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sight,” Roger said. “I need time to figure out what to do. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.” After another curse, he said, “Any harm comes to that girl, boy, and you’ll take a fall. A big one.”
    Brock tightened his hold on the phone. Nightingale didn’t make false threats.
    “Don’t tell her we’ve talked, either,” Roger went on. “She may bolt. I’ll call you at this number tomorrow.”
    The line went dead. Brock had just set the phone down when Oscar walked into the room.
    “Everything all right?” the man asked.
    “Yeah,” Brock answered, swallowing a groan. This was the worst thing that could happen. It was downright dangerous. The desire he’d felt for Ginger in the past had multiplied into substantial demands today. There was no way for Nightingale or Ginger to know that. Valuing his life, Brock had always kept his distance from her, while privately dreaming of the day he’d be in the same class as her. He’d dated one of her friends once, just to be in the same circle. Missy or Minnie, or something. That girl had just about strangled him with her tongue. He got the chills every time he thought about it.
    He had the chills right now, too. They might as well start building his coffin. He’d soon need one. Being with Ginger and not touching her might kill him. And if he did touch her, Nightingale was sure to kill him.

Chapter Six
    Ginger wanted to agree with Rene, that everything was absolutely swell, but Rene hadn’t been the recipient of Brock’s glare. Nor had the other woman insulted him by dropping money at his feet or tried to kiss him. Except they had kissed—even though he’d ended it rather abruptly—and it had been absolutely the most amazing thing ever.
    Brock’s performance was stellar. The phone jingled nonstop. Clubs calling, requesting songs. Rene explained that many of the gin mills weren’t large enough to host a band, so they had radios mounted in the ceiling to blast music down to the crowd.
    The excitement of it all revived Ginger’s optimism.
    Money would soon no longer be an issue between them. She’d make sure he was rolling in dough, and then try to kiss him again. It might not be as easy as she’d imagined, but it would happen.
    Hours later, Oscar pointed toward the men behind the glass window and announced, “That’s a wrap.”
    Ginger squealed, and ran across the room where she jumped into Brock’s arms as he rose off the piano bench. “You were fabulous!”
    “Yes, he was,” Oscar agreed. “Let’s head across the street.”
    Brock hugged her in return, and kept one arm around her when he asked, “What for?”
    “To visit the hotel’s club,” Oscar answered. “They called and want to meet you. Both of you.”
    Ginger attempted to follow Oscar, once again flying high, but Brock’s hold stopped her.
    “Why’d you tell them we were married?” he asked.
    She knew he’d bring that up. “I didn’t. They assumed. I just went along with it,” she said. “Come on. We gotta go.”
    Brock started walking, but said, “You should have told them the truth.”
    “As I recall, you said the same thing.”
    “Only after you did,” he pointed out.
    Ginger held her breath against the frustration building. But the pressure was too great and she had to let it out. “Fine, I’ll tell them we aren’t married.”
    “No,” he said. “It’s too late for that. Just don’t tell anyone else.”
    “I won’t.” She grabbed her purse from Rene’s desk. “I’ll tell them I’m your agent.”
    He didn’t comment and remained quiet as they rode down in the elevator. That gave her hope. She’d helped Norma Rose book musicians at the resort for years, and was good at writing up contracts. Brock would soon realize just how much he needed her. He might even kiss her then, and the thought put a grin on her face.
    He scowled, but she saw beneath it to the excitement he was attempting to hide. She laughed and caught his arm as they followed Rene