Hearts on Fire Page 4

  And now, Jessie was at her meet-and-greet, and he was nursing a beer in the VIP section inside Rouge—a bar located within the casino.

  As the music pulsed around him, he took a pull of his Sam Adams and looked on as a couple of guys from Jessie’s band chatted with her back-up singers. None of the guys came on to them. It was common knowledge that Tara and Renee had a firm rule against hooking up with anyone who worked the tour. The band respected their wishes. If the guys wanted to get laid, there were always plenty of groupies around to satisfy their sexual appetites.

  A table away, two members of Trista Cantrell’s band and her manager were tossing back whiskey shots and rating the hotness of the women in the VIP room by using the criteria of fuckable or not fuckable. According to Tara and Renee, Barry Downs was an ass of epic proportions, and judging by what Drew had seen so far tonight, they weren’t wrong.

  Ten minutes later, he was working on his second beer when Tara, a cute redhead with a nice smile and light brown eyes, plopped down next to him on the red leather bench. He wasn’t at all attracted to her, but he always enjoyed shooting the breeze with her.

  “You looked bored.” She leaned back and took a sip of her drink. A pink concoction that looked like it should have had an umbrella in it.

  “This isn’t my scene.”

  Her brow arched. “Then why are you here?”

  “I needed to unwind.” More like he needed to be in a place where the loud music would help him forget the fact that the thing he most wanted was the one thing he’d told himself he couldn’t have.

  “I know what you mean,” she said, then took another sip of her drink. “I normally stay put in my room and call my boyfriend, but we had a fight.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  Tara shrugged. “It is what it is. My life is hard for him to handle because I’m gone a lot.”

  “That can be tough on a relationship.”

  “Let’s not talk about my troubles. It’s depressing.” Her somber expression brightened. “Hey, I’m glad you were available to help us out,” she said, then rolled her eyes. “You heard what happened to Kenny, right?”

  “Yep.” He nodded and met Tara’s mischievous eyes. A slow smile split her face and she burst out laughing. Her amusement was so infectious Drew couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

  “Oh my God. You should have seen him.” Tara put her hand on his arm. “At first he was doing that Chuck Berry duck walk thing. Renee and I were absolutely dying. Then he took off running toward the audience and flew off the stage. The next thing we knew, the paramedics were wheeling him out on a stretcher.” She wiped at her eyes. “I know it’s not funny because he was hurt and all, but every time I think about it, I just about bust my gut.”

  “He’s never going to live it down. You know that, don’t you?”

  Tara nodded. “It’s already gone viral.”

  “You’re kidding!” Drew grinned and with one hand, reached for his jacket next to him, fishing around for the phone in his pocket. “What should I search for?”

  “Try ‘Jessie Grant guitarist breaks arm’,” Tara suggested, and leaned in closer.

  Drew typed in the words and found several links. He clicked on one of the links, and there it was in all its glory—a video of Kenny’s infamous plunge off the stage, immortalized by some unknown fan with a smart phone. Unable to stop themselves, he and Tara watched it three times, laughing harder after each viewing.

  “Well now, don’t you two look cozy?” Drew recognized the voice immediately and looked up to find Jessie looking down at them. “What y’all looking at?”

  “Kenny’s swan dive.” Tara grinned at Jessie. “Have you seen it?”

  Jessie’s eyes widened. “There’s a video of it?” A smile lit up her face. Air lodged in Drew’s throat and for a second he couldn’t breathe. A smile like that should be illegal, or at least come with a warning. “Can I see it?”

  “Sure.” Drew nodded as she sat down on the other side of him. Leaning toward her, he held the phone so that she could see it, and pressed the replay button. But instead of watching it with her, he studied her profile, acutely aware of the sensual scent of her perfume. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders like dark silk; he itched to touch it, to touch her. Through the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of her skin burned into his. Every damn feeling he was having went straight to his groin, and he shifted on the padded bench to ease the ache.

  Within seconds, Jessie was getting as much of a kick out of it as he and Tara had. “Play it again,” she said, shaking with laughter.

  “You two enjoy.” Tara set her empty glass on the table and pushed herself up from booth. “I’m going up to my room.”

  “See you tomorrow,” Drew said, then turned his attention back to Jessie who waved a hand at Tara as she left. “Watch the part right as he jumps off the stage. He realizes there’s no one there to catch him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.”

  A minute or so later, Jessie wiped her eyes and sat back against the leather seat. “I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in like…forever.”

  Drew hadn’t seen her laugh that hard since the night they’d watched a Ron White comedy special at her house, after she’d invited him over to help her work on a song she was having trouble with. He’d never collaborated with anyone before, but the minute he sat down with her in her music room it was as if they’d worked together for years. What surprised him most was her confession that she’d written quite a number of the songs she’d recorded, a fact no one else was aware of because she wrote under a pseudonym.

  He set his phone on the table and his thigh brushed against hers; she didn’t pull away. Blood rushed to his head, and the loud thumping in his chest all but obliterated the pounding music that emanated from the club’s speakers.

  “Do you want a drink?” he asked, spying a cocktail waitress rounding a nearby table and heading their way.

  “No.” She shook her head and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “How was the meet-and-greet?” he asked, after he’d motioned to the cocktail waitress that they were fine.

  “Nice.” She let out a contented sigh. “I love my fans.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they always have my back.” She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth.

  Drew lowered his gaze to her lips and tried not to think about passing up the chance to kiss her. She’d been drunk the first night he met her at the MC, and although he was insanely attracted to her, his good conscience would never allow him to take advantage of an inebriated woman.

  “I wonder if they would still love me if they knew...”

  “Knew what?”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters,” he said, quietly. He stared into her eyes and suddenly the air in the room thickened. “Tell me.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you anything anymore.”

  “Why? We used to be friends.”

  “Used to being the operative phrase.” The tension between them returned with a vengeance. She stood and glared down at him. “Do me a favor and leave me the hell alone. I don’t need you in my life, Drew. I don’t need anybody.”

  His heart hammered against his ribs as he watched her turn and thread her way through the crowd. After she’d disappeared from sight, Drew picked up his phone, pulled on his jacket and high-tailed it after her. Jessie wasn’t getting the last word, not this time.

  When he caught up with her, she’d just stepped into an elevator and her bodyguard was about to follow. Drew brushed past her hulking six-foot-ten enforcer, turned, and held his hand up. “I’ll make sure she gets to her floor safely. Have a good night.”

  He hoped like hell that John wouldn’t punch his lights out, but evidently Drew’s status as a trusted member of Jessie’s inner circle was enough for John to move back and give him a courteous nod. Drew stepped into the elevator car just before the doors slid shut and
met Jessie’s angry eyes.

  “You don’t need anyone?” he demanded, as she mutely pressed the button for her floor.

  She gave him a death stare and moved to the back of the elevator as it began its ascent. “No.” She lifted her chin defiantly as he moved to stand in front of her.

  “Seems like a sad way to live your life.”

  “It’s my life.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “And I could ask the same of you. You’re bound and determined not to accept help from anyone. I know Wally offered to represent you, but you turned him down.” She pointed at him. “And you sure as hell wouldn’t let me help you.”

  “I don’t need or want any favors. From anyone, but especially not you,” he said, as his blood pumped through his veins.

  “Why? Would it put a dent in that male pride of yours?” Sarcasm edged her voice. Under the soft fabric of her dress, her chest rose and fell rapidly. She was just as worked up as he was. “Why is it so hard for you to ask for help with your career?”

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust anyone?” he countered.

  “Because just about everyone I’ve ever trusted has let me down.” The scathing look in her eyes dared him to refute her statement.

  “Jessie, I’m still your friend.”

  Her eyes flared with anger. “I don’t want to be your friend, I want—” She stopped abruptly and clamped her mouth shut.

  “Finish that sentence,” he demanded. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to leave me alone.”

  “Bullshit. You want the same thing I do.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “This,” he said as he snaked his arm around her slender waist, hauled her against his body and covered her mouth with his. If she had resisted in the slightest he would have let her go, but she didn’t. She let out a low moan, arched against him, and returned his demanding kiss with an eagerness that staggered him.

  For months he’d fantasized about kissing her, but the reality of it was so much hotter. Her soft lips parted, and their tongues met in a slow sensuous dance that sent a jolt of lust straight through him.

  Drew had no clue how long the kiss lasted, but he did know that the only thing that stopped it was the melodic chime of the elevator as it came to a halt at her floor. He pulled his mouth from hers and met her dazed eyes as the doors slid silently open.

  “I think this is your floor.” With great difficulty, he released her and stepped back to press the button that would prevent the doors from closing. “I’ll take the elevator back down to mine.” He lowered his gaze to her lips, glistening and swollen from his kiss, and he wanted to kiss her again more than anything. But he couldn’t. Not yet. There were still a few things they needed to get straight between them.

  Wordlessly, she glared at him and then moved forward to exit the elevator. He reached out, gently wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, and pulled her to a halt. Her soft, floral scent was almost his undoing, and as she stared up at him, she unconsciously licked her lips. Instantly, his desire became a pulsing, throbbing need that made him rock hard.

  “Not bad for a first kiss,” he said. “But next time we’ll do it a lot slower, and a helluva lot longer.”

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, on the Grand Garden stage, Drew tried, with little success, to tamp down his annoyance as he glared at Jessie, who, of course, wasn’t looking at him—just like she hadn’t been looking at him the entire time they’d been rehearsing.

  Silence loomed between them until Wally cleared his throat. “Y’all sounded nice, but something’s missing.”

  Drew knew exactly what was missing, and it had nothing to do with his or Jessie’s vocals. As usual, their harmonies were spot-on. But while the song was technically proficient, it was sorely lacking. The emotional connection that he and Jessie had attained back in Nashville was nowhere to be found today. And without being the least bit arrogant, he could say with absolute certainty that the problem wasn’t him. He shifted on his stool and wished he could adjust himself. His body hadn’t gotten the message that he was irritated with her, and the soft scent of her perfume wasn’t helping matters any.

  At the moment, it was just the three of them in the cavernous arena. Trista and Barry had interrupted them earlier after Barry learned that CMT wasn’t going to televise Trista’s opening set. After Wally calmed him down, Barry dragged Trista off the stage, promising her he’d have a talk with the network executives.

  Drew stared at Jessie’s rigid profile and shook his head. A woman’s ever changing moods were like a mystery that could never be solved. To say that the female of the species had always confounded him wouldn’t be far from the truth. After a mostly sleepless night, he wasn’t nearly as congenial as he usually was. In fact, he’d pretty much had his fill of whatever game Jessie was playing. She had finally agreed to do the duet. He’d shown up, ready to work, and all he gotten for his trouble was a whole lot of nothing. Not only had she ignored him for the past two hours, she’d also decided not to make eye contact with him while they were singing. And in a duet, eye-contact was crucial.

  “I thought we sounded great.” Jessie slid off the stool next to him creating some tension easing space between them. Unable to stop himself, he checked out her amazing ass, shown off to perfection in her faded jeans, as she moved to the edge of the stage and surveyed the rows of empty seats in the front.

  “That’s a load of crap and you know it.”

  Jessie spun around and finally met his eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” He heard the exasperation in his voice and didn’t care. Maybe he wasn’t a big star like her, but he was her equal as a musician, and as such, he wasn’t about to let her get away with her shit. “If you want me to sing with you Friday night, then you’d better do a helluva lot better than what you’ve been doing for the last two hours.”

  “My pitch was perfect, and so were our harmonies!” Clenching her fists, she marched toward him. “Tell me what was missing.” She stopped a few feet in front of him, planted her hands firmly on her hips, tilted her head, and treated him to her iciest glare.

  “You know what was missing, but until you can admit it I’m going back to my room to get some shut-eye. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Bracing his acoustic guitar against his chest, he slid off the stool, scowled at a shell-shocked Wally, and headed toward the stairs.

  “Don’t you dare walk out on me!” Jessie called after him.

  He stopped cold and turned to meet her furious gaze. “News flash, Ms. Grant, I’m here as a favor to you and Wally. I don’t take orders from you, or anyone else.” He wasn’t one to raise his voice all that often, and today was no exception. But he was pretty sure his measured tone had sunk in.

  Jessie narrowed her eyes, glanced at Wally, and then stiffly strode to the far side of the stage and disappeared down the other set of stairs.

  “Do you have a death wish, son?”

  Drew met Wally’s bemused eyes and shrugged. “I must have to tangle with her.”

  “She’s a spitfire, that’s for sure.” Wally moved toward him. Drew shifted to rest his forearms on his guitar as the older man halted in front of him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people in more denial. I’m not sure who y’all think you’re fooling. But it’s obvious to me you two have a hankerin’ for each other.”

  Drew opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. Wally was right and he wasn’t about to deny it. He wanted Jessie so much he ached from it. That kiss in the elevator had been the appetizer, now he was dying for the full-course meal.

  Wally gave Drew a fatherly pat on his back. “I hope you two can fix this thing between you before Friday night. She’s the hottest thing in country music right now.” Wally’s expression turned solemn. “We can’t afford any screw-ups.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Drew assured him, even though he wasn’t all that convinced.

  Wally nodded. “Like I said before. Jessie’s under a lot of
pressure. I think her behavior during rehearsal is her way of dealing with it.”

  “Yeah. That’s probably it,” he said, not believing that excuse for a second. Jessie was too much of a professional to be thrown by a live concert. Just like him, she was still reeling from the kiss he’d laid on her last night. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Good idea. But if you knock on her door, be prepared for flying barware.”

  Despite his irritation, Drew chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll duck.”

  In her suite, Jessie paced the brown and gold carpet, and just like she’d been doing ever since it happened, she replayed every single second of that elevator ride in her head.

  Who knew Drew could kiss like that? On a scale of one to ten, it was at least a twenty. She should have known. It was always the quiet ones. They surprised you every time. Halting, she lifted a hand and touched her lips with her fingertips. Did he kiss Hannah like that? Like he’d been starving for months and had finally found sustenance? There was no evidence he was a player, and she didn’t figure him for a cheater. So why had he done it? Had he broken up with Hannah? No. That couldn’t be. Maybe it was something he’d done in the heat of the moment and instantly regretted?

  No. She shook her head and resumed her pacing. There had been no regret in his eyes when he’d pulled her close and proclaimed he was going to kiss her again. And—oh God—she couldn’t seem to get that sexy drawl of his out of her mind.

  Judging by that kiss, Drew knew his way around a woman. The thought of finding out if he was as skilled at other things as he was at kissing was driving her crazy. She’d been hot for him for months, but last night, it started in her hotel room when he’d zipped up her dress, then kicked in again as she sat next to him at the bar. As a performer, she wasn’t above a little stage-flirting with her guitar player, but that couldn’t happen again. At least not before Friday night and CMT’s televised broadcast of her concert. She had to be professional, and to do that, she had to keep her raging hormones in check.