Follow My Lead (Stepping Up 2)

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

DARLA 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?”