Read Online Sweet Seduction Serenade by Nicola Claire - Free Book Online
Authors: Nicola Claire
Tags: Suspense, Romance, Mystery, Private Investigators, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Romantic Comedy, romantic suspense, Mystery & Suspense
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who had to be related to Nick. They just looked too similar, although this one wore a suit that I could not picture my cowboy in.
And last, but never, ever , least, Nick himself. His ice-blue perfect cowboy eyes on me.
I paused, just inside the door, deer-in-headlights moment, then looked at the ground and frowned. Fortifying myself, I shook my head and set off to soar.
Chapter 5
The Man Was Crazy And Unstable And Fucked In The Head
I resolutely refused to let Nick's presence ruffle me. I was a professional and the show must go on. So, it was only a practice, but now more than ever, I needed the practice. What with a strange, albeit rather fine looking, acoustic guitar in my hands.
"You gonna be all right to sing, Tennessee?" Gonzo asked, eyeing my bruised jaw.
I automatically reached up a hand and gently rubbed my aching jaw smooth. Then felt self-conscious when I noticed all eyes in the band on me, so removed my hand and started playing with the pegheads on my new best friend.
"I'm fine, cookie," I said with what I hoped was convincing cheer. "Been keeping it supple all day," I pointed out.
"We can take it easy, if you need to, Eva," Spike announced from behind his drum kit, surprising me with the care lacing each word.
"I'm fine," I started, but Gus interrupted.
"We'll do six songs, that should be enough for you to get a handle on the Breedlove. Tomorrow night we'll increase the number, until we manage the full set by Friday."
"We have three nights, including tonight, before the show. I'm fine," I repeated, emphasising the words. "We do the full set each night, as planned, from here on in."
"Eva baby," Gus said softly.
"I'm fine!" I said louder than I had intended, but they were pushing me.
"OK!" Gus said throwing his hands up in defeat.
"You're the boss, cowgirl," Spike muttered from behind his protective wall of cymbals and drums.
"Sounds good, Tennessee," Gonzo muttered, his eyes shifting away to the side.
I sighed, feeling like an absolute tool for raising my voice at them all. Then forcing myself to push it all aside - we did need to practice and a full set would take just over two and half hours - I flicked my long braid over my shoulder so it would hang down my back out of the way and positioned my Bullhide hat tipped forward on my head, to cover the embarrassment of snapping at the guys that I was feeling.
Tonight I was wearing a mid-thigh length, skin tight denim skirt - my only concession to jeans - a burgundy and cream checked shirt with pearl dome buttons down the front and cute little pockets over each breast, untucked but with a wide horseshoe belt around the middle, accentuating my slim waist. And of course, my tan cowgirl boots. This was casual for me. I wouldn't normally perform in this, but for a practice session where I didn't intend to twirl around the stage in a frenzy inciting the participation of the audience, it would do.
I strummed a few chords, readjusted the pegheads, strummed a few more until I was satisfied with the sound coming from my borrowed guitar, nodded to the guys to let them know I was ready, then reached up and tipped my hat back for performance positioning - the crowd has gotta see your face - and started in on our opening number, which required a little precision finger work on my part. No better way to get the feel for the Dreadnought under my hands.
It wasn't perfect, but only Gus, Gonzo and Spike would probably have known that - so used to my performance level by now. The rest of the crowd, which on closer inspection when my head came up from the opening acoustic sequence, was rather large for a practice session, wouldn't have cottoned on to the small issues I was having getting acquainted with a new guitar.
As per usual, I spoke to the audience while still strumming the last few chords of the opening, welcoming them here, telling them a little about us and in a fit of idiocy told them the bruise on my chin was for show, 'cause cowgirls are sweet as pie on the
And last, but never, ever , least, Nick himself. His ice-blue perfect cowboy eyes on me.
I paused, just inside the door, deer-in-headlights moment, then looked at the ground and frowned. Fortifying myself, I shook my head and set off to soar.
Chapter 5
The Man Was Crazy And Unstable And Fucked In The Head
I resolutely refused to let Nick's presence ruffle me. I was a professional and the show must go on. So, it was only a practice, but now more than ever, I needed the practice. What with a strange, albeit rather fine looking, acoustic guitar in my hands.
"You gonna be all right to sing, Tennessee?" Gonzo asked, eyeing my bruised jaw.
I automatically reached up a hand and gently rubbed my aching jaw smooth. Then felt self-conscious when I noticed all eyes in the band on me, so removed my hand and started playing with the pegheads on my new best friend.
"I'm fine, cookie," I said with what I hoped was convincing cheer. "Been keeping it supple all day," I pointed out.
"We can take it easy, if you need to, Eva," Spike announced from behind his drum kit, surprising me with the care lacing each word.
"I'm fine," I started, but Gus interrupted.
"We'll do six songs, that should be enough for you to get a handle on the Breedlove. Tomorrow night we'll increase the number, until we manage the full set by Friday."
"We have three nights, including tonight, before the show. I'm fine," I repeated, emphasising the words. "We do the full set each night, as planned, from here on in."
"Eva baby," Gus said softly.
"I'm fine!" I said louder than I had intended, but they were pushing me.
"OK!" Gus said throwing his hands up in defeat.
"You're the boss, cowgirl," Spike muttered from behind his protective wall of cymbals and drums.
"Sounds good, Tennessee," Gonzo muttered, his eyes shifting away to the side.
I sighed, feeling like an absolute tool for raising my voice at them all. Then forcing myself to push it all aside - we did need to practice and a full set would take just over two and half hours - I flicked my long braid over my shoulder so it would hang down my back out of the way and positioned my Bullhide hat tipped forward on my head, to cover the embarrassment of snapping at the guys that I was feeling.
Tonight I was wearing a mid-thigh length, skin tight denim skirt - my only concession to jeans - a burgundy and cream checked shirt with pearl dome buttons down the front and cute little pockets over each breast, untucked but with a wide horseshoe belt around the middle, accentuating my slim waist. And of course, my tan cowgirl boots. This was casual for me. I wouldn't normally perform in this, but for a practice session where I didn't intend to twirl around the stage in a frenzy inciting the participation of the audience, it would do.
I strummed a few chords, readjusted the pegheads, strummed a few more until I was satisfied with the sound coming from my borrowed guitar, nodded to the guys to let them know I was ready, then reached up and tipped my hat back for performance positioning - the crowd has gotta see your face - and started in on our opening number, which required a little precision finger work on my part. No better way to get the feel for the Dreadnought under my hands.
It wasn't perfect, but only Gus, Gonzo and Spike would probably have known that - so used to my performance level by now. The rest of the crowd, which on closer inspection when my head came up from the opening acoustic sequence, was rather large for a practice session, wouldn't have cottoned on to the small issues I was having getting acquainted with a new guitar.
As per usual, I spoke to the audience while still strumming the last few chords of the opening, welcoming them here, telling them a little about us and in a fit of idiocy told them the bruise on my chin was for show, 'cause cowgirls are sweet as pie on the
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