Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(11)

It’s not fair to judge Travis when he doesn’t even know about Charlie. Maybe he would be attentive, and . . .

She cut off her inner voice, shutting out the meddlesome ideas. Gemma had spent a little over an hour in his company, and in that time she’d been photographed and stared at. She didn’t want that for Charlie; she wanted him to have a normal, happy childhood.

After this lunch, they could shake hands and say good-bye, and she’d never have to see him again. It was perfect for everyone.

As soon as we’re done, I’ll do just that.

She couldn’t get behind the lie, though. There was too much unfinished business between them, and she couldn’t deny that she was still wildly attracted to him. Indeed, if she spent any more time with him, she was going to forget why being near him wasn’t one of her better ideas.

Walking back to the booth, her knees shook a little as Travis stood there smiling at her. God, the way he still got to her was crazy.

He handed her a little green bag that held a Styrofoam container and offered his arm. “How about I walk you back to your room?”





Chapter Three




* * *





UNABLE TO RESIST him, Gemma slipped her arm through Travis’s and let him lead her out of the VIP room. She made sure to keep her head down, aware of several camera flashes.

“Is it me you’re ashamed to be seen with, or are you afraid of what people back in Rock Canyon will say?” Travis asked.

Gemma peeked up at him. “I just don’t like people poking their noses in my business, wherever they may be.”

Travis was quiet for several beats. “It’s my life, Gemma; people taking pictures of me, selling them to magazines, writing gossip. It pretty much goes with the gig.”

Gemma didn’t respond right away. She understood the situation and didn’t hold it against him. But Rock Canyon thrived on gossip, and for years she’d been the focus of a lot of it. It had taken a while, but people had finally stopped looking at her with whispers and head shakes of disapproval. She’d created a place in her community that had nothing to do with being a teen mom and everything to do with organizing fund-raisers, helping out people in need, and just being who she’d always been.

The people of Rock Canyon used to call her a nice girl who’d made a mistake, but Charlie wasn’t a mistake. There had been rumors and speculation for years about whether Charlie was Travis’s or not. She had never confirmed it, but it was pretty damned obvious. Besides, she hadn’t been seeing anyone else.

But if people in Rock Canyon saw the pictures of she and Travis together now, it would be just a matter of time before someone desperate for money—or just being an idiot—tipped off the press about the possibility of Charlie’s paternity. And then their lives would be overrun by reporters, and Charlie would be thrust into a three-ring circus. All her sacrifices would have been for nothing.

“It’s just that your life is so globally public. It’s bad enough having small-town busybodies monitoring your every move, but when the world knows who you’re with, what you’re doing . . . I don’t think I could ever live like that,” Gemma said as they walked past Gerald the doorman again.

Or subject my son to it.

Travis stopped and held out his hand. “Hey, Gerald. I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your professionalism. What’s your last name?”

Gerald took Travis’s hand hesitantly before pumping it hard, his voice filled with excitement. “Thank you so much, Mr. Bowers. It’s Washington. My wife and I are big fans.”

“And I appreciate it,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card. “This is my publicist’s number. You tell her your name, and she’ll get you front-row tickets the next time I pass through Vegas, plus a couple of backstage passes.”

Gerald’s brown eyes were wider than the Grand Canyon and he started stammering. “But . . . Mr. Bowers, I was . . . just doing . . . my job.”

“No arguments, Gerald. I’ll see ya soon.”

As they walked away from the grinning man, Gemma had a hard time keeping the warm, fuzzy feelings at bay. “That was lovely of you.”

“That guy deserves it. Any other man would have had his camera phone out or be begging me for an autograph,” Travis said as they walked through the lobby toward the elevator.

“Well, I think it was wonderful,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as gushy as she felt.

“Thank you,” Travis said, smiling.

“You’re welcome,” she said, fighting the urge to reach up and brush back his hair. It was something she had always done, and now it seemed unnatural not to.

Travis said nothing, just kept watching her with that mischievous grin.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but it’s unnerving.”

“Sorry I’m unnerving you,” he said, not sounding sorry about anything. Suddenly, he took her hand and tugged her away from the elevators just as one was about to open.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to show you something,” he said, taking her down a long hallway and through a pair of golden doors. The green uniforms and gold everywhere made Gemma chuckle a little, especially when they passed another fountain with a gold pot in the middle, lights shining into the water, making it look almost like arching rainbows. The O’Shea Hotel really played up their Irish theme, but it was beautifully done. She hardly had time to admire it before Travis was stopping in front of another, smaller elevator. Gemma frowned.