In the Mood for Love (32 page)

Peppy had talent.

He’d recognized it when he’d heard her rocking that electric guitar with Mountain Fever. He heard it here at home when she picked and strummed that fat-bodied acoustic.

Last night she’d locked herself in her bedroom, working on a new song. She was a songwriter, she’d informed him. And one of these days she’d hook a major recording artist with her original compositions. She’d been sending out demos.

“All it takes is one break,” she said, flouncing toward her room with a cocky wave to Adam, saying, “Inspiration calls.”

He’d thought maybe she’d emerge an hour or two later. Thought maybe they’d watch another movie. Thought maybe they’d fool around. But she’d remained behind closed doors, working on that new composition for the rest of the night. Because the walls were thin, because he’d turned down the TV, because he was curious, Adam had listened as she’d gone through the process. Different chords, different arrangements. He’d listened to a song take shape and he’d known when she’d gotten it just right. He’d gotten a weird rush.

And then there’d been silence.

Sort of like now.

Adam pulled on his running shorts, yanked a wrinkled tee over his head. He padded out of his room barefooted, needing to pee. Peppy’s bedroom door was closed but he heard movement in the living room. He spied her silhouette, fully clothed and juggling two suitcases and an amplifier. She was creeping toward the front door.
What the hell?

Adam hit the nearest lamp, flooding the room with light. “Going somewhere?”

She gasped and turned. “Scared the daylights out of me, Adam. Jeez!”

“Sorry about that.”

Her face turned beet red. Her gaze bounced around the room.

He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and waited.

“I have to leave,” she finally said. “I got a gig. A gig with a band that opens for headliners. You wouldn’t know them.
Yet
. But you will. They’re based in Nashville and, well, this is the break I’ve been waiting for. I got the call late last night. Thought I’d get an early start.”

An ember of anger glowed in Adam’s gut. “Without saying good-bye?”

“I left you a note. It’s on the kitchen table. I’m not good at good-byes,” she added when he raised a brow. She shifted, her arms no doubt cramping from the weight of her gear. “I should go.”

“Hold up. I’ll write you a check.”

“For what?”

“A refund for your month’s rent,” he said while moving toward the computer desk wedged in the corner.

“I don’t want a refund. That’s not fair to you.”

“I’ll write a refund minus three days.” That’s how long she’d lasted.

Luke had warned him.

That girl’s got wanderlust. You’ll be lucky if she lasts a month
.

Ha
. Try three frickin’ days.

“I don’t want it,” Peppy said, sounding angry now as he stuffed the check in her rear pocket.

The woman was broke and she was driving a clunker. How did she think she was going to make it all the way to Nashville? Unless … maybe she’d borrowed some cash from her dad.
Not my problem,
Adam told himself.

“Think of it as my contribution toward your career,” he said. “I heard that song last night, Peppy. You deserve your break.” He relieved her of the amp and one of the suitcases. “Your guitars—”

“Already loaded in my car.”

So he’d slept heavier than he’d first thought. And she’d crept around like a thief in the night, intending to skip out because, why? Oh, yeah. She sucked at good-byes. How many other people had she skipped out on in her short lifetime? He shouldn’t care, but he did. He’d just been another stopping point on Peppy’s journey to the top.

Temper burning, Adam opened the door, motioned her ahead. The first rays of dawn barely breached the horizon. He imagined Peppy driving all those miles … Imagined her clunker of a car breaking down or running out of gas. He wanted to say,
Call me when you get there
, but he didn’t. He felt betrayed. It was crazy. He knew it was crazy. But he’d sworn they’d connected … and now this.

“Thanks,” she grumbled when Adam loaded her stuff in the trunk.

“Don’t forget Daisy and the Cupcake Lovers are going to be on television today,” Adam said, because what the hell else was there to say? “Considering your grandpa’s with her, he’d probably be pleased if you watched.”

“The show airs at three our time, right? Thought I’d stop at a bar or diner. Sweet-talk the management into tuning it in.”

Sweet-talk
wasn’t in Peppy’s repertoire, not that Adam had seen anyway, but he kept that thought to himself.

She climbed behind the wheel and shut the door. She rolled down the window, which stuck halfway.

Adam rocked back on his bare heels, his mood worsening by the minute. “Drive safe and good luck.”

“Break a leg.”

“What?”

She shoved her shaggy bangs out of her eyes and turned the engine over. “In show biz, telling someone good luck is bad luck. You’re supposed to say
break a leg
.”

Adam didn’t bite because he imagined her doing just that … after her clunker ran out of gas and she had to walk a mile, after she tripped and fell down a steep mountain shoulder. He told himself to stop worrying. She wasn’t his to worry about. She was a grown woman. Impetuous, but grown, and sure as hell independent.

Peppy cleared her throat, gave Adam one of those cocky salutes then peeled out of his drive.

Her car backfired as she drove away.

George bemoaned the loss of Lucy.

Adam glared down at his crotch. “Shut up.”

He stood there a moment, mystified by the intensity of the knot in his gut and the freaking ache in his chest. He barely knew Peppy but he’d felt a deep connection.

She’s the one.

Yet he’d allowed her to blow out of his life without a fight. He’d done the same thing with Rocky. Stepped aside, snuffed his affections. Considering the circumstances, it had been the right thing to do. This—allowing Peppy to leave without acknowledging she’d touched his heart, without exploring the chance of something more—felt wrong.

He could call her later, but life was freaking short. He turned for the house—he’d grab his keys, chase her down—but then a series of short beeps rent the air, causing him to look back toward the road. Peppy had done a one-eighty and was headed back his way.

Heart pounding, he jogged to the end of the drive.

She pulled to a stop, staring straight ahead, both hands locked on the wheel. She looked angry and lost.

And
sweet
.

Adam braced his hands on the car-top and peered through the partially open window. He feigned nonchalance. “Forget something?”

“Yeah.” She shoved open the door, nearly knocking Adam on his ass. But then she was in his arms. Kissing him hard. Her arms locked around his neck.

His thoughts blurred. His heart sang. He kissed her back, held her tight. He had no intention of letting go.

When she eased back, he stuck close, leaning in as she fell back against the car. She palmed her forehead, looking all kinds of miserable. “Why did you have to happen now, Brody?”

“My timing’s been off since the moment I met you,” he said with a grin.

“I have to follow through with this Nashville gig.”

“I know.”

“This is my big break and, cripes…” She blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m nervous.”

He imagined that confession dinged her pride plenty. “I’ve got something big brewing myself. Reaching for a dream is scary stuff.”

She nodded. “I know you have a job—meeting and commitments—and this is short notice. Really short notice and crazy besides, but … How would you feel about a road trip?”

Adam swallowed. “You want me to come with you to Nashville?”

“Just for the drive, and maybe to help me get settled and to, you know, lend a little moral support when I audition live with the band.”

“I thought this was a firm offer.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t backfire.”

Adam wondered if anyone, including her father, had ever gone out of their way to support Peppy’s dream. It wasn’t her style to reach out, to admit insecurities, to ask for help. Yet here she was reaching out to Adam.

Oh, boy.

“I have an important meeting at nine. Should last an hour at most,” he said. “After that I’m yours.”

She didn’t ask for how long and he didn’t offer a time frame. He figured they’d feel their way. All he knew was that this, Peppy, felt right.

Her eyes filled with tears and his chest swelled. He blotted out everything that could go wrong and focused on what could swing around to being the best thing that ever happened to him. He hooked his arm around Peppy’s waist and guided her back to the house. “Come inside. Have some coffee and a cupcake while I juggle arrangements.”

Her eyebrows shot up under her bangs. “You have cupcakes?”

“Stopped by Moose-a-lotta late yesterday. Thought you might like—”

“You bought cupcakes for
me
?”

“Not a big deal,” he lied while sweeping her over his threshold.

“Maybe not,” she said. “But this road trip … I’ll probably get on your nerves after the first hundred miles.”

“Doubt it will take that long.”

She snorted, then swiveled in front of him, planting a hand to his chest. How the hell did she manage to look vulnerable and headstrong at the same time? “I’m thinking this will be a short-lived, hot and heavy affair.”

“Hot and heavy, yes. Short-lived?” He palmed her hand and squeezed. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Lucy’s intrigued.”

“George is intrigued, too.” Adam brushed a thumb over Peppy’s blushing cheek. “What about you?”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes sparking with an intoxicating mix of mischief, wariness, and affection. “Definitely intrigued.”

THIRTY-FIVE

Sam woke up long before dawn. His body clock was off, three hours ahead of Pacific time. Not wanting to wake Harper, he moved to a corner club chair, melting into the dark while checking e-mails and social sites on his phone.

No messages from Edward Wilson, but a new text from Jayce. Wilson had checked into a cheap hotel on the south end of town. His return flight was later tonight. Obviously he hadn’t come for the sights and sounds. No R & R. In and out. One day. Just long enough to humiliate Harper, just long enough to screw with her head and career.

Sam still had trouble comprehending why the man would go to such lengths, why he’d hold a grudge for so long. Jayce hadn’t uncovered anything that led him or Sam to believe that Edward would employ violence. Neither of them anticipated a mass shooting. He wasn’t coming to take the lives of innocent bystanders or to forfeit his own. He was coming to tarnish Harper’s.

Regardless, in a bid to cover all bases, Jayce had connected with an old friend, a former member of the NYPD who’d transferred to Vegas. Ian had agreed to conduct some off-duty surveillance. He’d be on Wilson’s ass as soon as he left the hotel, tailing him and advising Jayce and Sam with his exact location. Sam had also reached out to Nash and his copilot, Tripp. Wilson wouldn’t make it within ten feet of that shoot. A cop, a PI, two badass pilots, and a marine would make sure of it. Sam wasn’t an arrogant man, but he was confident. And Edward had misjudged if he thought Sam wouldn’t carry through on his threats. He was actually looking forward to this face-to-face. There
would
be a positive outcome.

The sheets stirred and Sam’s heart jerked as he glanced toward the woman sleeping in his bed. They’d gone a couple of rounds last night. The first time had been hot and romantic. The second, hot with a dash of kink. Both times had ended in a tender embrace almost, but not quite, leading to spoken words of affection. Harper had yet to declare her feelings out loud and she’d stopped Sam short of voicing his love. He didn’t know what that was about, but he let it slide, Rae’s voice ringing in his ears. “
You can’t force love
.”

As if she sensed Sam was watching her, Harper stirred then flicked on the nightstand lamp. She blinked across the room looking rumpled, and sexy, and slightly disoriented. “What time is it?” she asked in a croaky voice.

“A little after four.”

“In the morning?” She checked the bedside clock then rubbed her eyes. “Why are you up so early?”

“It’s after seven in Vermont, hon.”

“Oh, right. The time change. I’ve flown coast to coast so many times, it doesn’t throw me anymore.”

She bunched her pillow and pushed up a little, pulling the sheets with her to cover her bare breasts. Now that was disappointing. He would have enjoyed the show.

“I’m surprised the Cupcake Lovers stayed out so late,” she went on. “When Daisy sent us that text to join them down in the bar it was, what? Eleven?”

“Almost.”

“Two in the morning Vermont time. I can’t believe they were still awake.”

“Making the most of their two days in Sin City,” Sam said. “Besides, you know Daisy. Not one to pass up a thrill.”

Harper’s lip twitched. “I really like that about her. So what do you think her surprise is?”

Sam set aside his phone, shrugged. “Maybe she got a tattoo.”

“She wouldn’t.”

Sam raised a brow.

“You’re right. She would. But wait. The text read:
VINCENT AND I HAVE SURPRISE.
” She furrowed her brow. “Matching tattoos? Wouldn’t that be a scream? If Daisy got inked, I wonder where and what … Oh, God. You don’t think she’d try to show it off on live TV, do you?”

“Maybe it’s something else,” Sam said. “Maybe they eloped.”

A slow smile spread over Harper’s gorgeous face. “Wouldn’t that be something? Speaking of…” She admired her left hand. “I don’t want to take off my ring, Sam.”

His pulse tripped. “I’m glad.”

“When the CLs see it … they’ll ask questions. I know we agreed to tell them after the show, but…”

“We’ll tell them at breakfast.”

“I don’t want to overshadow Daisy and Vincent’s surprise—whatever it is.”

“We’ll wait for the right moment.”

“Today’s a big day on so many levels.”