Free A Carol for Christmas by Robin Lee Hatcher Page A

above the continuing noise, “you two blew ’em away. Carol, I never heard anybody sing bet- ter. Not even Travis. You’ve got me in the mood to deck a few halls myself.”
    She felt an odd mixture of pleasure and disappoint- ment. She’d loved every minute of the performance. Had Jonathan liked it? Was he in the audience? She wished —
    “Friday’s right,” Travis said. “You were the star of the show. Come with me a sec.” He took hold of her elbow and gently drew her toward the left wing.
    She went with him, the applause filling her ears. It was a heady sound. What would it be like if —
    “Carol.” Travis stopped walking. “I’d like you to meet my agent, Ken Hill.”
    Lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed the man standing offstage until that moment.
    “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Burke.” The agent offered his hand.
    “And you,” she replied, stunned, taking it.
    Perhaps in his fifties, Ken Hill wasn’t a tall or particu- larly imposing man, but Carol knew he was a powerful figure in the music business.
    “Travis tells me you’re interested in country music. I’d like to talk to you about it.”
    “Carol?”
    She turned. Jonathan stood in the shadows of the wing, a beautiful bouquet of roses in his arms. When their gazes met, he stepped forward, holding the flowers toward her.
    “You were amazing,” he said.
    Tears pricked her eyes as she took the roses from him. “Thanks.” A cacophony of emotions tumbled inside her. She loved him. She was mad at him. She wanted to be in his arms. She wanted to be anywhere but there.
    “Jonathan,” Travis interjected, “let me introduce you to Ken Hill. He’s my agent. Ken, this is Carol’s husband, Jonathan Burke.”
    Once again, Ken offered his hand. “Mr. Burke, I was just telling your wife I’d like to talk to her about her career.”
    Something Carol couldn’t define flashed across Jona- than’s face.
    “I’d like to represent her. If she’s willing to come to Nashville, I think Carol’s got a chance at making it big.” Ken looked at her again. “Give me a call after the first of the year.”
    More people appeared in the wings, pressing in, eager to meet Travis, wanting to shake his hand and get his autograph.
    Ken Hill gave Carol a business card identical to the one Travis had given her earlier in the week. “I’m serious,” he said, leaning closer so she could hear him. “You call me.”
    She nodded.
    “Nice to meet you, Mr. Burke,” Ken said to Jonathan, then he disappeared into the crowd.
    Carol might have thought she’d imagined the encoun- ter, if not for the white card in her hand.
    Q

    Jonathan’s worst fears were coming true, right in front of his eyes. He was losing Carol to the music she loved. The music she might even love more than him.
    Looking dazed, she turned toward him. “Do you know
    who that was, Johnny?”
    “An agent.” His tone was clipped.
    “Not just any agent. He’s everybody-who’s-anybody-in- country-music’s agent.” She glanced down at the card. “And he wants to represent me. Me , Johnny. He wants me to go to Nashville.”
    Jonathan felt like a boulder had fallen on his chest. “Are you going to go?”
    “How could you ask me that?” She shook her head, a look of disbelief in her eyes. “This is the chance of a life- time. How could I not go?”
    He drew a long, deep breath and let it out before answering. “What if I don’t want you to go?”
    She drew away as if he’d struck her, and he felt like a heel. Worse yet, he didn’t know how to take the words back, how to make things better between them again.
    He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Let’s talk about it when we get home.”
    She glanced over her shoulder toward Travis and his fans, then looked at Jonathan again. “Maybe there’s noth- ing left to talk about, Johnny.”
    With those words hanging in the air, she walked away from him.

    Cbaplez t t

    O

    n Christmas Eve, Carol was home alone while Jonathan was at the