Nashville Heat (A Free Steamy Country Music Romance Series Starter): Nashville Book 1 (Naughty in Nashville) by Bethany Michaels

Author:Bethany Michaels [Michaels, Bethany]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781301117901
Publisher: Dragonfly Press Books
Published: 2013-07-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

I dragged myself off the couch, wrapping the blanket, still warm from our bodies, around me and stumbled to the window.

Outside was a swarm of photographers crowding my car and the house.

“Damn it. I left the gate open last night.”

“What do they want?”

Dex turned to me and ran a hand through his hair. “They probably want to know if I’m acknowledging my love child and if I plan to support the baby.”

“What?”

Dex walked to the couch and sat down. It was the first time I’d seen him genuinely angry. “Remember that crazy woman in Tulsa?”

“Yeah. The one who thought she was your wife.”

Dex nodded. “Turns out she’s pregnant and told everybody the baby is mine.” He rubbed his eyes. “My publicist told me yesterday she was running her mouth to the press but I told him not to worry about it. That no one would believe her and it would all blow over.”

“It didn’t.” I wrapped the blanket more tightly around me.

“No.”

I’d seen the woman on television. She looked like a lot of his other conquests. Tall, blonde, big boobs. If he’d slept with her... “Could it be yours?”

He looked up at me, shocked at first. Then his mouth tightened into a thin line.

I shrugged. “I mean, if it is, it’s ok. It’s not like you and me...well it’s none of my business.”

“Is that what you think?” Dex asked through gritted teeth.

It wasn’t a denial. I wanted to believe it was all just tabloid bunk, I really did. But I’d read about the wild nights spent on the road with anonymous women who looked just like the alleged baby-momma. Dex Wilder had a reputation. And it seemed his partying, free-wheeling lifestyle was about to land him in family court. If lawyers were involved, there had to be at least some substance to the story, right?

Sirens blared as two squad cars pulled up, scattering the throng of reporters and photographers.

“I’m going to have to go talk to them,” he said, tucking in his wrinkled blue shirt and smoothing his hair. The trademark scruff was starting to reemerge along his jawline and apart from the frown marring his full lips and chasing away his ready grin, he looked like the Dex Wilder I’d known before last night—back to looking like his poster and living up to his reputation. The guy I’d spent time with, talking and laughing and writing music with had disappeared.

“Oh, sure. I need to get going anyway.” I folded the blanket and put it back on the sofa. “Do you have my CD?”

“Over there on the table,” he said, looking out the window again.

The police were herding the photographers out through the front gate, but that didn’t stop them from snapping pictures as they left.

I grabbed the disc and my shoes and headed towards the door. I could only imagine what my hair and clothes looked like, let alone my make-up. It probably looked like I’d had a wild night in Dex Wilder’s bed, like countless other women he’d met on the road.

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