A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

Seven


Zoe’s stomach fluttered with nerves. Which was disconcerting, because she was rarely unsettled before a show. It usually took her father’s goons a few weeks to find her latest bolt-hole. The fact that someone had come looking for her so quickly was alarming. But Pierre had sent the stranger away. Convincingly. So she was safe...for now. Perhaps her unusual restlessness could also be attributed to the fact that a polite bellman had delivered a note to her room an hour ago....






Dear Zoe—



I’d like to accompany you to the Silver Dollar Saloon tonight, if I may. Meet you in the lobby at 6:30? Call the front desk and leave me a message. Liam.





She had tucked the note in a drawer of the bedside table. Now she took it out and studied it again. Liam’s bold scrawl was neat, though masculine. She could almost see him writing the words, in a hurry to get on to the next thing, but still concerned with making sure she had a ride into town tonight.

She had danced around her suite when Dylan called earlier. Given the bar owner’s reaction yesterday, it seemed safe to assume she’d never hear from him. But not only had he called, he wanted her to perform tonight. With him. For the crowd at the Silver Dollar.

The whole thing had her jazzed and excited until Liam’s note arrived. Was it possible to experience stage fright in front of only one person? She was confident about her talent, but what if she had an off night? What if she hit a couple of sour notes? Or sang in the wrong key? The prospect of appearing amateurish with Liam watching made her stomach curl with dread.

Unfortunately, she was unable to think of a polite way to tell him she would prefer he stayed home. Thus at 6:25, she made her way downstairs. As she stepped off the elevator, she spotted Liam immediately. He stood on the far side of the lobby conversing with Pierre.

Though he wasn’t wearing jeans, he had clearly dressed for an occasion less upscale than dinner at Silver Beeches. A pale blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows exposed his tanned forearms and strained across his broad shoulders. Light khaki pants and leather deck shoes completed his ensemble. Even dressed casually as he was, he still looked wealthy and powerful. His impact was in the set of his jaw and the aura of command he wore so comfortably.

When Liam saw her approach, he said something to Pierre and crossed the marble floor. “Zoe. You look amazing.”

* * *

Liam struggled to keep his tongue from dragging the floor. It had been almost a full day since he had seen her, and his imagination had not exaggerated her appeal. Silky sunlit hair framed a face that was both girl-next-door and sex goddess. He wasn’t sure how the combination worked, but it made him hotter than hell.

He didn’t know what he had expected in terms of her performance attire. But she had surprised him. Dark-wash jeans fit her long, toned legs as if they had been sewn onto her. A narrow brown leather belt cinched her small waist. The silver and turquoise buckle was delicate and intricate.

Her blouse was the ultimate feminine weapon...a collarless, sleeveless red silk affair that clung to her breasts and tucked neatly into her jeans. He didn’t count how many buttons had been left undone, but the rounded slopes of her cleavage were tastefully displayed.

The simple gold chain that encircled her neck nestled in the valley between her breasts. On narrow, high-arched feet she wore red stilettos that brought her almost up to his height.

He knew that he had never seen a sexier, more sensual woman.

His voice was embarrassingly gruff when he spoke a second time. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, her smile small, but genuine. “I am.”

He took her elbow as they stepped outside. His classic silver Jag convertible, circa 1962, waited for them, engine running. After helping Zoe into the passenger seat, he put her guitar case in the back, ran around the car, and slid behind the wheel. “I decided to keep the top up since you’re performing tonight. But one afternoon soon I’ll take you for a drive in the mountains.”

“Sounds lovely.”

It was difficult to believe they had almost made love last night. Though Zoe had pulled away, he knew she wanted him. Perhaps a slow wooing was in order. For a skittish woman with defensive walls, a man needed tact and patience. Liam had both. And he was willing to do almost anything to lure Zoe into his bed. Wise or not, he had no choice. The wanting and the waiting were eating him alive.

The atmosphere today was definitely strained. He decided it was better to say nothing at all as they descended the mountain. Zoe was probably getting in the groove for her performance. And besides, he couldn’t verbalize what he was really thinking. She would no doubt run away if she had a clue what he wanted from her.

He nearly clipped a guardrail when she crossed her legs and one of her call-girl shoes fell to the floor of the car. Her toenails were painted to match the vibrant color of her outfit. Though he had never once entertained a foot fetish, he had a sudden vision of lying naked in bed with Zoe, sucking each of those small perfect toes one at a time.

In his peripheral vision he saw her grimace as she replaced her shoe. “It’s very kind of your brother to let me perform tonight. He’s taking me at my word that I can sing.”

“Were you exaggerating when you described your performance experience?”

“No.”

He patted her knee, removing his hand quickly when the contact threatened to singe his fingertips. “Then you have nothing to worry about. Dylan knows how to loosen up a crowd, and even if you were the worst singer on the planet, I guarantee you that the clientele at the Silver Dollar will cut you some slack when they get a look at those jeans.”

She turned toward him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Are they too tight? I forgot how much I’ve eaten since I’ve been here. I guess I’ve already put on a pound or two.”

“The jeans are perfect.” End of story. A few moments later, he swung into the back parking lot of the saloon and rolled to a stop beside his brother’s vehicle in the space that was always saved for family. “You want to go in, or do you need a minute?”

Clasping her hands in her lap, Zoe inhaled sharply. “I feel like I might throw up. But I think that’s because I don’t usually know anyone in the audience.”

He ran the back of his hand down her cheek, feeling his gut tighten from that simple contact. “Are you saying that I make you nervous, Zoe?” The prospect delighted him, because it meant she was as attuned to him as he was to her.

“No comment.” Her expression was rueful.

“You’re the one who asked to sing here,” he pointed out.

“And now I want to get it over with.”

“Then let’s find my brother.”

The Silver Dollar was already packed. The hostess greeted them warmly and gave Liam a smack on the lips. “Where you been keeping yourself, gorgeous? I’ve missed you.”

Delilah was twenty years his senior and thirty pounds overweight. But her exuberant personality drew men like bees to honey. He squeezed her arm. “Behave, Dee. Meet my friend, Zoe. She’s going to sing with Dylan tonight.”

Delilah stepped back and examined Zoe from head to toe. To Zoe’s credit, she withstood the other woman’s scrutiny without flinching. Delilah shook her head. “Where’d you get this exotic creature, Liam?” Then she smiled at Zoe. “You’re a knockout, honey. Call me Dee.”

Dylan showed up at that moment and took over the task of ushering them to a table. He had reserved one for them in the back. The cramped space was the closest the Silver Dollar came to privacy. A scraggly artificial tree served as a partial barrier between Liam and Zoe and the other diners.

Despite Liam’s warning stare, Dylan seated himself at Zoe’s elbow. He handed her a slip of paper. “Do you know any of these?”

She examined the list with a dawning smile. “Only all of them.”

Dylan beamed. “Have your dinner, then, and afterward we’ll do a quick run-through and take the stage around 8:30. Sound okay to you?”

Zoe nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. “Perfect.”

Thankfully, Dylan took himself away and Liam was left to entertain Zoe. “I can recommend the hot wings and the jalape?o poppers,” he said, wondering how many hours it would be before he could take another shot at convincing her to be alone with him. And naked.

Zoe studied the menu with suspect concentration. She was jumpy as a cat with a mangled tail. Whether it was from being with him or the result of stage fright, he couldn’t tell.

After they ordered, they watched the crowd. Zoe pointed to a large man wearing nothing but red suspenders and threadbare painter’s pants. “Who is that guy?”

Liam took a swallow of his imported ale and grinned. “Big Tom. For most of the year he runs a sawmill outside of town. But from Thanksgiving to Christmas, he works at a mall in Asheville every year as Santa Claus.”

“I can see why.”

Big Tom’s gut was hard to miss. Daring to change the subject to a more personal note, Liam stroked the back of her hand lightly where it lay on the table. “I’m sorry we argued yesterday.”

Zoe’s makeup was more dramatic tonight, which made sense, because she planned to be onstage. But her thickly mascaraed lashes, lowered to half-mast, shielded her eyes. She withdrew her hand. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. You’re entitled to your secrets. But if I’m being completely honest, I hope that you’ll eventually figure out that you can trust me.”

“Trust is a two-way street.”

“Indeed. But you make it difficult. Chamberlain isn’t your real name, is it?”


She shot him a mutinous glance. “Yes it is. But it’s my middle name. I use it for everything. That’s not a crime the last time I checked.”

“Zoe, I’m not attacking you. I want to help. Who is the man who’s looking for you?”

“I don’t know.” Shoulders hunched, her body language screamed at him to back off.

She was lying. He knew it in his gut. But he wasn’t willing to make a scene in Dylan’s bar. Especially when Zoe was about to be in the spotlight...literally.

It went against his every instinct, but he swallowed his frustration and conceded that now was not the time for a confrontation. Their food arrived, and the moment was lost.

When Dylan came to get Zoe for their mini run-through, Liam gave his brother a pointed stare. “Your office is small. I’ll stay here and check a few emails.”

Dylan nodded, for once, his expression not teasing at all. “We won’t be gone long. Tell the server if you want anything else.”

Scanning the room for anyone who might resemble the man Pierre saw, Liam sat back in his chair and relaxed a bit. No one could harm Zoe in the middle of a crowd like this. He ate a few French fries as he scrolled through messages on his phone.

When someone sat down beside him, he looked up with a smile. Until he saw that it was Gary. And Gary looked far too serious.

The mechanic spoke in a low voice. “Is she here?”

Liam nodded. “In the back with Dylan. The two of them are performing together tonight. What’s up?”

“I sure the hell don’t know.”

“Tell me, man. She’ll be back soon.”

Gary pulled his chair closer and lowered his voice. “She called this morning and asked if I would paint her entire vehicle brown. When I finished the other repairs.”

“So?”

“Her current paint job is almost brand-new. Nary a ding or a scratch. The only reason I can come up with for covering over her daisies and all the rest is that she doesn’t want to be spotted.”

Liam’s stomach churned. He didn’t want to believe that his friend had a valid point. “Isn’t that jumping to conclusions?”

Gary shook his head. “There’s more. I decided to prep the vehicle since I’m waiting on parts. I found a small area of rust around one door hinge, so I removed the door. The inside panel seemed loose. I was going to fix it, when I found...”

He paused as the waitress refreshed their drinks.

Liam’s neck was tight. “What, damn it? What did you find?”

“Money.” Gary grimaced. “Lots of money. Cash. Bills.”

“How much?” God in heaven.

“I don’t know. I didn’t touch it. Didn’t want my fingerprints to show up anywhere. But I’d say at least forty or fifty thousand given the denominations and the size of the stacks.” He paused, his expression torn. “Do you think I should call the police?”

Liam ran a hand over his face, his brain assessing and discarding a dozen possible explanations. “No. We have no proof that it’s not hers.” Hope curdled in his stomach and died. He’d tried so hard to tell himself that Zoe was trustworthy, and now this.

“Who carries that much cash hidden in a vehicle?”

“I don’t know,” Liam said grimly. “But I plan to find out.”

* * *

Zoe strummed a chord as Dylan tuned his guitar. His instrument was beautiful. Highly polished wood inlaid with silver in random designs. “Did you have that made?” she asked.

He nodded, still fooling with one of his strings. “Yeah.”

“Does the silver design have some special significance?”

“It reminds me that I’m a Kavanagh for good or for ill. Once upon a time our ancestors operated a silver mine in these mountains, hence the name of the town. We have a few large remnants, good-size nuggets, but the mine was lost years ago. Our father disappeared while looking for it when Liam was in high school. Not only did Dad never find the mine, he never returned.”

“That’s dreadful.” Zoe could hardly imagine a tragedy of that magnitude, though her own family life hadn’t been a picnic.

“A dark time in the Kavanagh clan, for sure. As the eldest, Liam bore the brunt of helping Mom cope. He was always mature for his age, but he had to grow up overnight.”

“How did she manage when he was away at university?”

“We hired an assistant manager. Mom was in charge, but there was someone to help with the big decisions. And Liam would come home from school if he was needed.”

“So he never got to go backpacking through Europe or take a graduation trip or anything like that?”

“No. And by the time our collective grief eased and things were finally on an even keel, both personally and professionally, Mom had come to depend on Liam. In case you hadn’t noticed, my brother is the kind of man people turn to for support. In one way or another, he’s been the cornerstone of our family for twenty years now.”

“How old were you when it happened?”

“Fourteen. I’m the next in line. But there’s a lot of difference between fourteen and sixteen. I was going through a rebellious phase, and Dad’s death only made things worse.”

Zoe fell silent, digesting the implications of what Dylan had shared. No wonder Liam had such a serious side. He hadn’t had the luxury of being a goofy adolescent. Her admiration for him grew, along with the conviction that she was not the woman to get involved with him. If he knew the extent of her problems, she would become one more millstone of responsibility hanging around his neck.

Dylan finished tuning. “You feel okay with what we’ve sketched out?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes. I hope I don’t disappoint you.” It still amazed her that his sexy masculinity didn’t affect her libido the way Liam’s did. Some woman would be lucky enough to fall for Dylan Kavanagh one day in the future. But apparently Zoe had already cast her lot with the straight-laced older brother.

Dylan straightened his guitar strap around his neck, resting his arm on the instrument. “Now that I’ve heard your voice, I’m wondering how I can convince you to be a regular.”

“That’s very kind of you. But I won’t be hanging around more than a few weeks.”

“Why not?”

His simple question caught her off guard. Why not, indeed? Her gypsy lifestyle was her own choice. No one was making her crisscross the country and live out of a single suitcase. Only her cowardice and fear pushed her onward. “I suppose I’ve never liked being tied down.”

Her answer didn’t satisfy him. His unspoken empathy made her squirm. “Nobody can run forever,” he said. “Trust me. I know.”

“Who says I’m running?”

“Aren’t you?” In his steady gaze she saw a kindred spirit.

Her throat tightened unexpectedly, leaving her to blink back emotion. “I’m not sure I would know how to put down roots after all this time. I don’t make friends very easily.”

“And yet you’re around people all the time when you’re playing and singing.”

“That’s different. I can blend into the background.”

“I think you’re kidding yourself.” His measured look was not insulting, but her cheeks heated. She glanced at her watch. “Is it time?”

He nodded. “You feelin’ butterflies?”

“A million of them,” she confessed.

Dylan stood and patted her shoulder. “I know my regulars. They’re going to love you. Come on, Ms. Zoe Chamberlain. Let’s go make some music.”

She stood as well and wiped her damp palms on the legs of her jeans. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”