittance through a website contest.
Every now and then, Rusty and Bull—dressed in their Sunday best—would stop by
and converse before someone would steal them away. And once more she was left
alone playing the role of wallflower. She could attempt to mingle but she wasn’t
in the mood. She could walk right up to Brett, who was talking to a fawning
redhead, and insert herself in the conversation. Or she could call it a night
and return to the room.

On that thought, she finished the second glass of champagne and
decided to call it a night. Clearly the star had more important things to do,
and spending time with her wasn’t among them.

She set her glass on a roving waiter’s tray and looked around
for Brett, who seemed to have disappeared. She couldn’t help but wonder if the
redhead had absconded with him. Then again, he might have gone along
willingly.

Feeling dejected, ridiculously jealous and totally out of her
element, she pushed out the double doors and headed for the elevators. She’d
barely taken a few steps before a hand caught her wrist and pulled her into a
hallway feeding off the main reception area where she came face-to-face with the
king of country music.

“Where have you been all my life, lady?” He sounded like an
expert player.

“Where have you been the past few minutes?” She sounded like an
insecure harpy.

“I just called to check in with Pat, and I was about to come
looking for you.”

All signs pointed to the opposite. “Really? I assumed you
forgot I was there.”

He inclined his head and studied her straight on. “Are you mad
about something?”

Yes, and for no good reason. He didn’t owe her anything, least
of all his undivided attention. “I’m bored and tired. I’m going up to the room.
Have fun.”

When she turned to leave, he reeled her back in. “You can’t go
now,” he said. “The fun’s just about to get started.”

“No offense, but I’m not going back in there just to stand
around and blend in with the furniture. That’s not my idea of a good time.”

“It’s not mine, either, but it’s part of the life.”

“Your life, not mine.”

“Look, I know you think I was ignoring you, but—”

“You were.”

“I was protecting you. If anyone gets wind of our relationship,
then the press will be all over us and we’ll never have any privacy.”

That led to an all-important question. “Exactly what is our
relationship?”

He tugged her closer. “We’re two ordinary people just trying to
get to know each other better.”

She didn’t feel ordinary in his presence, and he was anything
but ordinary. “How do you propose we do that when we can’t act like we know each
other?”

“By going someplace where we can’t be bothered. I have just the
place in mind.”

Temptation came calling again, overriding Cammie’s common
sense. “Where would that be?”

“I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to show you.”

He took her hand and guided her to a service elevator where
they traveled through a mazelike hallway and out into a back alley where he’d
parked the SUV. After he helped her climb inside, and he’d settled behind the
driver’s seat, she shifted to face him. “What’s going on, Taylor?”

“You’ll see,” he said as he drove out of the hotel lot.

“Not even a hint?”

He flashed a grin. “That would ruin the surprise.”

And Cammie was surprised when they left Las Vegas proper and
ended up on a road with little evidence of population. Fifteen minutes of
silence passed before they came to a stucco structure situated far back from the
rural street. Cammie couldn’t make out much until they almost reached the end of
the lengthy driveway.

The house, surrounded by native landscaping, seemed to blend
into the desert surroundings. An expansive house that could pass as a remote
compound for the rich and infamous.

Before Cammie could question Brett further, he’d already
stopped beneath the portico, slid out and rounded the SUV to open her door. He
helped her out, guided her to the entry and pounded out a code that opened the
door to a two-story foyer. She tried to take in all the surroundings as he led
her down the corridor, flipping on lights as they went.

Once they entered a massive great room with tower ceilings,
Brett pointed to the beige leather sofa. “Get comfortable,” he said as he
released her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

After Brett disappeared, Cammie stepped out of her heels to
give her aching feet some relief and walked around on the Mexican-tile floor.
The room seemed an extension of the desert, the space washed in hues of sienna
and clay. Earthenware pots held dried flowers in the same shades, and a Navajo
rug in tones of black and red was suspended over the stone hearth. The furniture
set out about the room had clean lines and some chrome, a mix of contemporary
and Southwest motif. Beyond the seating area, a wall of windows drew her
attention and she moved closer to discover a pool and hot tub set into the deck.
The place was well-appointed, serene and very inviting.

Brett returned carrying an ice bucket containing a bottle of
champagne in one hand, and a single red rose in the other. After he set the
bucket on a nearby table next to two glasses, he offered her the flower. “This
is for you,” he said, looking a bit self-conscious over the romantic
gesture.

Cammie took the rose and drew in the scent. “A flower before
you deflower me.” She’d clearly been bitten by the idiot bug. “I’m sorry. I’m
nervous. It’s beautiful.”

He took the rose from her grasp and softly slid it down her
throat to the open keyhole above her breasts. “Don’t be nervous. We’re going to
take this as slow as you want. We’ve got all night.”

If he kept that up, she’d rip his clothes off, to heck with
slow. “How did you find this place?”

He set the rose aside and wrapped his arms around her. “It
belongs to a friend.”

“Male or female?”

“A guy. He’s a record producer based in L.A. and this is his
home away from home. I called him this morning and he was more than happy to let
us use it for the night. He also had his housekeeper buy the champagne and the
rose at my request.”

Maybe he hadn’t personally purchased the flower, but she still
appreciated the effort. “He must be a good friend.”

“Rick has a lot of money and a lot of friends, mainly women. He
works and plays hard.”

She looked around the area. “How many bedrooms does this place
have?”

“Six. Two downstairs, four upstairs.”

She brought her attention back to him. “Then you’ve been here
before.”

He let her go and slipped off the black sports coat he’d worn
with his jeans to the party. “A couple of times when he had a party, but it’s
been a few years.”

She could imagine what went on during those parties. She didn’t
want to imagine it. She didn’t want to think of Brett with another woman, so she
wouldn’t. She’d just concentrate on their time together.

He lifted the bottle from the bucket. “Want some
champagne?”

“I had two glasses at the hotel, but you go ahead.”

He set the bottle back into the ice. “I’ll pass for now. Maybe
after we go for a swim.”

She saw two immediate problems with that plan. “It’s pretty
cool outside.”

“The pool’s heated.”

One problem solved. Now for the other. “I don’t have a suit
with me. In fact, I don’t have anything with me, not even my purse.”

“I took the liberty of packing you a bag earlier today,” he
said. “It’s in the truck. Hope you don’t mind.”

She had no idea how he’d done that without her knowledge. “What
did you bring me?”

He began to release the buttons on his white tailored shirt.
“The usual. T-shirt, jeans and a toothbrush. Packing the red lace panties was
the highlight.”

Cammie couldn’t be angry over him rifling through her underwear
drawer when he took off his shirt, giving her a prime view of a prime chest.
“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything but the swimsuit.”

“I don’t have one, either.” He took her by the shoulders and
turned her around. “We don’t need one.”

As he pushed her hair aside and slowly slid the dress’s zipper
down, Cammie shivered. “You’re a bad, bad boy.”

He brought his lips to her ear. “But I’m not a half-bad man,
which you’re going to find out if you’ll let me show you.”

When he parted the fabric and kissed her bare shoulder, she
considered his request. When he pushed her dress down to drop at her feet,
leaving her wearing only a strapless bra and matching panties, she didn’t have
the strength to argue.

He turned her back around to face him and gave her a long
once-over. “There you go, instant little black bikini.”

To complement her full-body flush. “True, but I’m feeling kind
of awkward since you’re still partially dressed.”

“Not for long.”

Brett made good on his promise by undoing his fly and working
his way out of his jeans, one leg at a time. And when Cammie caught sight of his
thigh-length black boxers, the word
Joe
scripted
down one leg, and
Knows
down the other, she couldn’t
help but laugh.

“Where did you get those?” she said after she’d recovered
enough to speak.

“Someone gave them to me.”

That put a damper on her mood. “A woman who knows Joe?”

“Bull gave them to me last Christmas. It’s always been an
inside joke until I told you.”

She supposed she should be flattered she’d been made privy to
the questionable male
hum
or. “Maybe someday
I’ll get to know Joe.”

He grinned. “Maybe so.”

Brett took her hand and led her through the glass doors that
opened onto the deck. “Wait here,” he said as he walked into the adjacent
cabana.

He returned a few moments later with two beach towels that he
spread out on a double chaise longue. Then without saying a word, he strode to
the deep end of the pool, stripped out of the Joe shorts and executed a perfect
dive. Cammie could see little of anything due to the dark, dark night and
virtually no light whatsoever. But, oh, could she imagine.

He surfaced a few feet away and slicked back his hair with both
hands. “Turn on that lower switch behind you.”

Still somewhat in shock, Cammie followed his instructions and
turned to see the pool illuminated in light blue. Brett was still cast in
shadows, but just knowing he had nothing on generated quite a bit of heat in her
already heated body.

He swam to the edge next to the steps and propped his chin on
his folded hands. “Now it’s your turn.”

She could jump in wearing her best underwear and risk ruining
it. Or she could follow Brett’s lead and bare it all. She opted to bare it all.
Besides, he’d seen the better part of her, anyway, and in daylight. Plus, if
they continued on this course, he was bound to see her naked at some point
tonight.

With that in mind, she reached behind her, unfastened the bra
and tossed it over her shoulder onto the table. Then came the panties that she
shimmied down her legs while Brett looked on. She couldn’t see his features in
detail, but she could tell he hadn’t moved an inch.

She followed his lead and walked to the opposite end of the
pool to demonstrate her own diving expertise. When she emerged, he was right
there in front of her. He caught her arm and tugged her close where she could
feel how much he wanted her, and it felt so good to be wanted. Yet he did little
more than kiss her softly as he moved back until he could stand. And for a few
wonderful moments, they stood there kissing, hands in motion on each other’s
back, until Brett finally broke the kiss and tipped his forehead against hers.
“Seems like I’ve waited forever for this.”

“I know. We’ve had so many interruptions—”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” he said as he pulled back
and studied her face from forehead to chin before centering on her eyes. “It’s
been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to give my undivided attention
to someone special. I want to take my time with you.”