Vegas, Baby: The Complete Series by Fiona Davenport
2
Addilyn
They say D minor is the saddest key, but when you were a rhythm and blues singer like me, it held a wealth of beauty. The melancholy sound and haunting minor chord progressions help the listener to feel the true soul in the music.
However, it was my opening night at the Lennox Hotel and Casino. My new home until I decided otherwise. I was so excited that I almost went with a jazz set, but the name of the lounge was Smoke and Rhythm, and I wanted to prove that the singer fit the name. So, I compromised with myself and chose to open with a classic.
I held the old-fashioned microphone close to my red-painted lips and crooned the words to BB King’s “The Thrill is Gone.” The spotlight shined on me and the small band behind me on the stage. It wasn’t blinding, but I let it blur my vision of the audience so I could lose myself in the song. When the guitar solo started, my hips began to move with a mind of their own, and after a minute, my whole body was swaying and twisting with the sultry tune.
We finished the song, and I couldn’t stop the huge grin from splitting my face when the audience clapped with gusto, whistles and good-natured catcalls ringing out above the thunder.
My skin tingled in the oddest way, and I squinted through the light, my eyes sweeping around, wondering about the cause. I almost felt as though someone was watching me, which was ridiculous, considering I was on stage performing for an audience. But it was different…more intense. And my body was reacting in a way I’d never felt before.
I shook my head and tried to dispel the strange thoughts and feelings, refocusing on my show. My set consisted of old classics and some modern covers, but at the end, after I’d sung “When You’re Down and Out,” a tribute to my favorite blues singer, Bessie Smith, I ended with an original composition.
The tingling sensation had only intensified throughout the show, but I attributed it to nerves. I’d never performed one of my compositions, and it meant sharing something very personal with a room full of strangers. Still, I’d promised myself that I’d finally step out of my comfort zone with my next job.
I’d been performing at The Diamond on the weekends since I was eighteen. I’d signed a two-year contract and then signed an extension for another three. It had just ended, and while Frank Stratton had been incredibly good to me, it wasn’t where I planned to be long term. I wasn’t sure where I saw myself in regard to my career. I’d never had the desire to sign with a label or go on tour. My family was here. I loved it here. Las Vegas was home.
One thing I did know, it was where I wanted to settle down and raise my family. And though I hadn’t admitted it out loud, the possibility of having a husband and kids was the reason I wanted to find a mostly permanent arrangement at a hotel. It was a perfect scenario and would allow me to achieve both of my dreams of making a living as a singer and having a family of my own.
However, my well-meaning parents thought I should see the world. “Experience life.” They encouraged me to at least take a job in another state or country to make sure I didn’t miss out on anything because I’d never tried it. Eventually, I gave in. For years, venue after venue had contacted me with offers. However, I refused to let any of them buy out my contract with The Diamond. I wasn’t going to do that to the man who’d taken a chance on a kid.
Suddenly, I was in a position to actually entertain these offers. I had trouble deciding where I wanted to go—probably because I didn’t really want to leave in the first place—so I’d kept my options open until I’d sold my house and was ready to pick up and move.
I’d narrowed it down to a casino in Monte Carlo, a well-known blues club in New York City, and signing a contract with the record label who represented people like Griffith Thorne—a rock singer who’d recently settled in Las Vegas. He actually had a job I coveted. Drew Lennox had come to me with offers over the years, but I’d turned him down like all the rest.
Timing being what it was, it hadn’t occurred to me that Drew might have an opening at the same time I was ready to make a change. Then he appeared in my dressing room after my last performance and pretty much begged me to do a stint at the Lennox.
Somehow, I managed to keep the screaming and jumping contained inside my brain. I almost spilled the beans that I would be ecstatic to perform at the Lennox, especially long term. But I wasn’t stupid, so I calmly explained my other offers and was flabbergasted when he basically informed me that I could have whatever I wanted.
I was ecstatic to be able to stay in Las Vegas and perform. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t taken my parents' advice to heart. I promised myself that I would take some risks, particularly when it came to my music, so that’s how I ended up on the stage in the Lennox’s blues club, Smoke and Rhythm, singing a song I’d written.
The spotlight dimmed, allowing me to see the crowd of people standing from their seats and clapping. I smiled even brighter when Autumn, Drew’s wife, waved and did an excited little hop before giving me a double thumbs-up. Then something behind her caught my eye, and I lifted my gaze to see a man standing in the shadows off to the left.
His deep blue eyes were trained on me in an unblinking and unwavering stare. I suddenly felt naked and on fire as my thighs clenched. When his lips tipped up into a smirk, I wondered if he knew how I was reacting to him. He couldn’t tell, right?
Unable to hold his intense stare, I glanced at the rest of him. He had dark blond hair, cropped close to his head, a chiseled, square jaw, a patrician nose, and full, kissable lips.
As I looked lower, I stifled a gasp. Good grief. The guy was built like a freaking linebacker. From the way he filled out his jet-black suit, it was obvious he was all cut muscle. And damn, all those muscles were sexy as hell. My eyes might have lingered for a second too long at the juncture of his thighs because, despite the darkness, I was almost positive a bulge began to grow there. I suddenly pictured what he looked like underneath all those clothes, and my nipples hardened while dampness flooded between my legs. If I’d been wearing panties, they would have been soaked.
My cheeks heated, and my eyes flew back up to his face. He wasn’t smiling any longer. In fact, his gaze was no longer on my face, and he looked like he was about to murder someone. Confused at his sudden about-face, I frowned and followed his line of sight.
It was very likely my face was as red as my dress when I realized he could see the pebbled tips of my breasts poking through my tight sheath. As it was backless and practically side-less, it hadn’t been possible for me to wear a bra.
When he took a step forward, I backed up and said a quick thank you into the mic before running off the stage to my dressing room. I shut the door and leaned against it, trying to catch my breath. I’d never reacted to a man like this. It was throwing me for a loop.
My heart rate had barely had a chance to level off when a sharp knock had me jumping a foot away with a yelp.
“Open the door, Addilyn.”
Oh. Em. Gee.
The low, raspy male voice sent shivers down my spine and another gush of wetness between my legs. What in the ever-loving crap was wrong with me? I was afraid to open the door. Afraid I might climb the guy—the one I’d never freaking met—like a tree.
“Addilyn.” His tone had an undercurrent of warning in it.
Maybe I should have been offended at his high-handed order, but instead, I found it incredibly hot. So, I sucked in a quick breath and swung the door open.
Mr. Tall, Blond, and Sexy stood on the other side, the scowl still in place. “Can I help you?” I was incredibly proud of the fact that my voice didn’t waver.
His eyes met mine, and he winked—then my ovaries exploded. “Absolutely, gorgeous.” He smiled, showing off a smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial with dimples that popped in each cheek. I kind of felt bad for every other man on the planet because they would always live in the shadow of the god standing in front of me. “But first, I need you to put on some clothes.”
I glanced down at my dress with a frown. “You don’t like my dress?”
He shook his head as he took a few steps into the room, causing me to back up or be plastered against his body. “That’s not a dress, baby.” His blue eyes narrowed, and he glared at my outfit. “That’s a fucking dish towel.” His long arms reached out and took hold of my shoulders, then he gently turned me around. “Now, get dressed so I can take you out and properly welcome you to the Lennox.”
“Y-you want to take me out?” I sputtered, looking at him over my shoulder. “I don’t even know your name!”
“It’s Knox Dawson. Hurry up so we can so celebrate your success.” Before I could respond, he gave me a little push toward the rack of hanging clothes on the opposite wall, then shocked the shit out of me when he gave my ass a little pat.