Follow My Lead Read online

  Blake curled his fingers into his palms as he watched Mark slide his hand around her waist and whisper something in her ear. Darla gave a forced laugh in response before the man turned away from her. Darla’s gaze found Blake’s, and he felt the impact immediately. She affected him so easily—too easily. For just an instant, he wasn’t overly comfortable with that. But then her expression softened and he could feel her reaching out to him. She wasn’t meeting anyone. Neither was she leaving with the group. She didn’t want him to, either. And though he knew he should, knew that distance would provide the willpower he needed to slow things down between them, there wasn’t a chance in hell that he wasn’t leaving here without her. He also wasn’t about to make that obvious.

  Blake wished her a casual good-night and followed the group to the front of the restaurant. Like the gentleman his parents raised, he hit the corner to flag the needed cabs, starting with one for Meagan.

  She stepped forward, but stopped at the cab door to say, “There’s still something going on with Darla.” It was a warning rather than a question. “You two have chemistry. I like you together. But if the public figures out you’re together, like I have, then the advertising tease we’re doing—the daytime enemies come together in prime time—it won’t work. The tease will be gone. Stay low-key. Don’t let this affect the show. You know how studios are. On top one day and kicked to the curb the next. There are too many jobs on the line, too many lives changed, to blow this.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Blake promised. “You have my word.”

  She studied him for a moment longer and started to slide into the car. “Meagan.” She paused in midmotion, giving him a questioning look. “I appreciate the way you shoot straight,” he said. “It’s a rare quality in this business. With you, I’ll do the same.”

  She smiled warmly. “You better.”

  * * *

  ONCE BLAKE WAS THE ONLY ONE left standing on the sidewalk, he could feel the charge of anticipation of what was to come—of him and Darla being alone, even if it was in a public place.

  He turned to go back inside the restaurant, only to find Darla standing behind him, her garment bag swung over her shoulder. Somehow she appeared a few inches shorter than he remembered. His gaze dropped to her feet, where her heels had been replaced with flats.

  She glanced down and then back up. “A girl learns practicality when she lives in this city. My apartment’s only a few blocks from here. I’m going to walk it.”

  “What about your friend that’s meeting you?”

  Her lips lifted slightly. That amazing awareness between them was back, and he wondered if the people milling on the sidewalk were feeling the charge. “His name is Blake,” she finally said. “So glad you made it.” Her voice was a caress, a promise.

  He knew this could be a big mistake, but still, he found himself smiling and moving toward her. “I’ll walk with you. What do you have in that bag, anyway?”

  “Frankie had me bring three changes of clothes in case he hated one or more of my options, which he was sure he would,” she said, handing him the bag. “He’s a very cranky man.”

  “Artistic types that are too talented for their own good can be that way,” he said.

  “Very true,” she agreed. She pointed to her right. “I’m this way.” She wet her lips. Damn, every time she did that his body reacted. He really was ridiculously, insanely, affected by this woman.

  He nodded, and they started walking. “What time do you fly out in the morning?” he asked, trying to get his mind back on the present and not on the bedroom that could be in their future.

  “Eight. Which means leaving my apartment by six.”

  “Ouch. That stings.”

  “I’m not complaining,” she said. “I feel blessed to have this opportunity. It’s just a little challenging to film my morning show in between auditions. It’ll be easier once I’m filming from the L.A. studios. And now that I put Lana in her place, I’m enjoying the auditions. I don’t want to worry that I’m going to deliver poor quality content and disappoint my audience.”

  “I’m glad to hear you feel things are settled down with Lana, and you have a loyal audience so I don’t think you have to worry. They watch because of your reactions to situations and your personality, not because of the setting you’re in.” He cast her a sideways glance and watched as a slight breeze dusted blond wisps of her hair across her pale cheek. Everything male inside him stirred, but there was more. There was emotion—unfamiliar and potent. Emotion that drove him to the burning questions that demanded to be answered. “You’ve conquered the Lana problem. What about flying? Are you handling that any better than you did that studio guy hitting on you tonight?”

  She stopped and turned to him, her eyes flashing with rebuttal. “I handled him just fine.”

  “So you admit he was hitting on you?”

  “I know what he was doing.”

  “You could have shut down his nonsense but you didn’t.”

  “I was polite and standoffish. It’s what girls do in that type of situation.”

  Right. “I guess.”

  “You guess? What did you want me to do? Make a fool of him so he hates me? Make everyone think he’s an idiot? And because I’m reading an underlying meaning here, it had nothing to do with his position at the studio. I would never blatantly make someone feel bad.”

  “He was using your eagerness to please the studio to corner you.”

  “He’s a jerk,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I have to be. I was brought up better and smarter than that. It’s a small industry, one that breeds enemies without having to look for them.”

  Damn. “You’re right,” he said, suddenly relaxing. He hadn’t even realized until that moment just how tense he’d felt. “I’m sorry. I just get irritated at the entire casting couch mentality in this business. I wanted to belt him one.”

  Her expression softened. “I appreciate that, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. I tried to do exactly as you suggested earlier. Choose my battles smartly.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you on the defensive like that.”

  “Then why did you?” she asked, narrowing her gaze at him.

  He didn’t offer some fancy talking-in-circles reply. He wanted honesty; he had to give honesty. “I just want to know who you are, Darla. I want to know the real you. Not the public persona.”

  “There’s no difference for me, Blake,” she declared without so much as a blink of an eye. “I am all I know how to be.”

  An old, suppressed memory surfaced, and with it more raw emotions. A memory of a time when he had been young and naive, riding a wave of early success.

  “Who burned you, Blake?” Darla asked softly, drawing his gaze, which had drifted to the pavement.

  The question stopped him cold. How easily she had read him, read what he was denying even to himself. A name ran through his mind, a name he hadn’t allowed himself to say, even silently, in years.

  He shoved away the memory. He wasn’t ready to talk about this. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted to think about it. He hadn’t even realized just how easily he could think about it. It—she—happened ten flipping years ago. He hadn’t really loved her. He’d…

  Suddenly, Darla held his hand. “Tell me when you’re ready.” She motioned them forward. “Let’s walk.”

  He wasn’t sure she could have done anything more perfect in that moment, giving him a pass but also giving him an open door, not to mention her understanding. A few seconds passed and he gave a quick nod. They started walking again, both staring up at the dark sky, dotted with stars. And with each step, he felt himself relax. It was a comfortable night, no longer humid and not yet cold and all the more enjoyable because of Darla.

  “Are you keeping your morning show focused on Stepping Up throughout the auditions?”

  “Only a short segment for each show,” she said. “I’m afraid to overdo it and drive away viewers who crave the usual things
on the show. What about you?” She pointed and they turned down a tree-lined street with rows of condolike housing.

  “I’m going to incorporate the travel destinations as much as I can. For instance, my dad’s coming to Vegas Week. We’re doing a mechanical-bull-riding competition with a group of ex-rodeo stars. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get it booked at the same hotel as the show, so it’s at a property owned by the company. The winner takes ten thousand dollars to their charity of choice, provided by the studio.”

  “That’s an awesome idea, Blake. I love it. And you know, that’s right up my alley. I am a rancher’s daughter.”

  “I can see the down-home country girl in you,” he said. “An accident-prone down-home country girl who must have driven her parents crazy.”

  “My father tried to keep me away from the ranch action,” she admitted. “It never worked. Proven by the six times that I had to get stitches.”

  “You’ll have to show me the scars.”

  She held up her elbow. “That’s the only one you can see.” She grinned. “Well, when I have my clothes on.”

  “Like I said, you’ll have to show me the scars.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she teased playfully. “Did you inherit any of your dad’s bull-riding skill?”

  “I have an ex-rodeo champion for a father. If I couldn’t ride, he’d have had me hung up by my toes for the bulls.”

  “I’ve ridden a mechanical bull a time or two,” she declared.

  “No way.”

  She nodded. “Way.”

  “Prove it. If you come to the event and ride, I’ll personally donate to the charity of your choice myself.”

  She laughed. “I’m in. Well, as long as it’s not a conflict with filming.”

  “It’s the day after Vegas Week ends.”

  “Then get your checkbook ready. I’ll be there.”

  “Good,” he said, more than prepared to plan six weeks ahead with her. “We can fly out to L.A. together when it’s over. Which brings me back to my earlier question. How are you handling the flying you’re doing?”

  She snorted. “Who said I’m handling it?”

  “That good, huh?”

  “That good.” She stopped in front of a building. “This is me. How far away are you?”

  “A cab ride,” he said, not really wanting to tell her the high-end area he lived in, because it had taken him years of doing his show and investing well to get there. She would get there, too, probably sooner than he had.

  “I see,” she said, biting her bottom lip and gesturing toward the door. “You want to come up?”

  He wanted to come up, all right, and that was a problem. Up meant he was one step away from being inside her apartment. Once he was there, it was all over. He’d forget all the reasons why he shouldn’t strip her naked and make wild, passionate love to her. He’d have to survive a kiss. But not down here in the open.

  “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  * * *

  DARLA WAS INCREDIBLY NERVOUS as she walked the narrow tenth-floor hallway with Blake on her heels. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d been with Blake, but this time felt different. This time not only had she decided to take a chance on Blake, she knew he had taken a chance on her, as well. She’d seen the look on his face when she’d asked who had burned him. And now she knew he was diving into territory he wasn’t comfortable in, but that he was doing it for her. She didn’t have to know the details. She just wanted to know him. She wanted to understand him. She wanted to wipe away the pain she’d seen in his eyes before he’d looked away.

  Her stomach fluttered as she reached her loft’s tiny entryway. She reached for her purse, only to realize it was in the bag Blake was carrying. She turned. The space was small. He was big. He was good-looking. He was sexy. She was suddenly burning up, her cheeks flaming right along with the rest of her body.

  “My keys are in my purse.” She motioned to the bag. “In there.”

  He shifted the bag from his shoulder to hold it in front of him. She unzipped it and dug in her purse and somehow her shaking hand found her keys. She dropped them and immediately bent down to get them. So did Blake. Their hands touched and they both abandoned the keys.

  “Blake,” she whispered. “I—”

  He snatched the keys and helped her to her feet. “I’ll unlock the door for you.”

  “Okay.” Though neither of them moved. A second later he abruptly tossed the bag and the keys to the floor.

  His hand slid into her hair at the same instant his mouth came down on hers. She stood on her toes and leaned into him, meeting his kiss with her own. His breath was warm, his body hard. Sandwiched between Blake and the door, she couldn’t think of a better place to be in that moment.

  The first stroke of his tongue sent a sizzle down her spine. The second turned the sizzle to fire. She was burning up all over again, and he was the only way to cool down. She pressed herself against him, seeking that cool heat. He answered by deepening the kiss and running his hands in all kinds of places she wanted them, needed them. There was a wildness in her she’d never experienced, a hunger only this man gave her.

  His free hand skimmed her waist, her breast, her nipple, sending a rush of sensation between her thighs—where she wanted him so very bad right now. Actually, she wanted to get lost in him. Her palms pulled him closer, caressing his powerfully muscled back. Yes. Lost. Please.

  Voices suddenly echoed in the building, followed by the sound of keys jiggling in a lock. Blake pulled back, holding himself away from her. His breath was thick, his eyes dark. “I’m sorry, Darla. I didn’t mean—”

  She leaned in and kissed him. “I did.” She bent down and snatched up the keys, then stood again. “Let’s go inside.” She turned and unlocked the door. Blake stepped in close to her, his hand sliding to her stomach, his lips lowering to her ear.

  “I’m not coming in,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I—”

  “You are,” she said. “You’re coming in.” She reached to the ground by his feet and grabbed her bag and shoved it inside, behind the door.

  He rested a hand on the door frame above the ringer. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again until I knew you couldn’t write this off as just sex.”

  Instinct told her that he wanted to know she was taking this risk with him. “There’s two of us in this relationship, Blake. And I should tell you right now, you don’t get to set all the rules.”

  He went completely still. “Relationship?”

  “Yes. Relationship. You were right, back in Denver. This was never a one-night stand.”

  “What about the competition thing?”

  “You’ve proven to me that you’ll look out for my best interests,” she said, thinking of his expression again when she’d asked him who’d burned him. “I hope you believe I’ll do the same for you, because I will.” She reached out and drew his hand with hers. “I want you to come inside and not for one night. I want you to come inside my life. We’ll figure out how to make that work together.”

  Still, he didn’t move, and she started to feel sick, to anticipate rejection. Maybe she’d misjudged this—him, them. Maybe he had simply wanted the challenge of pursuit. The chase. Men liked the chase. He was going to walk away. He was going to leave. She retreated a step, feeling foolish and exposed. And that’s when he took a step forward.

  16

  “BLAKE—” DARLA GASPED as he kicked the door shut and took her in his arms, his mouth soon on hers. She moaned against his lips and desperately tried to resist him, to reason with herself. But when his tongue stroked hers and his hand caressed down her hair, she did what she always did with Blake. She surrendered to what he made her feel, to that unnamed, ever-important something he always made her need.

  “Whatever you were thinking when you started to back up,” he breathed against her lips, “was wrong.”

  “You—”

  “I what?” He kissed her, a deep passionate kiss that must h
ave distracted Darla because she realized they were next to the couch. Again he asked, “I what, Darla?”

  The heady masculine scent of him enveloped her, engulfing her in need. “You have this bad habit of having too many clothes on,” she answered, shoving his jacket over his shoulders and caressing his powerful shoulders.

  Blake caught the jacket at his elbows and reached up to frame her face with hands too big to be so gentle.

  “What were you thinking when you backed away from me?” he demanded gently. “I want to know.”

  Her heart stilled a moment during which she considered avoidance or denial, but she quickly decided against any strategy at all. She didn’t want secrets with Blake. She wanted what he had claimed he wanted: honesty.

  “I thought,” she admitted, “that you only wanted me when you thought I was a challenge. That when I invited you into my life freely, you would no longer want me.”

  He drew back, slightly surprised. His gorgeous, heavy-lidded eyes probed hers. “No,” he said, shrugging his half-removed jacket off and letting it fall to the floor. His fingers framed her neck. “No. That’s not the case, Darla. We are so much more than that. You do things to me that I can’t even try to understand. I just want to keep feeling them. I want…I need to know I make you feel them, too.”

  Emotion swelled in her chest. Her hand went to one of his. “You do, Blake. I’ve just been freaked out because of our jobs and because I… My…” She stopped herself before she confessed her family struggles, her gaze dropping to his chest. There was a difference between being honest and revealing your most personal private secrets. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to help or support her because she was struggling. No. Honest was what honest was, but he didn’t deserve to carry her family’s burden. Still, he just felt so big and strong, such an easily created hero, and it would be equally easy to just let him take care of her. And wrong and weak and…