Facing the Music (18 page)

It was crap like this that forced him to keep copies of everything he had. It was pretty bad to run into someone shadier than he was, but it happened a lot. That snotty little rich girl thought she could just screw him and get away with it. She must be used to getting everything she wanted.

Well, she’d crossed the wrong guy. Nash always got what he wanted, too. And right now, he was thinking he wanted to see her writhe on a hook more than he wanted the rest of his money. It was a bullshit story anyway. She wouldn’t come up with another dime; he could tell by the dismissive way she wouldn’t even make eye contact with him.

He wasn’t worried, though. He’d find someone else who wanted the pictures and screw her over. With a sigh, he slipped the envelope of cash into his inner coat pocket.

“You’ll regret this.”

There were few things
Blake liked more than being out on his boat. He loved skimming along the surface at high speed, the wind in his hair and the spray misting his face. There was a peacefulness about being out on the water. Even the sound of the trolling motor was a soothing hum.

Well into September, the heat and humidity had given way to temperatures in the high seventies with a light breeze. Blake slowed the boat and circled around to his favorite fishing spot. Willow Lake was large, but only maybe fifteen feet deep. The area he preferred was in a shallower section. About twenty years ago, Jasper Daniels had drunk a little too much beer and accidentally driven his 1974 Ford F-150 into the lake. He got out fine, but the truck made the lake its final resting place. Over the years, it had developed into an artificial reef that was a favorite with the bass that swam in these waters.

He killed the outboard motor, moving to the front of the boat to put down the trolling motor that would keep them slowly moving through the area where they wanted to fish.

Ivy was sitting two seats over from where he’d been, a giant red life vest strapped to her like the
Titanic
was about to go down. She was wearing an Alabama ball cap with her ponytail looped through the back and a large pair of dark sunglasses. A concerned frown pulled down the corners of her lips, disrupted only by the occasional frantic slapping at an imaginary bug.

Blake couldn’t help smiling. It was mean of him to make her do this, but Ivy could use a little time getting back to her roots. California was fine, with its organic wines, raw bars, and vegan cupcakes, but that wasn’t how she grew up. She grew up on fried catfish with hush puppies, banana pudding, and fresh venison stew.

He didn’t know exactly why he had this urge to reexpose her to her past. Fishing probably wasn’t the best way to make her fall in love with her home again, but it was a start. If she could focus more on the nature and enjoy the slower pace of living, she might want to come home more often. Or for good.

Blake swallowed hard. He thought he had come to terms with the idea of giving up Ivy in three days, but apparently not. Spending the last two days without her, knowing she was off with that movie star, certainly hadn’t helped the situation. He wasn’t the jealous type, he had no right to be, and yet his imagination ran wild with the thought of them together.

Blake wasn’t in love—that would be silly after only a few days—but he still felt proprietary about her. He could see the potential building between them again. Ivy just needed to give Rosewood a real chance. To give Blake a real chance. Not just some casual fling with a clock ticking down the time they had left.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Are you ready?”

Ivy shrugged, standing up on unsteady feet. The water was still, the boat barely moving. Sea legs shouldn’t be a requirement and yet she wobbled in her water shoes.

“You said you haven’t done this since you were eight?”

“Yes. When I was little, my dad would take me here on Sunday afternoons. We’d fish off the end of the dock. He didn’t have a boat until I bought him one last year.”

“Well, you’re an old pro, then. Let me get you a pole.”

“Are you going to make me bait my own hook?” she asked in a soft, tentative voice he wasn’t used to hearing from her. “My daddy would always do it for me.”

Blake smiled, suppressing the laughter bubbling in his throat. The woman had no problem performing in front of thousands of people or on live television, but she was squeamish about handling bait. Admittedly, he had been tempted, just to see her squirm, but he never used live bait and he wasn’t going to start today.

“No,” he said. “The lures are already tied on. I use crank bait.” He opened up a felt-covered panel on the deck of the boat and pulled out a small yellow-and-green plastic fish with two hooks dangling from it.

Ivy sighed in relief. “Thank goodness.”

After that she finally smiled for the first time today. Blake got both of them set up and their lines cast into the water. As he’d hoped, she seemed to relax into the activity of fishing. Without anyone else on the water, they were able to sit quietly and enjoy each other’s company while they sipped bottles of sweet tea.

Blake caught a few fish, but only one was big enough for him to throw into the live well to keep. The rest were released back into the lake. Ivy didn’t have much luck, but it didn’t seem to bother her. After a while, she was content to reel her line in and just sit watching the water as the sun started to set.

“I’ve got the fixin’s for dinner back at my cabin whenever we’re done here,” Ivy said after a long silence.

“You’re cooking?” he asked.

Ivy turned to look at him and rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I had Ruth put a basket together for me this afternoon. Then I stopped at Rosewood Bakery and picked up some dessert from Miss Estelle.”

“That sounds great. I—” His sentence terminated as he felt a sharp tug on his lure. He’d got one and it was a big one. Maybe his biggest catch of the day. “Here we go!” he shouted. “Go grab the net, will you?”

Ivy leaped up to grab the net they’d left on the rear platform of the boat earlier. She’d helped him scoop up the last two fish, so she was a pro by now. He was working on reeling in his catch when he heard the buzz of another boat coming near on the water.

Blake looked up just in time to see Ned Tyler zip by in his boat. He threw up a hand to wave, then quickly returned to fighting for his fish. “Hold on, Ivy, the wake’s coming. It can be a little rough,” he said, his eyes focused on the pole and line in front of him.

“What did you—?”

Ivy’s question was interrupted by the wave of the other boat’s wake, rocking theirs up and down. Blake braced his feet for the movement he was accustomed to. That was when he heard a shriek silenced by a loud splash. Blake looked over his shoulder to find he was alone on the boat.

Forgetting his catch, he quickly cut his line and set his pole aside, rushing to the back of the boat. He wasn’t too worried; they were in only seven feet of water, but if anyone could find a way to drown, it would be Ivy.

Blake found her just off the stern, bobbing like a cork in her life jacket, her hair plastered to her beet-red face. “You should’ve told me you wanted to go swimming,” he said. “I’d have brought my trunks.”

In her hand, Ivy was still clutching the net, although he was pretty certain she was about to chuck it at him. He took it from her, tossing it aside, then reached out for her hand. “Put your foot on the side of the motor.”

A second after they made contact, before he could tug, he saw a wicked gleam in her eyes. But it was too late. With his balance off-center, Ivy tugged instead.

Blake tumbled headfirst into the lake. He fought his way back to the surface, then clambered through the water to capture Ivy in one arm and grip the boat with the other. She gave out a loud squeal as he grabbed her and tugged her body against his. Well, as close as he could get it with that giant life preserver around her neck.

“You,” he said, “are a very naughty girl.”

Ivy grinned wide, far more pleased with being in the water now that she wasn’t alone. “I am a naughty girl,” she agreed. “I should be punished.”

“Oh really?” Blake said, his eyebrows shooting up. The cold water did little to prevent the warm surge of desire that started pumping through his veins as she squirmed against him. “What exactly do you have in mi—”

“Eeee!”

Blake jerked back, his eyes wide at Ivy’s sudden declaration of distress. “What’s the matter?”

She looked panicked at the murky water, her feet kicking frantically beneath the surface and inadvertently pummeling his shins. He’d pay for that later. “Something slimy just touched my leg.”

“Relax. It was probably just a freshwater eel.”

“What?” Ivy shrieked, her eyes getting bigger than he’d ever seen them before. “Are you kidding me? There are eels in this lake?”

Blake chuckled. “There are, but they like the deeper waters. I was just messing with you.”

Ivy punched him in the arm and started climbing back into the boat. He followed behind her, whipping his wet shirt over his head. “You just wait until I wash the fish muck off you, girl. You’re going to pay.”

Chapter Seventeen

“You smell much
better now.”

They were having a picnic dinner on a blanket sprawled across the wood floor. After returning to the cabin, they’d bathed, christened her bed, bathed again, changed into dry clothes, and put together the dinner Ruth had packed for them. Ivy was absolutely stuffed, but that didn’t stop them from putting a slice of red velvet cake from the bakery on a plate to share.

Blake was sitting beside her and he looked up from the plate with a bite of cake midair on his fork. “I went out to the lake smelling just fine. If I smelled funky after you pulled me into the water, whose fault is that?”

“You looked hot,” she said with a smile. “I was just being helpful.”

Blake put the cake into his mouth and shook his head. “If you’d been sincerely helpful, you wouldn’t have gotten that spanking.”

Ivy blushed and accepted the bite of cake he fed her. The last half hour or so, they’d eaten in relative silence. Ivy knew Blake wanted to say something. She was content to wait for him to figure out how to phrase it.

“Ivy . . .” he said at last.

“Yes?”

Every muscle in his face and neck seemed tense, although she couldn’t fathom why. “You know . . .” he began, “when we first started this, I liked that you didn’t want to get serious. The women around here aren’t really interested in
me
. They might say they are, but deep down, they want the name, the prestige, and the invitation to tea with my grandmother. My money is also an incentive, but they don’t actually give a damn about me as a person. They pursue me like hunters during bow season. You didn’t seem to want any part of me. That’s what made you attractive, I guess.”

Ivy looked at him with raised brows and he corrected, “I mean, you’re attractive. Of course you are. But I liked knowing that you didn’t have this underlying motive to lock me down.”

“You don’t know, Blake. I could’ve come back to town to reclaim you and snatch you from the bloodthirsty clutches of Lydia.”

“Ugh.” He shuddered. “What I’m getting at is that things have changed. For me at least. Despite the short time we’ve been together again, it feels like all those years apart never happened.”

Ivy understood what he was saying. They had been each other’s whole world for years. Once the animosity between them was gone, it felt like old times. It felt like she should tell him she loved him before they went their separate ways. It would be such a reflex to say it. She didn’t think she loved him, not really; the old feelings were just lingering from before.

“I know this relationship has this ticking time bomb looming on the horizon Saturday night, but does it have to? Do we have to write this whole thing off because your time here is done?”

“How will it work, Blake?” It all sounded good, but the execution would be the hard part. “We live on opposite sides of the country and we’re both busy with work. Our last attempt at a long-distance relationship didn’t end so well, if you recall.”

Blake frowned at her. “It’s different now. We’re older, more mature. I can assure you that you won’t catch me with a cheerleader this time.”

“It’s not just that, Blake. It’s the time factor. When I go back to LA, I’m going into the studio to record a new album. We’ll start filming music videos, scheduling press events to advertise the first release. Even if I came back here at my first opportunity, it would probably be Thanksgiving or even Christmas. That’s not fair to you.”

“What’s not fair is dismissing what we have together just because it might be inconvenient or hard. I think we deserve the chance to see what could happen between us if we really committed to this. Listen,” he continued, “even if we only try it a few months and decide it won’t work, at least we gave it a shot. We won’t have any lingering regrets. Maybe then . . . I’ll finally be able to sleep at night knowing I didn’t drive away the only woman in my life I’ve ever wanted to marry.”

Ivy’s eyes widened as all the breath whooshed out of her.

“I wasn’t ready back then.” Blake set the plate aside and leaned in closer to her. “I was too young and stupid to appreciate the gift I’d been given, but even then, I knew you were something special. And you still are. Now I know better than to let you walk away.”

An overwhelming feeling of hope surged in Ivy’s chest. She hadn’t had a man say something like that to her in so long . . . Dating bad boys had its price, but she hadn’t realized how steep the cost had been until that moment. She’d been desired, wanted, and shown off, but not loved, adored, cherished, or appreciated. It was no wonder she couldn’t write a real love song. She hadn’t felt loved.

Blake looked at her, his baby-blue eyes pleading with her for something she was desperate to give. “Let’s try. That’s all I’m asking.”

Ivy didn’t have to reply. Her lips answered for her when she closed the gap between them and pressed her mouth to his.

She practically crawled into his lap, straddling him to get closer as they kissed. She buried her fingers in his dark hair. He held her so tightly, every touch they shared so intense, that she knew this time it would be different. It wasn’t just sex. They were coming together like it was the first time. Like they were truly making love.

The words sent a shiver down Ivy’s spine. She’d convinced herself that her reaction to Blake was just old, residual feelings confusing her, but now she knew she’d been wrong. She loved Blake. And she did want to try. She was just scared to death to let herself really feel it. To share it. That was a huge risk she wasn’t ready to take.

And yet, admitting it to herself was somehow freeing. It was like a floodgate had opened inside her. She couldn’t touch or taste or experience Blake enough. She writhed in his lap as they kissed, their sensitive parts rubbing together until sparks lit beneath her eyelids.

Although Blake would never say so, Ivy knew making love aggravated his leg. She’d seen him slink out of bed in the night to get pain pills when he thought she was asleep. Tonight, she wanted to take care of him. Pressing her hands against his shoulders, she pushed gently until he was lying back on the blanket.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Whatever I want to.”

Blake arched his eyebrow at her, but he didn’t complain. He held perfectly still as her nimble fingers moved down the front of his shirt, undoing each button and exposing the expanse of skin beneath it. Her palms ran over his skin, relishing the feel of his chest hair tickling her hands. She leaned forward, letting her tongue glide along his collarbone, and then she crept down his body to the button of his jeans.

“Your hair tickles,” he said.

Ivy gathered up the long, wavy strands of her hair into one hand and swept them over her shoulder. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Not on your life,” he said between tightly gritted teeth as her fingertips brushed the edge of his waistband.

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a smile. “Now, stop complaining.”

Ivy settled between his legs, resting on her knees as she unbuttoned his jeans and slipped one hand inside. Blake groaned loudly as her palm ran over the firm heat of his desire. She stroked it gently from base to tip. When Blake became so tense that she thought he might hurt his leg from flexing his muscles so tightly, she took her hand away. She tugged at his back pockets, pulling his jeans down the length of his legs and throwing them out of her way. She moved back over him doing the same with his underwear, which thankfully, this time, were a pair of charcoal-gray boxers. They slid easily out of her way, leaving nothing between her and her goal.

She leisurely traveled back up his legs. Her fingertips gently brushed along the puckered pink scars on his calf and across his kneecap. By the time she reached his upper thigh, he was nearly trembling. Ivy wasn’t sure if it was with anticipation, emotion, or pain.

His hand reached out and snatched her wrist as she moved higher. “This hardly seems fair,” he said. “You’re wearing entirely too much clothing for me to be wearing so little.”

“Who’s doing this? You or me?”

Blake acquiesced and released her hand. He crossed his arms behind his head, giving himself an excellent vantage point for overseeing her activities. “You are, ma’am.”

“That’s right. Now are you going to keep critiquing everything I do, or do I need to put something in your mouth to shut you up?”

A wicked grin crossed Blake’s face as he looked at her. “May I offer a suggestion?”

“I have several ideas of my own,” she said. “However, I’d like to take care of a few things first, if you don’t mind.”

He had the good sense not to answer this time. Probably because Ivy had her fingers wrapped around him. She leaned down and tipped the length of him toward her mouth. Blake’s head dropped to the floor with a thud and a groan as she made contact. Her tongue bathed his smooth skin, her lips tightening around his length. She could see Blake’s hands balled at his sides now, his eyes tightly shut as he fought to keep control. She pushed him near to his breaking point, then pulled away to give him time to catch his breath.

Ivy sat up, reaching for a condom and sliding it down the length of him. She eased her shirt over her head. Her bra followed. Blake’s appreciative gaze on her every move encouraged her to savor each moment. She stood up to slip out of her shorts and panties, kicking them aside. She should feel so exposed standing there like that, but she didn’t. Not with the blatant expression of desire on Blake’s face.

She crouched down, straddling him. His warm hands caressed her hips as she leaned forward, then eased back to guide him inside her. Her head fell back and her eyes closed as the penetrating sensation coursed through her veins. With a gentle rock of her hips, she started moving. Blake’s fingertips pressed into her flesh, guiding her speed even as he bit into his lip. He flexed and tensed beneath her, providing the solid base she needed to make every motion count.

It didn’t take long for both of them to near the edge. Blake reached for her, pulling her down to kiss her deeply before she buried her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him, and moved into her from below.

Ivy’s heart swelled at being so close to him. She could feel his pulse racing against her lips as they pressed to his throat. She could feel every muscle in him tense with every thrust. When her release hit her, he held her even tighter, whispering soft words of encouragement into her ear until her body stilled and his own orgasm rushed in.

They lay together like that for a long time. Their heartbeats slowed along with their breathing. Eventually, Ivy rolled to his side and curled against him. As hard as the floor might have seemed, there was no way either of them would move from that spot. The moment was absolutely perfect, and they wanted it to stay that way.

Preparations for Saturday night’s
concert started early. Thursday morning, the stage was being set up under the goalpost of the football field. By the time Blake’s first-period gym class ended, the high school was crawling with roadies. When his last class was finished and he was heading for his truck, he saw that the property had been completely transformed into a stadium perfect for a concert by the famous Ivy Hudson.

What he didn’t expect was to find that sketchy reporter Nash Russell leaning against his truck. He was holding a manila envelope in his hands and twitching nervously.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Blake said. “For those prom pictures alone, I oughta throttle you.”

Nash held up his hands in surrender. “Before you start pounding me, I’m here with a peace offering.”

Blake frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “What could you possibly offer me aside from some time as a human punching bag?”

“Hear me out. I have some pictures I thought you might be interested in.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve got pictures you’re not interested in blasting all over the Web?”

Nash smiled. “This isn’t really my thing, but it might be yours.” He opened the envelope and let a few color photographs slip into his hands. He handed one to Blake and waited for his reaction.

Blake looked down at the photograph. It took him a minute to figure out what he was looking at, but when he realized what Nash had caught on film, he was stunned. It was a photograph of Lydia at the parade. The shot was focused on Ivy on her horse, but it was easy to see that Lydia was holding something in her hand.

“I didn’t like the way that day went down,” he said. “Spooking that horse wasn’t cool. Someone could’ve gotten hurt. And if Ivy had been that person, I would’ve lost my meal ticket. I can always find another starlet to chase, but Ivy’s grown on me.” Nash handed over a second photograph.

This picture clearly showed Lydia throwing something into the street. Blake had been certain before, but now he had the proof he needed. Maybe. He didn’t know what this Nash guy really wanted. Money? Access to Ivy? Insider information? “These are some nice pictures,” he said, noncommittally. He wasn’t going to act too interested or the price would likely go up. “If I was interested in having copies of my own, what would we be talking about here?”