Loving Dallas(66)

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Speaking of which, I’m sure your boss would love to know how his company is being represented right now. Or the trouble his associate is causing between two of the hottest acts in country music and the tour that is very likely putting his company on the map.”

She has me there. I don’t know who she reports to or if they’d even care if she sleeps with her clients. But Midnight Bay is a family company with family values, one of the most heavily emphasized ones being that you don’t put your own hedonistic desires above the company’s bottom line.

“So what are you saying? You want me to quit the tour? Isn’t it pretty much over anyway?”

“Not the international leg. Which is why I’m here. I want you to sit this one out, no matter what Dallas or your boss or anyone else says.”

“Done,” I say, because I already wasn’t planning to go.

“In addition to that,” she continues, “until this tour is completely over, I want you to leave Dallas alone. He risked his career tonight. One word and Jase can replace him as his opening act for the international leg of the tour in a heartbeat. Is that what you want? To keep him here and cost him his dream? Because I can assure you, if that happens, he will resent you for the rest of his life.”

I’d already thought of that so her threat is empty. I can only imagine how insanely freaked-out she’d be if she knew I was pregnant. But I’m ready for her to leave so I nod as if we’re in agreement. “Got it. If that’s all, have a good night, Miss Lantram.” I wave my arm toward my still-open door.

“Glad we could handle this like adults,” she says with a self-congratulatory smile that makes me want to slap her. “I’d say see you around, but I’m sincerely hoping I won’t.”

The feeling is completely mutual.

“Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you, Lantram.” Those are my final muttered words before I slam the door behind her.

Once she’s gone and my apartment is free of her cloying scent and negative energy, I grab my cell phone off the charger on the kitchen counter and take it to the couch.

There’s a missed call and a text from Dallas.

Call me, please.

I stare at it for several minutes before making up my mind. Once I’ve located the number I was looking for, I press call and hold the phone to my ear.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey,” I say on a sigh, thankful for the familiar voice. “Can you meet me? Say lunch tomorrow?”

“Thanks for coming, Dixie,” I say when I sit down across the table from the lunch date.

“I love this place,” she says, eyeing the Mediterranean restaurant appreciatively. “They have the best hummus dip.”

I glance at the menu when our waiter arrives. He’s cute. Tall, dark, and giving my Dixie some serious sex eyes.

“I’ll have the grilled chicken wrap and a side of pasta salad,” I say, practically nudging him with my menu. “And an ice water with lemon, please.”

“Same,” Dixie says, oblivious to the drool forming as he checks out the intricate tattoo that swirls around her delicate wrist. “Plus a side of hummus dip and pita chips, please.”

“Of course. I’ll get that right out to you. Nice ink,” he says, nodding at her before he leaves.

“Um, thanks.” Dixie meets my amused gaze with a perplexed one in her eyes.

“I bet if you leave your number our meal will be free,” I tell her. “Dude was smitten.”

She laughs like I’m joking. “Yeah, right.”

“Uh, hello. Pretty sure he almost asked for your hand in marriage instead of what you wanted to eat.”

She shakes her head, and then widens her eyes at me in a shut-up signal when he returns with our waters. He winks when he sets hers down and I have to stifle a giggle.

Once he’s gone, I burst out laughing at her stiff posture.

“For goodness sakes, Lark. Do you imitate a corpse every time a guy flirts with you?”

She shrugs and sips her water. “He’s not my type.”

I glance over my shoulder and give him another once-over as he waits on a table a few rows over. The ladies at that table are clearly appreciating his obvious assets more than my lunch date is. “Ah, yes. Tall, broad-shouldered, square jaw, crystal-clear smoke-colored eyes and a chin dimple. It’s like GQ custom ordered him. I can see how you’d struggle to find him attractive.”

Dixie’s cheeks redden and I feel bad about teasing her.

“I didn’t say I didn’t find him attractive. He just isn’t my type, that’s all.”

I snort out loud because he’s exactly her type—he’s everyone with ovaries’ type for that matter—minus the fact that he isn’t Gavin Garrison.

“Speaking of Gavin,” I begin, but Dixie cuts me off.

“We weren’t. Speaking of him, I mean.”

“Well, we should be. I’ve been a crappy friend lately due to my job and everything with Dallas. So give me the scoop. What the heck happened?”

“Did you invite me to lunch just to gossip?”

I nod. “Mostly. I have some news, too, but once I tell you mine everything else will pale in comparison, so let’s talk about you first.”