Follow My Lead (Stepping Up 2)

She punched the pad of her phone and typed, It’s Darla.

His reply was instant. The same Darla who won’t answer her phone?

She punched the history on her phone and realized she’d missed four calls—all in the past hour. Her parents had called once. Blake owned the other three attempts.

Darla considered the situation, then typed I don’t like to talk on the phone.

You’re mean to me was his reply.

You’re very perceptive, she typed back before she could stop herself.

I guess you don’t want to know what I’m going to say in the meeting tomorrow, then.

She sat up and stared at the phone, then punched the call button. The instant he answered, she said, “That was manipulation, just like when you called me and told me to meet you by my room.”

“Guilty,” he agreed. “But both times were with good intentions.”

“You knew about this hosting thing and didn’t tell me,” she accused, shifting the conversation to the thing that had bothered her all day long.

“Not guilty on that one,” he said. “I—”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I would have,” he argued, “but once again you tucked tail and ran from me.” She opened her mouth to deny it and he added, “And don’t tell me you didn’t, because we both know you did. That left me with two options. Tell you about the possible hosting job through the bathroom door so you had something to worry about besides Lana, or wait to tell you this evening, when you had put Lana behind you. I chose the latter and knowing what a worrier you are, I’d do it again. Unfortunately, Meagan’s time line to deal with Rick’s departure bit me in the ass. And speaking of being bitten in the proverbial ass, what was that about me trying to smash your show? That was a low blow.”

Darla cringed inwardly. “You hadn’t told me about the hosting thing.”

“And that makes me a low-down dirty snake?”

“No.”

“And?”

And what? “Okay. I tend to just react rather than think first when I feel trapped. I need to work on that. I’m sorry.”

“Do you believe I want to destroy your show?”

“Before this conversation or after?”

“So you believed it when you said it?”

“I already admitted I reacted to being cornered,” she admitted, and reluctantly added, because he deserved to have it said, “I know that you could have thrown me under the Lana bus, and you didn’t.”

He was silent a moment. “Did you talk to your agent?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

“And?” she prodded.

“You first.”

“Fine. He said a few good years on a prime-time show could equal more money and opportunity than twenty years on my daytime show.”

“Why do I sense a but?”

“I just don’t like the instability of being camera talent,” she confessed, surprised at how easily she shared her feelings with him. “I liked casting because I knew I had a job—a stable job I could count on. This is like gambling all the time on the right step for this level of career or that level of career.”

“I felt that same thing when I started out,” he admitted. “But I invested well as soon as I had the money to do so, and I made sure I was secure even if I lose the show.”

“Investing has never been my thing.” But it was smart. She knew it was.

“Maybe you should watch my show,” he teased, and then added, “And warning. If my father comes to any of these tapings, and he finds out you don’t invest, he’ll insist on it.”

If his father came to any of the shows. “So. I guess that means you’re taking the job?”

“My agent wants me to. We’ll see how it goes with the studio. You really don’t want me to take it, do you?”

No. Yes. She wanted him. That seemed a potential problem. “I’m conflicted.”

“About me doing the show or about Meagan’s plan or—”

“About all of it, but you in particular.”

“I see,” he drawled. “Well. Why don’t we work on that when you come back to New York two days from now?” His voice was low, sensual.

Her body instantly reacted, heating up. His scent ever-present. “I’ll only go back to New York if you take the job.”

“That sounds like an incentive to me.”

The way he said the words rushed over her and panic set in. She was going to wind up caring for this man, and either get hurt or ruin her career. “We can’t see each other on a personal level. Not when we have to work so closely together. Had I known any of this was going to happen, I would never have started this.”

More thick silence filled the air. “Okay,” he agreed finally.

Okay? “Okay?” Her voice quivered and so did the muscles in her stomach. She didn’t know why. She did know why. She didn’t want to admit why.

“Isn’t that what you wanted me to say?”