A Little Night Music (17 page)

Right now, his concern was Hannah.

The slender fingers he wrapped in his were cool. He wished he had an idea about what she was thinking, but she hadn’t spoken a word from the moment Lucy had come up to them. Her face was a professional mask, unreadable, and he had the wildly inappropriate thought that she’d be great at poker.

“Let’s talk,” he said, guiding her unresistingly back to the bus. Andre stayed outside. No one would get past him now. His pride had been hurt.

They had the bus to themselves. There was no telling how long that would last.

“Hannah, I’m really sorry about that,” he said.

“You don’t remember her at all, do you?” she asked. The grey of her eyes was dark, serious. It spiked him with guilt.

“No.” He pushed one hand back through his thick hair. “I don’t remember a lot of the last tour.”

“Because of the drugs,” she said flatly.

He nodded. “I was—am—an addict. I’ve been told the cravings will never go away. There were a lot of drugs. There were a lot of women. I need you to believe that it’s all in the past. I’m not proud of it. I wish to hell I could take it all back, but it is what it is. I’m done with all of that, Hannah.”

“How can you be sure? You just told me that the cravings never go away.”

He dropped down onto the couch. A tug of her hand brought her onto his lap. It told him a lot that she let him do it.

“I stay in control,” he said softly. “It’s worked for two years; I’ll make sure that it works for the rest of my life.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“What about AIDS?” she asked abruptly. She looked into his eyes. “You have no idea what you could have caught.”

“I’ve been tested,” he said softly. “Tested and retested. I’m clean, Hannah, and I can show you the paperwork if you want. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“How can I not worry? Your career—”

He stopped the words with his mouth, kissing her fiercely, until he felt the stiffness melt from her spine. Breaking away, he pressed his forehead to hers. “This isn’t about my career. This is about you and me. I
will
stay in control, Hannah.

“There won’t be any more forgetting. I promise you.”

The regard of those solemn grey eyes was daunting. He realized how important it was that she believe him. That thought was startling, worrying him a little. Trying to lie to himself that it was because she was his publicist was futile. The need for her trust ran too deep.

When Hannah nodded, curled her hand across his cheek and offered a small smile, the relief he felt was enormous.

Now he just hoped that he could live up to it.

Vegas held some deep shadows from his past.

Chapter Ten

The bus rumbled along the Strip. It had been a long while since Nate had been in Vegas. He hadn’t been looking forward to visiting this particular casino again, but Sam had argued him down. The casino manager had offered the concert hall space, and they would have been fools to turn it down.

“End of the line, folks,” Winks called out as the bus came to a stop beneath the VIP awning. Nate stood up, one hand rubbing at the knot of tension at the back of his neck. It had been there since Baker.

Andre was the first off the bus, dark eyes behind darker glasses sweeping the street and entranceway. It was only once he’d signaled that Nate and the others got off the bus. A doorman dressed in the casino uniform smiled a welcome. By his size, he no doubt also doubled as security. He spoke quietly into a headset and ushered them inside.

Chilled air wrapped around them, and it felt good after the brief heat of the desert. Nate glanced around, noting that the place hadn’t changed much since his last visit. It was quiet, the thick floral carpeting absorbing the sound of their feet. Leather couches invited them to sit, set into discreet oases surrounded by potted palms. Nate knew that somewhere in the casino, clanging bells, flashing lights, and manic gamblers ruled the day. Here, there was quiet, a rich welcoming calm for the wealthy and the celebrity alike.

The attractive woman behind the highly polished check-in counter barely had time to smile before three men in tailored suits approached from a discreetly hidden door.

Victor Hernandez, casino manager, never traveled anywhere without his own personal guards. Andre had a momentary testosterone standoff with the bodyguards. None of the security men removed their sunglasses during the motionless assessment. Finally Andre nodded to Victor’s men and stepped aside.

“Nate,” the center man said, moving forward and shaking Nate’s hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too, Victor,” Nate said. Hernandez’s hand was cool, the handshake holding just the right amount of strength. A chunky gold ring gleamed on his pinky. “It’s been a long time.”

Victor had lost some hair in the years since Nate had seen him last, but seemed to have compensated by the cost of the pinstripe suit he wore on his lanky body. A pale silk shirt and an Hermes tie showed off his rich olive skin tone. Nate thought he looked too smooth, a barracuda waiting for the scent of blood in the water before he attacked.

The handsome Hispanic man turned to Hannah. The smile he gave her was predatory, his teeth very white. Nate had a sudden urge to warn him off. The unexpected jealousy surprised him. “And this is your publicist, Hannah Montgomery. A pleasure.”

“Mr. Hernandez.” She shook his hand crisply. If she noticed his appraising and appreciative glance, she said nothing.

Nate wanted to kiss her.

“I have your suite prepared,” Victor said to Nate. His glance took in the rest of the band. “Your rooms are also ready. My staff will take care of your luggage if you’d care to follow them.”

With a wave of his hand, he indicated that Nate, Hannah, and Sam were to accompany him. Andre was only a step behind. The walked out of the VIP area and into the casino’s atrium. Sunlight fell from a skylighted ceiling, sparkling on the myriad pools and fountains scattered artlessly around the huge room. Through an arch, the sound of the casino proper intruded, the entrance filled with the ebb and flow of tourists and gamblers. Victor led them through another archway. The marble-tiled corridor was lined with expensive boutiques. They passed men smelling of pricy cologne, their arms adorned with women.

“Do you ever gamble?” Hannah asked Nate.

He shrugged. “A little, here and there, just for fun. I’ve never been into the high stakes stuff.” He leaned closer to her, breathing in her unique scent. “Right now I’m more interested in getting you up to my suite and into the Jacuzzi.”

Her smile was seductive, outshining the bright lights of the lavish casino. “That sounds heavenly,” she said.

But first, there was the frustration of business. They reached the Cornerstone, a private club available by invitation only. It was darker here, quieter. The rich furnishings brought to mind a British gentleman’s smoking room. They settled into a grouping of burgundy leather club chairs separated from the rest of the room by mahogany railing.

A curvaceous brunette in a fuchsia leotard, fishnets, and high heels approached them.

“What’s your poison?” Victor asked.

The question seemed loaded.

Vegas, this casino, held memories of too many excesses. Despite his craving for something to alleviate the tension that was beginning to radiate down his spine, Nate made himself order a Perrier with a twist of lime. Hannah asked for a lemon drop, Sam predictably went for a beer. Andre stood silently, his arms crossed over his chest. There was no expression on his face as he shook his head ever so slightly to indicate he didn’t need anything.

The cocktail waitress returned from the bar a few minutes later and distributed the drinks. Her fingertips brushed Nate’s as she handed him the glass. The dark eyes and glossed lips hinted at availability. He thanked her politely.

Victor leaned towards Nate, leaving Sam and Hannah to peruse the publicity information that Victor had given them. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

Nate tried to maintain the easy-going smile. This place was his first and biggest hurdle. If he could handle himself here, the rest of the tour would seem easy in comparison. His eyes lingered on Hannah. The rich copper of her hair glowed under the subdued lighting. Pretty didn’t even begin to cover it.

Nate started to answer in the affirmative, then realized with a start that Victor wasn’t talking about Hannah. He meant the waitress. While her uniform was admittedly cute, her body shown to curvaceous perfection, she didn’t really spark for him.

“She’s available,” Victor said amiably. “I remember you like brunettes. Or if she’s not to your liking…just let me know your requirements.”

“I’m fine for now,” Nate said. “Thanks.”

Had he had a thing for brunettes? He tried to remember. Yeah, maybe the bulk of the women he’d been with had had dark hair.

Right now, however, he was into redheads.

“I can get you anything else you need,” Victor said, with a subtle nod. “All you have to do is ask.”

Here it was. Nate had spent the last year training himself not to think about moments like these. Not to think about temptations and dark needs that kept him tossing and turning into the night. Victor’s words, however, brought everything rushing back. Because Victor had said them before.

And Nate had always taken him up on the offer.

It would be so, so very easy to accept the quiet delivery in his room. Pass over the money. Give up control. Lose himself.

Trying to find balance, to find a sense of calm, Nate’s gaze returned to Hannah.

She was talking to Sam. Something his manager said made her laugh, and her face was radiant. She twirled her drink as she responded.

She must have sensed that Nate was looking at her, because she glanced over at him. When she saw he was watching, she plucked the glass swizzle stick from her martini glass and slipped it between her lips. The gesture was casual and yet somehow—and he knew, deliberately—suggestive.

Heat pooled in his groin. Minx. Any temptation he’d felt about drugs had been instantly and entirely replaced by desire for Hannah.

Naked. In the hot tub, her skin glistening wet, her hair in damp tendrils around her face as she lowered her mouth to his…

“Nate?” Victor’s voice interrupted Nate’s fantasy.

“Thanks for the offer, Victor,” he said. And the refusal came easily. “You’ve always been good to me. But I don’t need anything.”

The surprise on Hernandez’s face gave Nate a feeling of power. “Are you sure? A little…”

“No,” Nate cut him off. “I’m clean now. I don’t want any, and I don’t want to hear that you’ve offered or provided any to the rest of the band or crew. Okay?”

A pleasant mask slipped across Victor’s handsome features. “Of course, Nate. My job is to make sure you’re happy. I’ll do whatever you say.”

His smile was conciliatory, and Nate didn’t buy it for a second.

*

He didn’t tell Hannah what had transpired. She didn’t need to know. He hadn’t slipped, he hadn’t accepted, and no one else had been privy to the conversation. Victor wouldn’t risk his own reputation by repeating anything; he kept his job by ascribing to the see-nothing, hear-nothing philosophy.

Nate figured he might talk to Sam about it. Let him know that he’d handled the situation better than he had with the former PR asshole who’d made the same offer.

Just not right now. Right now all he wanted was Hannah.

She’d stripped and slipped into the bubbling tub before he’d made it out of the bathroom. The careless pool of her clothes on the floor was provocation in itself.

“Ecstasy,” she said as he slid in next to her. “See, I knew being on the road was just like this.”

He laughed. It was rare to have down time like this, but right now he found himself hard-pressed to argue with her.

The Jacuzzi was on the balcony, but they were high enough that the harsh neon of the Strip didn’t reach them. The setting sun sent streaks of tangerine and peach across the desert sky. Her eyes sparkled all on their own.

Officially, she wasn’t sharing the room with him. Officially, she was two floors down. Tonight, she would probably go to her own room. He didn’t want to sleep apart from her, but either of them caught sneaking out of each other’s room would belie their public face of business only.

Right now, though, it wasn’t just the view from the penthouse that made him feel like he was on the top of the world. He was high on his victory of resisting temptation and flying on the pleasure of having a beautiful, fascinating, unpredictable woman at his side.

He wanted to give her the world.

“After this,” he said, draping an arm across her enticingly wet shoulders. Her skin was like silk. “I’m taking you shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“I had Sam get us a reservation at Lorelei, and if you’re going to Lorelei, you should go in a new dress.”

Hannah got a delightful look on her face: indignant outrage coupled with unadulterated interest. “I don’t need a new—”

“If you try to tell me you don’t need a new dress and that you don’t want to go shopping,” he said, indulging in his desire to lick droplets of water off her neck, “I won’t believe you. Every woman likes to shop.”

“That’s just sexist! That’s…oh, that’s nice,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair and urging him to continue nibbling up the line of her jaw. “No, wait, you’re distracting me.”

He grinned, his lips sliding across her smooth flesh. “That’s my intention.”

“We have to talk about this…sexist…thing.” Her sentence ended in short gasps as his hand found her breast under the bubbling water.

“Later,” he said, toying with her nipple. Her body went rigid, and his cock followed suit, aroused by her reactions. “All I’m saying is, I want to buy you pretty things. If you really have a problem with that, I’ll have to find other ways—” he moved to straddle her so he could get both hands on her, “—to make you—” and between her thighs he found her slick clit “—happy.”

She shuddered and cried out, but he was only getting started.

*

After they were sated and showered, Hannah gave in to Nate’s desire to take her shopping.