His cell phone started to vibrate on his belt, but he didn’t think he’d care if the fire alarm was going off right now. He was too into Darla, too into her honeysuckle-sweet taste, her scent, her perfect ivory body. Her satisfaction. That was the ultimate turn-on, the ultimate goal, and Blake went after it with the fierceness of a wild animal. He wanted it, he had to have it. Nothing but her complete, utter satisfaction would do. And so he licked and caressed her to a simmering slow down until she inhaled deeply, as if she’d forgotten to breathe, and that breath brought her back to reality.
She blinked down at him, her cheeks flushed red, her bottom lip swollen from his kisses. “That was…” she started, her voice trailing off, her teeth working her bottom lip.
“A warm-up,” he promised, kissing the inside of her thigh and easing her leg over his shoulder and her foot back to the ground. “We’re only just getting started.” He pushed to his feet, palming her backside and lifting her.
She made a surprised sound and hung on to him, her arms holding tight around his neck and her legs around his waist. He went down on the bed on top of her, the feel of her beneath him a tiny piece of heaven. “I have to warn you,” he confessed, “you’ve got me right on the edge, sweetheart, and my slow romancing is about to explode into fast and hard if we aren’t careful.”
“Fast and hard sounds good right now,” she said, again proving she wasn’t all about prim and proper. “But you said it yourself. Talk is cheap and you’re still wearing your pants.”
His cell phone vibrated on his belt again and her eyes went wide. “Is that your phone?”
“Yes,” he said. “And whoever it is can wait.” He slanted his mouth over hers, claiming her. She whimpered, her tongue searching for his, her hands gripping his back. One of her legs entangled his as if she feared he’d get away. He wasn’t going anywhere. His phone vibrated again. Ignoring it with Darla underneath him and her hands all over his body wasn’t hard. Hell. He couldn’t even manage to pull himself away from her long enough to fully undress. She tasted of honey, felt like sunshine. He spread her legs wider and sank deeper between them. Arching against her sex, his hands explored her body.
“Please,” she whispered. “Take off those damn pants before I scream in frustration.”
“One more kiss,” he said. Just then, the hotel phone started to ring. Blake went still. He burned to kiss her into oblivion and ignore the call, but he couldn’t. Not when his phone had been going off and hers wasn’t getting a good mountain signal. He was so frustrated, the last thing he wanted was to make her feel second to anybody in that moment. “As much as I don’t want you to, you have to get that. It could be the studio.” He rolled off her and grabbed his phone, checking his text messages. “It’s Meagan. She wants us to meet her for drinks after all.”
Darla scrabbled for the nightstand. Blake turned to find her grabbing the phone and giving him an alluring view of her creamy white backside. The one he’d had pressing into his palms a few minutes ago. The one he had a feeling wasn’t going to be pressed into his palms again tonight.
“Yes, hi, Meagan,” Darla said, sitting up and looking over her shoulder at him. “I’m not sure about Blake. His phone must be having signal issues, too.” She frowned. “I’ll go knock on his door. Sure. Yes. I’ll meet you in twenty minutes.” She hung up the phone. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Blake grabbed her and pulled her back into his arms. Damn, she felt good, and he didn’t want to let her go. “And I can’t believe I had you naked and never even managed to get my pants off. You’re going to regret this as soon as we leave this room, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am,” she said, her words giving him an unexpected jab in his chest until she added, “What kind of woman can’t get a man’s pants off?” She pressed her lips to his. “And now I’m going to be thinking of how to do it the entire time we’re with Meagan.”
“And even if I buy that, which I don’t, I know where this is headed. Our one night just ended.”
“Well,” she said, barely giving him a pebble of hope. “It could be fast and everyone says good-night.”
“More likely,” he said unhappily, “it’ll stretch into hours when everyone should be in bed resting. Except you. You should be in bed with me.”
She laughed. “That was my plan, in case you hadn’t noticed.” She ran her fingers over his jaw. “Thank you for making sure I didn’t miss that call when you could have easily distracted me from it.”
He drew her fingers to his lips. “I better leave or I won’t let you get dressed.” He started to get up.
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “What if you’re seen leaving my room? Sounds like there’s show personnel already going. We’re competitors, Blake. If my station finds out that we, ah… Well, it could jeopardize my show. The studio might think I have your interests, not theirs, in mind.”
“Things would have to go horribly bad for you in all kinds of nearly impossible ways for that to happen, and they won’t.” She started to object and he held up a hand. “But I understand you’re worried and I’ll be discreet. Complain about your phone service and tell everyone I stopped by to make sure Meagan was able to reach you. That way, if anyone sees me leave, you have an explanation.”
“Right,” she said. “Good thinking.”
He glanced down at her bare breasts and back up. “I wasn’t kidding about not letting you get dressed.”
She tugged up the comforter and slid underneath, then smiled. “Go, before I don’t let you, and that would be very bad.”
“Or very good, depending on how you look at it.” She started to object and he leaned in and kissed her. “I’m leaving.”
He pushed to his feet and searched for his shirt, finding it in the hallway. He tugged it over his head and quickly put on his boots before hesitating at the door. He didn’t want to leave and that said a lot, when he normally couldn’t run from a woman’s door fast enough. Of course, they’d had a premature finish, but still…he wasn’t ready to walk away from Darla. Not until he understood what she was doing to him. He resisted the urge to back up and tell her exactly that, or at least frame a plan to end up here after tonight. Dang it, Darla was making him feel every bit the primal man. Some part of him wanted to declare her “mine.” That thought rattled him to the core, and he reached for the door. A cold shower and some stern self-reprimanding were in order—and fast.
6
DARLA SAT ON THE MATTRESS, unsure of what had just happened. He’d left. He’d had no choice. He’d even said he didn’t want to leave. But yet, he had, and they’d made no plans for what came next. Did anything come next? Probably it shouldn’t. Darla liked Blake. She liked him a lot—too much, in fact. History told her that was trouble, especially with a man who’d been trouble in the past. She shook herself, realizing that she should be showering and dressing, but was thinking about Blake when she should be thinking about her job. Grimacing at the man’s ability to distract her, she shoved away the comforter and rushed to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d managed a superfast shower, changed into a clean, dressier pair of jeans and a pale pink blouse. Her hair had been a wild mess, compliments of Blake’s hands. But thanks to a hot iron, her hair was now smooth and orderly. Her makeup had been reapplied, the whisker burns covered. His whisker burns—Blake Nelson’s whiskers. They had felt really good on about every part of her body. How in the heck was she going to face him in a group of people and act like he hadn’t just rocked her world? She didn’t want Meagan or anyone else to think she wasn’t focused on her job.
She grabbed the small pink beaded purse she’d unpacked, filled it and crossed the strap over her head and shoulder, before making her way to the hallway. Darla glanced at Blake’s door. Should she knock? What would she do if the man hadn’t just been half-naked with her? That was pretty hard to think through when being naked with him was pretty darn heavy on her mind—so was every flirtatious second leading up to her being naked. But
prior to tonight she’d considered him her competitor—even her enemy. Yet she’d bonded with him on the plane and they had become friends. She didn’t give herself time to reconsider. Darla rushed to his door and knocked, then nervously looked around. Which was absolutely crazy. They’d flown into town together. They could walk to drinks together. She knocked again, more confidently this time, but he didn’t answer. He wasn’t in his room. He’d left without knocking on her door. Okay. So she wasn’t sure what to make of that. The worrier in her could conjure all kinds of trouble that she didn’t need right now.
Darla started walking toward the lounge area, her stomach suddenly fluttering with renewed nerves, which she tried to squash. The process of said squashing wasn’t going well, and by the time she stood at the door of the lounge, she was worse, not better. But when she entered the room, she realized the show was on. A group of about twelve, maybe even fifteen, of the show’s staff sat around a group of tables shoved together in the center of an oval-shaped room. Her gaze moved past the tables, drawn to the ceiling-to-floor windows and the view beyond that, which mesmerized, even calmed, her. The sun and mountains had faded into a pitch-black sky decorated with twinkling stars and city lights.
“Darla!” Meagan called, waving her forward. Her light brown hair fell haphazardly from a pile on top of her head, her jeans and T-shirt were casual and comfortable. The big burly blond man next to Meagan stood, as well, and Darla assumed him to be Meagan’s new husband. Evidently, he’d used his role as head of studio security to ensure he was the man watching over his wife and her show. Darla found this endearing and romantic.
Seeing Meagan again dissolved what was left of Darla’s nerves. Meagan wasn’t a big bad studio person. She might be Darla’s new boss, but she was also one of the nicest people she’d ever met. Someone she knew could blossom into a close friend.
Darla rushed forward, and was soon trapped in Meagan’s warm hug. “I can’t believe you’re here.” She leaned back. “Isn’t it crazy how both of our lives have changed in such a short time?” They’d met during the casting of the first season of the show and quickly bonded. Like Darla, who’d started out in casting and become a camera personality, Meagan had taken an unexpected path, from injured dancer to producer of a reality dance show.
Affection filled Darla and she paused to look at Meagan. “I can’t tell you how much it means that you made this happen for me. I’m not going to let you down.”
“I know that or you wouldn’t be here,” Meagan assured her. “I really wanted to make drinks happen so you could meet your fellow judges before the first audition. But before I introduce you to everyone, I have to warn you, Darla, last season, we didn’t have anyone but our own crew and a few local press people on hand for the auditions. We couldn’t even get a good showing for the contestants. There are people who have been camped out for a full day already. This season is already chaotic but we have plenty of talent this time.”
Darla grinned. “I’ll be the judge of that.” Auditions had gone so poorly last season that Darla had personally set up some additional New York tryouts, where a bulk of the cast had been found.
Meagan grinned back at her. “Exactly why you’re here. But consider yourself warned. It’s going to be a wild ride the next few weeks.”
“She’s not kidding,” Sam said, offering Darla his hand. “Sam Kellar. Nice to finally meet you, and good thing we did it tonight. Something tells me I’m going to be on duty around the clock from here on out.”
“So nice to finally meet you, too,” Darla said, accepting his hand. “I guess the security threat is over now?”
He scrubbed his jaw. “We had some contestants get into a fight outside the hotel.”
“Needless to say,” Meagan added, “those individuals won’t be auditioning. I don’t like trouble or scandal. I’m trying to keep this show more American Idol than Jersey Shore. After last season, I know all too well that once we start filming the reality portion of the show that’s incorporating the contestant house, it’ll be a pipe dream to avoid.”
Meagan motioned to the chair in front of Darla. “I saved you a seat so we could chat. Let’s eat, drink and drink some more—God, don’t I wish I could do that, but morning will be here soon enough.” Meagan and Sam sat down, and Darla grabbed her chair, looking across the table for the first time. That’s when her gaze froze, her eyes colliding with the wicked heat of Blake’s sexy blue stare.
“Glad you made it,” he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
“We were starting to worry you might have fallen asleep,” Meagan teased. “But Blake said you drank a pot of coffee on the plane.”
“I did,” Darla said, easing into her chair and wondering what else Blake had said exactly, and from the look on his face he not only knew it, he was enjoying it. “And since I fly horribly, Blake felt the full wrath of me on a caffeine and fear high. But then, he’s my competitor, so who better to torture but him?”
Meagan laughed and waved a finger between the two of them. “That’s right. You two have a little baggage of your own, don’t you?”
“We did,” Blake said. “But she forgave me.”
Darla crinkled her nose, wondering why she was looking at his mouth. Oh, yeah, she knew why. It had been all over her body, which was a very bad thing to think about right now. “I didn’t actually forgive you.” Okay, maybe. Almost. If they’d had just a bit longer alone.
“We made a deal, though, Darla, remember?” Blake asked.
Her mouth gaped. “What?” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She’d trusted him, and that meant he probably would.
“Hi, Darla. So good to see you again.”
Darla cringed at the greeting and not just because of the timing. She’d already noticed who was sitting on Blake’s left and it was all Darla could do to force her gaze from Blake to the source of the greeting. Lana Taylor was the gorgeous, twentysomething Broadway star with trademark long red hair and pale, perfect skin, who was a second season judge. She’d also acted like a mean diva to Darla’s staff during a guest spot on her show, post Stepping Up season one. Darla wondered if she regretted her behavior now. The world was always smaller than people thought. Then again, Lana was the mean judge on the show—mean just seemed to be a part of her character.
“Hi, Lana,” Darla said, leaving off the “nice to see you again” because Darla tried really hard to stay sincere in a business that tended toward the opposite direction. Her gaze drifted back to Blake’s, to his clean-shaven jaw. The skin of her stomach and leg tingled where that stubble had grazed her earlier, taunting her with how intimately exposed she was to this man, and this table, if he chose to betray her.
“Nice to meet you, Darla.”
Darla inhaled and greeted another judge sitting to Lana’s left. Jason Alright was a sexy thirtysomething Vegas producer who’d been a favorite of the viewers’ last season, especially with the female audience.
The fourth and final judge was Ellie Campbell, who was about Darla’s age and one of the hottest choreographers in the business. Ellie, who had pink hair tonight, was known for frequent, unique hair color choices and hip street-style clothing. She sat at the far end of the table, but quickly appeared at Darla’s side to offer a friendly introduction. Darla liked Ellie instantly and as Jason joined the conversation, she found him quite likable, as well. Everyone got along with Blake, she noticed.
A number of crew members chimed their greetings to Darla. There were some friendly, familiar faces Darla was glad to see. And she told herself this distraction was good. There was no time, or room, for Blake to fit in more about their “deal.” But she’d fit it in all right. She and Blake were going to have a good heart-to-heart, sooner rather than later.
“I’m so excited to see you again,” Lana continued after everyone settled back into their own conversations. “You went from casting to your own show. Impressive, Darla. You’re rocking showbiz.”
It was a sticky-sweet compliment lacking sincerity and laced with a c
hill. “And on that note,” Darla said, feeling the ball and chain of performance pressure tugging at her, she lifted her hand to flag a waiter. “Can I get a dessert menu?”
“What about dinner?” Blake asked.
She gave him a pointed look. “I have a sudden urge to go straight to the heavy stuff.”
“The camera adds ten pounds,” Lana sweetly reminded them.
“Good thing tonight will only be worth about a pound of that ten,” Darla said, accepting a menu from the waiter. “Because I fully intend to indulge.”
“I said it earlier,” Blake chimed in. “And I’ll say it again. I’m so glad I’m a man. We really don’t give a damn about a pound or ten.”
He’d changed his shirt to a dark blue collar tee with a studio logo and he wore it like he wore the room—casual and comfortable. He had this cool air of confidence about him that screamed of being comfortable in his own skin, never rattled or out of his element, and she envied him that.
“What did I say that merited an urgent request for dessert?” Lana asked, laughing. “Surely, you aren’t nervous. You have a show and an audience of your own.”
Darla could play coy and cool with Lana, but that just wasn’t her style. “I have a show and an audience,” she agreed. “But not a prime time show with millions and millions of viewers. That audience is going to expect this season to be better than the last, and with me being the newbie, I’ll be under the microscope.”
“And hearing you talk about the viewers wanting this season to be better than the last makes me want a big fat dessert, too,” Meagan said, nudging Darla’s menu closer so that she could see what was on offer. “I keep thinking that what goes up must come down and we have to get off the ride before it does. Go out gracefully, with style, and on our own terms. And with some reality show kind of twist.”
“Hearing you talk about the program ending is only making me more worried,” Darla said. “At least your job is secure.”