Or maybe that was just her, wanting to sing songs that changed as she changed.
Except she couldn’t change. Her entire career was resting on this next album, a logical if somewhat careful transition from aspiring pop star to pop star. People’s livelihoods depended on her success, backup singers and road crew, tour manager and designer, everyone at the label. More and more, financial success depended on a few huge megastars, and the up-and-comers came with their own base of support in social media followers, all primed to buy albums and concert tickets and memorabilia and tie-in materials. More and more, the music was about sounding just enough like another popular song, to entice people to buy it.
More and more, all she wanted was to go back to writing her own songs. But she was as much of an airhead as most people thought pop stars were if she believed the label would discard a complete album custom tailored for her voice, the moment, just waiting to drop and launch her to the next level.
What if she made the wrong choice? She’d come so far. A slip now, so close to the top, could lead to irrecoverable fall.
“You okay?” Conn asked.
She clutched her cup a little closer, sipped the hot, sweet water. “I’m great,” she said. “Everything’s just great.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
He might not be the most experienced guy with relationships, but even he knew when a woman was faking a reaction. Cady was no more “great” than he was.
That said, Conn knew exactly what his strengths and weaknesses were. His strength was his body, not his brains. He’d been a mediocre student all the way through school, less interested in the theory behind anything than in the reality of life. He’d always traded the intellectual for the physical, book learning for street smarts. He was capable of quick reads on people, easily discerning when someone offered harm or danger. It made him great at patrol and the first stage of undercover work, simple buy-and-busts, because his radar went off before a situation went to shit.
This was always his weakness, too.
He knew as well as anyone, even before Hawthorn pointed it out, that he missed nuances right, left, and center. That was fine by him. He’d never wanted to be anything more than muscle. The big shots could have the months of planning, the strategizing over a large-scale operation, the press conferences and citations when it was over. Bring him in for the takedown and he was happy.
Working Cady’s security used his strengths, yes, but also called his weaknesses front and center. He needed to focus on her immediate security, but also keep in mind the internet threats, the eerie woods at the back of her house, the disappearing tail lights. Being a body man challenged him unlike any other role he’d played as a cop.
Until Cady kissed him in the privacy of Eye Candy’s office, the beat of whatever was playing on the house system thumping up through the soles of his boots had set his body vibrating.
Kissing her was an impulse move, based on motives he shied away from exploring. Her kissing him back was Cady to the core. Unpredictable and irresistible. He was still vibrating with all that focused energy as the Audi purred from streetlight to streetlight.
“The concert was really good,” he said, playing it cool.
She looked at him and smiled. “You liked it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve never been to a show like that before. You had a different connection with the audience than you did at the Field Energy Center.”
“Hearing fifteen thousand people sing the refrain to one of my songs is pretty cool. But being five feet from a longtime fan, looking into her eyes, knowing what I created affected her is the best thing ever,” she said. “That’s the high I keep chasing.”
“Natalie made you more hot water with honey,” Conn said.
She picked up the hot cup and sipped, then gave a little sigh with pleasure as she cradled the cup between her palms. Only her slender fingers protruded from the cuffs of her puffy jacket. He glanced at them, remembering the way they shifted on the guitar’s neck as she sang. The calluses on her fingertips made sense now, the slight edge and rough texture lighting up his nerves when she touched him.
He liked her hands a little rough, because her touch registered more than smooth manicured fingers did. All his life he’d reveled in the soft hands of a woman. Until now. Until Cady, fierce and tender at the same time, grabbed him and kissed him back, like she needed what he’d wanted to give her.
He shifted in the seat as his cock hardened. The car’s interior crackled with tension humming between them, like a taut wire struck and vibrating, like a guitar string. She’d tightened them between songs, plucking at them until she got the sound she wanted, carrying on a conversation with the audience the whole while.