Winning Moves (Stepping Up 3)

“That’s right,” he said. “We needed alone time. Now reward me and talk dirty to me in French.” She complied with a graphic rant that was meant to be far more “curse him out” than “turn him on,” but it did the job anyway.

“Naughty little thing, aren’t you?” he asked, feeling his cock thicken at the sexy way she’d rolled her tongue on the words.

“Hello there,” a white-haired waitress greeted, stuffing a pencil in the poof of her hair above her ear. “What can I get you two?”

“Two frozen margaritas and chips and salsa to start,” Jason said. “And we’ll give you the rest when you return.”

“I told you I can’t drink and drive,” Kat argued, the instant the woman departed.

“If I don’t get a drink down you,” he countered, “you’re going to spend this entire time we’re here worried about what happens after dinner.”

“I…” She started to object and then quirked her lips. “Okay, maybe you’re right. And I suppose I’m safe. As you said the other day, it’s not like you can bite me right here in public.”

“No matter how much we both might want me to,” he said, reminding her of the rest of his previous statement, his blood running hot at a vivid, mental image of just the spot he’d like to nip and tease first.

“Jason,” she warned, her voice raspy, her lips parting in an alluring, come kiss me, kind of way.

“Distract me, baby, before I forget I promised myself to give you space to come around. Talk to me about work. What’s going on with the dancers?”

She swallowed hard, and brushed her teeth over her delectable full bottom lip. “Right. The dancers. I need to know what latitude I have to deal with the finalists from Stepping Up considering they’re supposed to be the stars of the live show.”

“As much as you need,” he said. “No one is going to hold you, me or anyone on this show, captive. If you can’t get someone to do what you need them to do, there are provisions in the contracts to get rid of them.”

“You don’t even want to know who I’m talking about before you stand by that statement?”

“If this wasn’t you asking,” he said, “then yes, but I know you and I know you wouldn’t do something that wasn’t necessary.”

“You trust me that much after all these years?”

“Yes. Do you trust me?”

Her expression slowly softening, she said, “Yes. Of course I do.”

He leaned in closer. “Then trust me when I tell you I’m going to fight for you, and for us, Kat. I’m not going to let this time end like every other before it.”

“Here you go,” the waitress said, setting the drinks before them and then the chips and salsa. She tugged a pad from her napkin. “Now what can I get you?”

Kat glanced up at her. “Grilled chicken sandwich and salad with Italian rather than fries.”

“Greasy cheeseburger and fries for me,” Jason said.

Kat sipped her drink and the waitress disappeared. “You eat like crap.”

“I know,” he agreed, all too aware that she had just dodged a response to his vow. “I plan to fix that in the next few years.”

“In the next few years,” she repeated. “Well, at least you have goals.” Her smiled faded, and suddenly they weren’t talking about food anymore, even before she declared, “I have a confession to make.”

He arched a brow. “You can’t stop thinking about getting me naked and having your way with me.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I doubt you need me to confess that to know it’s true, which is why I won’t deny it.”

Interesting. He was beginning to think his assumption that she was trying to make this all about sex was still on target. “Feel free to confess whatever you need to.”

“I hate to even admit this considering I’ve taken this job, but,” she hesitated, and then blurted, “I’ve never watched one single episode of Stepping Up.”

“Really?” he said, surprised by just how much her admission bothered him.

“I’m finding out that there are some conflicts that occurred between contestants that I probably should know about. Do you happen to have copies of the first two seasons?”

“At home,” he said tightly, certain there wasn’t a show of hers he’d have ever missed. “I can bring them into work tomorrow.”

“You don’t like that I didn’t watch your show.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

“I don’t do well on the outside looking in.”

Emotion settled in his chest, as understanding took hold, and warmed the cold spot that had formed there. “Then don’t stand on the outside.”

“I didn’t.”

“You ran from me after Denver.”

“I had a tour to go on.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t ask, Jason.”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said, laughing but not with humor. “Don’t put that one on me. It killed me to leave you that morning and you knew it. We agreed to talk through a plan the next day, but that never happened because you ran.”