him. She’s going to stay with us, too.”
“How old is your son?”
“Six. This place is going to thrill him. He wants to be a cowboy when he grows up.”
He smiled a little crookedly. “I’ll be sure to give him the grand tour.”
“His daddy passed away. It’ll be three years this fall.” She wasn’t sure why she felt inclined to tell Matt that, especially with how weirdly attracted to him she was. Then again, he’d been married to a widow, so maybe he would understand more than most people would?
By now, he was frowning, hard and deep. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. His name was Becker.” Kirby Talbot had been his idol, too. She’d met Becker at one of Kirby’s concerts. “He got sick. But it happened really quickly. A bacterial infection that...” She let her words drift. Becker wouldn’t want her talking about the way he died. He was a vibrant person, filled with hope and joy. “But this isn’t what I intended to discuss with you.” She managed a smile, knowing Becker would be encouraging her to move forward, especially with her career. Then, suddenly, she hesitated, fully aware that Matt wasn’t going to be pleased with her news. Finally, she slapped the smile back on her face and went for it. “I’m doing a book about your father. He hired me to write his biography, and—”
“Kirby sent you here?” Matt flinched, his amber eyes flashing beneath the brim of his straw Stetson.
She nodded. “He asked me to come. He wants to reveal your parentage in the book and wants to give you the opportunity to tell your side of the story.”
Anger edged his voice. “So you’re here to interview me?”
She nodded again, maintaining a professional air. Libby wasn’t going to let Matt’s frustration affect her. She had a job to do, a biography to write, possibly even bringing him and his father together. “I’d like the chance to get to know you, to spend as much time with you as I can. Kirby told me—”
“He told you what?” Those eyes flashed again. “That his bastard son wants nothing to do with him?”
“He didn’t word it like that, but yes, he said that you were estranged from him. But he also admitted how he’d done you wrong. How he was never really there for you when you were growing up. He wants to atone for his mistakes.”
A cynical smile thinned Matt’s lips. “So it’ll make him look good in the book you’re writing? So his fans can worship him more than they already do?” Tall and handsome and lethal, he took a step closer to her. “You can tell my arrogant, womanizing daddy to go straight to hell. That I’m not impressed with him or his half-assed biography.”
Half-assed? Libby set her chin. “I’m going to write a true account of his life, his loves, his mistakes, his music. His children,” she added. Kirby had two other sons, legitimate heirs with his former wife, the woman to whom he’d been married when Matt’s mother had tumbled into an affair with him. “From my understanding, you’ve never even met your brothers.”
“My half brothers,” he reminded her. “And I’m not any more interested in them than I am in Kirby.”
“They’re interested in you.”
He shifted his booted feet. “They told you that?”
“Yes, they did.” They were willing participants in the book. “I haven’t interviewed them yet, not extensively, but we’ve had a couple of nice talks where they expressed their desire to meet you.” He was the lone-wolf brother they couldn’t help but wonder about. “Brandon is an entertainment lawyer who represents the family, and Tommy...” She paused. “Well, he’s a lot like Kirby.”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “You think I don’t know that? I’m familiar with Tommy Talbot’s music. I know how he followed in our old man’s footsteps.”
Yes, she thought. Tommy was as wild as their father. Or wilder, if that was possible. Whereas Kirby had been dubbed the bad boy of country, Tommy was now known as the baddest boy of country, surpassing his father.
She said, “If you agree to do this, I promise that I’ll quote you accurately, that I’ll present you in a deep and honest light. Your words matter. Your thoughts, your feelings. I’m hoping to interview your mother, as well.” Libby knew that his mom lived on the ranch. “She just got married, didn’t she? To a man who works for you?”
“Yes, but they’re out of town right now.” He moved even closer to her, so close their boot tips were almost touching. “So you can’t go chasing after her for an interview.”
“That’s okay. I can wait.” He towered over her and Libby lifted her head to get a better look at him. This close, he was even more appealing, his features etched in masculine lines and candid emotion. He smelled good, too, his cologne a tantalizing blend of woods and musk.
“Has he hit on you yet?”
She started. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Kirby. Has he tried to get you into bed?”
“Oh, my goodness, no.” Discomfort blasted through her blood. It was the son who stirred her, not the father. “He’s been nothing but respectful to me.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice going a tad too soft. In it, she heard a gentle concern, a protective tone.
“I’m positive.” She knew that Kirby wasn’t interested in her. If anything, he’d been paternal toward her. But she decided not to mention that to Matt, given how easily Kirby had once walked away from him.
He went silent, and his gaze locked onto hers. Then, as if suddenly realizing how close he was standing to her, he stepped back.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You don’t have to apologize. I rather liked it.” She tried for a goofy smile. “This noble side of you.”
He remained serious. “If my dad got a hold of you, he would destroy your soul. You and your naive ways.”
And what would Matt do if he got a hold of her? “There’s nothing going on with your father and me. I don’t feel that way about him.” She closed the gap between them, wanting to be near him again. “And I’m not as naive as I look.”
“Oh, yeah. So what are you going to do, little girl? Seduce me for the sake of your book?”
Mercy, she thought. Were they actually having this conversation? Was it really going in this direction? Struggling to breathe, to keep the air in her lungs from rushing out, she said, “If I seduced you, it wouldn’t be for the sake of the book.” She quickly clarified, “But I’m not here to seduce anyone. And for the record, I’m not a little girl. I’m twenty-nine.”
His gaze didn’t falter, not one whiskey inch. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He would keep what in mind? Her self-proclaimed maturity? Or her unwillingness to seduce anyone? Either way, she was still feeling a bit too breathless. “Are you going to grant me an interview? Are you going to agree to spend some time with me? Or am I going to have to keep trying to convince you to be part of my project?”
