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“She’s the worst,” Cash said, his smile teasing. He stepped forward and reached out a hand and because Presley was dazed and really very tired, she reached her hand out, too. He gave her palm a gentle squeeze and murmured, “I was going for the bag.”
“Oh! Right. Sorry. I’m—it’s been a long day. First the drive and then the concert and then I was caught up at the VIP room...” She stopped talking, figuring it was silly to give him details about the concert he’d performed or the room where they’d mingled in following.
“Don’t sweat it. Follow me.”
They walked through what very well could have been her dream kitchen if she’d ever bothered to dream up such an elaborate space. The gray granite countertops and rich brown wooden cabinets were high-end and gleaming. Textured stone flooring extended into a living room where a huge fireplace tracked up one wall to a high ceiling, and fat leather couches stood waiting for several guests to settle into their plush cushions. A staircase curved to a second floor, bisecting a hallway leading in both directions. The house was gorgeous and lush, manly yet stylish. A lot like its owner.
“Assuming you don’t want a full tour right yet.” He paused, one booted foot resting on the bottom step. His stance was casual and welcoming, definitely contrasting their interaction earlier.
She offered a head shake, too overwhelmed to say more. Today had been a lot to process already.
Upstairs they passed doors—a lot of them—and while her bedroom wasn’t quite in its own “wing,” it sat off by itself at the end of the hallway.
“How many guests do you usually entertain?” she asked as he wheeled her suitcase through the doorway.
“The band stays here sometimes, but this year they splurged for a houseboat on the water. They stay up late and party. I don’t do that much anymore.”
Much.
What’d it look like when he did, she wondered? Probably a lot like his mug shot, she answered herself. He was a crazy-famous bad-boy music star in a town of luxury and endless parties. Fifths of Jack Daniels, smoking pot and groupies must be commonplace for him. She frowned, hating picturing him dripping with faceless, nameless women.
“Rickie’s a pill. Hope she didn’t rankle you.”
“I thought I walked in on a fight between you and your girlfriend,” Presley blurted out. His agent was pretty, and it wasn’t that far-fetched to think she and Cash had...you know.
His laugh was hearty. “God, no. Her wife would strangle me, for one. For the other, I’d never compromise our working relationship. You know how hard it is to find good representation?”
“No.”
His smile held for a beat. She didn’t know if it was her unexpected response to his rhetorical question, or if his smile was left over from the idea of him and Rickie dating, but either way Presley liked seeing it.
“Bathroom is attached.” He pointed at the en suite.
She took her first look at his guest quarters, which could comfortably hold a family of four. And their dog. “Don’t you have anything bigger?”
“Too audacious for you?” His grin was a little knee-weakening. It was hard to be this close to him and not remember what they used to do together. Hell, what they’d done mere hours ago.
He lifted the suitcase and set it on a king-size four-poster bed, adorned with several plum-and-cream-colored pillows resting on a floral quilt. She touched the stitching, unable to help herself. It was beautiful work.
“Real Southern charm, courtesy of Dana Sutherland,” he said.
“Your mom sewed this?”
“She decorated this entire room. You didn’t take me for a purple-and-flowers type, did you?”
She shook her head. “No, not really.”
A rolltop desk stood between a pair of tall windows. Layered drapes matching the quilt hung on either side of them. She peered out the windows and down at the driveway at her Jeep, admiring the tall, manicured line of hedges she’d overlooked when she’d driven in.
“This place is—”
“Audacious. I know,” he murmured, directly over her left shoulder.
She whirled around and her mouth was closer to his than she’d planned. Her mind immediately went to the elevator. The kiss. Her hands on his body, his hands on her waist. The way he’d pulled her close. She’d been more than happy to press her hardening nipples against his solid form...
She took a deliberate step away from him.
“When, um, did you get the tattoo?”
