Authors: Randi Alexander
“Yeah, I guess you can. You knew about Reno’s
baby all this time, and never said a word.”
The pickup pulled onto the shoulder near the
entrance ramp to the freeway, and the driver stuck his arm out the
window and gave them a quick wave.
Tracy waved back to the man.
Most of the actresses Steele had dated would
have just ignored the guy. Tracy was polite, kind, thoughtful. One
special lady.
Shifting, Steele hit the gas pedal and the
car roared to life, accelerating and merging with traffic, the
engine smooth as a rocket.
“Oh, wow.” Tracy sat back in her seat, her
eyes wide. “This baby has some power.”
“Three eighty-three with a four-barrel carb.”
He rattled off the car’s stats, not thinking about who he was
talking to.
“Nice. Is she all original?” Her hand glided
over the front of the dashboard.
“Uh huh. Had her reconditioned, but it’s all
factory parts.” When he’d seen the car in the back of a barn near
his Texas ranch, he’d paid three times what it was worth, but he
had to let this baby run again. She didn’t deserve to be
retired.
“Does this model have posi?”
His head swiveled and he stared at her. He’d
just learned about the positraction, the forerunner to
all-wheel-drive.
“You know.” She rotated her index fingers
around each other. “Limited slip differential in the rear end?”
“Yes, I know posi.” He brought his attention
back to the road. “How the heck do you know about cars?”
She shrugged. “My dad was a mechanic.”
Letting out a sigh, she shrugged. “He loved old cars like
this.”
“Loved?” He changed lanes and sped to
near-posted speed, which was a small miracle on an LA freeway.
After a quiet minute, she cleared her throat.
“He passed away a few years ago. Heart problems.”
“I’m sorry, Tracy.” He laid his palm on top
of her hand on the seat. He felt her tense for a moment, then
relax. “You have other family?”
“Yes, in northern Montana.” She spoke in a
quiet voice. With a sigh, she turned her hand so they were palm to
palm.
Her action sent a warm rush through him, all
the way to his chest.
“You mentioned your father.” Tracy leaned
closer to him.
“Mm hm. Dad and I run the family ranch
together.” Although lately, with his singing career, it had been
Dad and the foreman running the ranch. “I have an older sister
who’s married to a banker in town, and they have two kids.”
“Nieces? Nephews?”
He glanced at her and her smile was
infectious. “One of each, Gage is four and Charlotte is two.”
Through his grin, he took a breath, love for those little twerps
choking him a little. Since they were babies, Steele had spent time
with them. A few times, he and his dad had even babysat at the
ranch. Now, the kids had ponies there, and he’d been teaching them
to ride. “They’re great, but I don’t get to see them enough.”
“And your mother?” She squeezed his
fingers.
Traffic slowed and he pulled his hand from
hers to downshift. “She died fifteen years ago. A car crash.” Her
beautiful face slid into his memory, quickly replaced by the
flashing lights on the sheriff’s car that flashed on and off of the
twisted metal that was left after two cars collided head-on in the
middle of the night.
“I’m sorry, Steele.”
“It was a long time ago.” He shook it off.
"What do you know about throttle bodies?”
They talked for more than twenty miles about
engines, bodies, shifters, paint, and rust. She even taught him a
few new things about cars. Of course, the responsibilities that
came with owning half his family’s ranch on the eastern side of
Texas ensured that his expertise was in farming, stock, and water
rights, not cars.
Traffic thinned as they headed out of LA.
“You’re going to let me drive her sometime,
right?” Tracy gave him an angelic grin.
“No way in hell.” He laughed. “I spent two
years’ income buying her and having her fixed up.” He patted her
thigh twice. “But I’ll let you sit behind the wheel for a couple
minutes.”
She crossed her arms, smiling. “You’re a mean
man, Steele McLairn.”
He’d never been mean, until lately. He’d been
a tough but fair ranch boss, a hard-driving director with his band,
and a strong advocate for talented musicians. Since finding out his
father had sired Ryder while cheating on his mother, his sister
called him an ass, his father berated him for his coldness toward
his half-brother, and even Chase had asked him to give Ryder a
break. He gripped the wheel and checked for the exit sign to the
hotel.
None of them understood what was at stake for
him. No one could see beyond today, or comprehend how all their
futures would change if he gave in and acknowledged Ryder. The
country music fan base was traditional, family oriented. Steele had
marketed himself as a conservatively raised man, hiding nothing,
and proud of his lineage. Country’s Real Steele McLairn. Shit, he
would look like a liar. And a fool.
Worse than that, hauling out a bastard
brother and parading him around would spark a firestorm of
investigation. His family would be hauled into the spotlight, and
that just made him want to put his fist through a wall.
Hell, even Tracy had heard him at his worst
today, cussin’ out his dad. “You don’t think very highly of me, do
you.” Shit, where had that come from? He’d just told her he didn’t
want to spew his feelings out. And then that crap had come flying
from his mouth.
She turned to face him. “Why do you say
that?”
He recognized the typical analytical form.
Answer a question with a question. Had she been in therapy? He’d
gone to a few sessions after his mother had died. His dad thought
it’d help his sister and him, but when Steele had moved to
Nashville, his life started racing too fast, and he never took the
time for more therapy.
“You just assumed, circumstantially, that I
was advising Chase to leave the woman he loves and abandon his
child.” He frowned at her. “We don’t know each other all that well,
you and I. But you thought you knew me well enough to yell at me
and take a swing.”
Tracy slumped back in her seat. A small sound
came from her mouth and she closed her eyes.
Steele spotted the exit to the hotel, and
eased into the right lane, then took the exit ramp.
In minutes, arid land gave way to trees and
grasses as the elevation increased.
“No, you’re right. We don’t know each other
very well.” She rubbed her palm on her thigh. “And I don’t blame
you if you never want to see me again after this whole running and
hiding thing is over.”
Would he want to explore more than just a
sexual relationship with someone who exploded the way she had?
She’d said she never hit anyone before. Did he believe that?
She turned her head to face him. “But if
you’d just give me a chance to...” Looking around, she seemed
confused. “Where are we?”
He gestured ahead a few hundred yards to the
closed gates of the fancy resort he owned a majority share of.
Cascade Valley. He pulled up and stopped. On his left, the door of
the guard building opened.
Her lips formed into a little circle and her
eyes opened wide. “Really? I’ve heard of this place.” She looked
down at her shorts. “Oh heck.” She immediately reached back for her
bag.
Steele couldn’t help smiling at her quick
change of mood.
“What’s this?” She held up one of the boots
he’d swiped.
“Thought they might come in handy later.” He
rolled down his window.
“Mr. McLairn.” The uniformed guard clicked
his remote and the heavy gates slid silently open. “We’ve been
expecting you. Welcome, sir. Ma’am.” He touched the brim of his
hat.
Tracy’s head swung to look at him, her lap
full of clothes and small bags. “Thank you.” She graced him with a
smile.
The guard paused a moment, looking at her.
Then he smiled back.
Steele didn’t blame him. Her smile, those
sparkling green eyes. She was spectacular. He shifted and
accelerated through the gates and onto the property. Acres of
wooded land surrounded the valley. Mountain springs fed the river
and reservoir, allowing world-class golf courses, tennis courts,
pools, resort buildings, and best of all, the stables he’d
commissioned.
“Drive slow, please.” The sound of a zipper
came from the passenger seat. “And don’t look.”
He turned his head toward her just as she
lifted her butt and slid her shorts down to her knees. Her white
thong panties clung to her slim hips and cute ass.
The blood rushing from his brain to his cock
nearly blinded him, and he jerked the wheel.
Tracy laughed as she pulled her shorts down
her calves and off her feet. “Sorry. I’m so used to changing in a
room full of models and actors... I should have warned you
sooner.”
Forcing himself to watch the road, and only
the road, Steele swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths.
“Despite what you might have heard about this place...” He shifted
his hips to relieve some of the pressure of his cock pressing hard
against his fly. “This isn’t a nudist resort.”
Tracy laughed. Steele’s dry sense of humor
always took her by surprise. She unfolded her white capris and
smoothed out the wrinkles. She looked around at the thick woods.
“So this is why you never told me where we were going. I would have
insisted on stopping at home for better clothes.” She slid her feet
into the casual pants and arched up to pull them up over her
hips.
“Nope. I never told you because you never
asked again.” He gripped the wheel with both hands, staring
intently ahead, and not at her exposed flesh.
“You’re a very literal person, aren’t you.”
Unzipping a small bag, she pulled out a brush and ran it through
her hair. “I’d like to talk more about what you just said, though.”
He’d said it for a reason. She’d not only hurt him physically, but
emotionally as well.
He shook his head. “We’ll see.” His jaw
tightened.
They would see. Years of therapy surrounding
her frightening childhood convinced her to keep trying. Find a way
to get him to open up.
The car topped a rise in the road and all her
thoughts of psychology fled. A gorgeous valley, green and lush,
spread out before them. “It’s beautiful.” A long, tan, winding
building, maybe ten stories high, sat next to a small lake. Tennis
courts and pools surrounded it, and she spotted signs bearing the
names of three golf courses.
“This is all private?”
“Yep. Members only.” He downshifted as they
drove down into the valley.
A sign to her right announced the
stables.
“I can see why you’re a member.”
“Relaxes me to ride.”
“How often do you come here?” If she could
afford membership, she’d be here every night after filming
ended.
“Not often anymore.” He shifted, and his big
biceps popped.
“Any more?”
“When I first moved to LA, I was culture
shocked to the point where I’d drive out of the city and just walk
around areas like this.” He looked at her for a moment, a wrinkle
between his eyes. “I miss the ranch.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I know what you
mean. I miss Montana.”
They pulled up to the front of the tan stone
resort and valets jogged out and opened their car doors. “Mr.
McLairn. Welcome back.”
“Marcus, how’s it going?”
As she slid out of the car, Steele stepped
out and grabbed her bag, walked to the trunk and opened it with a
key, then took out a black duffle. “I got the bags.” He handed the
key to the older man, along with a folded bill.
“Thank you, sir.” Marcus tucked the bill in
his pocket. “I’ll drive her like a grandma on her way to
church.”
“Thanks, man.”
The second valet ran ahead and opened the
glass door for them.
“Oh, so Marcus can drive the ‘Cuda, but I
can’t?” She smiled as she walked with Steele to the door.
Steele slipped the other valet a bill too,
and guided Tracy inside. “I trust him. You...” He winked. “Gotta
earn it first.”
Seemed to her they both had some difficulty
knowing whom to trust.
The lobby stole Tracy’s breath. High, vaulted
ceilings were lit by spotlights, glowing golden between thick
wooden beams spaced along the length. Pillars of tan stone, the
same as the exterior of the building, held the beams in place.
Glass let in sunlight, and a mammoth
fireplace sat smack in the middle, open on four sides and
surrounded by club chairs.
“Wow. This is unbelievable.”
“It is nice, isn’t it?” He walked past the
fireplace and to the right of a big desk at the far wall.
“Mr. McLairn.” A woman in a tan business suit
with her dark hair pulled into a French twist hurried from a room
behind the desk. “Welcome. Your suite has been prepared, as
directed.”
She smiled at Tracy, her gaze staying locked
on her face, and not taking in her far-too-casual clothes.
“Welcome, ma’am. Is this your first time here?”
“Yes, it is. It’s beautiful.”
From out of nowhere, the woman produced a
sleek brochure. “Our spa is full-service, and available twenty-four
hours a day.”
“Spa?” Now her heart was really pumping.
They’d be here four days. How much could she spend on pampering
without going completely bankrupt?
Steele cleared his throat, gave Tracy a
stare, and took a step toward his destination.
She ignored him and opened the brochure. The
list included a few lovely treatments she’d die to have. “There are
no prices.” After she’d said it, she wished she could slink away.
Of course there were no dollar amounts listed. This place was for
the rich and famously rich. They didn’t have to worry about trivial
things like their credit card limit.
The woman leaned closer. “All services are
complimentary.” She tapped the front of the brochure. “Just call
when you reach your suite and we’ll get you scheduled right
away.”