She leaned against the door with her hand on the doorknob behind her back, knowing with every fiber of her being that she wanted nothing to do with whatever he had in mind for her.

“We’ll start you off at the Grand Ole Opry. Get your name out there. Do you have your own material?” He rattled on before she could answer. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve got a guy who’d love to write for a voice like yours.”

“Mr. Welshiemer—”

“Call me Harvey, honey. We’re going to be good friends. Now, let me get the contract I need you to sign before we go any further—”

“Mr. Welshiemer—”

His eyes flashed with anger. “Now, darlin’, you’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t call me Harvey.” He reached under a pile of magazines on an uneven coffee table, and pulled out a legal-size sheet of paper. “This is your standard entertainment industry contract that lays out all the ways I’ll be working on your behalf to make you a star.” He produced a pen from the depths of his stained shirt pocket. “Sign right here, and we’ll get to work.”

He was so caught up in his spiel he didn’t notice Kate opening the door. She was halfway down the stairs before he caught up to her. When he grabbed her arm to stop her descent, she shrieked.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Get your hands off of me,” she said in a low snarl.

He let go so abruptly she almost stumbled down the last half of the stairwell. “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he said, his sweaty face an inch from hers. “If you don’t want to be a star, that’s just fine with me, but if I were you, I’d get my pretty little ass up those stairs and sign that contract. Do you honestly think you’re any different than the million other girls who are singing their hearts out all over this city? How long have you been here? How many producers have given you their cards? I’ll bet I’m the first one you’ve even talked to.”

His words struck close to home—too close. But even if she never made it as a singer, she’d sell her soul to the devil before she would spend another minute in the company of this repulsive man.

“Our business is finished,” she said with a look that dared him to lay one finger on her. “I’d rather work at the Waffle House than work for you.” With that she turned and bolted down the remaining stairs.

“You bitch! Who the hell do you think you are?”