Follow My Lead (12 page)

Blake considered his options. Pushing Darla now, when she had to go in front of a camera to face whatever personal demons she was battling wasn’t going to earn him points. She wanted space and he had to give it to her. He had to respect what she had ahead of her the rest of the day. He darn sure wasn’t throwing her the bombshell that he was going to be around a whole lot more than she thought from outside a bathroom door. No. She wanted him gone now, so he’d be gone. He just wasn’t going to like it.

12

D
ARLA STOOD IN
the hotel bathroom with her back against the door and her eyes squeezed shut. She’d run from Blake, run because she was afraid of the emotion he was making her feel. She just had to get away from him before she did something crazy, like fall for him. He felt too right, too good, and her track record—even with him—was proof of the trouble that always followed. And so she stood, naked, with her clothes and her purse on the other side of the door—where he was. Which was where she wanted to be, and knew she had no place being.

She inhaled and, against all reason, willed Blake to knock on the door, to talk her off the ledge. Still, she’d be better off if he didn’t and left the room. If he left without a word, in fact, and proved to her that this was about a half dozen condoms and not a half dozen emotions.

Time stretched by and there was no knock. She heard movement, though. He was dressing. Of course, he was dressing. He had to get to the set, just like she did. He’d knock when he was done. He’d say goodbye. He’d ask to see her again and make some sexy remark that referenced using condom number two. That would prove he only wanted sex. That would make this easy. They were supposed to be just about sex. That’s why she’d stepped out on this ledge in the first place. It had seemed simple, uncomplicated. An escape she’d desperately needed.

The hotel room door opened and shut. He’d left? She listened, waited. No sound. Nothing. He’d left and had said nothing before doing so. No request for a sex date. No anything. Not even a goodbye. What did that mean? It had to mean he’d read between the lines when she darted away, that he knew she was running scared and he wasn’t up for the chase—not that she wanted him to chase her. It wasn’t like that. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. The knots in her stomach said it wasn’t this, though. It wasn’t him gone and her in here.

Darla slumped against the bathroom door. She had her answers to the burning questions in her mind, of the possibilities that might exist between her and Blake. This meant there was nothing of substance between them. She should be happy. She wasn’t happy.

Darla yanked open the door and raced around the room, gathered her clothing, pulling items on, trying not to think about taking them off while Blake watched. While Blake stood naked in front of her—tall, broad, ripped, gorgeous Blake. She hadn’t even had time to fully enjoy just how gorgeous.

She shook away the image and rushed to the door to find her purse where she’d tossed it earlier. She stopped dead in her tracks at the piece of paper sitting on top of it.

Her heart skipped a beat and she barely managed to breathe as she darted for it, a bit too eager. She picked it up and five condoms tumbled to the floor. Her throat went dry. She wasn’t sure she wanted to read the note after all.

It wasn’t just sex. I figure I can’t prove that to you while these puppies are taunting me with the many ways we might use them. And speaking of taunting, don’t let Lana win. Show her who is really the boss.

Blake

Emotion welled in Darla’s chest. She was so falling for this man. She was falling and falling and falling. Hard. She liked him, plain and simple. Too much. Yes—“too much” was a theme for her with Blake. She didn’t think it was possible to ignore him, to walk away from this thing between them until she knew where it might lead.
You have to,
a voice in her head said.

Granted, there was more on the line than just her needs and her feelings for Blake. Making this show work wasn’t only about her. It was about the parents who’d always been there for her, who’d supported her dreams and her life choices.

She had to go back to the same thing she’d told herself in the bathroom. Her track record with men wasn’t one she thought supported a gamble on Blake, not when she owed her parents everything, and they deserved the world.

Darla arrived at a room set up with tables and chairs, with various wardrobe and toiletries. Allison, who Darla now knew would be her makeup and hair person, was there alone, eating a sandwich. She glanced up at Darla, right as she was about to take a bite, and froze. She set down her food and pushed to her feet. “Finally, you’re here! You look like crap.”

Darla exhaled. So much for believing she’d doctored her hair and makeup in an acceptable manner. “Well. No one can say you’re not honest.”

“What the heck did you do on your break?” Allison complained, motioning Darla to a chair. “Sit down—and fast. You’re due on set in minutes. The other judges have come and gone.”

“Sorry,” Darla said, settling into the chair. “I have a case of nerves and lunch didn’t sit well. I’ve been, uh, lying down.”

“Oh,” Allison said, her brows dipping. “Why are you nervous? You have a show of your own and I love it. Did I mention I’m a fan? Huge, huge fan.”

Darla gave her an appreciative smile. “Now you’re just saying all the right things, and I prefer the honest, ‘you look like crap’ kind of communication.”

“I said I was a fan. I didn’t say you don’t look like crap.”

Darla laughed. “Okay, then,” she conceded. “I stand corrected. Thank you for the compliment and, ah, insult.”

“All meant in the most loving of ways,” Allison assured her. “I’ll fix you all up on one condition.”

“Okay,” Darla said cautiously, thinking everyone was all about conditions today. “I’ll bite. What condition?”

She lowered her voice. “That you put that diva Lana in her place every chance you get this season.” She dropped to a whisper. “We’re all looking forward to watching it.”

Darla absorbed the words, taking them in with surprise. “Who is ‘we all’?”

“All the crew,” she said, rolling a cart of makeup and hair supplies to Darla’s side. “No one likes her. She’s just so mean to the contestants. We know you’ll stick up for them, like you do for all kinds of people on your show—and the animals. We all love the animal rescue special you do on Fridays.”

The comment made her think of her parents, how she had to focus on her agenda to save their ranch. It had suffered from a virus that attacked cattle. Her mother and father hadn’t told her how bad it had gotten until it was almost too late and they’d taken on debt they couldn’t afford to pay back.

Darla’s chest expanded with warmth and understanding as her father’s frequently spoken words replayed in her head. Words he’d repeated about their financial struggles.
Honey, things happen for reasons. You have to have faith. Sometimes we just don’t know what those reasons are until later.
Darla’s fear that Blake was a distraction lifted like a cloud of worry and paranoia. Blake had heard Meagan’s concern. Blake had warned her so she could fix what was broken. Blake had made her late enough to the set to have Allison share this piece of information with her. And, most importantly, Blake had given her good advice. She had to be herself in the audition room or she would disappoint everyone, not just Meagan. She’d disappoint herself. She’d disappoint her parents. She had to go into that room and forget about the pressure, about her parents’ predicament. If she did that, everything would be okay. She had to come through for them the way they’d always come through for her.

After Allison made up an excuse of burning Darla’s hair with a flat iron to buy more time, Darla managed to inhale two chocolate bars—Allison agreed chocolate was safe, even for a sick stomach—and she was ready for work. She was ready for Lana. She wasn’t, however, ready to see Blake. Or to say goodbye. But she had to.

* * *

T
HE AUDITIONS HAD BEEN TAKING
place for a good three hours when Blake wished a young male dancer good luck in Vegas, and then found himself being flagged down by Meagan. She lifted her hand and motioned for him to follow her.

Blake froze in an “uh-oh” moment. He’d been hoping for a break to check on Meagan and hoping, even more so, to find out if she’d shaken off her morning. He now prayed he wasn’t about to find out the opposite, a fear easily conceived considering Meagan had made her suspicions about him and Darla obvious. She’d also made it clear she suspected that Blake was negatively influencing Darla. Hell, Darla thought he was, too—or at least, that was what he’d now surmised about the bathroom incident. And maybe he was. Maybe he needed to keep his distance, no matter how much he wanted to have Darla up close and personal. Not forever, but for now, until she found her footing on the show.

Blake followed Meagan to an empty event room that had been cleared as a contestant holding room. “What did you say to Darla at break?” she asked immediately, going right for the gut.

Blake felt the blow, and while he wasn’t one to be at a loss for words, it took him a minute to recover. “Not anything different than I imagine you would have,” he replied cautiously.

She studied him, as she had earlier and then waved off his words. “Details aren’t important. Whatever you said, it worked and that’s all that counts. She’s back to her normal self in there and I couldn’t be happier. Now, I feel free to actually talk to both of you about an idea my team has been bouncing around since early this morning when we found out about Rick.”

“Talk to us?” he asked, a warning alarm going off in his head.

“Meagan,” Darla said, appearing in the doorway and going white as a sheet as soon as she spotted Blake. She was as worried as he was that this was about them.

“You needed me?” she asked Meagan.

“Come in,” Meagan encouraged. “And pull the door shut.”

“I’ll get it,” Blake offered quickly. He closed the door and stepped in between the two women so he could gauge both of their facial expressions as this—whatever it was—went down. “Since Rick isn’t coming back—” Meagan started.

“Rick isn’t coming back?” Darla asked, her tone rippling with shock.

Meagan’s gaze flicked Blake a “you didn’t tell her?” look, before she replied, “No. He’s not. He’ll be recuperating for a while. As you know, Blake is filling in for Rick today, but I’ve thrown his name in the ring for a potential long-term replacement.”

Darla gaped, her attention jerking to Blake’s with accusation. “You’re taking over for Rick?”

Could he get any more sideswiped? “I’m just rolling with the punches,” he assured her, darting Meagan a warning glance. “I’ve agreed to nothing but helping out today. Maybe a few audition shows forward, if needed. Beyond that, nothing is even somewhat final.”

“About your future with the show,” Meagan said. “I just hung up from a conference call with your agent—who wants you to call him—and one of the studio executives.” She glanced at Darla. “Right after I had a conversation with your agent and one of your studio executives.”

Blake’s spine stiffened and he could feel the tension emanating from Darla. He could almost hear her suck in a breath at the same time he did, waiting for what was about to come next, no doubt, thinking what he was thinking.

Was one or both of them about to be fired?

13

“
I
DON’T UNDERSTAND,”
B
LAKE
heard Darla say in a strained voice, her ivory skin pasty white. “Is there some sort of a problem with me being on the show because Blake is now potentially the host?”

“Because if there is,” Blake said sternly, praying that he hadn’t misjudged the situation. “Count me out of the show. I’ll head home and stay there.”

Meagan looked between the two of them, a keen expression on her face. “You’d walk away from a huge paycheck because it puts Darla in jeopardy?”

“Yes,” he said at the same time Darla said, “No.”

“No, you will not,” Darla added, frowning at Blake. “This is your studio, not mine. You belong here.”

“You both belong here,” Meagan interrupted.

“I’m perfectly happy doing just my show.” Blake focused on Darla. “The big Hollywood scene has never been my thing.
Stepping Up
works for me, not because of the big prime-time format, but because of the fans and the contestants. Those things hit the same hot buttons as my show.”

“This is money and opportunity, as well,” Darla said, being humble and generous, as he’d expect of her. But when she curled her fingers inside her palms, he could see she was shaking. She wanted this. She wanted it bad, and still she added fiercely, “You can’t walk away from this.”

“I’m not invested in this like you are,” he reasoned. “I
can
walk away. And I will, if it has to be one or the other, you or me. It’s the right thing to do.”

“It’s not,” Meagan said firmly, drawing their attention. “This
is
a great opportunity. You’re right about that, Darla. A great opportunity for
both
of you.”

“What?” Darla asked. “I thought…so, wait. There’s not a problem with Blake and I working together?”

“I never said there was,” Meagan informed her. “You two just took a piece of what I was saying and ran with it. Nobody has a problem with the two of you working together. At least, not now that they’ve heard my plan. In fact, they’re thrilled with the plan I’ve suggested. It’s the two of you that I have to convince now.”

Darla cast Blake a cautious look. “So,” she said contemplatively, “let me just be sure I understand. My show being on a competing network, in a competing time slot with Blake, isn’t an issue?”

“It’s a bonus,” Meagan asserted, “and the key to my team’s plan to boost ratings this season.”

“What are we missing here, Meagan?” Blake asked skeptically.