Page 68 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

Cassidy glanced at me. “He did.”

Tracy released a breath and pressed one hand to the center of my chest. “I don’t know whether to hug you or yell at you.”

“I strongly prefer the first option.”

She hugged me once, hard.

Then she pulled back. “The label wants an answer. Are we canceling?”

“No.”

“Shane—”

“Melanie wanted the cancellation. I’m not giving it to her when the route can be secured.”

Tracy searched my face. “Are you ready to perform after that?”

“Yes.”

“I’m taking the stage,” I said.

Tracy nodded. “Then I’ll tell them we’re holding the start until you’re in position.”

Rafi touched his earpiece. “The stage corridor is clear. Law enforcement swept the photographer section and recovered Melanie’s bag. They found no sign of an accomplice. The performance route can reopen once Isabel releases it.”

Cassidy faced me.

“You still want to do this?”

“I do.”

She checked the corridor behind me, the agent at the door, and the timing display on the wall.

“Then we get you changed and move on my signal.”

I laughed.

Cassidy raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re the only person here who heard I’m performing and immediately started worrying about my clothes.”

“You’re wearing your concert trousers and half your shirt.”

I glanced down. The ivory henley hung open over my chest, and one shoelace had come loose during the confrontation.

“I still look good.”

“You’re one untied shoe away from falling off the riser before Melanie gets credit for anything.”

I looked at Tracy. “You heard affection.”

“You heard a safety concern,” Cassidy said.

Tracy stepped aside. “I’m going to let wardrobe save your comeback.”

Cassidy escorted me back to the artist suite.

The champagne bomber waited on its hanger. A wardrobe assistant smoothed the pale-stone trousers, fixed the henley, straightened the gold chain, and retied both shoes as though I might have forgotten how.