Читать книгу His Country Cinderella - Karen Smith Rose - Страница 9

Jeannette watched Zane carefully as he picked up a puzzle piece and showed Jonah how to look for straight and crooked edges. He looked relaxed now, leaning over the coffee table with her son. She couldn’t keep her gaze from skimming down his torso, over his slim hips and his long jean-clad legs.

Easily, she remembered everything she’d read about Zane for the last decade of his career—number one singles, Grammys, CMA awards for Best Male Vocalist, sellout concerts, a multimillion-dollar tour cut short. Curiously, she’d examined photos of him with glamorous women, climbing in and out of limos, even a helicopter flight to one of the concerts. She’d never even seen a helicopter live, let alone been in one. The same with a limo.

So why was he here in her living room, spending time with her and her son? And what was the truth about what had happened at the concert and how he’d reacted afterward? She had so many questions and she didn’t know if she’d ever have the answers.

When Zane glanced her way, her outfit almost made her cringe. “I’m going to change out of my work clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Quickly, she mentally flashed through her wardrobe which wasn’t that extensive, and in a few minutes came up with a pink scoop-necked sweater and jeans. After she slipped on an old pair of espadrilles, she took the band from her hair and brushed it. With a touch of lip gloss, she knew she was about as ready as she’d ever be—to face Zane, his private and public persona and anything he wanted to tell her.

As she reentered the living room, Zane nudged Jonah’s shoulder. “Doesn’t your mom look pretty?”

Jonah stared at her for a couple of seconds, then glanced back at Zane. “She looks like she always does.”

Although she’d first been embarrassed, Jonah’s remark helped her smile when Zane chuckled. “Kids say it like it is,” Zane decided with a shrug. “You must be pretty all the time.”

She was twenty-eight years old and shouldn’t feel like a shy teenager, but she did, especially now that she knew who he was. Did glib remarks fly off his tongue easily? Was that honesty she saw in his eyes? Or practiced flirting? How would she ever know?

Once Jeannette was seated on the sofa beside Zane, she helped Jonah put together the last few pieces of the puzzle.

“You didn’t eat.” Zane motioned to her sandwich, half eaten, on the dish on the coffee table.

“I had enough.”

His brows arched.

She felt she had to explain. “Sometimes I’m just too tired to eat when I get home. Or too busy.”

“Jeannette, you have to—”

“I know what you’re going to say. But I did sample a new recipe for wings at the restaurant, and a square of bread pudding, too.

“That’s what you had to eat all day?”

“And breakfast. Jonah and I had scrambled eggs, toast and a little bit of fruit.”

“Mom makes great eggs.”

“I’ll bet she does. Ready to start on that second puzzle?”

Jonah looked at Jeannette with one of those “little boy” looks that told her he wanted something. She waited.

Finally, he asked, “Can Zane read me a book?”

Zane seemed to know intuitively what to do. He gave her a little nod, showing her he was game.

“It’s a book or a puzzle. Then you do have to go to bed.”

“Oh, Mom. It’s late night.”

“Yes, I know, and it’s already getting late. One or the other. You choose.”

After a few seconds Jonah decided, “A book. In my room.”

Jeannette knew if she let Zane into Jonah’s room, she was letting him further into her life. Yet sitting beside him on the sofa, almost aware of every breath he took, definitely aware of his cologne and the restrained strength of him beside her, she felt as if she were fighting a losing battle. “Go pick out the book. Then we’ll be in.”

After Jonah was out of earshot, Zane asked, “Does he often back you into a corner like that?”

“More often than I’d like him to. For four-and-a-half he has great manipulative skills.” She lifted her chin and studied Zane’s face. “Why did you come tonight?” Could she get even one of her answers?

“Because I wanted to see you again…because I hoped you didn’t believe everything you read.”

She had to be honest with him. “I hadn’t read much, not until this afternoon when I went to the library and searched your name on the computer.”

“I see.” His voice was tense and much more distant.

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“Mommy! Zane! I found a book.”

Rising to her feet Jeannette said, “My guess is he picked the longest one he could find.”

But when they reached Jonah’s room, Jeannette found he had picked one of his favorite books rather than the longest. It was a funny book with silly pictures and lots of rhymes.

Sitting on the bed beside Jonah, Zane put expression into the words without half trying. Jonah laughed and so did Zane, and her heart ached with everything Jonah needed that she couldn’t provide. A dad’s love was different than a mom’s. Her gaze fell on the photograph of Ed on Jonah’s bedside table. He would have loved his son and done anything for him. He’d proven that when he’d taken two jobs and worked so many hours she’d hardly seen him. That had been her fault. If she hadn’t missed so many days of work because of morning sickness, if she hadn’t started spotting…if she hadn’t gotten pregnant…

She had switched from birth control pills to patches and one week she’d simply forgotten to change it. When she discovered she was pregnant, she hadn’t known how Ed would react. They’d been together for three years and he’d been dragging his feet about commitment. They’d been living together, but sometimes she still felt he could walk away at any time. Yet when she told him she was pregnant, he’d said they should get married. However, he kept putting it off, finally pushing the event until after the baby was born. She would have liked to have gotten married before Jonah was born. But she was just so glad Ed was finally ready that she hadn’t questioned him and hadn’t pushed, although a part of her had always wondered if he was doing it out of duty or out of love.

She still didn’t know. She’d never know.

“All done,” Jonah suddenly said, slapping the covers of the book together. “We could read it again.”

“Or not,” Jeannette said firmly. “Say good-night to Zane and I’ll help you get ready for bed.”

Jonah’s good-night for Zane came accompanied with another hug. Her little boy was getting attached very quickly. Maybe if Zane were an ordinary man, she’d let it continue. But how could she when she knew who he was? When he didn’t have a normal life? When his interlude in Thunder Canyon might not last very long? When he could be gone tomorrow?

Tonight when she finished Jonah’s bedtime ritual and left his door open a crack, she found Zane pacing the living room. “What’s wrong?” she asked, knowing something was.

“I have no business being here. If a journalist got wind of what I was doing and where I was, I’d be dragging you and Jonah into everything that’s going on.”

“You call that tripe written about you journalism?”

He grimaced. “Well, at least you could see it wasn’t that. Some people can’t see through it. They think an article in a publication that writes about alien abductions is the same as one in the New York Times.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “Would you like a beer?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Did you have supper?”

“I ate one of those frozen dinners you stocked my freezer with.”

“How about a Southwestern omelet? I bought salsa on sale at the grocery store and Woody, my manager, was going to throw away perfectly good containers of sour cream. The waitresses divided them up.”

“That sounds great. But if you’re too tired to cook, I don’t need anything.”

“This will take five minutes. And from your pictures six months ago and the way you look now, I’d say you need to eat a little more than you’re eating, too.”

“You sound like Dillon.”

“With good reason. How much weight have you lost?”

“About fifteen pounds. But I often lose ten when I start a new tour.”

“Really?”

“It happens. My hours aren’t regular and I’m a perfectionist. I work in my bus, not only writing music, but staying on top of the business, promotion with my publicist, gigs with my manager, money flow with the accountant. I delegate, but I still oversee everything. I don’t want any unhappy surprises when I least expect them.”

Jeannette took eggs from the refrigerator and pulled out the jar of salsa. The frying pan, though clean, was sitting on the stove from that morning. “Is any part of your life normal?”

“Normal becomes what we make it, don’t you think?”

“Is that an excuse for saying no?”

“You cut right through it, don’t you?”

“I have to, Zane. I’m a single mom. I can’t lie to myself and I can usually read evasive tactics in others. It’s a gift,” she added teasingly, trying to lighten the conversation a little.

Shaking his head, Zane took a spatula from a utensil crock on the counter and handed it to her. “Do you need anything else from the refrigerator?”

“There’s some grated cheese in there. If you could get that—”

In five minutes the omelet was finished and divided in two. Jeannette had popped bread into the toaster and grabbed the strawberry jelly from the fridge. “Edna made it. It’s good.”

Zane ate like a man who was enjoying his food. After he finished, he said, “That hit the spot. Maybe I just enjoy food more when I have someone to eat with.” He motioned to her empty plate. “It might be the same for you.”

“It might be. I eat more with Jonah, or when we have a Sunday dinner with Edna and Mel.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not lately. With this job at LipSmackin’ Ribs, my hours are all over the place. I work weekends whenever I can.” She didn’t have to say because of the tips. He knew that already.

Zane picked up his fork and hers with both their plates and loaded it all into the small dishwasher.

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. You cooked. I clean up. It’s an unwritten contract.”

“I think there are a lot of men in this world who are unaware of that contract.”

Zane closed the door to the dishwasher. “Let’s go sit on the sofa and talk. You deserve to know the truth about what happened at my last concert.”

In the living room they settled on the sofa a few inches apart. Jeannette thought about sitting in the matching chair, but she wanted to be near Zane for a reason other than her attraction to him. Maybe he’d give off signals that would tell her if he was being glib or guarded or dishonest. She also had to admit she just wanted to be close to him. Because he was a star? Actually, no. It was because there was something about him that made her heart race and her skin tingle and her stomach flip-flop.

Zane glanced at her, then raked his hand through his thick brown hair. With the table lamp beside him, she realized there were burnished strands in it. He wore a Stetson so much of the time that she hadn’t noticed them before.

“I began promoting my new CD last September when I performed at Frontier Days. I had written a lead song—‘Movin’ On’—and performed it for the first time here at the arena at the fairgrounds. When my CD was released last year, sales skyrocketed and the tour started off with a bang.”

“How many concerts do you do a week?”

“That depends. I’d rather do several close together, and then give everybody a break for a week or two. That’s easier on their family life. But spring through summer is our busiest time.”

“You said you have a bus?”

He frowned. “Yep. I used to call it my home away from home. But now—”

“Tell me what happened,” she requested, knowing the bus was involved.

He hesitated, obviously reluctant. After heaving a deep breath, he began, “It was early April. I’d done a bunch of media events in New York and L.A. We’d started a monthlong series of concerts and did a few in the Southwest. Texas concerts are great because I can usually wiggle in time to see my mom and old friends who still live in Midland.”

When he stopped, she could see the shadows in his eyes, the click of memories playing that he’d rather avoid. He shifted on the sofa, leaned forward, placed his hands on his knees. “We performed at a venue near Austin. It was an outdoor arena with stadiumlike seats under cover, others close to the stage, not covered. It was an evening show with all the lights and hoopla that can make a concert spectacular. The audience was great. They’d come to enjoy themselves, to sing along, clap, stomp, whatever it took to feel part of the music.”

Jeannette could see Zane was reliving it, maybe feeling the rhythm under his feet, his guitar in his hands, the songs in his head.

“Because it was a night concert, I did the meet and greet beforehand,” he explained. “I met with folks in the fan club, spoke with others who’d won tickets through radio contests, that sort of thing. But I also signed autographs for about an hour before the concert with the general audience. I wanted to get on the road and didn’t want it to go too late afterward.”

She could imagine the crowd, the concertgoers vying for his autograph on hands and T-shirts and CD covers. It had been a long, long time since she’d been at a concert, but she remembered the feel of it, the excitement, the bass vibrating in her chest.

Zane rubbed his palms on his jeans and stared straight ahead. “The audience got more revved up with each song, and we found ourselves doing more than we scheduled, just because we were enjoying it so much. I usually plan two encores, but I think we did five that night. I’ll admit it’s hard for me to leave the stage when the audience is that encouraging. Or at least it was.”

From the tone in Zane’s voice she could tell he felt differently about all of it now.

“Tell me what happened,” she requested gently.

He turned to look at her for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll never forget it, as long as I live.” He paused. “I had a bodyguard who went with me everywhere. Roscoe handled my personal security team. They’re supposed to keep me safe and they always did a terrific job of it. My promoter was in charge of the security force for the concert venue. They’d done a fine job with that large crowd. The concert had gone off without a hitch. The band had already left. Then…”

He stopped. “I’m not sure what happened. My tour bus was parked at the back of the stage. Often a crowd gathers there to catch a glimpse of me leaving. It happens everywhere we go and it’s not unusual. There had never been a problem before. But that night the crowd around the bus suddenly got too large and too close. Roscoe and his team formed a line for me to get to the bus. I was on the first step when I heard and felt the surge, saw the fans break through the guard line. The next thing I knew, someone was down and there was screaming. The 9-1-1 call went out and I still wasn’t sure what had happened. Roscoe shoved me into the bus and I was fighting him to get into the crowd. But he insisted they would tear me apart. I told him I wasn’t leaving until I knew what had happened. We’d called the police to tell them we were circling the venue. As far as I was concerned, this was my concert, my responsibility. I made the calls myself to the chief of police and the nearest hospital, but nobody would tell me anything. During all that, my manager called a lawyer. I didn’t want to talk to him. I wasn’t worried about liability. I was worried about whoever got hurt.”

Jeannette could hear the emotion in Zane’s voice, the rough huskiness that stopped him from telling more.

Finally he shifted on the sofa. His knee grazed hers as he faced her. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. My lawyer has instructed me not to talk about it to anybody, not to go near Ashley’s family or talk to them.”

Jeannette knew Ashley Tuller had been thirteen. This was breaking her heart, imagining what her parents felt…what Zane was feeling. “You don’t know me very well, Zane,” she admitted. “But I can tell you I won’t go to a tabloid and I won’t talk to a reporter. That doesn’t mean you’ll believe me. I think I already understand that Ashley’s death was life-changing for you, so if you don’t want to talk about it more, or can’t, that’s okay.”

“I haven’t talked to anyone about it except for my lawyer. I haven’t even spoken to Dillon or the guys in my band about the details.”

If he hadn’t told his best friend, his closest friends, she doubted he’d tell her. She didn’t know if she should, but she reached out and covered his hand with hers.

The nerve in his jaw jumped. “Ashley had a head injury, severe trauma. She was airlifted to a hospital in Dallas best equipped to deal with that. For three days she was in a coma—three days when her parents didn’t know if she was going to live or die. From what I understand, her older sister was by her side twenty-four hours a day.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine their pain. Even if I could talk to them, what would I say? Dillon lost his son and I know what he went through. I just wish—”

“What do you wish?”

“I wish I could do something so I didn’t feel so powerless. I wish they could know I didn’t leave the scene like some of the tabloids reported. Since the family filed a civil suit, everyone around me is telling me to listen to my lawyer. I feel like he’s tied my hands and feet and taped my mouth shut. This isn’t me. I do something when I can. I don’t wait around to see what happens next.”

“You’re waiting for the trial.”

Zane nodded. “It will probably be sometime in December. We haven’t gotten the official date yet.”

“I guess your lawyer’s trying to settle?”

Zane leaned back against the sofa cushions and shook his head. “This isn’t about money. I know that. No amount of money will bring Ashley back. Her parents want someone to pay. And need somebody to blame. I understand. But I don’t think a trial or settlement is going to be the answer.”

Her hand was still covering his. She pulled hers away and put it back in her lap where it belonged. She knew Zane had arrived in May. She’d been cleaning his house and taking him supplies for that long. But she wasn’t completely sure why he’d come. “You came to Thunder Canyon to escape the paparazzi?”

Again he studied her, maybe unsure he could trust her. She could probably earn a bank account full of money if she took his story to any number of magazines. After all, it seemed like former acquaintances of Zane and anyone who had been there that night was doing just that. But no one had the words from his mouth but her.

The thing was, Jeannette knew in her heart that she would never sell Zane’s story to anyone or even talk about it.

Maybe he saw that.

“My lawyer suggested a leave of absence. But I couldn’t have returned to the tour if I’d wanted to. The night this happened, I felt like I’d grown a stone in my chest. That feeling hasn’t gone away. At first I couldn’t think about anything else. All I could think about was Ashley, day and night, and what her family was feeling. Even when her parents started giving interviews, saying it was my fault, I couldn’t be angry with them because I felt it was my fault, in spite of what my lawyer says, or my promoter or my manager or my band. They all have a lot to lose—their livelihood, but also their reputation, which really matters in this business. My bodyguard quit. He felt as guilty as hell. I’ve been with Roscoe since I won my first award. My mother is torn up because I’m torn up. That’s the kind of relationship we’ve always had.”

Jeannette remembered the one headline she’d read: RIFT BETWEEN ZANE GUNTHER AND HIS MOTHER.

“Has this caused problems between you and your mom?”

He gave a twisted smile. “You read the tabloid, huh?”

“No, I just saw the headline.”

“No rift. I call her when I can, so she knows I’m okay. I can’t do it from the mountain. I can’t get a signal till I’m down on the road. I went home once since this happened and photojournalists—” he made quote marks with his fingers “—took advantage of it, so I thought it was better if I stayed away.”

“You really are isolated.”

Quickly, he straightened. “Hey, don’t feel sorry for me. That isn’t why I’m telling you this. I just wanted you to understand what happened, not what the press says happened. Not what the lawyers say happened. Heck, I couldn’t believe you didn’t know who I was. I was grateful and humbled. Maybe I need a little more humbling.”

“Because?”

“Because before all this happened I could have had anything I wanted. I could go anyplace I wanted. I could do whatever I wanted. That’s not how normal people live. I haven’t had a normal life since my first CD took off.” He blew out a breath. “Now I sound like I’m complaining about it. I’m not. I appreciate absolutely everything that’s happened to me. But the truth is, since this happened, I have no music in my head, let alone in my heart. It used to be that a verse would just fly into my thoughts no matter what I was doing, and then the music to match it would play, or vice versa. Now there’s nothing. Just silence. Even when there’s noise all around me, there’s silence in me.”

“I haven’t listened to your music yet,” she admitted. “I borrowed CDs from the library. But if you had the gift of music, something that was with you all the time and followed you everywhere and you could just snatch it when you wanted to, and then suddenly it was gone, I’d want to live on a mountaintop, too. I understand what happens when fate deals a blow that no one expects.” She thought about Ed and his accident and how that had turned her life upside down when she’d least expected it. One day she was planning for the birth of her baby and a wedding, and the next…

“That happened with Jonah’s father?” Zane asked with real concern and interest.

“Yes, it did.”

“But you don’t want to go into that now?”

He had just shared so much with her, and she wanted to tell him about Ed, but—

“It’s late and you’re tired,” he realized. “I probably shouldn’t have come over tonight, but I didn’t want to wait. Too much can happen when you wait.”

Feeling shy and a little awkward, she smiled at him. “I’m glad you came over. I was wondering about so much.”

He looked as if he were about to say something more, maybe ask her something. But he didn’t. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet.

She was afraid this was it. Or maybe relieved this was it. They really had nothing in common. Their lifestyles were worlds apart.

Standing, she followed him to the door. She suddenly wanted to say, Please don’t go. But she had a child, and she was a waitress and she had a life here. He could be gone in a flash, in a helicopter or a private plane or a limo.

At the open door, with his Stetson on now, he gazed down at her with an intense look in his eyes. “I like you, Jeannette. I like you a lot. But I have a complicated life right now and I don’t want anybody else to be tainted by it.”

How could they be? He had done nothing wrong. Yet the world was portraying him as selfish, as just another star who was out for the money and the glory and the fame without caring about his fans. But she could see that wasn’t true at all.

“Do you work tomorrow?” he asked.

“I do. But Jonah and I will have time to go to church first. Edna and Mel like to make a big brunch afterward.”

“Sounds nice.”

She’d love to invite him along, but how crazy would that be? Edna and Mel would have a fit at the thought of any man taking their son’s place in her life. Besides, Zane’s cover would be blown. She could see he needed as much peace as he could get right now.

“You enjoy yourselves. Family is really all we have when the going gets rough.”

He was supposed to be leaving and she was supposed to be saying goodbye. But the magnet of their attraction drew them together until they seemed mesmerized by each other.

When Zane slid his hand under her hair, she felt a cool breeze waft along her cheek. It emphasized the warmth of his hand, her own temperature seeming to rise at his touch. It had taken a few dates with Ed before she’d kissed him. This man she’d kissed before she’d even known him. But then, could last night’s brief touching of lips even be considered a kiss?

“I want a taste of you,” he said huskily as his lips descended closer to hers.

His words sent a rippling thrill through her body until she realized a need that had gone unsatisfied within her for years. When Zane’s lips came down on hers tonight, they weren’t gentle or light. Oh, no. Tonight they were hungry, searching for desire to be fulfilled, searching for a response that might or might not be there.

Her body reacted as if she’d been born to respond to Zane. She enfolded her arms around his neck, and he pulled her in tighter. His tongue slid into her mouth and her gasp of pleasure opened her up more completely to him. He explored with a possessive need that almost made her moan. She felt as if a low-burning fire inside of her burst into flames. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth on hers, his tongue retreating, then urging her on. Pressed against him, she felt his arousal and a satisfaction she had long ago forgotten.

When he withdrew and pulled away, they were both breathing hard. She was still trying to catch her breath when he said, “That was Zane the man who kissed you, not Zane Gunther the country singer.”

Then he let her go and walked away, his steps quick, his stride long. She heard him gallop down the stairs and then his bootfalls faded away.

She knew one thing for certain. If Zane Gunther could sing as well as he kissed, his music would come back to him. She was sure of it.