Hearts on Fire (8 page)

“Yes.”

She twisted in his arms
and stared up at him, her eyes shining with excitement. “Would you
take me zip lining?”

“Zip lining?” He
stared at her for a couple of seconds. That was the last thing he’d
expected to come out of her mouth. Round two in the bedroom sounded a
lot more appealing.

“Yes. I’ve always
wanted to do it, and there’s a zip line place not far from the
strip.”

“How do you know
that?”

“I looked it up
before we got to Vegas. I was going to ask Wally to go with me, but
then I remembered he’s afraid of heights.” She leaned back to
rest her palms on his biceps. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Please?”

Drew doubted flying
through the air on a wire could be classified as fun. Crazy maybe,
but not fun. “Are you sure? You’ll be mobbed the second someone
recognizes you.”

A clever smile curved
her lips. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks that no one will notice me.”

Not notice her? Was she
insane? A blind man in a raging blizzard would notice her. “You’re
on. And don’t try to welsh on the bet when I win.”

“You’re not gonna
win,” she said confidently, then gave him a sexy smile. “And I’ll
expect payment in full tonight.”

He tightened his arms
around her. “So will I,” he said, just before he kissed her.

Less than an hour
later, as he climbed into the back seat of a white and green taxi and
settled next to Jessie, Drew’s expectation of a fifty-dollar payout
had diminished greatly. To be honest, all his confidence had deflated
rapidly the moment Jessie stepped out of the bathroom wearing: a
short blonde wig, a black T-shirt with the words
Graceland
– Home of Elvis
emblazoned in pink across her chest, and
a pair of hideous black and white striped spandex shorts. Completing
the outfit were a pair of hot pink sneakers. Forget anyone else
recognizing her, if he hadn’t known it was her, even he wouldn’t
have been able to guess her identity.

“Where to, folks?”
the driver, an older man with wiry salt and pepper hair pulled back
into a short pony-tail, asked, looking at them in the rear-view
mirror.

“The Fremont Street
Experience,” Jessie said, eagerly. She turned to Drew and grinned.
He couldn’t see her eyes behind the large dark sunglasses perched
on her nose but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind they were lit up
like a department store Christmas tree. “We’re going zip lining.”

“Then you’re braver
than I am,” the driver said as he pulled away from the MGM’s
front entrance. “Sounds like you don’t mind heights. You should
try out the High Roller.”

“The High Roller?”
Drew echoed. “What’s that?”

“The world’s
tallest observation wheel,” Jessie interjected.

More of her online
research, he assumed.

“Most call it a
Ferris wheel. We’ll pass by it on the way to Fremont Street,” the
driver said. “It’ll be on the right just past the Flamingo.”

Jessie leaned forward.
“Have you been on it?”

“Nope, and I don’t
plan to.” He glanced in the rear-view. “If the good Lord wanted
us to be that high up in the air he would have given us wings.”

Jessie’s delighted
laugh filled the cab, and as she asked the driver another question,
Drew studied her. Being seen in the unflattering disguise hadn’t
bothered her one bit. She actually seemed to relish being anonymous.

Anonymous was one of
the words that came to mind when it came to her past. That, and
mysterious. She rarely spoke of her life before she became famous,
and every time he’d asked her about it, she’d either change the
subject or give him the same spiel she gave to the rest of the world—
her parents died when she was a toddler, and she’d lived with her
grandmother until Wally discovered her busking outside the Memphis
Farmer’s Market. On the surface, her story seemed plausible enough,
but her uneasiness whenever the subject came up made him wonder if
she was hiding something. Despite his suspicions, though, he’d
never pushed her on it. Considering he hadn’t been completely on
the up and up about his own past, he couldn’t very well stand in
judgment of Jessie’s, or anyone else’s for that matter.

After the cab driver
dropped them off on a corner near Fremont Street, they, along with
the other tourists, navigated their way toward the older, but newly
revitalized, downtown area, Drew found himself standing next to
Jessie in front of SlotZilla—a ten or maybe twelve story giant neon
slot machine that stood in the middle of the street.

“This is where we
pay.” Jessie clutched his arm and dragged him towards the entrance
at the bottom of the structure, dodging other tourists along the way.

Although it was early
September, the merciless heat already had sweat beading on the back
of his neck. If it was this hot now, he could only imagine how
intense the heat had been in July and August.

After he paid the
entrance fees, they walked up a flight of stairs to a loading area,
where they were weighed and strapped into their harnesses. The
attendant bagged Jessie’s purse, and hooked it to her harness. Then
he led them to an open-air caged elevator. As the elevator lifted
them and two other tourists to the zip line platform, Drew watched as
the pedestrians below got smaller and smaller. Sweat trickled down
his spine.
Shit.
The
zip lines hadn’t looked this high from the street.

“I can’t wait.”
Unrestrained enthusiasm edged Jessie’s voice.

Drew closed his eyes.
He never thought he had a fear of heights, but suddenly his stomach
felt queasy.

“Are you okay?”
Jessie grabbed his hand. “Drew?” she said, when he didn’t
answer.

He opened his eyes and
looked at her. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look
fine.” Worry pinched a crease between her slightly arched brows.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I’m doing it.”
He took a deep breath against the panic, then gave her a reassuring
smile. “My dad always said fear is good for you. It keeps you on
your toes.”

Drew silently repeated
his father’s mantra until the elevator doors opened, and they were
shepherded onto the launch platform. In front of a metal gate he,
Jessie and their two elevator-mates, were each hooked up to their own
separate zip lines. His heart pounded as the gate opened, and as
instructed, the four of them stepped down a short set of stairs until
their legs dangled freely and the only thing supporting them was the
harnesses they were strapped into.

He heard nothing but
the sound of his quick and shallow breathing, until the attendant
released the brake and they shot out of the platform at a dizzying
speed. Then Jessie’s ecstatic whoop of excitement split the air as
they zipped along Fremont Street. Drew gripped his harness tightly
and dared to open his eyes just as they passed under the canopy that
covered several blocks of the downtown corridor. A few feet ahead of
him, Jessie had leaned back with her legs extended in front of her,
and was hanging on to her harness with only one hand. He envied her
lack of fear, and hung on to the straps of his harness like they were
the only thing keeping him from extreme bodily injury or worse,
death. He was a guitar player,
damn
it
, not a daredevil.

After what seemed like
forever, but was probably less than a minute, the braking system
kicked in and their speed decreased as they approached the landing
platform. The instant Drew’s boots came into contact with the solid
platform, he exhaled the breath he was pretty sure he’d been
holding since take-off. Then he looked at Jessie, who was busy
adjusting her wig. He shook his head, surprised that the ugly-ass
thing hadn’t flown clean off her head. She turned toward him, and
the luminous smile that brightening her face almost stopped his
heart, making every second of the harrowing ride he’d squeamishly
endured worth it.

“Let’s do it
again.” Her voice was high-pitched with exhilaration.

Drew surveyed her pink
cheeks and sparkling eyes and didn’t have the heart to disappoint
her. “Okay, but you’re buying me a beer after this is over.”

If
he lived through it.

By the time the sun had
set, Jessie had gotten used to the strange looks from the tourists
strolling along Fremont Street. It wasn’t the first time she’d
donned the short spiky platinum blonde wig, the garish spandex
shorts, and black Graceland T-shirt. Although she liked John, there
were times when she wanted to sightsee on her own, without her
bodyguard drawing attention to her. Concealing her identity seemed to
be the only solution. As far as disguises went, it was effective.
Most people were too horrified by the outfit to look at her face. And
if they did, the wig was so different from her long dark hair that
they failed to recognize her anyway.

If Drew was embarrassed
to be seen with her, it wasn’t apparent by his actions. After zip
lining, they sat at the Kings Bar inside the Four Queens Hotel and
Casino, to escape the heat. Over a couple of beers, they had
people-watched and talked about their favorite subject—music—for
a few hours. Other than Wally, Drew was the only person who knew she
wrote many of the songs on her albums. Afraid her young age would
prevent people from taking her songwriting seriously, she’d chosen
a pseudonym, then kept it after she’d hit it big. A great many of
her songs were personal, and she didn’t want to feel obligated to
explain them. And after seeing how the media and tabloids dissected
every song Taylor Swift wrote, she was glad she’d made that choice.

After leaving the Four
Queens, they each sampled a deep fried Oreo, and then hung out in
front of the Mermaid bar and listened to a local group called The
Party Rockers perform on the 1st Street stage. The lead singer, a
woman, had a great voice, and the band seemed to specialize in a
variety of dance club hits. The large crowd that gathered around the
stage danced and sang along with enthusiastic abandon. Then, they
watched in awe as one of the hourly light shows played on the canopy
high above Fremont Street. The kaleidoscope of colors combined with
the music and the archival footage of the legendary rock band, The
Who, was mesmerizing.

Now, as she and Drew
walked hand in hand against the steady stream of tourists, they
navigated their way toward SlotZilla with the intent of catching a
cab that would take them back to the MGM. Despite the crowd, Fremont
Street had an intimate, laid-back party atmosphere, totally unlike
the more sophisticated vibe of the strip. When they reached Las Vegas
Boulevard, Drew led her away from the crosswalk to wait for a cab.

“Did you have fun?”
He moved to stand in front of her. “Blondie,” he added, with a
grin.

Jessie laughed and
touched the wig with her free hand. “Yes.”

“I guess I owe you
fifty bucks. No one recognized you.”

“I’ll let you off
the hook for the fifty since you paid for the zip line three times.”
She smiled up at him. “I could tell it wasn’t as fun for you as
it was for me.”

“You know what? By
the third time, I actually liked it,” he said, then tugged her hand
as a cab sped past them. “Let’s walk to the corner. It’ll
probably be easier to catch a cab there.”

As they headed for the
corner, Drew put his arm around her shoulders. The sun had long since
set, but the temperature hadn’t dipped much. The warm air brushed
over her skin and she let out a contented sigh. Although she and Drew
hadn’t talked about what had happened between them in her suite,
the smoldering glances he’d thrown her way for the last several
hours told her he’d been thinking about it. And so had she.
Especially when he touched her. “This has been a perfect night. I
wish it didn’t have to end.”

“Who says it has to
end?” he asked, as they stopped near the corner. “All we’ve
eaten since lunch is a fried Oreo. Why don’t we go back to the MGM,
shower, change our clothes, and then meet for dinner?”

“I’m kind of done
with crowds,” she said. “How about after we shower and change,
you come to my suite, and we’ll order dinner from room service?”
She paused and hoped she’d been reading him right all afternoon. “I
want to be alone with you.”

“I want that too.”
The light from a nearby streetlamp slanted over his face and revealed
his darkened eyes. “Jessie, we should talk—”

“No.” She lifted a
quick hand to his lips. “Not tonight. Let’s just enjoy being with
each other and worry about what it all means tomorrow.” At his
silent nod, she lowered her hand. “Look, there’s a cab,” she
said, as she spied a taxi slowing to make a left hand turn at the
corner.

Seconds later, Drew
opened the door of the cab, but before she could duck inside, he
gently wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. She turned her head
to look at him. “It means a lot.”

Her stomach fluttered
at the low, rough sound of his voice. “For me too,” she said
softly, then slid into the cab.

An hour and a half
later, she ran a brush through her freshly washed and blow-dried
hair, and gave herself a quick once-over in the bathroom mirror. She
hadn’t planned on washing her hair, but after wearing a wig for
most of the day, it was a necessity.

The knock on the door
forestalled any further thoughts of changing into another outfit. She
took a steadying breath, smoothed the palms of her hands down the
fabric of her green jersey, halter dress, and left the bathroom. By
the time she reached the door, her nerve endings had shifted into
high-alert mode, and when she opened the door and saw Drew, she
couldn’t ignore the thrill of happiness that fluttered in her
heart.

On any other guy, a
white button down chambray shirt with the sleeves carelessly rolled
up, and a pair of faded blue jeans would look ordinary. But not on
Drew. Someday, when he got famous—and she was sure he would—she
wouldn’t be the only woman appreciating his understated, yet sexy
good looks.