Nashville by Heart: A Novel Page 2

  Maybe she had misunderstood.

  “I had an appointment with you,” she muttered. “Or at least I thought I did.” She stared at their hands, his grip gentle, but still securely holding hers in place.

  He smiled, his blue eyes drawing her in like magic. She thought she might swoon with all the butterflies flitting around inside her chest, so she reached for a nearby countertop. He let her go. She closed her fingers into a fist, trapping the warmth inside.

  “You had an appointment with me?”

  “I thought so.”

  “Hmm. I don’t recall havin’ you on my schedule,” he drawled. He didn’t mention rescheduling. “Unfortunately I gotta run though. I’m havin’ lunch with—” He aimed a thumb toward the door, and Gillian suspected a brush off. She could see it now. He’d been interested in her, but as soon as he found out she was trying to get signed by him, he was finished.

  “Audrey,” she said, inching toward the door. He inched after her. “Josie told me.”

  He smiled again, making her knees turn to jelly. Trying not to wobble, she looked for a new place to rest her hand. The exit wasn’t close enough to grip, so he held his arm out like a dashing prince. This was very much like a fairytale, but it didn’t seem to be headed toward a happy ending at all.

  “Right. Lunch with Audrey,” he said, staring at her hand for a minute, seeming to be pondering her presence in his lobby. “But hey, Gillian. You sing, right?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” she said with what she knew was a goofy smile. She was definitely not in flirting mode. She reluctantly let go of his arm and took her chances, knowing it was pointless to hope he would be either a manager or a date now. Warmth filled her cheeks yet again. She was having quite the embarrassing day.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll let you get to your meeting now.”

  “Why don’t you get some music to me?” he called after her. “I’ll give it a listen, as an apology for cancelling our meeting.”

  She stopped short. “Really?”

  Holy cow. What should she do? She patted her tiny skirt pockets, as if the answer could be in there, then remembered her purse.

  “Oh, then in that case I have something now.”

  She dug through her purse like a mad woman, her heart pounding, until she produced a CD with her name written on the case in red permanent marker.

  He chuckled. “Old school, are we?”

  Her face, already flushed, was now like a flame lighting a watchtower. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course, probably nobody used CDs any more. They’d email a digital file or something. Maybe hand him a thumb drive. Send him to a website, which she didn’t have. She’d listed herself on some aspiring artist sites but couldn’t even remember which ones they were. She took back the CD. No wonder she didn’t have a record deal yet. Heck, do they still call them record deals?

  “I’m sorry.” She attempted to stuff the CD back in her purse. “I recorded it at home… uh… back in… my hometown, you know, we didn’t have a… never mind. I guess it is old school.”

  “You don’t say.” His eyes softened. “I like old school.”

  She wondered if he saw through the makeup to the scared little girl behind it. She hoped not.

  “I like it a lot,” he said, indicating for her to give the CD back to him. “I’ll let you know what I think. We can talk about it over lunch some time, if you want.”

  Her heart raced, and she couldn’t think of a single word, even though all she needed to say was yes. After being humiliated by her encounter with his assistant, this was the last possible thing she’d expected to happen. And forget about those tiny little leaps her heart had been making when he looked at her; she was now weak in the knees from more than attraction. He wanted to meet with her about music, after all. How lucky could she get? And after making so many amateur mistakes in one day.

  “What do you say?” he was asking. “I know a great sushi place.”

  Her nose wrinkled involuntarily. What kind of Southerner was he?

  She thought about joking with him that anyone who’d eat raw fish was crazy, but she didn’t want to offend him, especially if he was going to listen to her music.

  “Does that sound good?” he asked.

  It sounded awful. Maybe she was just a bundle of nerves, but the very thought of raw fish made her stomach turn. In her world, fish were meant to be battered and fried.

  “Maybe,” she said, giving him a smile that felt as wobbly as her feet in those ridiculous shoes.

  Please, she thought—anything but sushi.

  Chapter Two

  Holy smokes. Will was having a hard time tearing his eyes away from the girl standing—no, wobbling—in his building’s lobby and telling him that maybe they could have sushi together. Everything about her appearance was incredibly distracting, including her green eyes sparkling even brighter than her glittery eyeshadow and all that blond hair hanging like silk across her shoulders. He didn’t know where to look that didn’t send his mind into a swirl of thoughts that had nothing to do with music. Tearing his gaze away from her mouth, he focused on what she’d said.

  Maybe.

  He grinned. “Maybe you’ll have lunch with me? Or maybe you’ll have sushi?”

  She opened her mouth to say something but immediately snapped it shut.

  “Don’t tell me,” he said. “Sushi not your thing?”

  The way she wobbled in those crazy shoes convinced him she wasn’t accustomed to wearing them—or eating sushi.

  “Sushi’s definitely not my thing,” she said in a quiet voice. He couldn’t help but smile. She made him think of his sisters who still lived where they all grew up in a small town outside of Gatlinburg. Sushi wasn’t their thing either—too citified, they always said—although every time they visited, he begged them to try it.

  “Forget the sushi,” he said.

  “But—” She looked panicked, and her voice hit an odd high note. “I’d still like to see, er, meet with you.”

  She was clearly nervous. Wannabe clients always were, and he didn’t blame them. In his mind, he was still Will, a country boy from a big family, but to aspiring musicians, he was a genie who could grant their wishes if they didn’t rub him the wrong way. He didn’t think Gillian could rub him the wrong way at all.

  Of course, he hadn’t heard her sing, but he’d like to.

  “It’s a date,” he said.

  He hadn’t realized how the word “date” might sound until he’d already said it and she’d turned an enchanting shade of pink. To be honest, if it turned out she couldn’t sing a lick, he’d happily take her out on a real date, but only if she traded in those crazy-looking heels for some regular shoes, preferably a pair of boots. But she could keep that skirt.

  “OK,” she said, standing a little straighter despite her obvious discomfort.

  He wished he could put her at ease. The playing field was not level at all, but he sure would like to toss off his agent hat and get down on her level. As soon as he thought it, he mentally slapped himself for being such a rake. There was a time when he wouldn’t have had any problem mixing business with pleasure, but he was a gentleman now.

  “What about fried catfish?” he asked. “Chicken?”

  She laughed, the sudden lilt in her voice making him grin wider. He listed a half dozen Southern foods, all fried.

  “And we can talk about your music,” he added.

  “I guess I like anything, if we’re talking about music,” she said.

  Her shy smile gave him a glimpse of a woman more down-to-earth than her makeup and outfit suggested. He wanted to know that person.

  “Anything except sushi,” he said, grinning.

  “Except for sushi.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  She nodded agreement but said nothing as she fiddled with the fringe on her purse.

  He knew he should say goodbye and get going—Audrey would be ticked at him for being late—but instead he stood rocking on his heels like a
school boy about to ask a girl to the dance. He could definitely imagine taking her out on the dance floor, rocking the night away, but first they’d have to do something about those shoes. Not that he completely hated them on her. They were sexy. She just couldn’t stand up in the damn things.

  “It’s settled,” she said, the pink filling her cheeks again. He’d like to think it was all because of him, but he knew better. A chance to share her music with him would feel like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Even though there was something about Gillian Heart that made him want to know more on a personal level, he had to admit there was some star quality about her, too, and it wasn’t only because she was gorgeous. Call it his agent’s sixth sense, but he knew better than to ignore that feeling.

  He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “You haven’t been in Nashville long, have you?”

  “About three years.” She took a deep breath, perhaps to calm her nerves, but she looked about as calm as a pressure cooker, and to be honest, about as hot too. And there he went again, needing to mentally slap himself.

  Trying to be a gentleman, he kept his eyes focused on her face. He was used to his presence making potential clients nervous, but he wasn’t accustomed to them making his mind spin out of control.

  “In Nashville time, you practically just got here,” he said.

  She offered a smile, and he thought it could light up a whole crowd. “I guess so. Sometimes it feels like forever.”

  He nodded, understanding how she felt. He’d seen a lot of girls in her shoes. Well, maybe not those shoes, he mused, but she might not realize how common it was to be in Nashville for years and not have a record deal. He knew a slew of musicians who’d been performing in Nashville for twenty and still didn’t have a deal.

  “Well, don’t ever give up,” he said, despite the fact that statistics told him she would. He hoped she wasn’t one of them and was pleased to see a flash of hope in her eyes. There was a time when he had that same look in his own eyes, before he got into music management.

  “Thanks,” she said, and her smile reminded him of someone he knew. He knew a songwriter by the same last name. Maybe they were related, but before he could ask, she glanced toward the doors, obviously ready to leave.

  “Looks like the rain’s quit.” He thought a look of relief crossed her face.

  “Before we go, what’s the plan?” he asked. “We don’t even have to eat. We can meet back here in my office later. Or how about a drink? I know a little bar around the corner…”

  He’d been thinking a drink was more informal and less intimidating than lunch or a meeting in his office, at least that’s what he told himself, but her nervous look was back. She was ready to bolt, and he wasn’t ready to let her.

  “I have to work.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m a waitress.”

  “Of course you are,” he said, smiling. They were always waitresses. “Just give Josie a call. She schedules everything.”

  “I will.”

  He waved the CD. “And I’ll listen.”

  She nodded, but he couldn’t tell if it was a yes or another maybe. Taking her hand in a goodbye shake, he realized she was trembling. Giving her what he hoped was a calming smile, he let her go, noticing her smooth pale nails as her hand slipped from his. They were completely void of polish, which didn’t match the tone of anything else she was wearing. He smiled to himself, pretty sure that if she were to wipe off all that makeup, a natural born country girl would emerge. That’s what he liked to see in a client, but rarely found any more. So much of country music was all about being flashy these days.

  “Thanks a bunch,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

  His heart raced at the thought of seeing her again, but unlike her, his experience as an agent had taught him how to hide his emotions. He glanced at his watch—a vintage gift from his parents—remembering he had to get going too, but couldn’t help stealing another minute. His music agent side wondered how she’d look on stage as he surreptitiously glanced at the string of beads draped across her chest, the only thing at all country about her outfit, then the man side of him glanced down a little lower before raising his gaze to meet her eyes.

  Caught staring, he cleared his throat and looked at his boots. He was a jerk, but that skirt and those silly high heels sent his mind in directions they shouldn’t go if he was thinking about giving her a chance as a client.

  She smiled then, making him wonder if she knew the effect she was having on him. She had to.

  “I know you’ve gotta get going,” she said. “So do I.”

  But he didn’t want her to go. In fact, he wanted to take her home right in broad daylight, but somehow he knew that underneath that sexy outfit, she wasn’t the type. And then he wouldn’t be able to pursue her as a client. It was a frustrating, and enticing, quandary he found himself in. Fortunately, even though he was having trouble curbing his roaming thoughts, he was a changed man. His former womanizing ways went all the way back to when his preacher dad kicked him out for trying to steal his girlfriend’s virginity in the back of the church van—as well as for stealing the van and a long list of other things. As a thirty-year-old man, he’d redeemed himself to his father a long time ago, but sometimes, when he was around a beautiful woman like Gillian Heart, he turned back into a bit of a Casanova.

  “Right, I do need to get out of here,” he said, wishing it weren’t true, but glad too. “I’ll see you soon. Just call Josie.”

  She nodded, bobbing a little sideways.

  He grinned, watching her rush toward the revolving door that spun her out of the Adams Music offices and away from Music Row.

  From the window he could see her hurrying down the sidewalk, toward the bus stop he presumed. Holy smokes. The jut of her cute little chin and the maddening wiggle of her hips from walking in those terrible shoes was delightful—even if he did prefer cowgirl boots on a woman.

  He hurried through the doors himself and stood staring after her. He was just in time to see her stop and remove her shoes. She looked back, giving him the tiniest wave before disappearing around the corner.

  He cocked his head and smiled, glad he’d kept her CD, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to see her again. He hoped he didn’t have to break her heart about her voice, which would completely mess up any possibility of taking her out. Then again, if she could sing, that would mess everything up too.

  ~~~~

  Will glanced at his buzzing phone. It was a text from Audrey. Her time was precious. Everybody’s time in Nashville was precious, but since she was his most promising new star, he obeyed her summons. Climbing into his brand new black truck, he left to meet her at The Sweetest Tea Café, but he slowed his truck when he spotted Gillian at the bus stop around the corner, standing beautiful—and steady—without those blasted shoes of hers. He chuckled, watching her disappear in his rearview mirror, then pressed down on the gas pedal. He was already late.

  On cue, his phone rang. “Yep, Audrey. I got your message. On my way.”

  Audrey was his ticket to get out of this mess the business had fallen into. And even though she was the newest big name in Nashville, she’d paid her dues by singing back-up for an impressive list of country music stars and performing at the best honky-tonk bars in Nashville. She was his sure thing when it came to clients. Even if some of her recent stardom had gone to her head, her years of experience in the industry made her a hell of a lot easier to work with than the boy and girl scouts who tried daily to get an appointment with him.

  He flipped on the radio. Of course, Audrey never made blood gush to his head like Gillian Heart had. That reminded him of the CD he’d tossed onto the seat beside him. He popped it in just for kicks, and about thirty seconds in, slammed on the breaks, nearly causing an accident. He pulled into the closest parking lot and turned up the volume.

  Holy smokes.

  Chapter Three

  “What happened?” Tasha tied the straps of her Sweetest Tea Café apron and handed Gilli
an hers. “Did he come on to you? He used to have a reputation, you know. I would’ve been more than happy if he’d made a pass at me.”

  “No, not exactly.” But then she thought about how he’d held her hand when he probably should’ve let go, not that she’d pulled away either, and the lingering way he’d looked at her.

  “Well,” she said. “For a minute I thought he might ask me out if I wasn’t there looking for an agent.”

  “You drove him crazy in those sexy high heels, didn’t you?”

  Gillian laughed. Maybe that’s all it was. She might be naïve about some things, having grown up in a small town, but she wasn’t stupid. Will Adams had been attracted to her, but it probably was the shoes. And the length of her skirt. And maybe the shirt too. There’s no way it could’ve simply been because of her mesmerizing personality. She’d realized too late that dressing in a way that made some girls look classy made her look like a tart. Obviously he’d been attracted.

  “I made a fool of myself,” Gillian said, doubting Will Adams would have a hard time pulling his eyes away once he saw her dressed like her normal, plain self—if he ever saw her again at all. Now that she was away from Music Row, the magical hope that had followed her on the bus trip back had evaporated into anxiety.

  “A fool? How?”

  Gillian pointed at her eyes. “Look at my face.”

  “Not a good color for you,” Tasha said. “Just being honest.”

  “You could’ve told me that this morning when you said I looked fancy.”

  “Sorry, bad lighting in our apartment, but you did look fancy.”

  Gillian sighed. “So the big question is, does he want to talk about my singing? Or does he just want to see me in those high heels again?”

  “Maybe both,” Tasha said.

  Gillian rolled her eyes.

  “Listen, honey. Who cares? Right now you don’t really have a horse in the race, do you?”

  “You know I don’t,” Gillian said, her face softening.