Follow My Lead (5 page)

She entered the empty car and he followed. “By jumping out of a plane? Are you now going to tell me that’s how your mother got over her fear? What happened to the window shade theory?”

“I plead the fifth,” he said, slipping his key card into a slot on the wall and punching the button for the eighteenth floor.

“There you go,” she said decisively. “You didn’t talk her into it and you won’t talk me into it. No skydiving.”

“You’ll have a parachute in place. Besides, you don’t even know what the bet is. You might win.”

“I never make a bet I’m afraid to lose.”

“You do know you get to pick the prize if you win.”

The prize. Oh, yeah, she could think of some really interesting prizes. Like a thousand orgasms. She laughed mischievously, unable to stop herself. This was her opening, her way to make him hers for the night, if she could find the courage to be daring.

He shrugged. “Care to let me in on whatever that secret is? It looks worth knowing, based on your reaction.”

“I was just thinking of what that prize might be.” She’d almost been daring, but not quite. The butterflies in her stomach got the best of her.

“I’m guessing from your pleased little giggle that your prize most likely involves my embarrassment as payback for your shoe.”

“I’m over the shoe,” she assured him. “And I am not looking to embarrass you.” But unbidden, an image of herself falling off her shoe and into Blake flashed in her mind. What if she was letting their short time together make her too trusting, too naive? The butt of a shoe joke was one thing. The butt of a bedroom joke could be truly career ending.

“The longer you’re silent, the more curious I am,” Blake said, prodding her to confess her naughty thoughts. And judging from the glint in his eyes, he had already guessed they were naughty.

“It really isn’t important,” she said, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. “Because I’m not making a bet that includes me jumping out of a plane. Besides, we have drinks with Meagan and the crew. There’s no time for bets or anything else.” Really? Had she really just said “or anything else”? The elevator doors opened. “Home sweet hotel,” she said. “I want to change before we meet the others for drinks.”

They stepped out into an elegant lobby area of red oriental carpets and impressive artwork. Her nerves tingled just thinking being in a hotel room she’d been fantasizing about for hours—or rather, a hotel room with Blake in it.

She glanced down at her key. “1835.”

“I’m next door.” He motioned toward the hallway that led to their rooms. “If you want to change, we better get moving.”

They started down the hallway, her gaze traveling the luxurious corridor. “Hopefully our bags will arrive quickly.” There was a nervous hitch in her voice that Blake couldn’t ignore.

“You looked really stunned over the paparazzi issue. You do realize you’re about to be a big star, don’t you?”

“Don’t say that,” she chided quickly. “It’s bad luck to assume success. And I don’t care how popular season one was, season two could tank. Or I could tank. They could decide I’m too young or too old or too fat or too tall. Or I don’t resonate with the audience or—”

“Worry much?” he asked her.

She let out a breath. “I excel at it, yes.”

“You can’t survive this business like that,” he said. “You’ll drive yourself insane.” They stopped in front of her door and he motioned to it. “Just as I promised. I got you to your room safely, without being seen, and without taking advantage of you.” He leaned against the door. “But no one said you can’t take advantage of me.”

Her desire burned a little brighter. “I’m not drunk.”

“Are you giving me permission to take advantage of you?”

Blake’s words
you can’t live like that
resonated with her. She truly was a worrier, and she was about to let that worry cheat her out of a night with Blake. It was now or never.

A hallway door opened and Darla turned away, feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. A bellman wheeled their bags forward from what appeared to be a service entrance.

“Saved by the bellman,” Blake said, pushing off the wall.

Darla turned back to him, determined to salvage her “now or never” moment. “Who said I wanted to be saved?”

5

D
ARLA WATCHED HIS DARK EYES,
full of understanding and desire. For her. This wasn’t about television ratings or competition. It was just about a man and a woman, and she didn’t remember the last time she’d let herself experience such a thing. Actually, she wasn’t into strangers and casual sex, so she’d never done something like this. But then, Blake wasn’t a stranger. Not really.

“Ms. James?” the bellman asked from behind her.

“Yes,” she said, turning to greet the young man. “That’s me. Thanks for being so quick.” She stuck her key in her door.

“I’ll just grab my bag myself,” Blake told the kid, his attention capturing Darla’s for a moment. She thought she might combust from heat if he spent the next few hours looking at her like that. Everyone was bound to notice, too. She gave him a warning glare.

Blake’s lips hinted at a lift and his eyes danced with amusement. “Thanks for the promptness,” he said to the kid, passing him a tip before he retrieved his bag. He gestured toward the elevator. “I’ll meet you here in twenty minutes, if that works?”

She swallowed hard. “Ah, yes. Sure.” Was he serious or…?

He rolled his bag to his door.

Feeling more than a little out of sorts, she forced her attention from Blake and opened her door. The bellman carried her bag inside and she added to his tip. When all was said and done, the kid departed and Darla poked her head into the hallway. Blake was in his room, it appeared, his door firmly shut. She shut her own door and fell back against it. Was he being discreet or…
no!
She refused to believe Blake was playing her. She felt a connection with him, a level of comfort she never felt with another man so quickly, if ever. A knock sounded on the door and she jumped. The knock sounded again. Darla grabbed the door and pulled it open.

Blake stood there, tall and broad, still wearing his faded jeans and T-shirt, looking too sexy for her own good. “You gonna invite me in or leave me out here where someone might see me?”

“I have to get ready for drinks.” She looked at her watch. “We have fifteen minutes.”

“It was canceled,” he said. “Now can I come inside?”

She backed up and let him in, fearful he would be seen and eager for an explanation. “What do you mean drinks are canceled? I didn’t get a call.”

He stepped inside and shut the door, sliding her lock into place and turning to face her. A mixture of hot man scent and some deliciously right cologne washed over her, overpowering her with a spike in awareness. Of the man. Of the bed behind her—that she wasn’t going anywhere near until she knew what was going on.

“Meagan tried to call and text you, but apparently you don’t have good reception in the mountains. They’ve had some security issues at the audition site.” He leaned on the door as she had just moments before. “She had to cancel.”

“Oh, no,” Darla said, obviously alert, concerned. “What kind of security issues? We have to go and help out.”

“Wait. There’s more.” He read from his cell phone. “Blake. When Darla offers to come over and help us—and since I know Darla well, she will—tell her I said no. Sam gets cranky when too many people get involved with his things. I suggest both of you just get some rest and we’ll see you in the morning.” He glanced up at her.

“My God, she typed you a full memo in text message.”

“Yeah, she did,” he agreed. “But our bottom line here is that there is no meeting and no drinks with Meagan.” He reached for her and pulled her against him, his hand sliding down her back, molding her to his long, hard body. Her thighs pressed to his, her hips melded to his, making the thick ridge of his erection more than evident. “So, instead of a bet,” he murmured, “how about we negotiate more of a deal?”

“I’m not sure why that’s different but I’m not skydiving.” Her hands settled on his chest, his impressively hard chest, and warmth seeped into her palms. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, that this was really happening, that she wasn’t even trying to talk herself out of it. “Just for the record, if at any point before you leave this room and I tell you I will skydive, don’t believe me. I won’t be responsible for saying it. If you can live with that, then I want to know what your ‘deal’ is.”

“The idea that I might get you to agree, even if you change your mind later, isn’t a bad one.” He laughed. “But no skydiving. This is the ‘deal.’ For the rest of the night, if I can’t make you forget to worry about tomorrow morning, then my father will go on your show. I’ll give him the thumbs-up to embarrass the hell out of me, and believe me, not only will he do so and do it well, he’ll enjoy every second. My father revels in that kind of stuff. But if I succeed, then you give me my interview and we talk about the shoe incident and clear the air in the same public way this war started.”

“That’s big Texas talk and big Texas demands, if I ever heard them.”

His hand traveled a path up her back, to her neck, under her hair. “Sweetheart, talking isn’t what I have on my mind.” His bent toward her, his mouth a breath from hers, tickling her lips and so much more with promise. “Do we have a deal?”

If it was going to get him to kiss her, and sooner rather than later, oh, yeah, they did. “Sure,” she said. “We have a dea—” His mouth closed down on hers before she ever got the final word out.

* * *

B
LAKE HAD INTENDED TO START
slowly with Darla, to start with tender, seductive kisses, before exploring every inch of her sleek, sexy body. Intended but failed. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her lush breasts pressing against his chest. And once again, when he’d have sworn it was no longer possible for a woman to do so, Darla seduced him, not the other way around. The instant Blake had set eyes on her again in the New York airport, and ten times over since, she controlled him without even trying. He was charmed by her, intrigued by her, and he was lost in the touch of her soft, yielding lips beneath his.

He deepened the kiss, his hand caressing her heart-shaped backside, which he’d admired more than a few times during this trip. A delicate, erotic little sound of her pleasure unraveled him, ripping through him like rocket fuel. Fuel for a simmering desire he’d been holding back, since the moment she’d fallen off her broken shoe and into his arms. Hell, he’d not touched another woman since, and now he knew why. He was tired of settling for sating a male urge, rather than truly feeling something beyond simple, short-lived lust. Finally, someone had made him feel something real, something worth staying for, something worth experiencing.

He turned her so that she was against the wall, his legs framing hers, his hands gliding over her waist to her breasts. His teeth scraped her bottom lip. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she added in a teasing voice, “and tomorrow morning when I begin the biggest career move of my life. So I’d say you still have some work to do to uphold your end of our ‘deal.’”

“Now you’re just being bad.” But dang, he liked it. His gaze held hers, his thumbs brushing over her nipples pebbled against her thin T-shirt. She bit her lip, her face etched with pleasure. “And I’m clearly not doing this bet service if you can mock me so easily.”

“I thought it was a deal,” she said, “not a bet.”

“Deal,” he conceded, shoving her shirt upward, then pulling it over her head and tossing it behind him. His gaze fell to her breasts, to the bra that, somehow, so fit her. “I knew it would be pink.”

She crinkled her nose at him. “You did not. And if you did, you shouldn’t have been thinking of my bra in the first place.”

“No?” he asked, pulling it down to tease her pretty rose-colored nipples. “I’ll be better next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” she said breathlessly, her teeth scraping over her bottom lip. “We’re competitors. We don’t belong in bed together and this is against my better judgment.”

He glanced at her. “Yet I’m here.”

“We have one night and then we’re worlds apart,” she agreed. She leaned into him, her hand sliding down his crotch, caressing the hard ridge of his erection. “I wasn’t going to let that pass me by, but we better make this count. There’s no do-over.”

They weren’t competitors. Her career was going places he’d long ago decided he didn’t want to go, but to tell her that would only remind her of the pressure she was under, and that would defeat the entire purpose of their “deal.” “I plan on making it count,” he said and placed his hand over hers, over his pulsing erection. “Just as I plan on making you forget anything but how
bad
I can be.” He turned her around to face the wall.

“Blake—” The objection died on her tongue as she tried to turn and he stopped her.

“Stay where you’re at,” he ordered. His hands settled on her waist, his cock against her backside.

“I want—”

“To be in control,” he finished for her, leaning into her. He pressed his lips to her ear, even as one hand popped her bra clasp. “And sweetheart, if that’s what you want, I’m all yours. But you know what I think?” He slid the bra straps forward until she shrugged out of them, then filled his palms with her breasts, his teeth nibbling her lobe. “You’ll overthink what that means. You’ll worry that you aren’t doing it right. You’ll worry that I’m like the studio and wonder if I think you’re too young or too old, or too something, when all I’m thinking—” he turned her back around, wanting her to see the truth in his eyes “—is how damn perfect you are and how damn lucky I am to be with you tonight.” And he meant that. This wasn’t just about their obvious physical attraction. Somehow he had to show her that.

“Blake.” This time his name was a whisper rather than a command, her voice and her lovely features etched with vulnerability.

“Believe me,” he said, brushing a silky strand of hair behind her ear, knowing he had to earn her trust. “And, Darla. What happens here stays here. I just want to make sure you know that. This is our time, our experience and our secret.” He dipped his head, brushed his mouth over hers. “You have my word.” His fingers trailed over her jaw, her neck, over one of her nipples. His gaze swept over her body, then lifted. Their eyes collided, the air sexually charged. One minute they were staring at one another, the next, they were kissing, touching, her soft hands sliding under his shirt, pushing it upward.