three days ago in Nashville. Hell, it had been all he’d thought about as he’d driven in his truck with his cousin RJ following the tour bus. And when he’d climbed in there to sleep and saw little signs of Emma all over the interior. His sleep had been restless, tormented with images of her in his arms. That curvy body pressed up against his and his hands on her thighs. He wanted her.
He wanted her with every breath he took. As she stood there in front of him it was almost unbearable to keep his hands to himself. But he wanted to make sure she was seeing the man and not a distraction.
More than anyone else he recognized how hard this night had been on her. Saw her pale and nervy standing next to Alan before she’d gone on stage. He’d been distracted a little from watching the back door at the venue because he’d wanted to make sure she was okay once she got up there.
And she had been. He’d heard her pretty soprano voice hitting the high notes in the background while Alan had sung about good times, sad times and family. When the show was over he’d wanted to go and find her, but he realized he had no rights.
He was just a guy she’d flirted with.
Hudson was her grandfather’s bodyguard and a man who was essentially a stranger. A part of him wanted to change that. But another part realized that Emma seemed to see more of him than most others did. He had no idea why.
“What kind of treat did you have in mind?” he asked. Hell. He was going to be nice and send her on her way. But he knew that was the last thing he wanted. Who cared if she was using him as long as it got him a little closer to her?
“I’m not sure. Do I have anything you want?” she asked.
A loaded question for sure. He skimmed his gaze over her body. She wore a pair of skintight faded jeans and a large t-shirt with her dad’s face on it. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her eyes watched him steadily.
She was definitely looking for some outlet to the emotions roiling through her tonight. He reached toward her, she tipped her head to the side and he put his hand on her shoulder.
She was so tiny under his hand. He squeezed her shoulder and slowly drew his hand down her arm. He stopped when he got to the part where the sleeve of her tee ended. Her skin was soft and he stroked his thumb over her inner arm and felt her breath catch in her throat as he came close to touching the side of her breast.
He swallowed hard against a lump in his throat as he realized he might be playing a game he couldn’t win. He wanted her. But in a parking lot with roadies loading up the stage equipment and his horse standing nearby, he didn’t think so. He didn’t know about that.
He slowly pulled his hand down her arm to her wrist and drew her closer to him. She tipped her head to the side studying him in the pale light offered by the moon. He wondered what she saw. Was she as confused about all this as he was? Did she want him—Hudson Scott or would any warm body do?
He let go of her, felt the water bottle in her hand and took that from her. He unscrewed the cap while she watched him and took a long swallow of the water. But it didn’t anything to cool him down. He was on fire and the one thing he wanted was this woman. Emma Jean Wells.
A woman who was still barely more than a stranger but whom he felt could be more. He’d never been good with women. He knew his weakness was falling for those who needed something from him. Needed to be shown their own strength. He’d done it more than once. If he’d ever talked to anyone but his horse, Duke, he guessed someone would say—hell, he had no idea what they’d say.
He handed her back the water and she took it. Wrapping one arm around her waist she tipped her head to the side and studied him. He thought he’d done the right thing but there was something in her eyes that warned him he might have just screwed up.
“Water? That’s all you want from me?” she asked.
He wanted so
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley