The Glamorous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Read online

  The thought of kissing Dalton made her feel … gooey.

  She reached out to steady the cup and their fingers touched, connecting over the slippery plastic surface, sending her new butterflies soaring even higher. They maintained eye contact as she wrapped her lips around the straw and took a sip, the cherry flavoring tingling on her tongue.

  “I think it’s perfect,” she said, trying to slow her racing heartbeat before she made a fool of herself in the middle of a Chevron.

  “Yeah,” he said huskily. “Perfect.”

  “Hey, let’s go!” Sebastian’s voice echoed harshly around the store. He stood in the doorway, glaring.

  Kynley jumped back a pace, dropping her hand from the cup. “Coming,” she said, hating the guilty tone in her voice. They hadn’t been doing anything, and besides, they were adults, not three-year-olds he had to babysit.

  Sebastian gave a snort of disgust and dropped a five-dollar bill onto the counter in front of the clerk. “For their drinks.” He jerked his head in Kynley’s direction, then stomped outside to the Escalade.

  Dalton hurried to put the lid on the cherry Coke and followed her from the store. “Sorry. I guess I took that a bit too far,” he said, once they were back in the car.

  Kynley shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Sebastian’s uptight about everything. I think it’s part of his personal style.”

  Dalton nodded before returning to the music, and as the miles ticked away, Kynley found her eyes wandering away from the road far too often to watch him—the ease with which he held the guitar, the graceful way his fingers moved over the frets, the gleam of the sun on his tanned forearms. As he bent over the guitar, a lock of his hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes, and every once in a while he’d break off to brush it back impatiently. After a little while, she starting resisting the urge to reach out and brush it back for him.

  They passed into Tennessee and the rolling hills of North Carolina started to thin, flattening as if they’d been pushed out of the way by an impatient giant. The horizon stretched in all directions and the sun was high overhead in a turquoise sky.

  She took a sip of Coke, letting the cherry flavor linger on her tongue. Right now she was supposed to be in LA with a full weekend at home, then a flight to Denver on Monday. She’d probably have done some laundry, attended a yoga class or two, and found some time to answer fan mail. Sebastian would undoubtedly have insisted she participate in the editing of the new video, which would have meant sitting in a dark room for hours while he and Gordon argued over camera shots.

  She glanced at Dalton, who thumbed through the folder. Already she knew that when he played; he caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth and pulled his eyebrows together in concentration. Her spirits lifted. This was way better than a weekend in LA.

  He pulled a sheet of music from the folder. “Did you write this one?”

  She glanced at the title … “Light Me Up.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t perform it. It shouldn’t be with your music.” Sebastian had had all the music faxed to the hotel; his assistant must have included “Light Me Up” by mistake.

  Dalton propped the music on the dash. She’d written the score for the piano, but after a few experimental chords, he transposed the key to fit the guitar. The music filled the small interior of the car, sending an ache pulsing in Kynley’s heart. Before she knew it, she was singing along.

  Unlike many of the others, “Light Me Up” had not been born from her teenage heartbreak. She’d written it only a few years ago, when Jilted Storm had started to go big. When she’d realized that the cost of fame would likely be love. It was a song of wistfulness, and a hope that, despite everything, someone would see through Kynley the celebrity and find Kynley the person.

  The final strains of the guitar filled the car, then died. “It’s beautiful,” Dalton said softly. “You should perform it.”

  She gave a self-conscious laugh. They’d intended to perform it with Kynley sitting in the spotlight at the piano, accompanying herself while she sang, but after the first rehearsal, she found she couldn’t. It was too personal, too painful. “Sebastian thinks it would slow down the show too much, so we dropped it,” she made a hasty excuse.

  He frowned as he returned the music to the folder, and they rode in silence for a few miles. “When did you decide to be a singer?” he finally asked.

  When did she decide to be a singer? She couldn’t remember. The need seemed to have always been with her, part of her makeup just as much as her dark eyes and her love of popcorn. “I was really little,” she said. “I used to sing for my dad’s cows.”

  He chuckled. “Cows? Like … cows. Literally?”

  “Yeah. My dad’s a dairy farmer. When he’d go milk cows, I’d go out to their pens, stand on the fence, and sing to them.” She laughed lightly. “Talk about your captive audience.”

  “And did you make up your own songs then?”

  “Mostly I stuck with the old favorites I grew up with—Johnny Cash, Barbara Mandrell, those types. But once in a while I’d start singing and go with whatever came out.”

  For a minute, she was a kid again. Messy hair, dirty jeans, filthy boots, balanced on the fence singing her heart out. It didn’t matter that her audience was a bunch of Holsteins; what mattered was they were watching her sing. And they did watch—ninety-seven pairs of big brown eyes, to be exact—all waiting to see what she’d do next. They were probably curious and a little nervous, but she’d taken it as a sign of devotion and kept belting out tunes until the cows had literally gone home.

  “That’s a great story,” Dalton said, bringing her out of her memories. “And you should put ‘Light Me Up’ back in the show. It’s really good.”

  She glanced in the rearview mirror at the black car following them. Why did she already feel like she could trust Dalton a thousand times more than Sebastian?

  Kynley pulled up in front of the Countryside Motel with a sigh of relief. After almost ten hours in the car, she was done. Her back ached, and she was so jittery from the cherry Coke that she felt like she could run a dozen laps around the building before Carl could even get the Escalade parked.

  Note to self: no caffeine tomorrow.

  Dalton got out of the passenger side and threw her a grin over the roof of the car. She returned it. Despite her sore back, it’d been one of the best days she’d had in a long time. Dalton had played through all the songs several times, and every time he’d pulled out a new sheet of music, her heart jolted. Somehow, having sold-out concerts and thousands of “likes” on YouTube wasn’t as important as seeing the corners of his mouth quirk as he started playing. Each small sign of his approval felt like a shot of Willy Wonka’s fizzy lifting drink, filling her with happy tingles.

  The Escalade pulled in and the door swung open before the car had completely stopped. Sebastian climbed out and gave the motel a once-over. “You can’t stay here,” he said flatly. “What if someone sees you?”

  “No one will see her,” Dalton said. “The rooms have outdoor entrances. She can duck inside and no one will ever know.”

  Sebastian ground his teeth and waved his phone. “I already made reservations at the Hilton in Little Rock.”

  Little Rock was still at least an hour away. Kynley cast a longing look toward the row of brown painted doors—a bed was on the other side, so close. “You go ahead; Dalton and I can meet you there in the morning,” she said.

  Sebastian’s gaze bounced between them and his eyes narrowed. For a minute she felt like a guilty teenager whose mother had walked in on a make-out session in the basement. “Separate rooms, duh,” she told him.

  “You can’t stay at a two-bit motel; it won’t look good for your image,” Sebastian snapped. “And what about security? All it takes is one person with a phone. One Facebook post and you’re deluged.” He paused, drawing the moment out and letting them imagine what a deluge would look like. “I know what I’m talking about,” he insisted.

  Sufficient
ly humbled, she nodded and threw Dalton an apologetic look. “Sorry. I guess it’s back in the car.”

  “No worries,” he said easily, though she knew he was tired too. “I can drive if you want.”

  “No,” Sebastian cut in. “Carl will drive with you while Kynley and I take the Escalade with Marco.” His blue eyes were stern as he looked at Kynley. “We need to talk about some things.” Before they could reply, he stomped back to the car and slammed the door.

  “I’m guessing ‘some things’ means me,” Dalton said.

  Kynley bit her lip. “Probably,” she admitted. “Are you okay riding with Carl?”

  “Sure.” Dalton shrugged. “See you in Little Rock.” He got back into the car, leaning between the seats to settle the guitar back into its case.

  Guess he didn’t feel like serenading Carl.

  Well, that was understandable. Carl and Marco were both big and intimidating and devoted to some kind of “no smiling” rule—probably exactly what bodyguards were supposed to be. They had stepped in a few times to keep fans in line during meet and greets, but having such a display of muscle around felt kind of … braggy.

  This is what you wanted, though, right?

  She slid into the Escalade next to Sebastian and took off the baseball cap, shaking out her hair. The plush leather seats were soft and cool under her fingertips, and she let herself sink into them with a sigh.

  “Better, right?” Sebastian urged as they got on the road again.

  “More comfortable,” Kynley replied a little begrudgingly. “But I had fun driving, too; it made me feel kind of normal again.”

  “You’re not normal,” Sebastian pressed. “That’s the point. You’ll never be normal again.”

  She leaned forward to glance at the rear lights of the car where Dalton rode with Carl—did not being normal mean she’d never have a normal relationship? Never get to go on a date without bodyguards constantly hovering? She had spent much of her dating years either songwriting or performing, but there were a few good memories besides dumb Trent Nicholls. Memories of beautiful boys with soulful eyes—quiet candlelight dinners, walks in parks, snuggling next to someone at the movies.

  Kissing.

  How long had it been since she’d had a really good, feel-it-all-the-way-to-your-toes kiss? Way too long. But maybe that would change soon. The thought of kissing Dalton sent a tingle shooting through her.

  “So?” Sebastian asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. “He’ll do?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to stop the smile fighting to spring to her lips. “Yeah, he’ll do,” she said.

  The Marriott in Little Rock was large and luxurious, and thanks to a call from Sebastian, they were able to drive into the underground service entrance, completely bypassing the front desk and the lobby and anyone who could potentially recognize her.

  As Kynley settled into her private suite—a suite this time, not a regular room—she realized she didn’t know where Dalton was. If they’d stayed at the motel, he could have been just on the other side of the wall instead of several doors, or even several floors, away. The thought nettled. Had Sebastian deliberately planned the room assignments to keep them apart, or was it merely the way things had worked out?

  After a hot shower, Kynley flopped down on the bed and stared at her phone, thinking of texting Dalton, but not sure what to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. They’d just spent all day together in the car; he probably needed a break from her.

  Her eyes were fluttering closed when her text alert rang. It was him.

  -How’re you doing? All settled in?

  She bit the corner of her lip as an uncontrollable smile sprang to life and a frisson of energy shot through her tired limbs.

  -Yup. You sounded really good today, I think you’re going to do awesome.

  -Thanks. Hope so.

  She didn’t want to let the conversation end, but didn’t know what else to say. His response certainly sounded final.

  Kynley thought through several more things to say, but finally gave up. She’d waited too long and missed the window where she could reply without it seeming weird. She ran her fingers over the blank screen, trying to remember the last time texting a guy had seemed so important.

  Tossing his phone on his mattress, Dalton leaned back and closed his eyes. He wished Kynley would text back, but she didn’t, and he couldn’t think of anything else to say to her that wouldn’t come across as creepy.

  It was fun getting to know you better today.

  Hope your bed is comfortable.

  Do you have any idea how much I’d like to kiss you?

  Ugh. Cheesy much? But true. He did want to kiss her, so much that the thought sent his pulse pounding and his mind spiraling with images of her in his arms—her gorgeous eyes fluttering shut as their heads came together, his lips seeking hers.

  Dalton sat up and rearranged the pillow under his head, then leaned back and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He needed to concentrate on the music, not on Kynley. But his thoughts lingered on the way she’d sung along in the car as he played the music she’d written, songs that showed all her talent and her vulnerability, and he had to admit the music and Kynley were becoming even more inexorably linked.

  Chapter Seven

  He woke early after a restless night, eyes gritty and body sore from yesterday’s long drive. Not to mention his fingertips. He thought he’d been playing enough guitar to maintain some decent callouses. But after yesterday’s marathon, it was painfully obvious he hadn’t been playing enough. Ouch.

  After dabbing ointment on his sore fingers, Dalton pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, and found his way to the hotel gym. The treadmill was usually more his style, but today he chose the elliptical. He needed to focus on going over the guitar parts he’d learned yesterday instead of where he put his feet.

  He’d already downloaded all of Jilted Storm’s songs to his iPod. After starting the playlist, he hit the button on the elliptical and closed his eyes, letting the music fill him as he picked out the rhythm guitar line, trying to anticipate what came next.

  Something brushed his arm, and his eyes flew open.

  Kynley yanked her hand back. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Dalton shook his head and pulled the earbuds out. “No worries. I’ve been going over the music.” She looked adorable in black yoga pants, with the straps of her black sports bra peeking around her loose blue tank top. Her long hair was caught in a ponytail, and she had her own iPod, a few generations newer than his, strapped to her arm.

  His rush of adrenaline at seeing her dampened as Carl appeared in the doorway, eyes scanning the room suspiciously, as if there could be some deranged fan hiding behind the weight rack.

  Well, maybe there could. Dalton didn’t know. Since his band had never gotten past the struggling musician phase, their only groupie was Keith’s girlfriend, who rode with them and usually stayed in the green room during their performances. Did she even qualify as a groupie if she didn’t watch the show?

  “So it’s going okay?” Kynley tipped her head toward his iPod as she climbed onto the elliptical next to his.

  He nodded. “I definitely need more practice, but my part is starting to sound familiar.”

  “Awesome.” She shot him a bright smile, making him glad he wasn’t holding on to the heart rate monitor pads on the elliptical. She was definitely making his pulse leap.

  Kynley took a minute to study the control panel of the machine, then pushed a few buttons and started moving. Before long, they were in sync, and Dalton did that thing where he sped up, then felt stupid because maybe she’d think he was trying to impress her. So he slowed down, then felt stupid again because now would she think he was babying her?

  “Are you doing that on purpose?” Kynley demanded, giving him an exasperated look.

  “What?”

  “Speed up, then slow down,” she said. “Are you trying to make me dizzy?”

 
; He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

  They worked out side by side for several minutes in silence, though neither of them made a move to put in their earbuds.

  “So when did you know?” Dalton finally asked. “What was the moment where it switched from being a dream to actually being a reality, where you realized, ‘Hey, I’m doing this and it’s working’?”

  Kynley’s eyes took on a faraway look for a moment. “Winnipeg,” she said. “We’d played all over the States, but that was our first show outside of the U.S. and we booked the Burton Cummings Theater, which was crazy because it’s pretty big. We’d played for big shows here, but to go into another country … most groups tend to start a bit smaller and work their way up. So it was crazy but we did it anyway, and the show sold out within a few hours. Twelve hundred people. I think that’s when it hit me.”

  “So cool,” Dalton said. There was genuine admiration there, but also, if he was honest, a small twinge of jealousy. His band had never played for more than a hundred at the most, and certainly never sold out a venue.

  “It’s been a wild ride,” Kynley admitted. “Way beyond what I ever dreamed, that’s for sure.”

  “What? You didn’t see stardom in the future when you were standing on the fence singing to the cows?” Dalton teased.

  “I hoped,” Kynley said. A sheen of sweat glistening across her forehead and she punched the button to stop the machine. “Can you be ready to go in about an hour?”

  “You got it.”

  When she left with Carl, it was as if all the lights in the room dimmed. He stayed for a few more minutes, then went to take a shower.

  “Who are your music inspirations?” Kynley asked once they were back on the road. Despite Sebastian’s protests, she was determined to finish the road trip with Dalton. Besides, he wanted to use the time to practice, and she knew he would be more self-conscious if he were forced to play under Sebastian’s critical eye.