Tonight would be a test of his willpower, which he’d always considered solid. Until Darla.
15
EVEN THREE HOURS AFTER the sexually charged photo session, Blake’s body still hummed with awareness, with desire, for Darla. It didn’t seem to matter that she sat across but several seats down from him at the rectangular table of the happening uptown Italian eatery. She was nowhere near close enough for him to accidentally touch her or to draw in that delicate floral scent of hers.
“Excuse me,” the stuffed studio shirt he’d been talking ratings with said when his phone rang. “I’ve been expecting this call.” The man pushed to his feet and headed in search of privacy.
For the millionth time since arriving at the restaurant, Blake’s gaze gravitated toward Darla, where she chatted stiffly with Mark Mercer, another studio exec whom Blake both knew and disliked. Mark was also enjoying Darla’s time far too much for comfort. Blake wasn’t sure who he was more irritated with, though. Mark, for managing to sit next to Darla. Or Darla, for clearly enjoying his company.
“Well, thank you, gentlemen, but it’s time for me to head back to the hotel.” Meagan rose to her feet as various members of the group followed. Finally, this little piece of hell was over, Blake thought, as he stood up with the rest of their party.
“Can I share a taxi with you?” Mark asked Darla. “I think we’re going in the same direction.” His tone was friendly and casual, but the look in his eyes was the opposite. Blake found himself sucking in a quiet breath and holding it, waiting for Darla’s reply. Darla would say no. He knew she would say no. If, he added silently, he hadn’t misjudged her ambition.
“Sorry to have to decline,” Darla replied, sounding as if she meant it in a tight, forced kind of way. “I actually have a friend from out of town meeting me here for drinks in a few minutes.”
Air escaped from Blake’s lips and his muscles relaxed, telling him just how important her response had really been to him. Only then did he allow himself to admit the truth. In the back of his mind, worry had been alive and well. Worry that Darla’s need to please everyone associated with Stepping Up would spell trouble.
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.”