Chance was resting back on his elbows and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and took her hand. He laced their fingers together while she looked at him in surprise.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice dripping with suspicion.

  “Holding your hand.” It just felt right.

  “I think the heat is getting to you.” She scoffed, but he noticed she didn’t pull away.

  “Nah.” Chance sat up so that he could move his body alongside hers. Her skin was cool from the pond dunking, water trailing down her temple. As he stroked her hand, he felt goosebumps rise on her. “Jolene.”

  She gave a shiver. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Then he kissed her.

  Four

  Jolene had known Chance was going to kiss her. She’d been anticipating, expecting it. But nothing could entirely prepare her for the sensation of having that man’s lips on her mouth again. The feeling was familiar, yet it was entirely new. She sighed into him, wanting to just breathe him in, enjoy the feeling while she could. Her fingers rose to his cheek, to stroke the stubble of his beard. She opened her mouth for him and his tongue swept inside to tease at the tip of hers.

  It wasn’t like the first kiss they’d shared, when Chance had leaned over while they were writing and taken her mouth hungrily, possessively. This was almost like a goodbye kiss. A kiss marked by regret, apology. Melancholy. Chance eased her back onto her sundress with a touch more gentle than any from him in recent memory. There were no roaming hands, no grinding. No anger, which had marred so many of their pre-breakup embraces. No words either. Just kissing. Good old fashioned make-out-in-her-teen-boyfriend’s-truck kissing. With soft sighs and swollen lips and the need to taste each other thoroughly. She wasn’t sure how long they would have kept at it, but Dolly decided to make the moment a threesome, coming over and resting her head on Jolene’s bare belly.

  That made her laugh and Chance shook his head as they broke apart.

  “Really, dog?”

  “We should be thanking her,” Jolene said, sitting back up, her heart racing. That had been a mistake, because anger was easy enough to deal with, whereas tenderness was not. So much for sticking to her guns. Now she felt the horrible stirring of affection for Chance, which was the last thing she should be feeling. “You ready to go back? I’m hungry too.”

  She expected Chance to say something about where that kiss might have been heading or call her out on doing a one-eighty, but he didn’t. He just stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it and he hauled her to her feet. Their hands slipped apart and her heart squeezed a little. She’d been expecting to be pissed off the majority of this trip, which was a great defensive mechanism, but she was feeling ridiculously sentimental. It was worrisome. Wasn’t she too young to want to stroll down memory lane and get as mushy as a marshmallow over a man who drove her nuts?

  Yet she felt the urge to make Chance a sandwich and brush his hair back off his face. Which made her a complete lunatic. This was his fault for looking so damn cute and sexy with no shirt on.

  “Yes, let’s eat,” he said. “And I want to shower the pond water off me.”

  “I must look downright scary,” she said, touching her frizzy hair. She bent over to pick up her sundress. When she stood up again, she caught Chance looking at her ass.

  “You look pretty damn good to me.”

  “Pervert,” she said, automatically, even though his words actually pleased her. She was feeling a bit insecure about her love affair with cheesy grits and what it had done to her hips and backside. The bigger breasts weren’t a bad thing, but unfortunately, unless you used a surgeon, if you gained weight in your chest, you gained weight everywhere--and she certainly had. Personally, she kind of liked being a little curvy. But the camera added ten more pounds.

  “What?” he protested. “I’m giving you a compliment.”

  She stood up and faced him. “Uh huh.”

  He tilted his head like he meant to kiss her again, but then suddenly he looked up at the sky and cursed. “Put your dress back on, Jolene.”

  “What? What’s wrong?” She followed his gaze. There was a helicopter flying low. “Is that a traffic chopper?”

  “What kind of traffic do you think there is here? Put your dress on. Actually this will be faster.” He threw his T-shirt over her head so that half of it drooped over her forehead and face. The cotton was warm from the sun and it smelled like him.

  Suddenly blind, she instinctively went to push the shirt back then realized why he had done it. Paparazzi. Good lord, she looked like she’d gone a round with the electric chair and lost. But he was right. If they couldn’t see her face, the shot would be useless. A picture of her in nothing but a bra and panties was worth some bucks only if her face was visible. She sighed. “Shit. I guess we should have taken a rental car to get here.”

  “I guess so.” He took her hand, his grip firm. His other hand landed on her shoulder. “Just walk with me. I won’t let you fall.”

  “Okay.” It was awkward to stumble along with no vision, but she did trust Chance not to let her take a facer. “What about your guitar?”

  “I’ll come back for it once you’re in the cabin.” He stayed right up on top of her, guiding her. “Another ten feet then we’re there.”

  Jolene gripped the shirt so it didn’t slip. She was used to this intrusiveness in her life, but she didn’t exactly love it. But that was the price of fame and what she’d signed on for. It was part of the gig, plain and simple.

  Chance was ranting. “This is bullshit. Don’t they have anything better to do? Who makes their living harassing people? They should be ashamed of themselves.”

  “People are curious,” she told him through his shirt. “There’s money in it for the photographers.”

  “Well, I know that, Jolene,” he said, and his voice was irritated. “I’m just saying it’s a lame ass way to make a living.”

  She had no response to that. She was just trying to make lemonade out of lemons and he had to go all righteous on her. She could offer him some platitudes but he’d just snap at her. “Are we there yet?” she joked.

  That did make him give a snort of laughter. “Yes. When I say step up, step up.”

  She rolled her eyes behind the shirt. “Thanks for that explanation. Because if you said step up, I was totally going to do something completely different.”

  “Should I let you trip instead next time?” He sounded frustrated and this time it wasn’t with the media.

  Maybe that had been a touch snarky. The chopper was making a second pass over their heads. She could hear the engine grow louder. “Sorry. You know I react poorly to being out of control of a situation. I don’t enjoy having my face covered.”

  He didn’t respond. But a few seconds later he said, “Step up.” His voice was gruff, low, but not angry.

  She did but didn’t quite land her foot right. Chance caught her when she stumbled, his arms sliding around her to prevent a fall.

  “Easy. Up. Up. Up. And we’re in.” He slammed the door shut behind them.

  Jolene lifted the shirt with a sigh of relief. “I seriously hope they didn’t get a shot of me with hair like this. That would be embarrassing. Plus my sister would kill me.”

  “I think Elle’s reaction is the least of your worries. The headline is going to be something like “Hart-Rivers on again?” We don’t want that rumor spreading.”

  “What difference does it make?” Who cared if people thought they were dating? Apparently he did. That hurt her feelings, and that made her defensive.

  Was the idea of being her boyfriend really that hideous? Hell, maybe it was to him. Personally, she could think of a lot worse lies that could be written about her in the media than that she was back together with Chance.

  “I just don’t like people having an opinion on my private life.” Then he glanced at her and smiled. “Though you do look cute with my shirt on your head.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.” She held it out to him. “I’m taking a shower. Then paparazzi or not, we need to go get some supplies. Like your whiskey and my bait. I still aim to catch a few catfish.” She had intended to go makeup free for the majority of their time there, but it looked like she was going to have to shellac her face as usual in case a picture was snapped.

  “Want some company?” Chance teased.

  The truth was, she did. Enough of this nonsense. If he was going to throw down challenges about naked songwriting and kiss her and walk around shirtless and sexy, then she was going to call his bluff.

  Sometime you know something is a bad idea. Everyone tells you it’s a bad idea, but you insist on being stubborn--like that time she’d worn the floral dress with the giant bow on her ass to the Grammys. Then in the aftermath, you wished like hell you had listened to someone, anyone.

  Jolene had a feeling having sex with Chance was going to be one of those times.

  Yet she was still going to do it.

  “Yes,” she said. “I do. I need someone to wash my back and it might as well be you.”

  Chance raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?” He sounded turned on. Intrigued. And maybe a tiny bit nervous.

  She liked to think that she rattled him. She grinned. “Yes. I’m very serious. We’re here to explore all the facets of our relationship, right? Besides, if TMZ is going to run that we’re knocking boots, I at the very least want it to be true.”

  Chance was still in his underwear and she could see that he had a nice thick erection. Ready for her. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’m going to go get my pants and my guitar. I’ll meet you in the shower in five minutes.”

  “Okay then.” Instantly her heart started to race and her hoohah heated up. They were doing this. Damn the consequences.

  Chance pulled a pair of shorts out of his suitcase and stepped into them. Jolene unzipped her own bag, searching out shampoo and body wash. Sexy times or not, her hair needed to be dealt with. Dolly lay down on the wood floor and gave a sigh. Jolene could sympathize with her.

  Once she had all her gear gathered, along with a fresh pair of panties, she went to the adjoining bathroom. It was new and clean and featured a decent sized shower. She reached in and turned the water on before unhooking her bra and dropping to the floor. She shimmied out of her panties and stepped in with her little bottles, bending over to rest them on the shelf.

  “Holy shit…”

  Jolene jumped at the sound of Chance’s voice. “Lord, you scared me. How the heck are you back so fast?” She whipped around, fighting the urge to cover her bits with her hands. He’d seen everything she had six ways to Sunday. There was no point in being shy now. But it was just instinct. She lowered her hands and stepped back into the spray. Let him look his fill.

  He definitely was. He was just standing on the other side of the glass drinking in the sight of her. His hands were in fists at his side. When she lifted her hands to push her hair back into the water, he made a sound in the back of his throat that she couldn’t help but gloat inside over. And it had the added effect of turning her on completely. Her nipples tightened and her inner thighs went damp. “Coming?” she asked him.

  Chance tore at the zipper on his shorts, dragging them down right along with his underwear. “Any minute now, if I’m lucky. And I feel lucky.”

  She had to laugh. “Subtle. What happened to the poetic guy I used to know?”

  “I may be inspired to write a song about this. How is that for poetry?” He opened the shower door.

  “It depends on what they lyrics are.”

  “A classic country tale of a man struck dumb by a woman. How he feels like a rusted truck next to her Cadillac style.”

  Oh, Lord. He hadn’t even been drinking. There was nothing Cadillac about her. Nor was he a rusted truck. She’d always thought of him as a motorcycle. From zero to ninety quickly, and with a lot of noise.

  “Does that make me classic?” she asked, trying to make light of it. He was just standing there, staring at her, and she felt nervous all of a sudden. Being naked with Chance was familiar, yet, everything was different. It was like returning home and finding all the furniture rearranged. Unsettling.

  “You are a classic country girl.” Chance nodded slowly, water spraying him through the open door. He didn’t acknowledge the tiny splatters on his arms, his chest.

  “And you’re country royalty. The Prince of Pickers.” Jolene dunked her hair back under the faucet and let the warm water pour over her face. She scrubbed at her eyes and slicked her hair back.

  She didn’t mean anything by it, other than a reference to his father and grandfather. But when Chance didn’t answer, she realized maybe it had been misinterpreted. She popped her eyes open.

  It didn’t even look like he’d heard her. He was watching her as he stepped into the shower, into her space. Her throat got tight, both from anticipation and nervousness. Why the heck was she so jittery?

  Because it mattered.

  Her future in the industry mattered.

  The past mattered.

  Chance mattered to her.

  She suddenly wasn’t sure this was one of her better ideas. This was right up there with deciding she wanted to be a redhead a few years back. She’d wound up looking like she was wearing an orange wig.

  This could be worse than her being a Halloween head.

  But she couldn’t resist Chance. Not when his naked body was sliding in alongside hers, his hands, callused from guitar strings, settling onto her hips. He stepped in behind her, his thighs briefly brushing against her before the only feel of him was his hands.

  She closed her eyes, needing to relax. He kissed her shoulder as his right hand eased around her hip. His fingers teased between her thighs, his thumb running over her clit. She gave a little gasp, startled by how quick her passion flared. Then again, their chemistry was legendary and she’d been sexless of late.

  “Does that feel good?” he murmured in her ear, flicking his tongue over the delicate skin, making her shiver despite the warm water.

  “Mm.” Jolene had nothing to say. She just knocked her hips so that his finger drove deeper inside her.

  “Your body is amazing, Jolene, and you’re so wet. Come for me, sweetie.”

  He didn’t even need to ask. She was already there. Having a quick, powerful orgasm, the water streaming down her body, aiding in her arousal. She sighed in pleasure, opening her eyes again, and making a move to turn so she could move into Chance’s arms.

  But he surprised her by kissing her forehead and stepping back out of the shower.

  “Are we taking this to the bed?” she asked, running her head under the water to make sure she had no shampoo remnants in her hair.

  Chance shook his head. “Maybe we should hit the pause bottom.”

  Her jaw dropped. Was the man for real? “Why? You already dipped a finger into the honey pot! What difference does it make now?” Of course, now he’d killed her sexy mood entirely.

  “I just don’t want you to have any regrets.” For a second she thought he was going to say something else. His mouth opened and he shook his head. But he didn’t.

  What she regretted was ever thinking he could manage not to be a jackass. “So now you’re protecting me from myself? That I’ll have one taste of your magical penis and I won’t be able to go on with my life? You’re an arrogant ass.”

  Chance didn’t deny it, he just shut the shower door, leaving her alone in the steam.

  What the hell? That was more than a little hurtful. It stung like hell. Maybe it had been impulsive for her to suggest that he join her, but if she had been certain of anything, it was that Chance was attracted to her. But now she wasn’t even sure about that.

  She hated that. Being vulnerable was an emotion she had left behind when she’d packed a bag and stomped out of her childhood home, her father screaming at her back she was never going to amount to anything.

  She had. She was something.

  She had presence, a big laugh, and enthusiasm in bed. If Chance didn’t see that, well then he could kiss her burgeoning butt.

  That conviction didn’t make the shower feel any less lonely though, damn it.

  Chance backed away from the shower, needing to put some distance between them. His cock was hard as steel and he wanted her so bad it set his teeth on edge, but the way she looked at him, her blue eyes wide, aroused. He didn’t know what game they were playing at here, but it was dangerous, and he was pretty damn certain he was losing.

  Jolene wasn’t stupid. She was a businesswoman. There had been a time when she had looked at him like she thought he was the sun and the stars and the moon, but she didn’t need him to make her career, not really, and she wasn’t in awe of him anymore. He wasn’t the prince of anything, let alone the prince of pickers. The balance of power between them had shifted at some point and in the weeks before their breakup, he had realized that with total clarity.

  It was for the best. He’d never deserved her doe-eyed devotion or the crush she’d thought was love. He was just a songwriter trying not to ride on his father and grandfather’s coattails. He was the guy who hated the cameras and the interviews and the crowds. He had just wanted to sit on a porch with her and make music. It was naïve and it wasn’t the world they lived in. It wasn’t Jolene’s reality and by proxy it was no longer his. He hadn’t realized how fast her star would rise and how little he’d be able to cope with it, and it had blown up their relationship.

  It was important to him that Jolene knew exactly what she was getting into, because they could claim to be in it just for the sex, but nothing between them was ever simple.

  Being here with her was like indulging in a good old-fashioned drunk. You knew you’d pay for it the next day, but you did it anyway. And you did it up good, throwing back shots.

  Going down on Jolene was like doing shots. She would taste sweet and tangy and her cries would go straight to his head. He’d lose control, he knew he would. He wanted to do dirty, nasty things to her. Sexy, possessive, base things. What’s more, he was pretty sure she’d let him.

 

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