Watch Me (Stepping Up 1)

“Sam, damn it, hurry up, before someone sees you.” She shut the door behind him and locked it—assuming he would stay.

“I wasn’t aware I was invited in.”

She ignored the comment and sat down on the floor to let a meowing Samantha out of her bag. Sam laughed as the animal rubbed against her leg and purred up a storm.

Meagan and Sam squatted by the pink bed, where Samantha proceeded to plop down next to the catnip-enhanced stuffed animal that Meagan had bought for her, and go to sleep.

Both Sam and Meagan laughed. “She’s so cute, Sam. I hope we don’t find an owner. I want to keep her.”

Their eyes locked and the air around them seemed to thicken and capture them.

“I know you do,” he said softly. She’d told him about the pets she’d had growing up. There was something about Meagan. Something about the vulnerability beneath the guard she erected to protect herself, that spoke to him well beyond the desire he had for her. It made him prod her for pieces of her life, to understand her.

“I worked so many crazy hours in the newsroom that I didn’t feel I could have a pet,” Meagan said, stroking the kitten’s back.

“How does dance and the newsroom fit together?” he asked. “I haven’t quite figured out the connection.”

Her lashes lowered and he could feel the sudden tension in her. “One of my teachers in high school once worked at Julliard before she had a car accident and a back injury she never fully recovered from. Her family owned some property in our community so she took a job teaching English, which was her second major. Anyway, she found out how intrigued I was by ballerinas and she secretly started teaching me to dance.”

“Secretly?” he asked, sensing there was a whole lot of pain behind this story, and wanting to understand it, to understand her.

“My parents wouldn’t have approved,” she said. “When I told you the town I grew up in was like the town in the movie Footloose, I wasn’t joking. When I started dancing in college my parents were sure the devil had stolen their only child’s soul to test their faith. It was…difficult.” She waved a hand as if to wave away the problem. “Long story short, when a television station came to a career day at my college, I hit it off with one of their recruiters, and they offered me a job. It wasn’t dancing, but the production end of things really struck a chord with me. I like making things come together.”

“It seems pretty darn stressful.”

“It is, although that only makes it all the more rewarding when everything does come together.” The kitten meowed and the shadows in Meagan’s eyes disappeared. “She’s just too cute. I think I’m in love.”

In love. The words hit him hard. He’d never been in love. He’d never before even said the word in the same sentence as he had a woman’s name. But Meagan…there was something about her. She made him feel things he’d never felt. One night. Right. That had been a joke. There was no way one night would ever be enough with this woman. These past few hours had proven that to him.

Sam watched her playing with the kitten, digesting what she’d told him, wanting to press for more. And there was more. He knew there was, but he forced himself to take things slow, not to pressure her. He got why this show meant so much to her now though. She has a passion for dance that she’d had to walk away from, and now had a chance to experience again in some way.

“I think your new cat needs a dog pal,” Sam said.

“A Lab, right?” she asked. “A cat and a Lab, like you said you had on the military base.”

He liked her reference to what he’d shared with her during the vet visit. “Exactly.”

“Well, then,” she said. “If the show gets renewed for a second season, I’ll get Sam a Lab to celebrate.”

“Sam? As in me or the cat?”

“I guess you could share.” She looked away, as if she realized she’d inferred he’d still be around then, involved in her life. And if she didn’t, he sure did.

Sam slid a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “That sounds like a deal to me.”

Suddenly, they both moved into each other’s arms and were kissing wildly, passionately, hands roaming, tongues teasing.

“Either tell me to leave now, Meagan,” he rasped near her ear, “or tell me to stay and make love to you.”

Her fingers stabbed into his short hair, shoving his head back so she could search his face. “I know I should tell you to go. I do. Every piece of me says that work and pleasure are a bad combination but—”