Page 6 of Country Heat

“Y’all we’re amazing!” I tell them. “Thank yousomuch. I don’t even have words.”

“That was fun,” Rachel says with a smile. “You, girl, are one hell of a performer.”

“And you are one hell of a drummer!”

We walk toward my room laughing but the smile melts from my face when I seehimstaring at me.

Him = Cash Edwards.

In real life. Staring atme.

I get a warm shiver with those intense brown eyes that I know so well focused on me. He’s leaning against a metal column with his hands in his pockets staring shamelessly at me.

My feet slowly stop.

“What is it?” Rachel says when she sees my face. She looks where I’m looking and squeals. “That’s Cash Edwards! Oh my god. Oh. My. God!”

She rushes over and bounces up and down in front of him excitedly. Rachel is stunning, but he doesn’t even so much as glance at her. His eyes are focused completely on me.

“I’m a huge fan, Mr. Edwards!” she says as he stares at me. “Can I get a selfie?”

He agrees, but doesn’t look at her or the phone she’s shoving into his face.

What is happening?

Cash Edwards, the country superstar, the icon, my lifelong crush, my idol, the most talented man in the world is staring at me like I’m his. I can feel the possession rolling off that gaze and wrapping around me like a warm blanket on a chilly night.

I glance behind me, sure I’m going to see Patty Wilmington or Cassidy Cline or any of the other more gorgeous, more popular, more talented country singers standing there, but there’s no one. He’s staring atme.

I have to go over there.I can’t.

He takes the decision out of my hands and comes over first.

God, he’s sexy. He’s so unbelievably hot. He’s wearing brown pants and a black button-up collared shirt with enough buttons open that I can see the top of his chest. His brown hair is messy and there’s stubble all over his cheeks and strong jaw, but it looks good. It suits him well. Every look suits this gorgeous man well.

“You’re Lola Lively,” he says in that deep raspy voice that has made women all over the globe fall for him.

I’m trembling as I try to find my voice. “I am.”

He knows my name. Cash Edwards actually knows my name!

“You got one hell of a voice,” he says with a nod.

I hold in the scream that’s trying to burst out of my chest. “Really?"

He nods and my eyes drop to the sharp edge of his jaw. I shiver as I follow the line to his mouth. His lips are so sensual. So sexy. I might have kissed these exact same lips dozens of times, only they were on the poster of him on my wall.

I still can’t believe he’s here. I want to touch him to make sure he’s real.

“I was watching you perform,” he says with his dark eyes fixated firmly on me. “You’re one of a kind. Something very special.”

I’ve had a lot of career highlights so far—hearing my song on the radio for the first time, seeing my record for sale at the mall, signing my first autograph—but hearing those encouraging words coming out of Cash Edward’s sexy mouth is at the top of the list by far.

“I’ve been a big fan of yours,” I tell him without trying to come across as gushing, but I’m not succeeding too well. I probably have little hearts in my eyes right now as I gaze up at him in awe. “You were a big inspiration to me growing up. I became a singer because of you.”

My manager Karen comes over and grabs my arm. Seriously? This woman is always sticking her nose in my business at the worst possible times.

“We have to go now,” she says. “We have to get you on the plane and in New York for the show tonight.”

---