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But he would have seen right through that excuse. She didn’t exactly look like she could compete in Beyoncé’s market. She had a much better shot at winning over the hearts—and wallets—of the fans who’d listened to Taylor Swift before she’d started shaking it off.
“But I thought it was about pickups, dogs, and honoring fallen soldiers,” he continued. “Like the girl who wrote that song about her brother.”
That’s me.
She’d written the mournful ballad the day someone from the Navy arrived at their trailer in Central Florida and handed her parents a folded flag and a thank-you for your son’s service. Her lyrics had hit a nerve and propelled her to fame. But if she wanted to keep her place in the spotlight—and the paychecks that supported her parents and siblings—her label wanted a fun song. And they’d demanded a sexy music video shot in Las Vegas’s Red Rock Canyon to go with it.
With a backup singer who’d probably fit in better on a Taylor Swift tour wearing sequins instead of a Stetson.
But she didn’t have the time or money to waste on finding the perfect cowboy for her shoot. By eight o’clock tonight, she needed to be ready to walk onstage for the second performance of her Vegas tour stop.
“Some of country music is about those things,” she conceded.
“And maybe tractors,” he added. “But not the other stuff.”
She pressed her lips together. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was right. He didn’t know a thing about country music.
“Country comes from the heart,” she said. “Sure, maybe there are a few cowboys out there who sing about their favorite tractor. And I bet their heart is in it. But my—”
He cocked his head and studied her.
“My singer, the one I work for,” she continued, stumbling over the words. “His songs are about love and loss and…”
“Sex?” he said dryly.
She nodded and then looked past him to Jared. “Let’s try that again. We want to get it right—”
“He’s not going to try anything again.” Her mystery man stepped in front of Jared.
“Look,” she said, no longer bothering with her fake smile. “I need to nail this music video. It might seem silly to you, but this is my job. So unless you know how to stage a make-out scene against a rock, I’ll have to ask you to move on and let us work.”
“I don’t know about staging.” His arms moved to his sides as if he were preparing to pounce. His dark eyes met hers. “But I’ve had some experience kissing against this wall of rock.”
Then kiss me.
Her lips parted as if she’d said those words out loud. She wouldn’t ask the man who looked like he’d walked out of her fantasies for a kiss. It was tempting… But she never gave in to desire. She’d fought the lure of the doughnuts on the catering table for the past year.
But his kiss might be better than a chocolate doughnut.
Still…she didn’t have a lot of experience with alpha males or kisses. She’d gone from helping her family make ends meet by working as a cashier, to a twenty-three-year-old country star. And she’d been too focused on her music during her grocery store checkout days to pay much attention to boys.
“And honey,” the mystery man continued, his voice a low growl. “I know how to seduce a woman, how to kiss her until she’s breathless. Without knocking the wind out of her.”
Temptation, here I come!
“If you’re such an expert,” she shot back before her common sense locked the impulsive desire behind a door labeled “do not open.” “Then show me.”
…
Dante had thought he’d hit rock bottom in the weeks following his surgery. His SEAL team had left California for a training exercise. His ex-wife had remarried, promising to love and cherish his former plumber. And his Italian mother had invaded his home. He’d never felt so damn useless.
Until he’d rushed over to rescue the freaking backup singer who didn’t need saving. Shit, the only thing the spitfire in the butt-ugly wig needed was a man who knew how to kiss.
And I sure as hell didn’t lose that skill when I tore up my knee.
He could do this. Whether he should…that was another question. And one he didn’t want to contemplate right now. He’d rather focus on his self-assigned mission—kiss the woman in the weird wig.
Dante took a step forward and watched as her lips parted. She pressed her palms against the red rock and arched her back. His gaze dropped to her chest. Those breasts—hell, she put every dancer in Vegas to shame.
