Have Mercy: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance by Shelley Ann Clark Read Free Book Online

use. Tom and I will stay here with the van, and if we can flag down a car, we’ll do that. If you haven’t found the house in an hour, turn around and come back here.”
    Her tone brooked no argument, but Dave tried anyway. “I think you should come with us,” he said. “Tom can stay here with the equipment.”
    Emme didn’t want to admit that part of her motivation was getting Tom alone. It ought to be the last thing on her mind when everything else was falling apart, but somehow, it had crept back up to the fore, and she
really
didn’t like Dave pointing that out. There had to be some kind of logical argument for staying with the van, but in her frustration, she couldn’t for the life of her think of one. “I ought to stay here,” she said. “Because …”
    Tom interrupted her. “Because it’s ninety degrees outside and probably ninety percent humidity, and if we do manage to get to Tuscaloosa tonight, she’ll need to be as fresh as possible for her performance. People are paying to see
her
, guys. Not us. She’s the one in front of us on that stage, and I can’t
believe
you’d expect her to walk for two hours in this heat and then perform at her best tonight.
Jesus
.”
    Emme had never heard him sound so angry. She liked it. She really, really liked it. His fists were actually clenched, his jaw tight and stern-looking. She wanted to reward him for going into battle on her behalf.
    Guillermo nodded. “It’s true,” he said. “We’re not called Emme and Her Amazing Band. It’s Emme. You’re allowed to be a bit of a diva when the circumstances call for it.”
    Dave rolled his eyes. “Just remember, I’m not the one who called you a diva,” he said. “Mo,you coming?”
    Guillermo looked back at Emme. He raised his hands, as if to apologize, before turning and following Dave up the road.
    Emme watched as they disappeared over the hill. “Well.” She let out a huff of air. With nothing to do but wait, a little of the adrenaline racing through her drained out, replaced by anxiety with no outlet. Knees suddenly melty, she sank down onto the grass of the embankment beside the road.
    Seeing Tom standing above her didn’t help the nervy feeling in her stomach. “Sit,” she said.
    He did, folding his legs up in front of him. The humidity had stuck his shirt to his back, and without thinking, she reached over and pulled the fabric away from his skin. Even sweaty, he smelled clean, like laundry soap and sun. If she closed her eyes next to him, she’d imagine clotheslines and just the tiniest hint of cigarette smoke.
    Tom’s back stiffened under her touch, and she pulled her fingers away.
    He cleared his throat, then tapped his fingers on his knee. “So,” he said. He looked over at her, then away, before pulling a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, raising one to his lips, and lighting it. “Do you mind?” he asked.
    “You always ask permission,” Emme said.
    Tom shrugged. “Of course. It’s polite.” He slid the cigarette between his lips, inhaled deeply. The smoke curled out around his nostrils. “It’s a disgusting habit,” he said. “And hell on your voice.”
    Emme nodded. “So why do you do it?”
    She pulled up a blade of grass as he thought, fingers tearing it into strips.
He loves me, he loves me not
, her brain chanted as she ripped the blade to shreds.
    Tom’s inhales and exhales followed a pattern, a rhythm syncopated with smoke. The way his lips caressed the filter as he put it to his mouth, his deep inhale, eyes closed with pleasure, and the release of smoke, curling lazily through the heavy air all combined to make a thudding pulse of want start up low in her body. His fingers held the cigarette gently, almost delicately, and the flick of his wrist as he tapped ash off the tip was practiced and smooth, not the kind of businesslike movement most smokers employed. She knew smoking was disgusting. It caused cancer. It wasn’t sexy. There was no way she found it