The Closer You Get (7 page)

Rusty slapped a palm to his forehead. “Damn. My wife drove in
from Lubbock today with Bull’s girlfriend and they’re meeting us at the
restaurant. I don’t know how to explain you to her.”

“What about me?” Bull asked. “Bonnie’s the jealous type and she
has one hell of an imagination.”

Cammie certainly didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with
their significant others. “I’ll change.”

“You don’t have to,” Brett said. “I’ll tell them you’re with
me.”

“Good thinking,” Pat added. “But why can’t we tell them she’s
with me?”

Brett slapped Pat on the back. “Because they’d never believe
it.”

Cammie came up with a more logical plan. “How about we tell
them the truth?”

Pat shook his head. “We’ll ease them into it gently, after they
get to know you. A woman on board a bus, even if she’s driving, could be a cause
for concern for wives and girlfriends.”

On some level, Cammie understood that issue when it came to
this way of life. On the other, she wasn’t the kind to tread on another woman’s
territory. Hopefully she could convince them of that.

After they climbed into the awaiting limo, Cammie squeezed into
the seat between Pat and Brett. No one said much as they made their way to the
historical Fort Worth Stockyards. When Pat poured himself a shot of whiskey from
the onboard bar, then leaned back against the headrest, Cammie noticed he looked
exhausted. The schedule would do that to anyone, even those much younger than
the band’s senior member.

“Hate black limos,” Pat said, shattering the quiet. “Reminds me
of a funeral.”

Brett came back with, “My mistake. Next time we’ll get white.
Will that keep you from bitchin’?”

“Hell, no. White limos remind me of weddings, just about the
same thing as a funeral.”

The other band members continued to silently stare out the
window, as if they didn’t have the energy to comment. Cammie recognized the
“coming down” phase common after a performance. But past experience had taught
her it didn’t take much to recharge a man’s batteries. Especially a walking
testament to testosterone like Brett.

She was extremely aware of him at the moment, and uncomfortable
over his nearness. Yet when his hand inadvertently brushed hers, she found
herself wishing he’d leave it. She wrote off the feelings to gratitude. After
all, he’d gotten her out of a jam. Only gratitude.

When Pat announced, “We’re here,” Cammie glanced out the
window. The limousine slowly passed by a stucco restaurant where a line of
waiting patrons snaked around the building. The driver stopped the car near the
back alley, well beyond the entrance, most likely to avoid calling too much
attention to their arrival. The group exited the limo and entered a patio that
reportedly led to the private quarters reserved for the group. Brett lowered his
head as they strode through the crowded dining room. Most of the people didn’t
bother to look up from their food long enough to notice the group, but Cammie
noticed several who obviously recognized him—or at least that he was
somebody
—indicated by finger-pointing and subtle
whispers.

Nevertheless, they managed to sneak by with very little
attention as they entered the secluded dining room. The man that approached them
first was as wide as he was tall, an unlit cigar butt protruding from the corner
of his mouth. “Brett, my boy, how are you doing?”

“Can’t complain, Tim,” Brett said as he shook the man’s offered
hand.

Brett gestured toward Cammie. “This is Cammie, Bud’s temporary
replacement. Cammie, this is my manager, Tim Braker.”

“Good to know you, Cammie.” His eyes crinkled at the corners
when he smiled as he took her hand and patted it. “My, my. Brett’s description
of you was pretty accurate, but it certainly didn’t do you justice.”

Cammie felt her face flush. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Let’s eat,” Brett said, tugging at his collar.

Brett pulled out the chair next to his for Cammie, then
introduced her to Bull’s girlfriend, Bonnie, with a petite stature and short
brown hair, and Karen, Rusty’s wife, whose long auburn tresses nearly matched
her husband’s. They both seemed very personable and happy to meet her, at least
for the moment.

The informal atmosphere and lively conversation was as
satisfying as the spicy fajitas and tart margaritas that came to the table in
endless quantities. Cammie settled for a soda and ate sparingly while the guys,
in typical male unmannerly fashion, dug in like it was their first meal in days
or their last on earth. After the food had been cleared, the men gathered in the
corner of the room to talk business, while Karen and Bonnie claimed the two
chairs opposite Cammie.

“So, Cammie, have you been on Brett’s bus yet?” Karen
asked.

Let the inquisition begin. “Yes, I have.”

“You poor thing,” Bonnie said. “When anyone sees a woman within
a hundred yards, they think maid service has arrived.”

“So far that hasn’t been a problem.” And it wouldn’t be if she
had any say in the matter.

Bonnie folded her hands on the table. “When did you meet
Brett?”

“Not long ago.”

“Did you meet him at a concert?” Karen asked.

She could see where this was heading, and she saw no reason to
go there. “Look, just to set the record straight, I’m Bud’s replacement driver.
The guys were worried that you might be concerned since I’m a woman. But rest
assured, my only intent is to provide a ride for Brett.” Surely she hadn’t just
said that. “I meant, I’m a professional driver. I can even drive with my foot in
my mouth.”

The women exchanged a look, then fortunately laughed. If Cammie
could run out of the room without being too obvious, she would.

“I guess I can understand the guys’ concerns,” Bonnie said. “If
I hadn’t met you, I might have had my reservations. But you don’t seem like the
predator type.”

Cammie smiled with relief. “Thanks. I just couldn’t go on
pretending I’m one of Brett Taylor’s girlfriends, according to the plan.”

“What a horrible thing to imagine,” Karen said. “But if you ask
me, Brett definitely appeared to be enjoying the make-believe. He couldn’t seem
to take his eyes off you during dinner.”

She couldn’t exactly dispute Karen’s observations. She had
noticed a few glances now and then. “Brett was just trying to help out his
friends,” she said. “There’s nothing else to it.”

“We’ll see,” Bonnie added. “We might trust our boys, but
Brett’s another story. Never underestimate his power over women.”

Nor should anyone underestimate her self-control. “I can handle
him for a couple of months.”

Karen leaned over and patted her hand. “You just keep telling
yourself that and you’ll be fine.”

When her phone began to chime, Cammie fished the cell from her
purse and saw Bud’s name on the incoming text. She opened it to find a
photograph of a tiny, round-faced newborn wearing a pink knit cap, her tiny fist
balled against her chest like a miniature prizefighter. And below that, a
simple, poignant message.

Meet Emma Jane Parker. I hope she does the name proud.

Cammie’s hand immediately went to her mouth to cover the slight
gasp, earning her concerned looks from her companions.

“Is something wrong?” Karen asked.

“Not at all,” she said as she turned the phone around for the
girls to view the photo. “Bud’s got a new baby girl, and he named her after my
grandmother.”

Both Karen and Bonnie spent a few minutes mooning over the
picture before Karen took the phone over for the guys’ inspection. And as usual,
they had to endure the male “all babies look alike” comments. Yet Brett never
even afforded the photo a passing glance before he turned his back on the
crowd.

When Karen returned with the phone, Cammie decided to ask about
her boss’s suspect behavior. “Does Brett have an aversion to kids? He wouldn’t
even look at the baby’s picture.”

“Should we tell her?” Bonnie asked Karen.

“As long as she keeps it to herself,” Karen said.

Cammie geared up for yet another major revelation. “Tell me
what?”

“Brett has a daughter,” Bonnie said.

Clearly she’d only scratched the surface of the star’s secrets.
“Bud and Pat mentioned he’d been married, but they didn’t say anything about a
daughter.”

Karen sighed. “It’s been kept quiet to keep her out of the
limelight. Unfortunately, he hasn’t seen her in several years.”

Cammie couldn’t fathom a parent not having a relationship with
their child. Not when she’d lost both her parents through a sad twist of fate.
“And he’s okay with that?”

“His wife has full custody and she hasn’t made it easy on him,”
Bonnie said. “Or at least that’s what Doug told me.”

When Karen cleared her throat, Cammie glanced back to see Rusty
stumbling toward the table. He came up behind his wife and leaned to kiss her
cheek. “Is my girl ready to go?”

Karen rolled her eyes as she stood. “Three shots of tequila and
you’re out, as usual. No more liquor for you, mister.”

“I can handle my tequila, wife.” Rusty turned around and
immediately tripped over the leg of a chair.

“It’s been nice meeting you, Cammie,” Karen said as she
attempted to steady her husband. “I’m flying into California next month. I’ll
see you then.”

Bonnie stood and pushed her chair under the table. “I need to
go, too. I’ll round up Doug so we can put an end to this party. I’m sure you’d
like to get some rest.”

She wasn’t sure she would rest considering the disturbing
discovery. “It’s been great meeting you, too. I hope to see you again before I
head home.”

After a round of goodbyes, Cammie followed Brett, Pat and
Jeremy into the awaiting limo for the somewhat silent return trip. When they
arrived back at the bus, Brett announced he was going to accompany her to the
hotel.

“That’s not necessary,” Cammie said as the limo came to a stop.
“I can find my way there.”

“Now, Cammie,” Pat began in a fatherly tone, “Dennis has
already gone and we’d feel a whole lot better if someone went with you,
especially after what happened with Jensen.”

She had to admit that seemed like a good plan. “All right, if
you insist.”

When they arrived at the bus’s entrance, Cammie immediately
spotted the folded note taped to the door. She yanked the paper down before
Brett beat her to it.

We got off to a bad start tonight, but I’ll be back to finish it.
Mark

Thoroughly disgusted, she crumpled the paper into a tiny ball,
stuffed it into her pocket and hurried inside the bus to take her place behind
the wheel.

Brett followed behind her and claimed the passenger seat. “Is
it from Jensen?”

“Yes.”

“What did it say?”

Did she dare tell him? Yes, she should. From this point
forward, she intended to keep him informed of Mark’s plans. “He said he’s coming
back to finish what he’s started.”

Brett scowled. “He better not be serious unless he’s in the
mood for an ass-whoopin’.”

Cammie started the bus and internally cringed over Mark’s
threat. “Who knows what he’ll do? Come to think of it, I never really knew him
at all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shifted until she faced
Brett
. “Not really. There’s not a whole lot left to say.”

“Fine, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

What she really wanted to do was forget the ugly episode.
Forget Mark, period. Forget she’d been mistaken to think he was out of her
life.

She left the seat to retrieve her overnight bag from the small
overhead bin and prepared to gather a few things. Brett showed up a few seconds
later and leaned a shoulder against the divider, watching her cram clothing from
the drawer underneath her berth into the tote with the force of a jackhammer
into cement.

She stopped her reckless packing long enough to look at him
straight on. “Maybe I should reconsider working for you. Mark could cause a lot
of trouble.”

He picked up a pink bra that had fallen to the floor and handed
it to her. She tried not to meet his gaze, but she knew he was smiling when she
quickly stuffed it into the case.

“We won’t be running into him that often,” he said. “Besides,
he sounds pretty determined. If he really wants to find you, he won’t stop until
he does. You might as well be running around the country with five guys looking
after you.”

Cammie smiled in spite of her melancholy mood. “I guess you’re
right.”

She headed into the bathroom, slipped a few toiletries into the
bag, and when she returned, she found Brett still rooted in the same spot. “All
through here,” she said. “Feel free to pack while the bus warms up. I’ll wait
until you’re finished.”

“Good idea.” He started toward his stateroom and when they
tried to pass each other, they moved in the same direction twice. Cammie finally
turned to one side and made a sweeping gesture toward his room. “Go ahead.”

Brett grinned, showing his smile to full advantage. “Thought
for a minute there we might dance.”

Cammie couldn’t help but smile back. His eyes sparkled with
sheer amusement. Gorgeous blue, blue eyes. She truly wanted to see what was
behind those eyes, but there was nothing transparent about them except the
color. She suspected she’d never know the real man behind the star, even if she
had learned a little more about his past tonight.

He started down the corridor but stopped midway to face her
again. “I’m glad you’re here, Cammie.”

She felt as if she’d just won a commendation. “Thanks.”

When she drove into the hotel’s rear parking lot a few moments
later, Brett surprised her by asking if she wanted to have a nightcap with him
in the bar. She surprised herself by agreeing, putting on the brakes a little
harder than intended when the word
Yes
leaped out of
her mouth like a jackrabbit. She hadn’t given the request a second thought until
it was too late to reconsider.