Coming Undone

CHAPTER TWO

STANDING IN THE Wind Blew Inn parking lot, Jared thought for sure the feeble light from the quarter moon riding the western sky was playing tricks on his eyes. His gut said it wasn't, however, and staring at the four flat tires on his rented Lexus, he swore like a sailor and kicked one of the hubcaps above the flattened rubber.

Then his reaction brought him up short. What the hell was he doing? He didn't lose control-he jumped head-first into the fray and didn't stop swinging until he came out on top. Pissing and moaning and kicking tires wasn't going to get the job done. Pulling his cell phone from a pocket, he punched in the Semper Fi agency's number.

But the minute he heard his brother-in-law's voice, his frustration boiled over. "She ditched me," he snarled. "Do you believe this? It hasn't even been one full day and she frigging ditched me!"

There was an instant of silence, then Rocket let loose a big belly laugh. "I always did like that girl."

"Sure, yuk it up.I'm real amused, I can tell you."

"I can hear that." Rocket's voice sobered, but Jared was pretty sure he could still hear amusement lacing its undertones. "What happened?"

"She played me like a goddamn Stradivarius." And how. From the moment she'd opened the door of that dingy little motel room and taken a flying leap to wrap herself around him like a chimp in a monkey-puzzle tree, he'd been hammered by memories.

Of her saving his life fifteen years ago by showing him the ropes when he'd fled Colorado Springs for the streets of Denver-even though she, like everyone else in their Centennial State, had believed he'd killed his father.

Of her pedal-to-the-metal personality-that what-you-see-is-what-you-get emotionality that had been the primary characteristic of the thirteen-year-old he'd known.

Of the crushing guilt he'd once felt for the random flashes of lust that her underfed, flat-chested little body had inspired in him.

She was still slight of build and her breasts were probably little more than a mouthful even now. But her arms and legs were rounder and her collarbones had lost that half-starved scrawniness they'd had. And she had a surprisingly full, round ass. His palms still retained the luxurious feel of its curves resting in his hands.

"You're not an easy guy to play," Rocket said slowly. "So how did P.J. manage it?"

Tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder, Jared rubbed his palms down the outer seams of his Levi's to rid himself of the memory. He no longer needed to feel guilty about whatever attraction P.J. might hold for him, but he wasn't about to act on it, either. He was a professional and he had a job to do.

Yeah, right. Some professional, hotshot. She shook you off without breaking a sweat.He squared his shoulders. Fine then. He didn't mix business and pleasure. "I forgot the cardinal rule," he admitted.

"Let your guard down, did you?"

"Big-time. She was so happy to see me until I told her why I was there." That still blew him away, the way her face had gone incandescent when she'd first opened the door and seen him standing on her stoop. As if she hadn't been the one to cut him out of her life. "Then, when she discovered her record company had hired me to accompany her to her concerts, she was pissed. But she got over it-or so I thought. The minute I relaxed my guard, though, she ditched my ass."

"Big deal, so you made a mistake and treated her like the average missing person," John said easily. "Anyone would have done the same."

"You wouldn't."

"Yeah, I probably would have. I only saw P.J. a few times fifteen years ago and still she stands out in my memory. I've never forgotten that feisty independence. But you know what really sticks in my mind? What a sweet little nougat she was. She might have acted all tough on the outside, but she had that break-your-heart vulnerable center. It's easy to forget how street-savvy and fast on her feet she could be."

"That's a fact. But while I don't disagree about the girl she used to be, Rocket, it wasn't you she made a fool of. So P.J. had better hope she's a damn sight faster than me," Jared said grimly. "Because I've got a job to do and no one-not an old friend and sure as hell no up-and-coming country diva with a reputation for unreliability-is going to get in the way of my doing it."

HE CAUGHT UP WITH HERin Idaho six days later. Since that was five days longer than he'd anticipated it taking him, he wasn't feeling particularly charitable as he watched P.J. test the lock on her hotel-room door, pocket the key card, then turn in his direction. Stepping into the narrow alcove that housed the ice and vending machines, he watched her walk past, allowed a few seconds to go by, then stepped out again. If she'd bothered to glance over her shoulder he'd be in plain view, but her focus was apparently front and center.

He sauntered a quarter of the length of the corridor behind her, watching the flex of that lush, round butt in a sprayed-on pair of blue jeans. She wore a straw Stetson on her head and a rose-spattered transparent little black shirt over a black camisole-type top. Hearing the elevator ding a car's arrival, he picked up his pace and slipped between the doors just as they were closing.

"Hi there," he said as she stared up at him, her golden-brown eyes wide with shock. Letting the doors close, he reached out to punch the Stop button. "So, where we headed? Out to dinner?"

She didn't respond, merely gaped at him, and he shrugged. "I see you picked a nicer hotel this time. Still not as fancy as your newfound status might suggest, but definitely a major step up from the Wind Blew Inn-"

"How did you find me?" Her cheeks were flushed an irate rose, and her eyes-those almond-shaped, slanted cat eyes-looked even more exotic when offset by the blush.

He slammed shut the part of him that admired the image and answered the question. "You're still driving your own truck. Hitting those three ATMs the day you ditched me was a smart move, but you should have lost the pickup at the same time and paid cash for its replacement." His attention wandered from the conversation. With her short, not-exactly-voluptuous body and her long, rich, chestnut-brown hair, she was the antithesis of all the statuesque blond beauties that seemed to dominate country-music videos these days. At the same time, she was very:watchable. Very compelling.

Not that she was suckinghim in that way. He wasn't a compel-me kind of guy. With a fierce mental shake, he gazed at her down the length of his nose. "Which reminds me, you owe me $67.50 for the service I had to call to reinflate my tires."

The last iota of shock fled her eyes and they snapped fire at him. Yet her voice was cool, composed and un-Peejlike when she said, "Yeah, right. Hold your breath waiting for me to cut you that check, pal."

He shrugged. "I suppose it is a bit unreasonable to expect you to fork over the dough. Forget I even brought it up." He flashed her his biggest smile to show how magnanimous he could be. "I'll just add it to Wild Wind's bill."

She gave him a flat-eyed stare. "Go away, Jared."

"Not gonna happen, Priscilla. And since we covered this ground the last time I saw you, I suggest you learn to deal with it." Reminded of the less-than-merry chase that she'd led him on, however, he felt his jaw grow tight. He unclenched his teeth and sucked in a quiet breath.

She settled her cowgirl hat more firmly over her shiny curls and scowled up at him. "What is this? I don't need to be in Portland for the first concert until the twenty-second." She met his gaze head-on. "So why exactly are you here now? And what were you doing at the Wind Blew Inn last week?"

Shit.She would ask the tough questions-the very ones he'd asked himself, then dodged answering because there wasn't a satisfactory reply. Oh, his rationale for running her to ground today was easy enough-it had taken him damn near an entire week to find her after she'd left him standing in the Texas panhandle with four flat tires and his thumb up his ass. He sure as hell wasn't about to risk losing track of her again in case it took him that long or longer to find her the next time. But as far as making his presence known to her last week went? That was a little harder to justify.

And he'd clearly waited too long to reply, because she gave him a shot to the solar plexus with the heel of her hand. "Well?"

"Hey!" Refusing to let her see that she'd knocked the wind from his chest, he grabbed her wrist and plucked her hand away from his breastbone. "No touching."

Still, the action was so quintessentially the P.J. he'd known that it became clear without further examination what had brought him to the Wind Blew Inn nearly two weeks before he needed to approach her.

Curiosity.

It had been curiosity, pure and simple. Ordinarily he would have monitored her movements until they were nearer the date of her first concert, but his desire to discover if there were still remnants of his old friend had proven stronger than his usual bedrock-solid professionalism.

And no doubt about it, remnants remained.

She blinked. "Since when don't you like touching? You used to be a regular Mister Touchy-Feely."

"Was not."

"Were so. Remember that condo construction site we stayed in the night before your sister found you? You musta put your arm around me half a dozen times."

He took a step closer. "Yeah, because you were afraid of a stupid little thunder-and-lightning storm."

She thrust her delicately pointed chin ceilingward. "As I remember it, pal, it was becauseyou wanted comforting."

"You are so full of sh-" Cutting himself off, he took a step back. Jesus. What was he doing arguing with her like he was still seventeen years old? He punched the button to get the elevator car moving again. "That was then," he said stiffly. "This is now."

"Yeah? Well, I liked you better then. I thought you were the smartest, handsomest guy in the world. Now I know you're nothing but a cold-hearted son of a bitch."

"And proud of it," he said, telling himself her assessment didn't pinch.

The elevator reached the first floor and the doors swooshed open. Resting his palm against the small of P.J.'s back, Jared escorted her from the car. "Where were you going? To dinner?" He could only hope, since it was nearly nine p.m. and he was starving.

"I ate at six o'clock like the regular folks do," she said coolly. "Only idiots and preppy rich boys have supper at nine in the evening." She gave him an insulting once-over. "Which, come to think of it, are probably one and the same."

"Fine." He halted her with a hand on her arm. "We can head back upstairs so you can pack, then."

She jerked her arm free. "Screw you, Hamilton. I have eight days until I have to be at my first gig. I might not have any choice when it comes to your escorting me to my concerts, but I sure as hell don't have to let you dictate my actions until then." The look she leveled on him said she was serious as a heart attack. "Iwill call the cops this time if you press me on this-and the devil with the bad press."

Her face adopted a mulish expression he remembered. "And to hell with Wild Wind Records, too. They never should have hired someone to squire me around like some flighty eighth-grader. God knows they shouldn't have simply taken Mama's version of my character as gospel." The obdurate expression solidified. "Maybe I should just cut my losses with them and call it a day."

Swell. The Semper Fi Agency ought to look real good in her label's eyes when he informed them that not only would he not be accompanying their hot new talent as agreed, but that because of him she was dumping them, as well. Nothing like setting the gold standard in the investigational/security world. "Don't you think you should have a little dialogue with Wild Wind before you just walk away?"

"Why?" Stepping close, she got in his face. "Did they have so much as one conversation with me? No, sir. They sicced you on me without bothering to discover that Mama has a great big ax to grind."

Double-damn hell. He recognized that look. Telling the old P.J. what to do had always merely entrenched her in her position, and to hell with whether it was a defensible one or not. So he pasted a bored look on his face and shrugged. "Hey, you want to tank your career, that's fine with me. It probably didn't mean that much to you in the first place, so what the hey. Easy come, easy go, right?"

"No, that's not right!" She drilled him in the chest with a blunt fingertip. "You don't know diddly about how hard I worked to get here."

People in the lobby were turning to look at her, and Jared had to admit she was something to behold when she was all fired up. Somehow, though, he doubted telling her she was hot when she was angry would earn him any points. Wrapping his fist around her finger, he removed it from his pec. "Then use your head. You don't just toss aside something you've worked years to attain because you're hacked off. Just what did your mother do, anyhow?" The question was partly to divert her attention before she imploded, but mostly because he really wanted to know what it had taken for P.J. to finally see her mother for what she was.

A shield slammed shut in her eyes. "None of your damn business." She jerked her finger free. "You're not my friend anymore. You're Wild Wind's lackey."

Stung, he straightened to his full height. "I'm nobody's lackey, baby. I'm my own man."

"So you say. I'll have to take your word for that, but either way you have no authority over me, so get out of my way. I've got places to go, people to see." She pushed around him and headed for the exit to the parking garage.

He fell into step beside her, his long legs easily matching the brisk stride of her shorter ones. "Where we going?"

She stopped. Glared up at him.

Then sighed.

"You're not going to leave me be, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine." She started for the garage once again. "Do what you gotta do-I can't keep you out of public places. But don't get any ideas that I'm just going to roll over to make your job easy for you. And don't even think you're riding with me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'll follow in my own car."

"If you can keep up."

He could, but only because he'd found a spot in the garage not far from where she'd parked. He'd barely turned over the engine in his rented SUV when she peeled out of the garage like a bullet from a .45, and he had to remain alert just to keep her in sight as she headed out of town. In between driving like Dale Earnhardt Jr. in order to stay on her tail, he spent time on his cell phone finessing arrangements with the hotel they'd just left.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the graveled lot of a huge clapboard tavern with the name Guitars and Hot Cars spelled out in flaming red neon across the roof. P.J. had hopped out of her pickup and was striding toward the honky-tonk's massive double doors before he'd found a spot to park in the acre-wide lot.

The joint was jumping when Jared let himself in a few minutes later. The lights were dim, the music loud and the dance floor packed. There were a lot of women wearing straw Stetsons and skintight jeans. He was beginning to think P.J. had given him the slip out the back when he spotted her sitting at the bar talking ninety miles an hour to a bartender with no neck, tattoos on his massive biceps and a blue bandana tied around his bullet-shaped shaved head. For all his tough appearance, the man had a stunned look in his close-set eyes as he divided his attention between pouring a shot from a bottle of Wild Turkey and staring at her. Jared could identify, knowing from experience that P.J. could talk the balls off a brass monkey.

"The band's about to break. I'll go get Burt," the bartender was saying as Jared walked up. "He's gonna flip that you actually showed up." Placing the shot glass in front of her, he gave the bar a meaty slap and laughed.

"Thanks, Wayne."

"Are you kidding me? He thought you was playin' games with him for sure. He's gonna be so jazzed." Shaking his head, Wayne pulled the towel from his shoulder, wiped a drop of bourbon off the countertop, then called someone over to relieve him. Surprisingly agile for a man his size, he hopped the bar as soon as his replacement arrived and disappeared down the back hallway.

Jared took the vacant stool next to her. "Got a hot date?"

He thought she was going to ignore him, but after a second of silence she hitched the shoulder nearest him. "You bet." She tossed back the shot, shuddered a little, then turned to look him in the eye. "I'm primed. I'm pumped. Raring to go. Me and Burt are gonna do the bed boogie till we burn down the house."

To his surprise, he discovered that the thought ground at something deep in his gut. He could barely wrap his mind around P.J. as a woman, much less a sexual woman who sat in bars tossing back shots and talking about doing a stranger. But that was his problem, so he merely gave her a cool-eyed gaze. "Obviously you've had a change of heart about sex since the last time I saw you."

Swiveling her stool in his direction, she gave his forehead a light rap with her knuckles. "Hello! I was thirteen years old the last time we discussed sex. Of course I've had a change of heart."

"Well:good, then. Fine. That's real healthy."

Her clear amber eyes looked into his as if she could read his soul and her mouth quirked up in a knowing smile. "Isn't it just?"

An older, heavyset man bustled up just then, and, treating Jared as if he were suddenly invisible, P.J. twisted her stool around an additional quarter turn to face the new arrival. Her face lit up in a million-watt smile. "You must be Burt." She thrust her hand out.

The man grasped it and pumped enthusiastically. "Oh, man. It really is you. I thought for sure Wayne was shittin', er, that is, foolin' me."

"No, sir. As I told you on the phone, I'd really like an opportunity to perform with the band, if they don't mind."

"Oh, man," he said again. "They're gonna go ape. Why don'tcha come with me and I'll introduce you."

"That would be great." She turned to Jared. "And here you thought I'd come to have sex with the man."

Burt looked aghast. "What? Why would anyone think such a thing?"

"Darned if I know," she said sorrowfully. "There are some people in the world who are just sick puppies."

The older man shot him a look of disgust and cupped a protective hand around P.J.'s elbow.

Jared watched them walk away. "What a card," he said through tight teeth as they disappeared into the crowd. Ignoring the pretty blonde in the leopard-print cowgirl hat who offered him an inviting smile as she slid onto P.J.'s vacated stool, he reached for the bowl of peanuts on the bar. This had been the longest goddamn day.

And apparently it wasn't over yet.