The Wild One (15 page)

Probably heroin
, Roxxy thought. She’d never touched the stuff, but she knew plenty of musicians who’d ruined their careers early on it.

“So unless I can find another singer, no live music tonight.”

“Layla can sing,” Elena said. “Really well.”

“You can?” both Andrew and Walt asked.

“Um … well,” she hedged. This was hitting a little too close to home.

“She can,” Elena assured them. “She often sings to the children at the end of the day. They don’t want her to stop, her voice is so pretty.”

Andrew grinned at her. “Well, you said you liked country western music. Here’s your chance to prove it.”

“But I’m no professional country and western singer,” she said.

“That don’t matter,” Walt said. “Most nights people are satisfied with a warm body. If you can cover a few songs, the rest of Tennessee Big Shots can back you up.”

“I only know five, maybe six country songs by heart.”

“That’s enough for me. Get up there and when you’re done with those five songs, just go through them again. I’ll offer some drink specials at the bar. People won’t notice if they’re drunk enough.”

And that’s how Roxxanne Weathers found herself on stage again less than two weeks after vowing never to step foot on it again.

“What the hell,” one guy said when she took the stage. “That ain’t Tennessee Big Shots. That’s some black girl.”

“Shut up and let her sing,” one of the Sinclair staff members shouted back.

Then Andrew led a chant of “Layla! Layla! Layla!” which was soon taken up by at least half the club.

Roxxy hadn’t performed in a venue this small – well, ever. But somehow it made her more nervous than performing in front of a stadium filled with people.

She tentatively started into one of her favorite Colin Fairgood songs, and to her surprise, people soon started clapping along. A few people even started dancing.

After that, she did three more of Colin’s few upbeat songs, and then she launched into some of her crossover favorites, like Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” and Kenny Rogers “The Gambler” and songs by Loretta Lynn, Sugarland, Little Big Town, and Darius Rucker.

When she’d exhausted her supply of upbeat country songs, she did a quick consult with the band, and they cobbled together “fiddle” versions of the few pop hits they all knew.

The joint went crazy when she launched into a country-fried version of “Crazy in Love” by Beyonce. And by the time she got to the last song in her pop/county set, a version of “Wild Ones,” edited down to only the parts that had originally been sung by Sia, it seemed everyone in the club was dancing. She even saw Walt twirling Elena around on the floor.

The only one who wasn’t dancing was Andrew, who stood right where he had from the beginning, at the edge of the stage, watching Roxxy with such pride in his eyes.

And suddenly Roxxy didn’t feel much like singing anymore. “I’ve had a lot of fun with you guys tonight, but this is going to be my last song.”

The crowd booed at this announcement.

“No, booing, no booing,” she said to them with a laugh. “Don’t make this sad, because honestly, this has been the best day of my entire life. I want you grab your sweetheart close and really feel the words I’m singing with this next song.”

The band then launched into her favorite country cover of all time, Tim McGraw’s version of “When the Stars Go Blue.”

And she looked straight into Andrew’s eyes as she sang the simple song with no extra flourishes or runs, as she vowed to follow him whenever he got lonely, whenever the stars went blue.

Before the last note was out of her mouth, he was reaching up and pulling her down from the stage and into his arms.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, before drawing her even closer for a slow dance.

Perhaps sensing the changed mood in the honky tonk, the band played slow country songs until they finally exhausted and had to take a break. It seemed to Roxxy that Andrew would have kept on dancing, except Walt cut in, wanting to talk to her about whether she was interested in singing professionally, because he knew some people, and could introduce her to them.

“I’m really not interested,” she answered, working hard to keep the bemusement out of her voice.

He handed her his card. “Well, any time you want to come back, just let me know. I haven’t heard a singer cover songs that good in a lifetime of Sundays.”

Then it was time to go. Despite the late hour, Andrew made love to her slowly and passionately, like he wanted the night to last forever. She couldn’t blame him, because she wanted the night to last forever, too. When they finally both came together, it felt like the last perfect note for a song only they knew.

The next day they kissed outside the house until Jeb arrived to drive Andrew to the airport. Their parting was sweet, with lots of “I’ll miss you’s” and “I love you’s.” Andrew assured her again and again he would call her every day, at least two times a day, for the week he was gone, and then he whispered in her ear that he would “fuck her so good” when he returned, that she should keep her pussy nice and warm, masturbate to thoughts of him every night, until he was back to do the job himself. He left her waving after him on the porch, her pants a sticky mess from his hot words.

Yes, Andrew Sinclair was like the biggest, best bowl of ice cream she’d ever had, and he kept on offering her things she wanted more than anything. Sex, college, a job, a life with him that might even include marriage at some point.

But she didn’t have the ultimate spoon. She wasn’t really Layla. And when he found this out, she knew she’d lose the best thing she’d ever had.

CHAPTER 20

ROXXY
fully expected to be outted by whoever came to take her back to New York. And she was actually beginning to appreciate that the jig would be up while Andrew was out of town. That meant she’d never have to see the look on his face when he discovered how deeply she had misled him and that his dream reunion had happened with a woman who had been lying to him from day one.

“I was in a dishonest marriage for years, I’m not going to start out with you like that,”
he’d said
.
A nauseous mix of guilt and dread bubbled in Roxxy’s stomach. How angry would he be when he discovered that was exactly how they’d started out?

Imagining Andrew’s reaction to her duplicity soon became unbearable, and it made everything from working with the children’s program to talking with him on the phone that much more painful. It got to the point where she couldn’t wait for the D.A.’s people to come and get her already, just so this whole ordeal would be over.

Only they didn’t come and get her. Every time a new car came down the dusty road leading up to the ranch, Roxxy expected it to be her ride home, but it was always a guest or a staff member or a delivery. After four days of walking around in a tight brace of tension and anticipation, Roxxy couldn’t take it anymore.

This time the D.A. didn’t chastise her when he answered the phone. As it turned out, “We’re having a little bit of trouble finding your bodyguard.”

“What?” she asked.

“We stopped by the address your mother gave us and found a whole bedroom dedicated to you, pictures and candles and everything. It was like walking into a movie cliché. Never seen anything like it. We got into his computer and found out he booked a ticket to Canada, scheduled to return tomorrow, but somehow I doubt he’ll be using the second part of that ticket. Anyway, we’re working with Canadian authorities to track him down, but unlike in the movies, international searches are always red tape cluster fucks, so it’s taking a while.”

Roxxy’s heart dropped into her stomach. How could she have so misjudged the man she’d trusted with her life for so many years? “So he’s still out there, looking for me?”

“Yes, I’m afraid he is. The guy’s computer system is state of the art. He has a half-finished degree in computer science, and he knows what you look like underneath the makeup. No doubt he could track you down easy if you appear anywhere on the grid. That’s why it’s more important than ever that you stay put and don’t tell a soul who you are.”

Roxxy swallowed past the knot in her throat. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that. The man I’m staying with—honesty is very important to him. He’s told me that since day one, and I can’t keep lying to him.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a celebrity. The only people who lie more than you are politicians.”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you trying to tell me you can keep your identity secret from millions of people, but keeping your mouth closed for the few days it takes to catch this guy is a ‘can’t do?’”

Roxxy twisted the cord of the phone around her finger. “I know it doesn’t make any sense to you. But I have to tell him. He’s a very honorable man and he deserves better than this.”

“He’ll probably be honored when he finds out he helped keep a celebrity from harm. And it’s not like we’re not going to compensate him for his time and your lodgings.”

“I know,” she said, “But some things can’t be paid for with money. He taught me that.”

The D.A. let out a deep sigh. “Oh, Christ, I should have seen this coming when you called saying we had to reassign you because he wasn’t being nice enough to you. You think you’re in love with him, don’t you?”

“More than think it,” Roxxy admitted. No, she thought forlornly to herself, being in love with Andrew Sinclair was something she knew down to her very soul.

“Okay, you’ve already proven yourself to be more idiotic than probably ninety-nine percent of the people we’ve had come through my office, so let me just break this down for you like you’re a child,” the D.A. said. “I know you said earlier that it felt like you had stepped into an episode of
Days of Our Lives
, but you are not currently in a soap opera. This guy lives in the middle of Nowhere, Montana. After the thrill of sex with somebody who doesn’t know who you are goes away, trust me, you’re going to get bored with him real fast.”

“I won’t,” she said. “But you’re right I have been living in a fantasy. And I know he’s not going to want me when he finds out who I really am. But I have to tell him. Not because I think this is going to have a happy ending, but because it’s the right thing to do. I know that sounds suspicious coming from somebody who measured right and wrong in ticket sales up until two weeks ago. But I’ve changed. He’s changed me. And I have to tell him.”

The D.A. cursed. “Fine, but if lover boy turns around and starts shooting his mouth off to everybody and his cousin about how he got off with Roxxy RoxX and leads Dexter straight to your door, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“No,” she answered. “I’d never say you didn’t give me plenty of warning about that, sir.”

She hung up first this time, knowing it would be the last call she made to the D.A. She was done being bossed around. And no matter what happened with Andrew, she was done asking the D.A. for any more help.

It took several minutes and even more calming breaths before she was able to pick up the phone again and call Andrew.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. He sounded sleepy. “At least I think it’s my sweetheart calling from the house phone. Mrs. Garcia, is that you?”

“No,” she said, laughing despite herself. “It’s me. Mrs. Garcia isn’t here yet. How are you?”

“You woke me up from a very nice dream.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I needed to get up in a few minutes anyway. Plus, the dream was about you. Maybe you can help me finish it. What are you wearing?”

“Just a t-shirt and panties.”

“No bra underneath?”

“No.”

“Good, that’s exactly what you were wearing in the dream. Except in the dream, you were curled up on your side, touching yourself because you missed me so bad. Is that true, sweetheart? Do you miss me?”

Roxxy squirmed. “I miss you a lot.”

“Do you know what I’d do to you if I was there right now?”

“I imagine you’d kiss me on the back of the neck,” she said. “Then you’d take my hand out of my pussy and replace it with your own.”

“That’s right. Your hand’s been doing too much work with me gone. Time to give it a rest.”

“But maybe it doesn’t want a rest. Maybe all my hand wants to do is wrap itself around your cock and show it how much I missed you.”

He groaned a little, and she could hear the sounds of him shifting in bed.

Just the thought of Andrew on a bed in his hotel room jerking off to visions of her in Montana, had her rushing to get her own hand inside her panties.

“There’s so much pre-cum coming out of your dick. I love how you feel in my hand. So hard. I think my mouth wants a taste, too.”

He gave a sharp intake of breath. She could hear his hand moving in the background.

“Is it okay if I put my mouth down there?”

“Yes, wrap your lips around my dick and remember to open wide and relax your throat, so you get it all in. But first, do me favor and turn around. Put your pussy over my face, so I can taste you, too.”

Now her fingers started to move faster. Andrew’s words were so potent, she could almost feel his tongue inside her, lapping at her pussy folds.

“Oh, sweetheart, this is why it’s dangerous to keep your pussy shaved. I can see your clit’s being naughty again, all big and swollen, demanding my attention. I’m going to have to suck on it to get it to go down.”

Her hips bucked against her hand, just like they did whenever Andrew tongued down her clit.

She bit her lip. “Oh, you know how I get. If you don’t stop, I’m going to come soon. And I’m having so much fun, working my mouth up and down on your dick. Please don’t make me stop. It tastes so good.”

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart.” She could hear his bed creaking under the ministrations of his hand. “Come, come now, or I’m going to come first.”

Against her wishes, she burst apart, creaming onto her own fingers. And her soft cry must have set him off, too, because he let out a long guttural groan.

A few seconds later he said, “Good morning, sweetheart.”

She giggled, basking in her own afterglow. “Good morning, Andrew.”

“Well, it looks like I really need to get in the shower now. I’m a mess. Thanks for calling.”