Sam escorted her to her door again, and she felt wildly out of control. She had to change the dynamic between them and she didn’t know how. She was juggling so much, trying to make everything turn out right for everyone, for him.
“Stop looking at me with those crazy-blue eyes of yours. It makes it impossible to resist you.”
His lips twitched slightly. “Good,” he whispered, and before she could stop him, his lips were softly touching hers. “Sorry, but it was killing me not to touch you. Now go rest. You look exhausted.” Then he was sauntering away again, just as sexy as ever.
“Stop telling me I look exhausted. That’s not nice.”
Sexy male laughter floated on the beach air. The sound mingled with the scent of his spicy cologne, and wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket of pure lusty need. She was never going to get any sleep. Worse. She was never going to resist Sam. The only way to avoid him would be to tick him off. She really didn’t think she had that in her.
* * *
“THE STUDIO CALLED,” Kiki said, in the kitchen the following morning. “The ratings for last night’s pre-live show were off the charts. The cyberworld is buzzing about the Tabitha, Carrie, Jensen triangle.”
“That’s great news,” Meagan said excitedly, filling a coffee mug. “That should ensure great ratings for tonight’s show. Did June say anything about how Sabrina reacted?”
“Oh, Sabrina’s assistant didn’t call,” she said. “Sabrina did.”
Sabrina. Sabrina had called Kiki. Her stomach knotted. Sabrina didn’t make those kinds of calls. June did. So maybe Kiki and Sabrina were tighter than she thought, than even Sam thought. She tried not to let that worry her. Kiki really was behaving. Meagan was meeting with a potential agent today, a big name with a lot of power, who swore he could negotiate her contract for next season now. Things were going to be fine. Things were fine.
“And you’re right,” Kiki agreed. “Last night’s ratings should ensure tonight’s. That’s exactly what Sabrina said, too.”
Meagan didn’t miss Kiki’s gloating. Kiki gloated. Meagan knew this. It meant nothing. Although, it was hard not to be paranoid, considering what she had found out about Kiki.
“Great,” Meagan said, hoping she sounded sincere as she dumped some French vanilla creamer in her cup. “I’m going straight to the theater to be sure we’re ready for tonight. I’ll see you at the rehearsal studio.”
With the contestants long gone, and Kiki with them, Meagan opened her car door to find a bag of chocolate and a note that read “someone I know told me that chocolate is the only medicine for nerves, Sam.”
She inhaled, emotion welling inside her. She grabbed the bag and opened it, climbed in her car and started eating. Who cared if it was seven in the morning? She needed this chocolate, and a part of her was starting to acknowledge how much she might just need Sam. Sam, who’d somehow managed to be there for her, without ever taking over her life, without once interfering where he wasn’t wanted.
Meagan pulled her car onto the highway, telling herself not to eat the entire bag of chocolate. Chocolate was her weakness, and apparently, so was Sam. Neither seemed like a bad thing right now. In fact, both were pretty darn good.
* * *
IT WAS EVENING, twenty minutes until Stepping Up went live for the first time, complete with an audience. And every time Sam had seen Meagan, she’d seemed more frazzled.
When he eventually located her backstage, she was in conversation with a tech guy, and it wasn’t going well.
“You yelled at two of my dancers right before they have to go on stage,” she said. “Okay, you’re under pressure here, we all are, but that doesn’t mean you can be rude.”
“I’m trying to fix the lights before the show starts,” he said, tapping his watch. “I have eighteen minutes. Seventeen by the time I finish this sentence.”
“Meagan,” Sam said, joining them. “Can I review a few last-minute security points before the show starts?”
She whirled on him. “Is there a problem? A security issue?”
“Everything is fine,” he assured her, promising himself he wouldn’t kiss away her fears no matter how tempting the idea. He was crazy about this woman—completely, insanely crazy for her, like he’d never imagined he’d be over a woman. “Walk with me.”
“Sam—”
“Walk with me, Meagan,” he repeated, adding a bit of push to the words he was sure would get him yelled at, especially when he turned and strolled away, with the assumption she would follow.
She did and he stopped behind a curtained-off area, much like a small room, used to enclose supplies.
He grabbed his phone and dialed one of his men. “Electronics problem on set. We could use your magical touch right about now, Rick.” He hung up. “Listen, Meagan.” He ran his hands down her arms. “You need to take a deep breath and ease up a little.”
“Sam, please don’t—”
“Don’t what?” he asked. “Worry about you? Ask what I can do to help? Care enough to be here with you, instead of somewhere else?”
She blinked at him and then pressed her hand to her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just...” She looked at him. “I’m a wreck. I swear this show has made me this way. I was never like this in the newsroom. You were right. I’m too close to this.”
“In a few minutes, what will happen, is what will happen. Whatever that final product is, embrace it and call it a success, Meg.”
She paused, considering his words, and then to his surprise, pushed to her toes and kissed him. She smiled at him and then disappeared back onto the stage.
Sam’s lips turned upward, his blood running hot for Meagan, who was driving him to the edge, he wanted her so badly. And though he was certain their time out of bed was working in his favor, helping him to get to know her, keeping her from hiding behind sex, he was damn ready to strip her naked and have his way with her. Or her have her way with him. He really didn’t care, as long as the end result meant they were together.
Tonight couldn’t arrive fast enough as far as he was concerned. In fact, tonight seemed a perfect time for pleasure in celebration of the success he was sure the show was going to have.
It was the prospect of holding Meagan, and making love to her, that led him through the next several hours of the show—including the tight security needs of a Pop star—with that smile remaining on his face. That was, until the last fifteen minutes of the show, when the bottom three dancers were announced.
Sam stood across the stage from Meagan, his eyes locked intently with hers. Derek, the host, called the first name. A dancer named Rena took her place next to Derek. The second name... Tabitha. Sam couldn’t say he’d be sorry to see her leave. But it was the next name that set the place into a purr of shocked “ohhhhs.” The final name was Carrie.
Sam watched as Meagan’s face paled. Yes, he knew she had a soft spot for Carrie, but beyond that, Meagan was a smart cookie. She was bound to be thinking the same thing he was. What were the chances that both Carrie and Tabitha would end up in the bottom three without some manipulation of the results?
18
MEAGAN FELT SICK when Carrie’s name was called. She did see Carrie as the underdog, which she’d always felt a bit herself. But then there was the coincidence factor. Had the judges been persuaded formally or informally to put Carrie’s and Tabitha’s names on the bottom three?
Kiki stepped to Meagan’s side, digging her fingers into Meagan’s arm. “We can’t lose Carrie or Tabitha. Please tell me we aren’t about to lose Carrie or Tabitha. We need them for ratings.”
Relief washed over Meagan. Kiki hadn’t played with the outcome of the judging. This second guessing Kiki thing was distracting her more than she thought.
“The first contestant that’s safe is...” Derek said, “Tabitha.”
Tabitha squealed and rushed to the bleacher-style seating where the other nine safe contestants were sitting. She flung her arms around Jensen’s neck. Carrie looked sad and disa
ppointed, and suddenly Meagan felt as if she were on that stage with Carrie, about to hear her fate. She felt guilty for that, knowing this was emotional for the other candidate, Rena, as well, but it was Carrie whose moment Meagan was in.
“And the final contestant who is safe tonight is...Carrie!” Carrie burst into tears right along with the girl who’d just found out she would be the first to leave the show. Instead of rushing to safety, Carrie turned to her and hugged Rena. Meagan watched Carrie walk with the ousted dancer, talking to her, comforting her, and knew she was right about Carrie being a nice person.
Derek wrapped up the broadcast and the aftermath followed, the celebration and tears backstage. Meagan spoke to the celebrity judges and put fears of contestant tampering aside. These were people who took their roles seriously. The performances had been the deciding factor, and Carrie and Tabitha had spent too much time focused on Jensen, rather than on practicing, to come out on top.
When Meagan’s team, with Sam and his men following closely, arrived at the contestants’ house, they’d all vowed there would be a midnight swim. By the time they’d all quickly changed, a delivery of gourmet strawberry cupcakes arrived, donated by a famous chef who hosted a show on the same network. Everyone dug into the treats, even Rena, who seemed to find the indulgence welcome.
Meagan stood in the kitchen, watching the crowd, feeling sad that Rena was leaving, but relieved that the girl had been offered a Broadway audition before they’d ever left the theater. Meagan wanted to create dreams that came true, not crush them.
“It could have been me saying goodbye tonight,” Carrie said as she joined Meagan in the kitchen.
“You’re right,” Meagan agreed. “It could have been you. Stop focusing on Tabitha and Jensen, and focus on dancing.”
Carrie leaned on the island counter. “I know. Believe me, I know. Dancing is everything to me, and not only did I almost quit the show, I almost let silly distractions ruin it for me, too. I’ve lost track of my priorities.”
Distractions. Priorities. Meagan had allowed herself to be distracted by Sam, but somehow, he’d helped her move forward, not held her back. It was this Kiki distraction that was destroying her. She was at the point where she needed to just let the cards fall where they would with the show. She was working hard. She’d landed her new agent today. She had to learn that some things were out of her control. Like her strategy for Sam. She didn’t want to let down her guard and be with Sam, only to find him the true loser by associating with her.
She shoved aside the worry, at least, for now, and challenged Carrie to succeed. “So what are you going to do to make sure tonight doesn’t happen again?”
“Practice and focus.” Her voice tightened with emotion. “Thank you for talking me out of leaving. I’ve gotten several lifelines now. I’m not foolish enough to think I’ll get another.”
“Good,” she said, picking up a cupcake to take to Rena. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Carrie!” came a shout.
Meagan shooed her away. “Go enjoy tonight. Tomorrow it’s back to work, harder than ever.”
Carrie grinned and took off to the other room.
Meagan sighed, and with a growling stomach that had been treated to nothing but chocolate that day, she snatched a cupcake from a tray for herself and scooped decadent icing onto her finger. In the next moment, Sam showed up, his heated gaze zeroing in on her finger in her mouth. “I see I’ve been missing more than I realized.”
Meagan laughed, wondering how it was that Sam always had such interesting timing.
“Tabitha!” Carrie screeched abruptly from the other room. “That was so mean.”
Meagan and Sam both raced toward the girls, but it was too late. Rena grabbed a cupcake, and smashed it into Tabitha’s face. A snowball effect ensued, and before Meagan knew what hit her—as in a cupcake or two or three—there was icing flying everywhere.
“Enough!” Meagan shouted, standing in the middle of it all. Another cupcake bounced off her chest.
Sam echoed her order. “Enough!” he yelled. A cupcake bounced off hit him in the forehead.
Meagan burst out laughing. Seeing rough and tough Sam plopped in the head with a strawberry cupcake was just too much on too little sleep.
He cast her a grumpy look in reaction to her amusement. Meagan liberated one of the last cupcakes from a contestant’s hand and scooped some icing. She wasn’t even going to think about the furniture or the floors. She’d be damned if she was wasting a gourmet cupcake, when she hadn’t eaten today.
Once she’d finished her cupcake, and was starting on a second, the frenzy died down, and Meagan’s cell phone, tucked in her pocket, began to ring. With sticky fingers, she pulled out her cell and eyed caller ID.
Meagan’s gut clenched. This wasn’t about cupcakes. It was about ratings, and since the call wasn’t going to Kiki, but to her, her stomach clenched tighter. Maybe she only got the bad news calls, and Kiki got the good? She answered, listening to Sabrina deliver the verdict. And it wasn’t bad news, not bad news at all.
Meagan grabbed Sam’s arm and had him boost her up on top of the coffee table to shout out. “Top show of the night, people! Top show of the night!” At least in preliminary ratings, and that was fine by Meagan. Joy ensued, and Kiki of all people jumped on top of the table and hugged her. Sparkling grape juice sprayed Meagan and Kiki’s already strawberry-flavored skin.
“Midnight swim!” someone hollered. “Midnight swim!” A mad rush for the door followed.
Meagan stood where she was and tried to revel in the moment. But next week’s ratings would be the real test, and next week’s booted contestant might not get a Broadway audition.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” Sam ordered, standing beside the table. “Tonight is about success.”
“What about the contestants?” she asked. “I have to watch out for them.”
He grabbed his phone and made a call, in which he asked someone to see to her gang. “Josh will keep an eye on them,” he told her and held out his hand. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
She glanced down at Sam from on top of the table. at his hot-and-hungry stare, she felt certain he was prepared to clean the icing from her entire body. And boy did she believe she could do the job on him. For days now she’d wanted this man, for days she’d wondered if it was unquenched desire for him or something more. For days now she’d been stressed, worried, confused. She’d felt as if the world were spinning out of control.
For tonight, what was wrong with being on top of the world? Okay, she was on top of a coffee table, but with a cake-covered, gorgeous army guy about to carry her away to a private place, she believed she could do anything. She had a hot show and a hot man. If that was a curse, bring it on.
She slid her hand into his.
* * *
SAM HAD PLANS FOR Meagan, a celebration of her success, that led them down the beach, off the grid of the cameras, to a secluded area where he’d pitched a tent and set up a lantern inside.
Meagan laughed the minute she saw the tent.
“I thought I’d show you how a soldier roughs it on the beach.” He motioned her inside, and she disappeared through the open zipper. “And you and I get privacy we wouldn’t get at either of the houses.”
“Champagne?” she asked, as he joined her on the inflatable mattress.
“Unless you prefer the sparking grape juice you’re wearing as perfume? Derek was right when he said those kids are crazy.”
She laughed. “They’re excited.”
“As they should be,” he said, and popped the top on the bottle and filled her glass. “Congrats on your ratings.” His mouth brushed hers. “You taste like strawberries. I think I just decided I love strawberries.” And yes, he’d said love. He was falling in love with Meagan. He’d never been in love, thought it wasn’t in his cards. And he was probably a fool to choose a woman sure to kick his ass a hundred times over, but then, Sam never ran from a challenge. And Meagan was more his kind
of challenge than any he’d known in a very long time.
She inhaled on his words, as if she’d understood the discreet message. Softly, she breathed out his name. “Sam.” Her fingers curled on his cheek, and for long seconds stayed there. The air was thick around them, electric and hot, until she pressed her lips to his. “You... taste like strawberries, too.”
“I taste like you,” he told her, leaning back so she could see his expression. Then he slipped a glass into her hand. “Drink up. You deserve to celebrate.”
She crinkled her nose and downed the drink. “Always the bossy one, aren’t you?”
“Hmm,” he said, emptying his glass and scooting to her side. “You seem to like me being bossy, like I do you, at least sometimes.”
“Only because it hasn’t gone to your head,” she said, letting him ease her to the mattress. “The minute it does—”
“You’ll put me in my place,” he said, framing her face with his hands. “I know. Believe me, I know. I like that about you, too. But do you know why you keep letting me take control?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me,” she commented dryly, but not without a rasp of desire in her voice.
“Aside from trusting me,” he began.
“When did this become about trust?”
“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” he asked, sliding her shirt up to her stomach and kissing the delicate skin he’d revealed.
“I didn’t say that.”
He caressed her narrow waist, her hips. “So you do trust me?”
Her expression softened. “I do,” she whispered. “I trust you, Sam. Very much.”
The confession took him off guard, warmed him. “I’m glad,” he said, resting his hand on her belly. “Not so long ago, I wasn’t so sure you ever would.”
A smile tugged on her lips. “You kind of blasted into my life like a bolt of lightening. The minute you arrived, I felt your presence.”