Mary McKenzie sat on a bench in the downtown Nashville park, with a view of the river, waiting for Brandon Talbot to appear. He walked his dog here every Sunday, just after daybreak. She hadn’t met him yet, but she knew all sorts of things about him.
Brandon was a classically handsome, highly successful attorney, oozing with sophistication. He was also the man she was supposed to seduce. Not to the point of sleeping with him. Heaven help her, she would never do that. But it would be a seduction just the same.
Maybe she would get lucky and Brandon wouldn’t show up. Or maybe he would have one of his glamorous lovers with him. That would certainly get her off the hook.
She glanced up and saw him in the distance, just him and his canine companion, a Siberian husky with a silvery coat. Should she abort this insane mission and go home?
No, she thought. If she quit now, she would be excusing the pain his lying, cheating, country superstar dad had caused her mom, as well as what Brandon himself had done.
Mary returned to the book she was pretending to read. Typically, she liked to read. It was one of her favorite pastimes. But for the past few Sundays, she’d been using it as her cover while she spied on him. A lone girl with her nose buried in a book, a persona that actually fit her quite well.
She waited, trying to time her approach so it seemed natural. Finally, she closed the book and put it in her bag. She stood, as if she was preparing to leave the park.
As she headed in Brandon’s direction, she wished that she didn’t find him so attractive. The last thing she needed was a crush on the enemy.
She adjusted her cardigan over her blouse. The early-morning air was a bit chilly. The month of June could be funny that way.
She kept going, getting nearer to Brandon. He was wearing a gray pullover, sweatpants and pricey sneakers. By now, she could see the logo on his shoes.
Once they were close enough to make polite eye contact, she lifted her gaze, and he nodded a silent greeting. If Mary didn’t know better, she would mistake him for a good guy. His demeanor was friendly. She tried to seem friendly, too.
Seizing the opportunity to speak to him, she said, “I’ve seen you here before, and I’ve been meaning to tell you how beautiful your dog is.” She’d been practicing that line for weeks, readying herself for this moment.
Brandon smiled, so composed, so freaking gorgeous. He stood tall, with lean muscles, jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. Mary’s heart was pounding so hard, she feared it would pop out of her chest and roll straight into the river.
“Thanks,” he replied. “His name is Cline.”
She already knew the dog’s name. She’d seen tons of pictures of him on Brandon’s Instagram. “I’d love to have a husky. But I share an apartment with my sister. It’s a cute little place, but there’s barely room for the two of us, let alone a big dog.” Mary decided her best course of action was to mix lies with the truth, and their cozy apartment was the truth. “Is it okay if I pet him?”
Brandon nodded. “Sure.”
She knelt to stroke the husky’s thick fur. He stood patiently, highly trained and wonderfully behaved. “Look at those eyes. They’re so blue.” Like his master’s, she thought. But she wasn’t about to say that. She rose to her feet, coming face-to-face with Brandon again. “Cline is an unusual name.”
“It’s for Patsy. She’s my favorite singer.” He smiled again. He had straight white teeth and a jawline to die for. “So I figured Cline was the way to go.”
She forced a smile. She had a gap between her two front teeth. Some people thought it was trendy, considering the models who’d become famous for flaunting theirs. But Mary wasn’t model material. At five-three, with natural red hair and a light dusting of freckles, she was only mildly pretty. Her sister disagreed. She insisted that Mary was the ultimate girl next door, created for secret male fantasy. Of course, Alice had a vivid imagination. In fact, it was Alice who’d concocted this seduction plan. Mary never would’ve hatched it by herself. She wasn’t a femme fatale. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to get Brandon interested in her.
Before she got lost in anxiety, she returned to their discussion. “I like some of Patsy Cline’s songs. My grandmother used to listen to her.” Her mother used to play those old records, too. Mama loved Patsy’s music. But she was being cautious not to bring Mama into this.
Brandon knitted his eyebrows. Suddenly he was looking at her in a troubled way. Then he asked, “Do you know who I am?”
Good God. Mary struggled to maintain her composure, but all she could muster was a dumbfounded blink. Why was he being suspicious of her? Was it his lawyer’s instincts, his ability to sniff out liars? Even Cline was cocking his head, taking a cue from his master.
Determined to hang tough, she found the phony will to say, “I’m sorry. But am I supposed to know who you are?” She quickly added, “Are you a politician or something?”
A light breeze stirred his hair. He wore it combed straight back, expertly cut and groomed. “Is that what I look like to you?”
“Sort of. But it was just a guess.” She was still worried about why he suspected her of knowing his identity. Nonetheless, she spoke casually. “So are you going to tell me who you are?”
He shrugged. “I come from a famous family.”
“You’re not related to the Kennedys, are you?” She stayed on the political vein, trying not to veer too far from what was supposed to be her first impression of him. “A nephew? A cousin?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I’m Brandon Talbot. I’m an entertainment lawyer, and my brother and father are country musicians. Tommy and Kirby Talbot.”
“Oh, wow.” She acted surprised. “You’re related to Tommy Talbot?” It was easier directing the conversation toward him. Tommy wasn’t part of the ordeal with her mom. “He’s superfamous, especially in this town.”
“And my father is considered a legend.” He laughed a little. “Sometimes he’ll even be the first to say it.”
Dang, she thought. He was making jokes about his dad’s ego, and her mind was drifting back to the past, to that fateful summer, eight long years ago, when Mama had taken a trip to Nashville hoping to become a published songwriter.
Lo and behold, the almighty Kirby had noticed her peddling her songs around town. And while he was charming her into bed, he promised to buy them. After their short-lived affair ended, he ghosted her. Mama returned to Oklahoma feeling like a tramp and a failure. Only she hadn’t given up. She’d continued
