All Smoke No Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

us at the last stop, and we have work to do. First.”
    His stomach rumbled loudly. “Breakfast?”
    “See how you are? Always food first with men.” She slid the curtain closed.
    Setting two plates on the table, she placed burritos on them. Opening the two cups of coffee she’d gotten along with the food, she put a little carton of milk and packets of sugar next to his cup.
    In the gas station, even though Marilou wore stretchy exercise pants and a baggy T-shirt, someone noticed her and asked for her autograph. It was always flattering, but she was glad it had been just one person and not the whole store. She was content being semi-famous. Or maybe half-semi-famous.
    Dax came out wearing a black T-shirt that clung to his pecs and showed off his big biceps.
    She collapsed onto the bench seat as her knees went weak. The man was all-tight, firm muscles and handsome face. He didn’t think he’d do well on stage? Hell, just his physical presence alone would sell albums.
    He slid in across from her and took a long sniff.
    She passed him a napkin. “Breakfast burritos. Sausage, eggs, cheese, sour cream. The works.” The scent had her stomach rumbling. “We try to time our runs so we hit this great little diner in the morning.”
    “Thanks.” He took a gulp of coffee then picked up the burrito and bit into it. His eyes opened wide. “Mmmm.”
    “Yep.” She bit into her own, the Mexican spices mingling with the dairy and vegetables on her tongue. They ate for a few minutes, then she set down her food. “Let’s discuss what’s going to happen when we get to New Orleans.”
    He nodded but kept eating, finishing his burrito, and washing it down with the coffee.
    “Still hungry?” She slid the remaining half of her breakfast his way.
    “You don’t mind?” He smiled at her.
    How could she resist that gorgeous grin? “No, go ahead.” She sipped coffee while she watched him eat. He was a big man, worked a hard-labor job. She probably should have gotten him two burritos, but she’d remember to do that on the way back.
    Less than a week and they’d be passing through this way again. Would they still be lovers? Because there was no doubt in her mind she’d be sleeping with him real soon. But would their business arrangement get in the way of their personal one? She couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t make plans and dream of things out of her reach.
    “What’s on your mind?” He’d finished eating and sat watching her.
    “Business.” She set down her cup. “Here’s what’ll happen when we get to New Orleans.”
    She talked about the parade, the gig at the bar, meeting her manager. He asked plenty of questions, and she told him about her little condo in the French Quarter and how it’d been three years since she’d been back for Mardi Gras. She didn’t mention that it had also been three years since she’d had her heart tugged out of her chest and stomped on.
    “And after?” He pressed his hand on the table, not moving, not blinking.
    “If things work out, I could see you opening for me on this tour.” She waited, but he didn’t move. “If you’d want to, that is.”
    “If I’d want to?” He shook his head, his mouth open. “Of course I’d want to.” He reached for her hand and squeezed tightly. “But I’m not ready. I don’t have an act, songs prepared, a—”
    “I’ll help you with all that. We’ll have time to go over your songs, to come up with a script, and I won’t throw you up there the first night back. You’ll have time to get it right, get accustomed to what goes on backstage.”
    “But if I wanted you to throw me up there the first night?” He winked. “Would that convince you I have fire instead of smoke?”
    She couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’ve got that much fire in you, then okay, we’ll make it happen.” Taking her hand from his, she stacked the plates and empty cups. “Go get your guitar and we’ll start with that song you played last night.” She