CHAPTER FOUR
RUN TO ME
“Well?” Belinda had no idea what she was doing or why. Maybe fatigue and Jack Daniel’s wasn’t such a good combination after all. Then again, perhaps a long, steamy kiss was just what the doctor ordered. God knows, it had been a long time since her last amazing kiss. They’d kissed a little when they were kids, but they were adults now. In the big league.
Being in a crisis put a dent in her romantic life. She knew she needed to keep her emotional distance, but . . . why not have a little fun?
Fun? Now that was a word she hadn’t thought of lately.
“Again, this is definitely where I was told to stop you, not to run over there and kiss you.” He fidgeted in his seat and appeared torn. “Remember?”
“Do you always do as you’re told?”
“Most of the time.”
“So, not all of the time.” With a shrug, Belinda pushed up to her feet. She hobbled over to the wall and stood there, tossing him a look of challenge. Again, why she was doing this was beyond her brain’s ability to reason right at the moment. It could be that she wanted to be reckless and forget about her failed career and her parents’ financial crisis that she created.
Hold on . . . a sexy kiss could lead to hot sex, but she wanted to avoid that, right? No, she just wanted a damned kiss! But he just sat there making her feel foolish, again. Well, to hell with that nonsense. “We’re going to have to kiss at some point to show the world how much we love each other, so let’s just break the ice.” She motioned with her hands. “Come on, run to me and not out the door.”
“But you said . . . and we said . . . I said . . .”
“Just stop. I changed my mind. I do that a lot.”
“You just got here. Belinda . . .” Oliver protested, and she suddenly felt really fucking foolish. To her horror, she felt heat creep into her cheeks and wished for a trapdoor to open and swallow her up. She wanted to land back in Tennessee, a kid, and start all over again.
Well, hell. Belinda glanced down at the tile floor . . . nope, no trapdoor. Damn. She should just tell him she was tired and a little tipsy and . . .
Suddenly Oliver was there in front of her. He tilted her chin up and then took both of her hands and placed them above her head, pressing her against the wall. He stood so close that she could feel the heat of his body, smell the hint of whiskey on his breath. And she wanted that kiss more than she wanted to breathe.
“Oliver . . .” she said in a husky voice that trembled around the edges. “I shouldn’t—” she began, but he hushed her feeble protest with his lips. The minute his mouth covered hers, Belinda felt a melting sensation that traveled the length of her body, pausing here and there, leaving heat in its wake. She could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave, feel the soft cotton of his shirt, but most of all she felt the intense pleasure of having him thoroughly exploring her mouth.
God . . . the man could kiss. Really kiss. Like the mother of all kissers. He applied just the right amount of pressure, coaxing, and when his tongue danced with hers she couldn’t hold back a moan deep in her throat.
His warm mouth, firm lips had her needing to cling to him, tug him closer, but he had her hands trapped above her head, putting her at his mercy.
He kissed her and kissed her . . . and then moved his mouth to her neck, where he nuzzled, nibbled, and found her wildly beating pulse. Belinda made various sounds of mindless pleasure and arched away from the wall, needing to be closer to him.
Belinda could feel the steely hardness of his erection straining against his jeans, and knowing he was just as turned on made her feel a feminine sense of power, and she moved sensuously wanting more, needing more. She gasped when he moved his head lower and kissed wherever he could find bare skin, and suddenly she wanted to be naked, allowing him to explore . . . everywhere, with a few intimate places in mind for him to linger. If his kiss was any indication of his lovemaking, then, dear God, she was a goner.
In the back of her mind a little annoying voice issued a warning. Getting involved this way, within an hour of her arrival, was not her smartest move. But God, his mouth felt so damned good, like warm velvet caressing her skin. She squashed the indecision and kissed him back with wild abandon.
Later, she could blame it on the booze.
Belinda’s breath caught when he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “Oh God, you found my weak spot.”
“Your earlobe?”
“No, anywhere you put your mouth.”
Oliver chuckled low and oh so sexy, next to her ear. “I’d love to find other weak spots, but we said this was off-limits.”
“Ugh, your rules,” she said, and then gasped when he sucked her earlobe into his mouth.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Silly question.” Gasp. “Hell . . . no,” she said, but he pulled back and then gazed into her eyes. She swallowed hard and her heart pounded like the wings of a hummingbird.
“Are we starting something stupid right out of the gate?”
“Yes.” She gave him a jerky little nod. “But hey, I’ve fallen on my face twice today, so stupid is the main theme here. Might as well keep it going.”
Oliver grinned. “I think I trump you with the naked thing.”
“That was my fault too.”
“Did you like what you saw?”
“You know I did. I’d like to see it again,” she said. “But . . .” Belinda was about to say something else . . . like let’s call it a day, but he kissed her again and all coherent thought fled from her brain and hurried out the door, probably never to come back again. Good.
And then suddenly Oliver released her arms and swooped her off her feet. Just like . . . that. Belinda would have panicked, but he’d already shown that he could carry her with ease. Very cool. Extremely sexy. This gig kept getting better by the minute.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To your bedroom.”
“And then?” She wrapped her arms around him and felt as if she were floating while he carried her across the room. If this was a dream, she was going to be so pissed when she woke up.
Oliver turned and pushed the door open with his butt. “Then I’m going to tuck you into bed.”
“Oh . . . good. Wait . . . what?”
“I have sun-blocking curtains so you can take a well-deserved nap. I’ll give Devin and Julie a call so we can get this ball rolling.”
“I already liked the ball that was rolling,” she joked, but inside she felt a stab of fear. Would Devin throw her under the bus or be glad she was here and just go with it? Perhaps she should call him and fill him in on her unannounced arrival.
“Hey, don’t give me that look,” he said gently.
“What look?”
“Like you want me to stay.”
“But I do,” she answered in a small voice.
“You need to stay off that ankle.”
“I’m off my ankle.”
“And all your other injured parts.”
“Not all my parts are injured. Want to find out?”
Oliver chuckled. “Believe me, Belinda, I’d like to find out, but I don’t want to do something that could screw up our . . . thing, before we get the chance to . . .”
“What?”
“Hell, I don’t know. As you found out, I suck at making quick decisions. And I don’t want you to think later that I took advantage of you. This might sound boring, but I am one of the good guys.”
“I believe you because you left out the trust me part this time.”
“It was implied.” Oliver smiled. Damn, such a genuine, beautiful smile.
“Don’t do that ever again.”
“What?”
“Don’t give me that killer Oliver Heart smile. It has too much charm for me to resist. Not fair,” she said in a sleepy voice. “Why do you have to be so . . . great? Just be an ass so I can resist you.”
Oliver laughed. “You’re something else.”
“You mean that in a good way, right?”
“As in you’ve got your own special charm and you don’t even have to smile.”
Belinda smiled, and in that moment, she wondered how she was going to keep from falling for him. Seriously, he was being, like, perfect. “Okay, show me some kind of flaw so I can fall asleep.”
“The decision thing, remember?”
“No, a big one. Like you hate puppies or something horrific.”
Oliver laughed. “By the time you wake up, I’ll have your fridge stocked and a publicity game plan all set up.” He let her slide to the floor but kept a steadying arm around her waist.
“Okay, Mr. Perfection. Just be warned that I’m going to have to search for faults.”
“How about this one. What just happened was my fault.” He tapped that amazing chest of his. “You asked me to be a gentleman and I needed to keep my word.”
“Um, you didn’t promise, remember?”
“I’m trying not to remember. I don’t want to leave, Belinda. But you’re exhausted and I gave you the whiskey.”
“At my request. Kissed me at my . . .”
“Demand?”
“It was more like a challenge.”
“Well, I have three older brothers. None of us can back down from a challenge.”
“Hmm . . . I’ll put that in my vault for future reference.”
“Please, promise to use it sparingly.”
“Nope.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “Hey, we’re going to have to work together for the next few months. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”
Belinda glanced at her ankle. “I already got off on the wrong foot.”
Oliver’s smile widened.
“Put that damned smile away!”
To his credit, he tried. “When I got up this morning, I wasn’t prepared for your arrival. I think we both need time to adjust. Agreed?”
“Yeah,” Belinda said, but she sounded so glum that Oliver laughed again. “I guess.”
“Okay, I’m going to let go and pull down the covers.”
Belinda nodded and felt an odd sense of vulnerability. She’d been on her own for so long that having someone doing gentle things and fussing over her made her feel emotional. When he looked at her she had to hold back tears. Now was not the time to cry!
“Belinda,” he said gently. “You’ll feel better after some rest. I’m going to go get the ice pack.”
Swallowing hard she nodded again and sat down on the bed. A few minutes later Oliver had her tucked in and iced up. The feather pillow felt so amazing that she sighed and then gave him a small smile. “So, have I made an impression?”
Oliver inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. “Well, my whole keeping-my-hands-to-myself plan was a complete fail . . . so yeah. In more ways than one.”
Belinda had to laugh. “I wasn’t the enabler. Blame it on the Jack Daniel’s.”
“You warned me.”
“That I did. I should come with warning labels stamped all over me.” God, he was sexy. Cute. Sweet. Irresistible. She yawned and then blinked up at him. “You really are one of the good ones, Oliver Heart. Hard to find these days.”
Oliver frowned. “That shouldn’t be the case.” He looked as if he wanted to say more but then pulled the covers up to her chin. “I have the house set pretty cool, but feel free to adjust to your comfort.”
“Thanks,” she said, seriously not wanting him to go, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to let him know that she’d be content with a cuddle.
“Sleep tight,” he said, and then pulled the curtains shut.
Don’t get attached . . . don’t fall in love, screamed in her head as she watched him walk out the door.
Of course, although Belinda truly was bone tired and a little bit embarrassed at her invitation for him to kiss her—well, and more—she felt a warm rush of something she couldn’t put her finger on. Hope? She squeezed her eyes shut. Hope had been an elusive little shit for such a long time.
“Why is life so damned . . . hard?” All she ever wanted was to sing her music. With another longer groan, Belinda looked up at the pretty paddle fan turning in lazy circles. Unwanted tears stung her eyes again. What if she’d just sold out and become the pop star that her label wanted? Her parents would have everything they ever needed, but her damned young stubbornness had thrown up a roadblock that she couldn’t get around. She hadn’t realized then that she didn’t have any clout. But her parents were behind her decision to stick to her guns, proud of her for standing up for herself. Belinda remembered feeling relief when she’d declared she wanted to go back to her country music roots.
And then it all went to hell.
And look where that got her. But feeling sorry for herself wasn’t in her nature, and the past was over. She simply needed to . . . deal.
But now that she was almost thirty, Belinda felt as if life was moving fast while she stood still. Going home meant seeing friends who were married with adorable children. Ugh. Maybe instead of seeking stardom, she should have stayed singing in the church choir and lived a regular life. Buck up, buttercup. With a little angry huff at herself she turned on her side and snuggled into the pillow.
Sexy as hell Oliver Heart had given her a toe-curling kiss. He’d just tucked her into bed in his fabulous pool house. She was getting a second chance at a singing career, and if she had to wiggle her ass and belt out dance music, then so be it. She’d seen plenty of poverty in the hills of Tennessee. It was high time she started being thankful instead of full of regret or feeling sorry for herself.
A few minutes later her eyes fluttered shut and she drifted off to blissful, dreaming-of-Oliver-Heart-kisses sleep.
The sound of movement in the house had Belinda’s heart pounding. Groggy, she squinted in the dim light of the room, feeling odd . . . lost. Where the hell was she? Not in Nashville! Not at her parents’ house. Not a hotel.
I’m in Oliver Heart’s guest house, she thought suddenly, while reality slowly sifted through her foggy brain. Scenes from earlier in the day played like a trailer in her head: arriving, him naked, the fall, second fall, him naked again.
The kiss.
Belinda brushed her hair from her eyes, wondering what the hell time it was, and had no clue. Must be, like, three in the afternoon maybe? Turning over, she reached toward the nightstand for her phone to see the time, but then she remembered it was still in her purse somewhere in the main room. But then she spotted a digital clock and sat up straight. “Six o’clock?” She’d slept all afternoon! “Ugh!” She ran her tongue over her teeth and decided a shower and basic hygiene were in order. Or better yet, a long, hot bath. She’d never figured out why people preferred showers to baths. In the bath, you soaked in hot water, sat and relaxed instead of having to stand while water annoyingly sprayed you in the face.
Yes, she needed a bath.
Belinda sat up taller and stretched her arms upward, trying to get the kinks out of her out-of-whack, sore body. Hopefully she’d avoid further injury, but not likely. Distraction tended to cause her to run into things.
After fumbling around in the semidark, she found the light switch and turned on the lamp next to the bed. She looked around and nodded. “Nice.” Unlike the living area, the bedroom had a more traditional beach theme, but in an understated, rather rustic way. Driftwood decorated the top of the dresser, and the lamp on the nightstand was made of a huge conch shell that she needed to touch. Belinda liked the lack of clutter and clean lines of the artfully distressed furniture that stood out against the same seafoam color of the walls.
Pushing back the covers, Belinda looked at her knees, relieved to see just slight bruising. Although tomorrow it could look worse. She sometimes thought that furniture just jumped out in front of her. Sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she stood up and tested her weight on her ankle. She let out a sigh of relief when she only felt a twinge of pain. With a limp, mostly from her tender knees, she walked with a zombie gait into the bathroom and turned on the bright light.
Blinking, she mouthed Wow. Spacious for a guest house, the big bathroom boasted a deep whirlpool tub and a walk-in doorless shower. Slate tile and green plants accented the same soothing seafoam color throughout the house. A pedestal sink and large oval mirror gave the room a touch of elegance, and she smiled. Nice.
Belinda located her suitcase with her cosmetics and walked back to the bathroom and started filling the big tub. A few minutes later she luxuriated in a hot, fragrant bubble bath. Taking her time, she washed her hair, shaved her legs, buffed and puffed until she felt squeaky clean.
As she dried off with a thick white towel, she wondered if Oliver had spoken to Devin or Julie and felt a little pang of unease. But then she reminded herself that this little ruse was just as important to Oliver as it was to her, so the result was all that mattered in the end . . . right? She’d just gotten the ball rolling faster. Belinda rolled her eyes. Good thing, because Oliver couldn’t seem to make snap decisions . . . or slow decisions. She, on the other hand, tended to move too quickly, ruled by emotion before examining the facts fully. Maybe they could find a happy medium.
After applying lavender-scented lotion, Belinda calmed down a little bit, but then wondered if she’d see Oliver again that evening. With that thought in mind, she applied makeup and then blew her hair dry. She headed for the walk-in closet in search of her suitcase and tugged on a pair of purple yoga pants and matching top. Feeling human again, she went into the kitchen for something to drink. Much to her delight, the fridge was fully stocked, including a big pitcher of sweet tea.
Belinda put her hands together in prayer. “Oh Oliver Heart, you are the bomb.” She found a handwritten note on the kitchen counter: I knocked on the front door but you must have been sound asleep, so I let myself in. Hope you don’t mind. I’ll give you time to get settled and we can talk business in the morning. Oliver.
Okay, the note was simple and to the point, but for some reason it made Belinda smile. She read it again, and then reached back into the stainless steel fridge and poured herself a tall glass of tea, leaving out the Jack Daniel’s. She knew he was being polite and giving her time to rest, but she wanted to see him. Kiss him.
No! Slow your roll, sis . . . this is pretend. Business. Over in a few months with their lives not likely to cross again.
Belinda nodded slowly but firmly as she reminded herself not to get involved. Even if they did have a spark or developed something more, the timing couldn’t be worse. Two entertainers trying to revive careers and head on the road solo was also a recipe for disaster in so many ways. And she’d had her fill of disasters.
Belinda reminded herself to dismiss how sweet and thoughtful he was—and how smokin’ sexy! But then she made the mistake of looking out the window. There was Oliver Heart in all his shirtless glory, skimming leaves from the pool. She thought that surely he must have a service to do the pool, the lawn, and housecleaning, but he seemed to like doing chores himself. Well damn, she liked him even more. Why couldn’t Oliver be an arrogant jerk like most other pop stars? That way she’d be able to leave this all behind her without a backward glance once they’d completed the job. She smiled when Oliver paused to look up at the sky and she remembered he was kind of a daydreamer. She’d only been around Oliver for a few months when they were younger, and then just mostly for photo ops. She was in one Heartbeat music video, and she remembered having a blast with his brothers, making her wish she’d had siblings. Grady, the oldest and front man, was superhot and usually quiet but friendly. She’d blushed furiously every time he’d looked her way. The twins, Jesse and Jimmy, were opposites: Jesse was always doing something funny and Jimmy was sort of soulful. She read that he’d written some hit songs for other artists in addition to the ones he penned for Heartbeat.
When Heartbeat had broken up, she’d been sad, just like every other young girl who adored the boy band. Their popularity had been waning when she and Oliver did their fake thing, and it pissed Belinda off that their talent hadn’t been taken as seriously as it should have been.
Belinda watched Oliver put his hand to his brow as if shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun to look up at something, or maybe he was just thinking. She watched him for a few more minutes, contemplating heading out there, but when he glanced over at the house she ducked behind the kitchen curtain, hoping he’d failed to see her gawking at him. Belinda took a sip of her iced tea and peeked out the corner of the kitchen window after a few moments to see if he was still outside. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek. Well, she could go out there to thank him for the food. Of course, her tender ankle and knees would make her approach rather awkward. Lumbering isn’t sexy. The pool did look inviting; maybe she could use going for a dip as a reason for coming outside. But then putting on her bathing suit held little appeal. Okay, she had to settle for catching glimpses of him, but then she felt stalkerish and ducked back behind the window.
Belinda grinned as she sipped her tea, remembering how shy he’d been back during their first pretend romance. She’d been surprised, expecting him to be cocky, brash, or arrogant, but he wasn’t.
Belinda closed her eyes. Jeez, they were—what—fifteen? Sixteen? Too young for anything real, and, if she was honest, too young to be in the glare of the spotlight. She smiled. The media sure did love them, and fans believed them being in love. Uh yeah, and she’d received hate mail from some of Oliver’s fans. And some body shaming. Her attempt at blond and reed thin didn’t last all that long. Although she’d developed a thick skin, body shaming still hurt, and while she spoke out about it, Belinda still sometimes felt self-conscious about her size.
The fact that he’d remained a little bit unsure of himself even though he was part of a megasuccessful boy band had also drawn her to him back then. Somehow they’d taken the music seriously but not the fame.
Belinda rubbed her hand down her face and shook her head. And of course she’d been all sass and attitude, mostly because she was also unsure of herself and of the pop music world as a small-town country girl.
Now Belinda cringed when she watched talent shows on television and the contestants were in their teens, many of them from small towns, working in burger joints and going to high school. She and her parents certainly didn’t have any knowledge of contracts or royalties, and they had put their faith in people who only had their own interests in mind. Belinda’s manager was a friend of one of her father’s band mates, the only reason Belinda had convinced her parents to allow her to move to Nashville. Gayle Porter was a sweetheart and knew classic country music inside out. Looking back, something Belinda did way too much, she should have listened to Gayle, who warned her about choosing money over her heart. Gayle was all about building a career that would last in the long run over a short-term burst of fame . . . and she’d been right.
Belinda inhaled deeply, wishing she’d invested her money more wisely back then, but quite honestly, she often wondered if she’d been swindled by those she trusted. But that was, as they say, water under the bridge. Even if she wanted to explore that road, she didn’t have the funds for lawyers to dig into her financial past. But instinct told her that something fishy had gone on. Not that she’d been frugal. For a farm girl to suddenly have what seemed like a constant flow of money? Belinda chuckled. And she’d loved buying expensive gifts for family and friends. “I was so foolish,” she whispered, and inhaled another deep breath.
With her hand over her mouth, Belinda risked another peek out the window, feeling silly. Oh, but looking at Oliver quickened her pulse and made her feel, well, all girly inside. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this giddy pull of attraction. Biting her bottom lip, she turned and leaned against the cool wall. This really sucks.
Belinda didn’t fall in love easily. Trust issues made her cautious, and being a celebrity, even a has-been celebrity, made dating difficult. And she was admittedly a handful, so it took a certain type of guy to let her be herself. How did she know this? Because she hadn’t found him yet. Her upbringing was pickup trucks, bonfires, fishing, and cowboy boots, pretty much like country song lyrics. Field parties on Saturday and church on Sunday morning.
Belinda often craved the simplicity of her childhood, the beauty of the mountains, the friendly small-town people. But most of all, she missed her parents. But after flirting with fame, going back home was never the same. And she somehow felt that her fall from pop stardom let her hometown down. They’d been so proud of her stardom. And now here she was, starting all over again.
She closed her eyes and conjured up the image of her parents’ farmhouse, the front porch where they’d spent so much time. She’d snapped beans with her grandmother. Gone fishing with her friends. Her mother still canned vegetables from her vegetable garden and made jam and jellies from fruit picked in the nearby woods. Oh, and the never-ending music.
Belinda sang in the chorus at school, the church choir on Sundays. At home, the front porch meant listening to the radio or harmonizing with her parents while strumming the guitar. Her father played a mean banjo, and sometimes neighbors would come over and join in. Barn dances meant entertaining hardworking folks on Saturday night, and it was where Belinda learned to entertain and feel the joy of an audience loving her voice, clapping for more.
Gripping her cold glass, Belinda fought back tears. Who knew all that joy would end up bringing her so much heartache?
Well, she wasn’t about to let her parents down. Her father loved the fields, the corn crops, and the fishing pond. Several barns on the property were filled with his collection of Civil War memorabilia and miscellaneous treasures collected over the years. Belinda grinned past the moisture in her eyes. Her mother said his collection was junk, but Jack Beal stubbornly insisted otherwise. Belinda sighed. If they sold the farm, what would happen to her father’s treasures?
Belinda glanced out the window one last time. Oliver was also depending upon her too.
Belinda knew she had to do this, and she would give it her best shot.