Black Gold (11 page)

Without thinking, he reached out and gently pushed the stray lock out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers grazed the curved edge of her ear, the tiny earring in her delicate lobe. He paused, touching the pearl and feeling her heat.

She'd tried to make him think she wanted him. But he knew better. He wasn't the man for her. Carl Cash was her kind of man, a guy with polish and easy cash and a way with words. A slick guy, the one who made the other men in the room jealous, who snared the ladies with big gestures, like that two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine. The funny thing was that Chase's bank account was probably every bit as healthy as Carl's now. But Chase would never be the kind of man to show it off. He had finally found a quiet life, a life that suited him, and he was never again going to trade that serenity to try to be different for someone else. The way he'd spent his first eighteen years trying to be what his father wanted. And the next ten trying to prove himself.

Now, he had nothing to prove and no one to prove it to. So why was he standing here, breathing in the honeysuckle scent of a woman who'd just as soon sell him out as give him the time of day? He wasn't signing with her. He wasn't signing with anyone. Sure, he'd manipulated the situation to give Sherry more time with Carl, but that was because he was damn sure going to make sure she was provided for. Carl was slick, but Chase had done a little research that afternoon on Jimmy's laptop, and he'd reassured himself that if Carl wanted to turn her into a star, he would. There were far fewer search results for Regina McCary than Carl Cash, and even though she had an impressive record for a newcomer and a few solid hits, he wasn't about to trust Sherry to anyone but a sure thing. And Chase would make sure that Harry was well taken care of; he'd head down to Nashville between hitches and make sure the boy was settling into school and making friends and treating his sister with respect.

He had it all wrapped up.

Which still begged the question—what was he doing here in this parking lot?

"I think I'll walk home," he said, though he didn't budge.

"You've got to be kidding. It's five miles from here."

"It'll do me good. Clear my head."

"You'll get hit by a car. You'll wind up in a ditch, bleeding out."

"Aw, that would be a damn shame, wouldn't it? A whole potential revenue stream, taken too soon."

She stamped her foot. "You have it all wrong."

"Do I?" There was that anger again. He should be over it, over the pang of rejection just because he couldn't keep the attention of some pretty woman except as a budget line item. But he'd spent too many years as his father's liability to let it go easily. Too many years knowing that whenever the most important person in his life looked at him, he didn't like what he saw.

Chase was ready to start seeing women again. Hell, his reaction to Regina—just one glimpse of a knee was enough to send him into fits of adolescent longing—was proof of that. But he was going to choose carefully. He'd find a woman as suited to a quiet life as he was, someone whose idea of a good time was taking the dog for a walk or watching
Star Trek: The Next Generation
reruns with a bowl of popcorn. Which, come to think of it, was the best time he'd had in weeks before Regina showed up, even though it had been with Jimmy.

Damn it. That kiss with Regina had put all thoughts of couch-surfing with Jimmy right out of his mind. Never mind that he knew it was a mistake—his body didn't seem to have gotten the message.

"You have it wrong," she repeated, less certainly. "Your song... the one you sang for me... it was..."

Her voice trailed off. If this conversation was going to go anywhere, evidently he would have to be the one to steer.

"Yeah. You liked my song. You think you can make money off me. So you used all your tricks to lasso me."

"No!" Her nostrils flared. She had a temper, but it dissipated as quickly as it flared, like dry lighting on a hot night. "I mean yes, I wanted to sign you. But when I—when I kissed you—"

"I'm listening." His voice sounded hard even to him—but the subject left him feeling about as soft as a brick wall.

"Look. I date men like Carl. Men I can't... hurt."

"Can't hurt?" he finally repeated incredulously. "You're afraid of
hurting
me?"

"Like I hurt Mason," she whispered miserably.

CHAPTER TEN

"Okay, you're going to have to help me out here." Chase didn't sound any happier, but he didn't step away, either. Regina snuck a quick glance at him. It was hard to see much in the dark, but she could tell he was frowning. "Is Mason another old boyfriend? Before Carl?"

"No. Mason was... a client."

"You dated a client?"

"No! I would never... He was only twenty. He was one of my first clients. I was so sure... I saw so much potential for him. Meredith warned me to go slow, but I promised..." Her voice hitched, a little sob escaping the way it often did when she thought about Mason. "I promised him big things. He was helping his dad take care of their hardware store, see. It was just the two of them, and his dad had heart problems, and they were in financial trouble. Mason was going to use his signing bonus to fend off the creditors and get his dad to a specialist. Only... the deal fell through."

She didn't dare look at him now. She hadn't told this story to anyone—anyone except Meredith, who'd stayed up all night with her after it happened, telling her that things would be all right, that life would go on. And it had. Sort of. For Regina, at least. But not for Mason—at least, not the way she had promised it would.

"Mason lived in this little town in Wyoming called Alden Springs. He came down to Nashville to sign the deal, but after it fell through he went back to Wyoming and told his dad, who had a massive heart attack that night. Died the next morning. The creditors took it all—the store, his father's house... everything. Mason had to go to work for the man who bought the store for pennies on the dollar."

And the worst part, the part she couldn't bring herself to tell Chase, was that Mason emailed her every month or two to see how
she
was doing. She couldn't bear to open the emails any more, not since she'd formally broken their contract and sent him a list of agents who, she was sure, could get him the deal he deserved. As far as she knew, he'd never called a single one of them. After his father's passing, there were affairs to settle, a lifetime of memories and possessions to sort through. He’d had his hands full.

Regina had been a beginner back then, and she'd made beginner mistakes. She'd worked her ass off for every client since then and never had a fiasco like that again. Meredith had taught her every trick she knew until Regina was coming up with tricks of her own, and she'd placed every client on her list, some of them even earning enough from their singing to quit their day jobs. She was sure she could get Sherry steady work in a week's time and she'd bet her professional reputation that she'd be well on her way in a year. She'd find Sherry a stylist, an apartment, a coach, everything she'd need for her new life—but she wouldn't put her heart on the line. It was business, good business, and nothing more.

Because Regina didn't care, not the way she'd cared about Mason. And she didn't have to. Sherry had Carl waiting in the wings, she had this whole motley crew of pseudo-family at the bunkhouse to take care of her and Harry. So she passed Regina's test.

And what about Chase? Same deal, professionally speaking. Regina could get him work overnight. If he could write more songs like that, he'd earn a tidy bonus on the side. She'd even make a few social introductions, maybe help him find a roommate among some of the agency's other newer talent.

But she wasn't going to care about him. No way. Just look at him—in his borrowed coat that didn't quite fit, his old brown shoes that he'd obviously polished for the occasion. Regina wasn't a snob, far from it. She’d practically melted when he grazed her skin with those work-roughened hands, and he looked better in a worn pair of jeans than Carl Cash ever had stepping out of the most expensive boutiques in Nashville. But you didn't casually date a man like Chase Warner. That was obvious from the way he was looking at her now, his eyes narrowed in dangerous turmoil.

A man like Chase
claimed
a woman. Made her his. Bound her to him in a way that made it impossible to separate where one ended and the other began. It would be no pose-for-pictures, squired-around-town courtship like what she'd had with Carl. Loving Chase would mean taking on his struggles, his successes, his battles and victories.

It would mean sharing a life, and not just a bed.

And what would happen when she let him down?

She shifted away from Chase's intense gaze and ducked her chin. Really, it was time to get in the damn car and drive away. Drive right over his foot, if he couldn't take the hint. "So I think I'll just be saying good night and—"

"So you just gave up?"

"
What
?"

"With that boy. Mason what's-his-name. Your deal fell through, he hit a bad patch, he went back home and you never looked back?"

"I… I released him from his contract," Regina stuttered. "I let him down and there wasn't anything else to be done about it."

"Is that right?" As Chase frowned, his voice headed for the lower registers, rumbling through his chest. Regina could feel the vibration as he moved closer to her, his wrists brushing against her shoulders as he closed the space between them. Regina felt the hard metal of the car door against her back through the thin material of her dress. There was nowhere to go, no way to escape his gaze, which seemed harsh now. He was judging her and finding her lacking.

"I may not know a lot about business," he went on tightly, "but it seems to me that I've heard somewhere it's ninety percent perseverance. Carl went to a fancy business school, maybe we should ask him, but I'm pretty sure he's going to say that giving up after one door closes isn't the way to go."

"It wasn't
one door
," Regina protested. "It was… Look, I'm not going to explain the whole business to you, but there were lawyers involved, I had my boss at the agency review everything, it was cut and dried and—"

"I get it," Chase said. "Things got hard. You wanted to give up. Lots of other people would have. The thing I don't get..."

He moved his arms fractionally and didn't so much as step closer as lean into her, his breath warm against her face, his eyes so close she could see the reflection of the street lights in them. His legs brushed against her skirt and then closer still, until his body was only inches away. And still  he didn't blink.

"You don't seem like the kind of woman who gives up easy."

It was too much. He was too close, overpowering her senses and her concentration and her defenses. She put her hands on his shirt, her splayed fingers barely spanning his broad, strong chest. She could feel him tense at her touch, and he froze, catching his breath.

"I
don't
," she said, lowering her gaze, focusing all her attention on a single shirt button. She couldn't look into his eyes and say what needed to be said... what she needed to remind herself as much as him. "I work harder than anyone in Nashville. Harder than my boss. Harder than
Carl
. I work weekends and evenings and I made the top..."

The "Top Ten Women to Watch under Thirty," named by
Nashville Business
magazine, she was going to say. But suddenly, they weren't talking about her long hours and client list any more. Because she recognized the feeling inside her, the feeling of being not good enough, no matter how hard she tried. It was like when Priscilla and Annabel took their bows after their recitals to thunderous applause from the same audience that smiled stiffly and clapped politely when it was her turn.

But that wasn't it, not quite. It was also the knowledge that she had never captivated a man to the extent that he wrote love songs about her. In a town where beautiful girls competed for stage time, Regina had carved out a niche for herself, and most days she felt just fine in her vintage dresses and red lipstick; she was satisfied with her signature style even if she would never be anyone's main attraction.

Chase Warner might have nailed it when he accused her of giving up on Mason. But that was back when she was just starting out. That deal wouldn't have fallen through now. Especially now that she was only dealing in sure-fire success stories.

"The Top Ten Women to Watch," she finished her sentence, but her voice trembled and her mouth wobbled and she felt suddenly weak enough to slide down the side of the car, into a puddle on the pavement. "Oh,
hell
."

And then her lips were on his again.

If anyone had asked her a moment before, ten seconds before—half a millisecond before–she would have sworn she had no intention of ever crossing a line with Chase again. But when she headed for trouble, he met her halfway there. His mouth on hers was demanding, hot and claiming and not one bit hesitant. His body against hers was warm and pliant and fit perfectly against her, and though he kept his hands on the roof of her car for the first kiss, by the time it had segued into something deeper, he gave up and pulled her to him and his hands were on the small of her back, in her hair, everywhere.

"I didn't mean to do this," she finally managed when they came up for air.

"Find your keys," he growled against her throat, his words muffled and barely comprehensible as he traced a path with his lips, grazing her jaw with his teeth.

"It's just that you…oh, God..." She was so distracted by the sensation of his body trapping her against her car that she almost dropped her purse. Chase seized it and upended it on the roof of the car. A pen rolled onto the ground and under the car, and her cosmetic case slid dangerously close to the edge before Chase caught it. He dug the keys out and scooped everything else back in.

"You'll scratch the paint." Regina sighed, levering her body against his, crushing her skirt as it rose high on her thighs.