Dissonance (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

C
hase didn’t understand why the meeting couldn’t take place on his turf. Why couldn’t Keith Trainer and this Kenzie chick come to him? Why did he have to go to Nashville? Were they slighting him? He wasn’t good enough for them to travel to meet him, instead he had to go to them?

Damned inferiority complex he had. In spite of the success he’d achieved in the music industry, it was hard to let go of the past. On the outside, he might be Chase Radcliffe, lead singer of the hottest alternative rock band in the country, but on the inside, he was still the skinny, geeky kid that got bullied in school.

Insecurities aside, as soon as Chase got a feel of seventy degrees in February, his opinion of traveling to Nashville changed. It sure as heck beat the twenties he’d left behind. Not that Chase would have much opportunity to enjoy the warm weather in Tennessee. This would be a short trip. He’d meet Kenzie, listen to Keith’s pitch, decide the gig wasn’t for him, politely turn them down, and be on the next flight back home. Preferably all within the same afternoon.

What was that expression about the best laid plans? Chase couldn’t recall the exact words, but whatever they were, they hit darn close to home when he found himself face to face with a stunning auburn-haired beauty.

“You’re Chase? I’m Kenzie Bolton.” She spoke with a slight Southern drawl, but it wasn’t overdone, and her voice was low. Chase wondered if she were a true contralto, and if so, how would that pair with his tenor?

And why was he thinking that? They wouldn’t be recording together. He was only here to reaffirm what a bad idea this whole thing was. “Yes, that’s right.” Chase extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Carey speaks very highly of you,” Kenzie said. “Though I have to admit I’m not really familiar with your work.”

Ouch.
Then again, Chase wasn’t exactly an expert on hers, either, so maybe they should call it even. “Carey’s a good guy.”

Kenzie nodded. “The best manager I’ve had.”

He was the only one Chase had worked with, so he couldn’t make a comparison. “How many others have you worked with?”

“Just one,” Kenzie said. “And I’d rather not talk about it.”

Hmm. Apparently it hadn’t been a good experience. In spite of her request not to discuss it, Chase was curious. Kenzie got her wish, though, when the door opened and a silver-haired man with a goatee and pierced ear strode in. They’d never met before, but Chase knew him from pictures and video interviews. He wasn’t a big man, but he carried himself with authority.

“Good. You’re both here,” Keith Trainer said. “Are you getting acquainted?”

“We just met,”Kenzie said.

“No matter. If we decide this is going to work out, you’ll be spending a lot of time together.” He reached his hand out. “I’m Keith, by the way, but I’m sure you knew that.

“It’s an honor,” Chase said, shaking the producer’s hand. Man, he’d sure come a long ways from the college bar scene in Hanover.

The pleasantries were exchanged, and Keith gestured for them each to have a seat. “I appreciate you both being here. It shows me you’re at least intrigued by the project I have in mind, even if you’re skeptical about the idea of working together.” Keith chuckled. “And if you’re half the musicians I think you are, then you’re at least a little bit skeptical.”

“Yes, I am. Skeptical, that is,” Kenzie said, then cast a look in Chase’s direction. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He waved a hand. “I’m plenty dubious myself. I mean, I’m not knocking Kenzie’s talent or anything, but I do alternative rock. My songs are edgy, defiant, with a lot of distorted guitar sounds,” Chase said. “And she’s country, which is—”

“All about drinking and cheating and pick-up trucks, your momma and your dog?” Her lips curled in a smile. “That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

Busted
. “No.” Chase returned the smile. “I thought it was about my momma’s dog, actually.”

“So you do have a sense of humor, in spite of those melancholy songs you sing.”

Although she’d confessed to a limited knowledge of his work, she apparently wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with it. Either that, or she assumed everything alternative was melancholy and despondent. A generalization, maybe, but not far from the truth. “I try, yes. I’m not always brooding,” he said. Close, but not always.

“I’m counting on that,” Keith said. “At least a little. Why don’t I tell you what I have in mind?”

“Yes, please,” Chase said, being drawn back into the reason he was there. It wasn’t to flirt with Kenzie, no matter how beautiful she may be.

“It’s all about those conflicting styles,” Keith explained. “You’re familiar with dissonance, right?”

“Sure. Discord,” Kenzie said. “How does that work with a duet? Aren’t we supposed to be in harmony?”

“In the end, yes. At least that’s the plan,” the producer said, launching into his vision for an alternative country song to merge two different styles of music, but sung by artists with complementary voices, to see if he could get the beautiful harmony he desired.

It wasn’t hard to see why Keith was such a highly regarded producer. He knew his stuff, spoke with confidence, and seemed to embrace taking risks. It was impossible not to be impressed—and intrigued.

At the end of his pitch, Keith stood up. “Okay, think about it. Talk it over between yourselves, and with Carey if you want. I need an answer tomorrow. If you’re not in, I have other artists waiting who would jump at the chance to do this.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Chase alone with Kenzie again. And completely unsure what to say.

“What do you think?” she asked, breaking the silence first.

Instead of answering, Chase studied her expression, searching for clues about what
she
thought. Was she in? Was she still skeptical? Was her mind reeling as fast as his was? “I think I need to think,” he said. “And eat. I need to eat.” He’d gone straight from the airport to the producer’s office and hadn’t had any food. A quick glance at his watch told him it was well past lunch time, no matter which time zone he was in. “Want to go grab a bite together, talk about this proposal of his?”

After a flicker of hesitation, Kenzie nodded. “Sure. I guess that’s okay. There’s probably something you should know about me first, though, so you don’t get any ideas,” she said. “I don’t date men.”

Whoa. So not what he expected. Chase searched for a response. He wasn’t a homophobe, not by any means, but still, what the hell was he supposed to say to that? “That’s a pity, then, for my gender, but I’m sure you’ll make some lucky lady very happy, if you haven’t already.”

***

Lucky lady?
Oh my God, he thinks I’m a lesbian.
Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh.

Chase frowned, and his eyes narrowed. “Is something funny?”

“You think I bat for the girls’ team.”

“Well, don’t you? I mean you just said... never mind.” He was cute, very cute, with sandy blond hair that hung over his brow, and a day or two’s growth of beard. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a T-shirt that was tucked in the front and not the back. Yeah, he looked like an alternative rocker, and the look suited him, but Kenzie wondered what he’d look like in a Western shirt, with a hat and cowboy boots, rather than the combat style boots he currently sported.

And what was she doing checking him out, and mentally making him over, when she’d sworn off men and relationships?
Get a grip, Kenzie
. “I said I don’t date men. That doesn’t mean I date women. I don’t date anyone, period,” she clarified. “I just thought I should get that out there, in case you were getting any ideas.”

“So are you married?” Chase’s eyes darted to her left hand, which was ringless, exactly the way Kenzie wanted to keep it. She’d celebrated the day she removed Jesse’s ring, with a bottle of champagne and a pep talk in front of the mirror in which she reassured herself she didn’t need anyone and asserted her independence. After that, she’d flushed the ring down the toilet. Hopefully she hadn’t flushed her music career away along with it. Even if she had, it was worth it to be free of that horror show that others called a marriage.

“Nope. Not married, either. Just not into dating,” Kenzie said. “Is that a problem for you?”

“No problem, no.” Chase gave a casual shrug and rocked back on his heels. “I didn’t come to Tennessee looking to score. This is a business trip for me. An opportunity was presented to me, and I have to evaluate it. Is this something that can help me further my career, or help me grow as a musician? It’s really as simple as that.”

Some would probably interpret his statement as arrogant, and maybe it was, but Kenzie was relieved. If he wasn’t interested in getting into her pants, this would all be so much easier. Assuming she could ignore her attraction to him. That might be the hardest part. “It’s simple for me, too. So with that out of the way, let’s go find some food and try to figure out whether this is something that’s going to work for us.” She grabbed her purse and swung it over her shoulder. “I’m guessing this is your first time here, so I’ll have to pick the restaurant. What do you like to eat?”

“Food,” Chase answered. “I like food. Real food.” His eyes scanned her body. “Is that something you can handle, or are you one of those salad and veggie kind of girls?”

He didn’t even bother to disguise the fact that he was checking her out, but she couldn’t be sure whether he liked what he saw or not. Either way, Kenzie didn’t care. She no longer had Jesse harping on her appearance, or any little weight she might gain. And as hot as Chase Radcliffe might be, he wasn’t boyfriend material and never would be. That made it all a lot easier. “I like food, too,” Kenzie said. “And I like it spicy.” She tilted her head to meet his eyes, which were a grayish blue. “So how about you, Cowboy? Can you handle a little heat?”

***

Could he handle some heat? Oh, yeah. It just depended on whether she meant herself or the food. Either way, Chase was grateful for slightly baggy jeans to hopefully conceal the growing interest down below. Kenzie might not date, and he might only be here on business, but his penis apparently didn’t get the memo.

Okay, she wasn’t a lesbian. They’d established that. So what was she? A freaking cock tease, flirting openly, but never putting out? Or was there something else going on? Either way, Chase was intrigued, and he had the start of a hard on to prove it.

He jammed his hands in his pockets, trying to subtly adjust things down there so it wasn’t so obvious. His T-shirt came untucked, helping to disguise his problem. Good. Better. Maybe she wouldn’t even notice he was getting a boner. “I have no problem with heat,” Chase said. “The hotter the better, in fact. Where are you taking me, darlin’?” Maybe he shouldn’t flirt, given her prohibition on dating and the fact that this was a business trip. Then again, hadn’t she started it?

“To Hattie B’s,” Kenzie declared. “So we’ll see how much heat you can handle, big boy.”

CHAPTER THREE

S
he was playing with him now, that much was obvious, and Chase tried to ignore it. This was business. Nothing else. They’d talk, realize they’d never mesh together musically, decide the whole idea of recording together was a bad one, and Chase would be on his way back to New England, content to write new music and wait for Jordy to be ready to record again. He didn’t need Kenzie or Keith or this crazy alternative country idea. Not at all.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy.
Since a cold shower wasn’t an option, Chase tried every other method he knew to will his erection down as they walked the few blocks from Keith’s office to the chicken place. Chicken. She’d been talking about fucking fried chicken, and he’d gotten aroused. Pathetic. He could thank a long dry spell and Lisanne Ward for that. Now there was a cock tease if Chase ever knew one. She’d also be the last time he let anyone in his pretentious family try to set him up with a date. No, he’d find his own women from now on.

His eyes drifted to Kenzie’s ass as she walked slightly ahead of him. She wore a blue shirt dress that perfectly hugged her curves—which were ample—and fell just above her knee. It was paired with blue cowboy boots, which Chase figured were part of the official uniform in the Music City. Either way, the fashion statement worked for her, and worked very well. Whatever the reason for her prohibitions on dating, it was unfortunate for mankind.

“We’re here.” Kenzie stopped in front of a nondescript building. “Welcome to Hattie B’s Hot Chicken,” she announced, as if the destination was part of a local tour and she was the guide.

“Great,” Chase said. He reached to grab the door handle before she could, and pulled it open. “After you, ma’am.”

She looked up at him with a smile. “Are you sure you’re not from the South, with manners like that?”

“Nope. New England, born and bred.” Chase said, following her into the restaurant. “My mother taught me well, though, I guess.” And all because she hoped he’d marry a cold fish like Lisanne, who came from a supposedly proper family and therefore would make a good doctor’s wife.
Yeah, nice try, Mom, but I want a woman who’s not afraid to scream for me when I touch her, not shrivel up and retreat.
Was Kenzie a screamer? Did she like to be pleasured? Best not to go there, unless Chase wanted his little problem to reappear.

They made their way to a table in the corner, and Chase scanned the menu posted above the counter. It was pretty straightforward, with chicken, lots of chicken, breasts, thighs, wings and tenders, and various degrees of heat, from Southern—no heat—to something called ‘Shut the Cluck Up!’

“Are you a breast man?” Kenzie asked. She gave him an innocent smile, as if it wasn’t a loaded question at all.

To hell with the chicken. Could anything be hotter than this woman?

“Yes,” Chase answered without hesitation. “I love a good breast. And thighs, legs, all of it, really.” He stole another glance at the menu board. “I’ll take the half bird.” Now he just needed to decide on a heat level. He’d said he could handle some heat, so he couldn’t be a wimp, but he didn’t want to kill himself, either. “And I’ll make her a hot one.”

“Just hot?” Kenzie’s hazel eyes danced with amusement. “If you say so. I’ll go with the tenders, but I prefer mine to be damn hot.”

It described her as well as her taste in chicken, and Chase almost changed his mind for the spiciest option, but that was probably stupid. If it was too hot to eat, which he suspected it would be, what did he prove? Nothing. He’d just look like an idiot.

They discussed sides and drink options, and Chase learned Kenzie liked French fries, macaroni and cheese and craft beer, which pretty much could make her his dream girl, if not for her ban on dating. Whatever that was about. He approached the counter to order the food and contemplated the decision he’d soon have to make. Should he agree to this project because the producer’s idea was intriguing to him, and Kenzie even more so, or would it be better to decline it outright because he already might be too interested in her?

Chase placed their order and made his way back to the table with two beers. It was a local label, something he’d never tried before, so he was taking her word that it would be good, or at least drinkable. “Here you go,” he said, setting one bottle in front of her before sitting down.

“Thanks.”

He took a drink, finding it mildly hopped with a smooth finish. Exactly the way he preferred his beer. Chase nodded his approval. “Nice.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah,” he said. “So I guess you must really like food and beer, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kenzie’s tone took on a defensive edge. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Fat?” What the hell? Where did that come from? Chase tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong. “Hell, no. I’m not saying that at all. I think you’re beautiful.” Hadn’t he fought to get a hard on under control, all the while checking out her ass? Christ, his cousin was right. He really was bad with women. “I just meant that you seem to know the menu here, and were able to make a beer recommendation as well, both of which I think are great qualities in a woman, by the way. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Kenzie said. “I didn’t mean to sound defensive. I just... forget it. Never mind.”

Chase arched a brow. Something was on her mind, for sure. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Kenzie shook her head. “I said to forget it. Tell me about yourself. Did you really go to Dartmouth?”

It was an obvious change of subject, and Chase wondered how much Carey had already told her. “I sure did,” he said. “I was supposed to become a doctor.”

***

A doctor? This guy really was a study in contrast. “Okay, go on,” Kenzie urged. Anything to change the subject off of her food habits. The last thing she wanted was for Chase to find out she’d once suffered from an eating disorder. He’d decide she was a head case for sure, and probably be on the next plane home. And Kenzie needed this gig.

Chase shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. My dad’s a doctor. So’s my uncle. So’s my cousin. It’s what Radcliffe men do.” He took a swallow of beer. “Except me. I decided to be different. I’ve always liked music. I enjoy writing lyrics. Singing and playing the guitar relax me. So I decided to put together a band with my best friend and a couple of other guys. At first, it was only supposed to be a hobby. We’d play gigs in the bars near campus. I never expected it to turn into much of anything, and certainly not a career, then one day Carey was in the audience at one of our shows. He approached us after the set, told us he liked our sound and wanted to see what he could for us.”

“And the rest is history?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Chase gave her a half-smile. “It turns out what he could do for us was quite a lot. I didn’t anticipate the kind of success we’ve had, at least not so fast. Sometimes I worry that we hit lightning in a bottle and it’s not going to be sustainable.”

“I know that feeling.” All too well. It had been so long since Kenzie’s last hit that she knew the rumbling and speculation had started around town. Did she truly have any talent of her own, or was she simply the product of Jesse’s magic? He’d messed with her head enough that Kenzie was no longer sure herself, but she was determined to prove she did have talent and she was a singer to be reckoned with. She could find success without Jesse. What Kenzie didn’t want, though, was to be accused of riding on Chase’s coattails, or anyone else’s. Sometimes she hated this business. “Carey is a great manager, though.”

“Yeah, he is,” Chase agreed. “You said you worked with someone else before?”

“For a few years. It was time for a change, though.” Kenzie hoped he’d leave things at that, and was happy when their number was called for the food order. “I guess that’s us.”

“Yeah. Hold the thought,” Chase said before heading to the counter to retrieve their order.

Damn it. She didn’t want to hold the thought. In fact, she wanted to forget all about it and she hoped Chase would get so caught up in the chicken that he forgot, too. He was back in a minute with a heaping tray of hot food, which he set on the table.

“This looks great,” he said.

“It tastes great, too. Just make sure you’ve got your beer handy to wash down some of the heat.”

“Oh, you think I’m a lightweight, huh?” His eyes danced with amusement. “We’ll see about that.”

Kenzie chuckled. “Yeah, we will.” She picked up one of her chicken tenders and took a bite. It stung, for sure, but she didn’t flinch. She was a Hattie B’s veteran, and she sure wasn’t about to risk Chase thinking she couldn’t handle her heat. She took a swallow of beer and waited for his reaction.

“Shit. Oh, shit.” His eyes grew wide and he grabbed his beer gulping it fast. “Holy crap, this is only the third heat level? And yours is hotter?”

Kenzie stifled laughter. It wouldn’t be proper to tease him. After all, he wasn’t from the South. And his eyes were watering, poor guy. “Yep. Would you like to try it?”

“Hell, no. I don’t want to feel the burn when I take a piss.”

“Okay, just checking.” She smiled. “I tried to warn you.”

Chase nodded. “Yes, you did. Anyway, I’m fine now.” As if to prove it, he took another, much smaller bite. “We were talking about you having another manager before Carey,” he said. “So come on, tell me your story. How’d you get your start?”

Damn it. He hadn’t forgotten. “There’s not much to tell. I was a cheerleader at Vanderbilt, and I waited tables in a bar not far from campus on the weekends,” Kenzie said.

“A cheerleader, huh?” Chase’s lips turned up in a smile.

“Yes. Does that bother you?” She wondered if he thought she was dumb. After all, he was an Ivy Leaguer and supposed to be a doctor.

“No way. I like cheerleaders,” was all he said. “Go on.”

Do I have to?
“One night, they had an open mic night and one of my colleagues persuaded me to go up there and give it a shot. I thought she was crazy, but I’d always kind of liked to sing, so I went for it. It turns out Jesse Cole was in the audience that night. He came up to me afterward and told me he could make me a star.”

Kenzie closed her eyes for a second, hoping it might block out the memory. As if. She’d never forget Jesse’s sweet talking, nor his sexy smile and his promise to make all of her dreams come true. For a brief time, it seemed like he would do exactly that. Then it all turned into a nightmare.

“And I guess he did,” Chase said. “So what happened? Why the switch to Carey?”

Because I wanted my life back. I wanted to be me again. Not some asshole’s idea of what the perfect woman looked like
. “Creative differences,” Kenzie said, using the standard industry line. “I wanted to go in a different direction with my career.” It was true enough, anyway. “Carey came highly recommended.”

Chase nodded. “Carey knows his stuff.”

“He seems to, yes,” Kenzie said, relieved that Chase hadn’t pressed her for a lot of details about Jesse. He came from outside the Nashville circle, way outside, so he probably didn’t even know who Jesse was. Lucky him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Kenzie asked, “Is there somewhere you want to go after this? I can show you around Nashville, if you’d like.”

Chase wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Sure, maybe. First, I want to hear some of your music, though, and I can play you some of my stuff.”

“You can download all of my music online,” Kenzie told him.

“Sure, I know that. But I won’t know the story behind the songs if I do that. I want you to show me the ones that mean the most to you. I think that’s the best way to learn about each other, and we have to decide pretty quick whether we want this gig or not.”

Kenzie had already made up her mind. She wanted this gig. She needed it. Hopefully she could convince Chase that he did, too. “Okay. I don’t live too far from here, if you don’t mind going there. Let’s see if we can make music together.”