Page 129 of Sing You Home (Nashville Star 1)

Sal steps up to the dresser mirror only to blink at her strange reflection. Dark cat-eyes. Lavish false eyelashes that have her looking like some dolled-up debutante. It feels appropriate for the evening. Tonight’s the Brothers Kincaid’s Opry performance. Earlier today, a team of makeup artists and hairdressers cornered her in their small bathroom to work their magic. An hour of hair and makeup had Sal squirming.

But now.

Now, she’s never felt so beautiful. Her ruby lips curve as she evaluates her tight black dress. With a sweetheart neckline and a thigh-high slit that’ll make Luke’s eyes bug, it fits her like the most perfect glove. As Sal smooths out the fabric, her hand brushes against her flat stomach, then jerks away like she’s been burned.

Despair clenches so tight in Sal’s chest that she can barely breathe.

Two days haven’t been enough time to process the news. She was pregnant.

God, how she aches for a memory of her unborn baby. The sound of his heartbeat, the small flutters of his kicks, the feel of Luke’s muscled hand fanned out on her swollen stomach.

She wishes Luke had told her the truth. All this time, he’s been dealing with his grief alone. They could have mourned together. She could have known about her past. Though she understands why he wanted to protect her. The pain on his face, the guilt, tore at her heart. But was there something else? Regret? More secrets?

Sal shakes off her doubt and straightens her shoulders. No. He said that was all. He told her everything that mattered.

A small rumble of thunder has her moving to the window. Dark clouds billow the sky. The scent of rain in the air. Down below, a limo idles, telling her she’s late. Per usual.

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Sal runs a finger through her hair, flat-ironed into old Hollywood vintage waves. She slips her cell phone into her beaded black clutch.

When she turns around, she finds Luke standing there. Staring. His expression dazed, enchanted.

Sal props a hand on her hip. “Well, say something, country boy. Can’t leave me hanging.”

“Goddamn, darlin’.” Luke presses a hand against his heart. “You mean to kill me.”

Then, they’re moving in sync, drawn to each other like magnets.

She smiles. “Hell, if you’re a dead man walking, at least give me a kiss before you go.”

Luke lets out a breath, shaking his head as he brings her into his strong arms. “That I can do.”

Leaning down, Luke palms the cradle of her skull and fuses his lips to hers. He kisses her breathless, kisses her until she’s jelly-kneed and trembling. His lips trace the curve of her jaw, her collarbone to kiss her bare shoulder.

“You look gorgeous, Sal. Damn near perfect.”

The look on his face nearly unhinges her. It’s alight with pride. Love. Awe.

A lightning bolt of love hits Sal and she stands on tiptoes to kiss him again. His scent makes her heady with lust. When she settles herself back on her feet, she grips Luke’s tie. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Although Sal’s pretty sure that’s the understatement of the century. Luke’s dressed to kill in a tweed jacket and a pearl snap shirt. A bit of scruff on his face. Suave. The hottest cowboy she’s ever seen.

“Maybe we should stay here tonight,” Luke growls, burying his face in her silky hair. He slips a hand into the low back of her sleek dress, his calloused fingers dancing like velvet across her skin. Letting loose a throaty gasp, Sal rakes her hands through his dark hair, arcing her body up into him.

Sal laughs, whispers against his lips. “If you get me out of this dress, I might not get it back on.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Luke grins down at her, gliding his hand beneath her hair, bringing her in for another kiss. “Who needs the Opry?”

It’s true. She sees it in his eyes. He’d give up everything just to have her.

“You,” Sal murmurs. It takes all her strength to drag herself away from his kiss. “You need the Opry, Luke. You need to do this.”

Concern flickers across Luke’s face. “You sure you feel up to this? The press? The concert? The after-party?”

She fixes him with a look of exasperation. “Tonight will be perfect, Luke. You will be perfect. And I absolutely cannot wait to stand by your side and be your wife.”

His throat bobs. “I’ve been meanin’ to do this for a long time now. I got you somethin’, Sal. If you’ll have it.”

She tilts her head, her long dark hair falling over her shoulder. “What is it?”

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