Shameless

  Book One in the Nashville Nights Series

  Cheryl Douglas

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, including photocopying, graphic, electronic, mechanical, taping, recording, sharing, or by any information retrieval system without the express written permission of the author and / or publisher. Exceptions include brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Persons, places and other entities represented in this book are deemed to be fictitious. They are not intended to represent actual places or entities currently or previously in existence or any person living or dead. This work is the product of the author’s imagination.

  Any and all inquiries to the author of this book should be directed to:

  info@cheryldouglasbooks.com

  Copyright © 2012 Cheryl Douglas

  Dedication

  To my mother,

  who believed in me long before I learned to believe in myself.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  Prologue

  Five Years Earlier

  The sexy little waitress stretched to offer her neck as Trey Turner prepared to do another body shot at the urging of his inebriated friends. He licked the salt off her neck as he felt a small hand grip his shoulder.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  He turned to see his wife, Sierra, staring up at him, disgust darkening her bright blue eyes. He heard a few of his friends mutter curses as the crowd broke up and went back to drinking and dancing.

  “Baby, I was just havin’ a little fun.” His words slurred and he wondered how many body shots he’d had before Sierra intervened.

  The waitress slid her hand down his chest, hooking a finger through his belt loop. “That was fun. How ‘bout we pick up where we left off later?”

  Sierra turned away, not waiting for his answer as she began weaving her way through the crowd.

  “Sierra, baby, wait,” he called, trying to push his way through the throngs of people before she reached the door. He grabbed her wrist just as she was about to cross the threshold. “Wait. Please, don’t go.”

  “It’s over, I’m done with this shit,” she said, trying to shake loose of his grip.

  He had more than a foot and a hundred pounds on her. She wasn’t going anywhere until he decided he was ready to let her go, which wouldn’t happen in this lifetime. “What’s that supposed to mean? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “Home to pack.”

  He felt the room begin to spin out of control. “What did you say?”

  “I’m leaving you. Our marriage is over.”

  His grip on her wrist tightened. “No, you can’t leave me.”

  She pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s been over for a long time. I’m just making it official.”

  “We’re not having this conversation out here in front of a hundred people,” he said, pulling her through the horde of friends he’d invited to his private party. He opened the door to the small dressing room usually occupied by the nightly entertainment that performed at Jimmy’s bar. “We’ll have some privacy in here.”

  She was finally able to shake free of his tight grip. “I’ve already said everything I have to say to you.”

  He gripped her waist. “Don’t do this, Sierra.” He bent to kiss her neck. “I love you, baby. God, I love you so much. I can’t live without you.” He backed her toward the couch as he lowered himself down on top of her.

  “You’ve been living without me for the past year, Trey. You’ve spent your days on a tour bus and your nights in a stadium or bar.” Her voice broke. “We lost our baby girl and you don’t seem to care.”

  “Don’t say that,” he whispered furiously. “Don’t ever say that I didn’t care about Callie. I loved her, Sierra. It damn near killed me when we lost her.”

  She glared at him. “Really? Is that why you boarded that goddamn tour bus a week after her funeral?”

  “I’m a musician; it’s what I do.” He knew the excuse was weak. Sierra was right. He’d been trying to run away from his grief and sadness instead of staying at home where he belonged, supporting his wife.

  She shook her head, looking defeated. “It’s what you do—it’s who you are. Trey Turner, country music’s award-winning, platinum-selling mega-star. What about my husband? Callie’s father? Where is he?”

  He closed his eyes, feeling disgusted with himself for letting her down again. “Baby, I’m sorry. Look, I know I’ve made mistakes, but let me make it up to you, okay?” His hand eased up her shirt to cup her breast.

  Her head rolled back and she closed her eyes. “No, we can’t do this. It won’t fix the problem.” Making love to her may not solve all of their problems, but it would buy him some time to figure out a way to convince her to give him and their marriage another chance. “Just relax,” he whispered, licking her neck.

  “Hmm, that feels so good.” She wrapped her denim-clad leg around his. “But then you had lots of practice with your girlfriend right before I got here, didn’t you?”

  He cursed himself for indulging in the adolescent drinking game and giving his wife reason to question his fidelity yet again. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, flipping the button on her jeans. “You’re the only one I want; you know that.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut as she shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

  He hated that he had given her reason to doubt herself, to doubt them. “Let me prove it to you, then.”

  His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips until she finally parted for him. He groaned, taking her mouth with a savage intensity. His mind raced; fear warring with panic as he realized this may be the last time they made love, the last time he had the right to touch her. “God, I love you,” he whispered, reaching up to pull her shirt over her head. “You are so beautiful.” He pressed the sparkly closure at the front of her bra and bent his head. His tongue caressed her swollen, sensitive nipple until she was rubbing herself against his thigh.

  “Trey,” she cried, thrusting her fingers into his hair. “I need to feel your hands on me, please.”

  He eased off the leather couch and quickly shed his clothes before removing hers. “Sit up,” he said, his voice raspy. “I want to taste you.”

  She sat up, levelling her feet on the coffee table behind him. “Like this?”

  “No.” He grabbed her inner thighs to spread her legs as he settled on the floor in front of her. “Like this.”

  He went down on her, his tongue tantalizing her swollen bud before dipping his tongue inside of her.

  She lifted her hips, her fists pressed into the couch at her sides. “Oh…ah…that feels amazing. God, I’ve missed this.”

  He moaned against her, creating an intense vibration. “Me too, baby.” He set out to devour her, making her scream and writhe and call his name before finally surrendering to her orgasm. “Now, I need to feel you do that while I’m buried deep inside of you.” He poised his body above her, holding onto the back of the couch as he slid inside of her. “Yesss,” he hissed, waiting until he was fully seated before thrusting into her furiously. There was no way he was going to let her leave him without a fight. She was the most important person in his life, whether she believed that or not, and he intended to prove it to her the only way he knew how.

  She gripped his ass as he continued to drive into her relentlessly. “Yes, that’s it. Just like that...”

  “Come for me, baby.” He leaned down to claim her mouth again. “God, you feel so good.”

  “Trey, I, oh...”

  He felt her muscles clench around him before her body began to tremble with the intense release.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, shoving his hands into her hair to tip her head back. “Just let go.” He watched her gorgeous face contort as she reached for the pleasure she needed. “Yes.” Watching her, feeling the intensity of her orgasm, was powerful enough to propel him over the edge. He waited until his breathing returned to normal before opening his eyes to look at her.

  A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

  The shock of fear paralyzed him. “What are you talking about? That was amazing. Don’t apologize.”

  “But it doesn’t change anything. I’m still filing for divorce.”

  Anxiety ripped through him like a bullet. “You’re divorcing me?”

  She lowered her head and glanced at the site where they were still joined. “I came here tonight to tell you I can’t live like this anymore. I never intended to let this happen,” she whispered.

  “Then why did you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Trey. I didn’t mean to lead you to believe that...”

  He got up, getting dressed on autopil
ot as her words began to sink in. She was leaving him. His marriage was over. “Just tell me what I can do to fix this. I’ll go to counseling. I’ll go to AA meetings, anything. Please, just give me a chance to make things right.” Her back was facing him as he watched her dress.

  “It’s too late for that. I think we both know that it’s been over for a long time. It’s time one of us finds the courage to end it, so we can both move on with our lives.”

  He grabbed her shoulders, holding her back against his chest. “I don’t want to move on with my life, not without you. Please, don’t do this, Sierra.”

  She stepped out of his arms. “I’m sorry.” She reached for the door handle. “I have to. If you love me, you won’t fight this. Please, just let me go.”

  Chapter One

  Trey Turner tipped the plastic bottle and watched the little white pills scatter across the desktop. One would take the edge off; twenty would end it all. He considered his options. He wasn’t ready to give up; he couldn’t do that to his family.

  He put one of the pills on his tongue and swallowed it with a mouthful of scotch as the phone rang. He knew it was the morning radio show calling to interview him. His manager, Luc Spencer, had arranged it and, despite his protests, Luc insisted it was necessary. The public was demanding answers; it was time to end the speculation.

  He checked the call display and pushed the button to activate the call. “Hello.”

  “Trey, Johnny Madson, KX790 in Nashville. How the hell are ya this mornin’, buddy?”

  Trey rubbed his eyes, willing the pill to take effect. “I’m good.”

  “We’re going live in three minutes. Stand by.”

  Trey endured the longest three minutes of his life as he waited for the radio host to return. He glanced at the list of questions and answers his publicist, Avery, had provided. He’d been doing this long enough to know they always surprised you with questions they knew were off-limits. He hoped he was sharp enough to dodge the bullets this morning.

  “Trey, we’re live. Our listeners are anxious to hear about what’s been happening with the king of country music. Where’ve you been, man?”

  “I’ve been in the studio working on the next album.”

  “That’s what we like to hear. Tell me, when do you plan to release it?”

  “By early next year, I hope.”

  “Can we assume you’re planning a world tour to promote the new album?”

  In his current state of mind, just the thought of a tour was overwhelming, but he owed it to his fans and his label. “That’s the plan, Johnny.”

  “Good stuff. I know your fans are looking forward to that. We get calls and emails about you every day. People want to know what you’ve been up to. They’re dying to know when the new album’s coming out.” He laughed. “The pressure’s on, man.”

  “Yeah, I know. I plan to deliver the goods.” If only he could figure out how to break through the mother of all creative blocks and write a song he wouldn’t be embarrassed to attach his name to.

  “So why did you decide to sign with a new record label, Trey?”

  Because my old label was putting pressure on me to get off my ass and produce a record, he thought, considering the fall-out if he came clean. He was tempted to tell the truth and accept the ramifications. He was so tired of living a lie, pretending to be the man, the musician, everyone expected him to be. “There was just a difference of opinion with the old label. No hard feelings.”

  “Are you expecting this album to go platinum like all the others?”

  Platinum, hell he would be satisfied if it didn’t end his career. “We’ll see what happens, Johnny. It’s up to the public to decide.”

  “So, you’ve been spotted around town with some of the most beautiful women in Nashville. Is there anyone special in your life right now?”

  He clenched his jaw in frustration. He had come to expect this question, but he still resented it. “No, not really.” Megan would take offense, but he didn’t care.

  “You are one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. Think you’ll ever marry again?”

  “No.” The only woman he wanted to call his wife was determined to forget he was alive. He’d had his one chance at forever and he blew it. He sure as hell didn’t deserve another one.

  “Can you tell us about the car wreck you were involved in last year, Trey? We understand a woman and young child were killed. Your Hummer and their mini-van were hit by the driver of a tractor trailer who fell asleep at the wheel, right? Rumour has it you were lucky to escape with your life. That would have been a hell of a loss for country music, man.”

  Trey wanted to tell him the loss of life that occurred was much more valuable than his, but he kept his mouth shut. He could imagine the headlines: Country Superstar Trey Turner Wishes He Had Been the One to Die in Fatal Crash.

  “I’d rather not discuss that, Johnny.”

  “Sure, I understand. We’ve all heard you’ve fallen off the wagon after three years of sobriety. Is that true, Trey?”

  He glanced at the highball of scotch to his right. “I’d rather not get into it.” Which he knew was akin to admitting guilt. His manager and publicist would go ballistic, not to mention his record label. He had to end this call or risk digging himself a deeper hole. “Look, man, it’s been good talking to you, but I gotta roll.”

  “Yeah, sure. Thanks for talking to us, Trey. We’re all looking forward to the new album, so don’t keep your fans waiting too long.”

  “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Johnny.” He pressed the button to end the call.

  His hand shook as he reached for the crystal glass. He took a long swallow of the amber liquid, savouring the familiar burn on the way down. He knew it was toxic, eating him alive from the inside out. He hated that he needed it, hated the fact that alcohol was the only thing that seemed to take the edge off and calm the fear and anxiety so he could get through another day.

  He looked up at the ceiling. “What the hell am I gonna do?” he whispered. He needed help, was desperate for guidance, but had no idea where to turn. His faith had been tested to the limits, and he couldn’t face the idea of admitting the truth to his friends and family. He had never felt so alone.

  He knew that every day he lived without creative inspiration was another day closer to sealing his fate. He couldn’t stall his manager and record label forever. They expected answers and he knew he had to tell them the truth; his career was over. But every time he tried to tell his best friend and manager, he panicked. He was terrified that, without music, he was looking into the abyss of a dark, empty, meaningless future. His music was the only thing he had left.

  He pulled the newspaper clipping out of his desk and stared at the black and white photo of the little girl who had died in the fiery crash. Six years old, the same age his daughter would have been. Trey couldn’t comprehend why he had been spared when a little girl with her whole life ahead of her had been taken. If he could, he would have traded places with her in a heartbeat, given her a chance at the life his daughter deserved. A knock on the door of his studio interrupted his reverie and he silently wished he could escape. Escape the questions and expectations of a world where he no longer felt he belonged.

  “Come in.”

  His sister poked her head in the door. “Hey, just heard you on the radio, big shot.”

  He smiled. His sister was one of the few people who could still make him smile. Perhaps because she didn’t see him as Trey Turner, money machine. She simply saw him as her over-protective big brother.

  He and his sister had always been close, especially before and during his marriage. Marisa and his ex-wife had become fast friends, bonding like sisters soon after they met. She tried not to take sides, but he knew she blamed him for the marriage falling apart. Marisa made the effort to maintain contact with him, but their relationship hadn’t been the same since his divorce. Nothing in his life had been the same since his divorce.

  He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. He rubbed his eyes and stroked the two-day growth of beard. He knew he must look like hell, but he couldn’t summon the energy to care. “What’s up, Marisa?”