What Goes on Tour (3 page)

“Come on, Kent. We both know it’s inevitable. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Why don’t we stop denying this attraction?” She glanced over her shoulder at Kate’s bedroom. “Kate will be asleep by now, and if we go to my room we won’t disturb her.”

Her first mistake was using his stage name. Anyone close to him, anyone who knew him, called him Adrian. Her biggest mistake, though, was the suggestion he leave his niece alone in a strange hotel room. He stood slowly, keeping his eyes on hers. She must have seen the anger in them, as she stepped back.

“I’m not interested, ma’am.” His tone suggested she was anything but a lady. “I suggest you leave now.”

Emily pouted. “Don’t play games with me, Kent. It’s not nice.”

“I’m sure as heck not playing any games.”

She stepped back, her face flushed – with embarrassment or anger, he didn’t know which. “You’ve been leading me on all this time. I don’t have to put up with this treatment.” She turned and stalked to the door. “I quit.”

Just like Kate, Emily slammed the door behind her.

Adrian stared after her in disbelief before sinking back into the chair. He acknowledged the hint of relief that she was gone but what the heck was he going to do now? He had no nanny and tomorrow morning was filled with radio interviews and sound checks before his concert that night. He ran his hand through his hair thinking frantically. He should call George.

There was a noise behind him and he turned. Kate stood at her bedroom doorway, her pajamas on, holding Sebastien Bear, her ever faithful teddy bear. “Was that Emily yelling?”

He wasn’t going to lie to her. “Sure was. She’s decided not to look after you anymore.” He stood and walked over to her.

“Why not?” She squinted up at him, suspicion all over her face.

Neither was he going to tell her the whole truth. “We had a disagreement.” He put a hand on her shoulder and steered her back toward her room. “You need to get some sleep if you’re going to be coming to my radio interviews in the morning.”

Her face lit up like a carnival. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“Awesome!” She hugged him tightly before leaping into bed and snuggling down, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

Just like that he was forgiven.

Adrian leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

“Same to you.”

He brushed her hair off her face and gave her a wink. When he reached the door her voice called out, “Uncle Ade.”

He turned.

“Did I do something wrong?” Her eyes were full of concern and she looked younger than her ten years.

“Of course not.” He came back into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “She liked looking after you. The disagreement was between the two of us.”

“Did she kiss you?”

Where the heck had that come from? “No.”

“She wanted to.”

Adrian frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“I heard her talking to a friend one night. She said it was only a matter of time before she got you in her bed.”

Adrian cursed Emily but kept his voice light. “Well, it’s not going to happen, kiddo. Why don’t you forget about it and go to sleep?”

Kate turned over on to her side, hugging Sebastien Bear. “I won’t miss her. She wasn’t much fun.”

Adrian closed his eyes briefly. Kate had never said anything about her nanny before now. He cursed Emily again. “I’m sorry.” He rose and walked to the door.

“Will you turn the stars on?”

He turned at her voice. “Sure thing.” He walked over to the star night-light and switched it on. Stars appeared on the ceiling. He blew her a kiss, not allowing the anger to cross his face until he had turned away.

Damn that woman! Kate had been doing so well during the last few months. Sleeping with the light off, no more nightmares – and now with this one upset, she was back to needing the comfort of her stars. He couldn’t blame her, but it was a step back in her recovery. He would have to be vigilant and make sure the next few weeks were as settled and easy as possible.

At least he knew one thing he could do to make it up to her.

Adrian sat down at his laptop and typed “Libby Myles book signing” into the search engine.

He could introduce her to her idol.

***

Libby needed coffee. There was still another half an hour of the book signing to go, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay focused. There was no air movement and the heating was turned up to drowsy warmth. The droning voices in the bookshop as well as the cars on the street made it hard to hear.

The bookshop owner had set her up on a tiny table at the front of his store, almost as if she were part of the display. He’d gone to the effort of throwing a white tablecloth over the table, dragging a plastic chair from out the back and even splashing out for a bottle of water. Libby’s publicist had left after making sure Libby was set up, as she had an urgent meeting she had to attend. Libby hadn’t minded, because the other signings she’d done had been fine, but she hadn’t realized until now the little things her publicist had done for her, like topping up her bottle of water and talking with the bookstore owner.

Libby checked her watch. She’d been here almost three hours.

She’d only planned on writing a couple of pages of her latest manuscript after the talk show last night, but the story had flowed, and before she knew it, it was two in the morning.

Now she was desperately trying to stay awake, ignore her aching hand and show her fans the attention they deserved. She handed a blank notebook to the young girl standing in front of her. “Write your name, there so I’ll spell it right when I write in the front of your book.”

The girl’s mother snatched the pad out of her daughter’s hands and scrawled a name down before thrusting it back at Libby. “Jane is not difficult to spell.”

Libby put on her best polite-and-pleasant smile. “I’ve seen three different spellings of Jane so far and it’s often hard to hear over the din when people spell it out. I’d hate to get it wrong.” She turned to the young girl. “Who’s your favorite character, Jane?”

“I love Shannon. She’s so brave.” The girl jigged up and down.

“You’ll love what she gets up to in this story,” Libby said as she wrote in the front of the book. She handed it back to Jane and flexed her sore hand. “I hope you enjoy it.”

As the girl and her mother turned away from the table, Libby applied the now warm cold pack to her hand and checked the line. Another ten people and she was done. She loved meeting her fans, but today her hand ached like she’d hit it with a hammer. There was only the slightest tinge of bruising, though – nowhere dark enough for the pain it gave her. She swallowed a yawn as the next person stepped up.

Half an hour to go.

***

An hour later, Libby was getting desperate. The line wasn’t any shorter, her water bottle was empty and the pain in her hand was terrible. The bookshop owner was oblivious to the time. He stood to one side, grinning at the never-ending line of paying customers.

Libby waved him over, but he didn’t meet her gaze. She turned her attention to the next child, wincing a little as she signed her name.

“How long have you been here?” the child’s mother asked.

Libby cleared her dry throat. “A few hours.”

The mother noticed the empty water bottle on the table. “And they haven’t provided you any refreshments?” She looked around. “Is he the owner?” she asked, gesturing to the man.

“Yes.”

“I’ll make sure he brings you something to drink.”

Libby was too relieved to refuse. “Thank you. I can’t get his attention.”

“It’s my pleasure. Your books give me hours of ‘me’ time while Jenny reads. I should be thanking you.”

Some of Libby’s tiredness evaporated and her smile was sincere. “I’m glad to help.”

Boosted by the praise, she turned to the next child while the woman went to speak to the owner. Within minutes, the owner was offering her a fresh bottle of water. Before he could leave, she touched his arm, indicated that he should wait, and finished signing the book in front of her.

“I need you to make sure no one else joins the line.”

The man smiled a big fake smile. “But surely you don’t want to disappoint your fans?”

Be polite. “Of course not, but I do have other commitments and I’ve already stayed for longer than planned.” He didn’t need to know her commitments were to herself. She needed to do some more writing.

“But your publicist said this was your last signing in Melbourne.”

Libby fixed a smile on her face and inwardly cursed her publicist. “Book signings aren’t my only commitments. Besides,” she smiled harder, trying to make it seem genuine, “I haven’t eaten since lunch, and with the water I’ve had, I’ll need to visit the ladies room soon.”

The man scowled at her as if she should be superhuman.

“Don’t be so inconsiderate,” the woman next in line told him. “She’s been here hours and the poor dear looks exhausted. If you don’t stop people lining up, I will.”

Bless her, Libby thought as she waited for the owner’s reaction.

“Fine,” he said and stormed off.

The woman checked he was doing what she’d asked of him and then grinned at Libby. “Not many to go, love.”

A pang of guilt whizzed through Libby’s stomach. “I normally wouldn’t mind – ”

The woman held up a hand. “No need to explain. You can’t be expected to sit around until there’s no one left. You’ve got far more patience than I have. I would have been bored hours ago.” She scrawled her name on the notepad and handed over her book. “My name’s Myrtle.”

Libby opened the front page and wrote her thanks before handing it back.

Myrtle read the message and grinned again, hugging the book to her chest. “My pleasure.”

The next few people went by in a blur, and when Libby checked there was only one person left in the line. She let out a slow, soft sigh of relief and greeted the young boy. She signed the book, answered his questions and then put down her pen.

“What do you mean Libby’s finished? She’s sitting right there.” The voice was loud and incredulous, but it was the Texan drawl that caught Libby’s attention. It sounded very much like Kent Downer.

She said goodbye to the young boy and his father and waited until they left so she could see who was making the fuss.

He was the same height and build as the rock star but that was where the resemblance ended. His dark hair was combed flat, and his white muscle T-shirt and blue jeans made him look like the boy next door. He was staring down at the owner. “My niece has been waiting all day to get her book signed.” The man shifted and Libby spotted the young girl behind him. She had the most gorgeous deep red, curly hair Libby had ever seen. The girl held the man’s hand and was looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Then you should have come earlier.” The owner puffed out his chest.

This was not going to end well.

“It’s all right,” Libby called before the uncle responded. The three of them turned toward her. She beckoned the young girl closer. “Come over here.”

The owner huffed and moved over to the counter, but Libby paid no notice. It was the girl who captured her attention.

The girl’s smile was electric. She peeked up at her uncle and he nodded. She hurried over, clutching her book to her chest. In front of the table she paused as she looked between the pile of new books waiting to be purchased and the one in her hand. “Uncle Adrian already bought me the book,” she said.

“Then your Uncle Adrian was clever to get in early,” Libby said, reaching out her hand for the book with her sore right hand. As she closed it around the book, it cramped and the book fell to the ground. “Oops, sorry.” She wrapped the useless cold pack around her hand as the girl picked up the book.

“What did you do to your hand?” the girl asked as she placed the book in front of Libby.

“Oh, I hurt it last night,” Libby answered as she passed the girl the blank notebook. “Could you write your name down there for me?” She gazed up at the uncle. He was staring at her hand, his mouth slightly ajar. Libby shifted in her chair and his intense brown eyes met hers. Her heart jolted. He looked slightly horrified, though much friendlier than the cheetah last night.

Though he barely resembled the rock star, Libby was sure it was him. “Hello, Kent.”

The surprise was a shooting star across his face.

“You recognized him!” the girl said as she handed back the notebook. “No one does when he’s not in costume.”

Libby took the notebook and checked the name. “I met him last night, Kate.” But this man was nothing like the one she’d met yesterday.

He hesitated and then held out his hand. “When I’m not in costume I’m Adrian.”

Libby gingerly took it.

He held her hand gently, his touch warm and his eyes narrow as he examined it. A flutter started in her stomach as his thumb gently ran over the tender area. When he let go, his eyes asked the question.

She nodded slightly – yes, he had done it last night – and turned her attention back to Kate.

“I was so upset when he told me he’d met you, he made sure we came today, even though it meant we had to leave rehearsal early. George was fit to be tied, wasn’t he, Uncle Ade?” Kate’s enthusiasm ran on like only a child’s could.

Adrian smiled down at his niece. “He sure was.”

Kate laughed. “He’s such a grump. Especially since Emily quit.”

He compressed his lips and hummed an agreement.

Obviously a sore topic.

“I see you’ve started reading the book,” Libby said to Kate, touching the bookmark. “Where are you up to?”

“The bit where they’ve arrived at the camp. I’m not sure whether they’re goodies or baddies.”

“Which way are you leaning?” Libby gripped the pen and wrote in the front of the book.

“Baddies,” Kate said decisively.

Libby raised her eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“Am I right?”

Libby handed back the book. “You’ll have to keep reading to find out.”

Kate gave a playful pout. “Awww.”

“I’d hate to ruin the story,” Libby said as she packed her pens away.

“Kate, why don’t you have a look around for a book to buy before we leave?” Adrian said.

Kate stuck her bottom lip further out. “I was chatting with Libby.”

“I need to talk to her about the show last night. You can come back and chat after you’ve found a book.”

Kate sighed. “All right.” She turned to Libby. “Please don’t go before I say goodbye.”

Charmed, Libby answered, “I won’t.”

When Kate had left, Adrian turned to Libby. “Are you finished now?”

“Yes.” She was dying for some painkillers and a coffee. She retrieved her bag from the ground.

Adrian shuffled from foot to foot. “I’m sorry about your hand. I didn’t get a chance to thank you last night for what you did.” There was no trace of the arrogant rock star in his demeanor now. If anything he was bashful, almost shy. The contrast was intriguing. This was a man Libby could see writing the song he sang last night.

Libby waved a hand. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You saved my career and my sanity.” He checked on Kate, who was kneeling down, browsing the books. “Can I buy you a coffee …” He shrugged uncomfortably. “As thanks?”