Watch Me (Stepping Up 1)

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Meagan said. “I’m not so sure Josh would agree. He seems to get all hot and bothered when she’s near.”

“Josh’s no fool, or he wouldn’t work for me. He knows what Kiki’s really about,” he said.

She sighed and went back to the prior subject. “I can’t believe they aren’t taking my calls.”

“Don’t assume the worst,” he said. “I think we should get your mind off of it.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“By talking about something else. What’s your favorite color?”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. So—what is it?”

She laughed softly. “Fine. It’s red.”

“Why?”

“It’s bold and daring like I dreamt of being when I was growing up in a small conservative Texas town. What about you?”

“Orange.”

“Like the Texas Longhorns?”

“Only a Texan would turn orange into Texas Longhorn burnt orange,” he said. “I’m talking California orange—a new day’s sun burning over the ocean. I was born here, you know. Those sunrises were one of the things I missed when I was gone. Us soldiers see more dirt and grunge than we do oceans and sunrises.”

Sam was a soldier, a Special Forces soldier. Who knew what all he’d seen, what he’d lived. “Your job was risking your life,” she said, feeling a heavy dose of perspective. “It makes all my worries about television and ratings so shallow.”

“Soldiers fight for right and wrong, and for freedom. This show, and the kids chasing their dreams, is part of that, too. The land of opportunity, where you dare to dream, and make those dreams real.” His voice softened, husky and male, and oh so alluring. “Don’t start turning yourself into a villain, Meagan. You’ll steal all of Kiki’s fun. Which is a bad subject, so let’s get back to the American dream. It makes me think of apple pie, which I love. Do you know how to make one?”

She laughed. “I know how to buy one at the bakery, which is far better than anything I could ever bake. Though I make a mean pan of Kraft mac’n’cheese, which is, I assume, because I follow instructions well. It’s one of my favorite late-night dinners.”

“Excellent choice. I’m fond of it myself.”

The drive flew by as Sam drilled her with random questions that had her laughing and eagerly waiting for his own answers in return.

It wasn’t until she pulled into the hotel parking lot, and found a spot, with Sam whipping in next to her, that she realized two things. She hadn’t heard from her staff, or even tried to call them during the drive. And she was suddenly nervous again about being alone with Sam. Which was nuts. She’d already slept with Sam. She’d done naughty things with Sam in his truck. But she’d also convinced herself those adventures were just that. Adventures. Until tonight. Tonight “things” had become a relationship for her and Sam.

She shoved open her door to find Sam already approaching, and before she could let her nervousness get the best of her, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. A hot, passionate, reassuring kiss.

“I had to do that before we go inside and the insanity of whatever waits for us steals you away from me.”

“Do it again,” she ordered, and when he did, she decided there really was more to Sam than bossy alpha male. She really liked the way this soldier took orders.

* * *

THEY DIDN’T HAVE TO AGREE to be discreet, they simply were, and Meagan liked Sam all the more for intuitively knowing what was necessary. And somehow, riding the elevator from the garage to the lobby, with him beside her, looking straight ahead, not touching her, only stoked her desire. They’d switched elevators and rode to their private floor. The elevator dinged and Meagan found herself casting Sam a sideways smile. He arched a brow at her all-too-obvious “I want you” look, the heat in his expression saying he was feeling exactly what she was.

The doors slid open, and he motioned her forward. Her smile faded fairly fast when she found a large group of her crew and almost every dancer in the competition sitting around on sofas and chairs, with food and beverages, in the common area. Several cameras were rolling, one of which singled out her and Sam.

“Off of me,” she told her cameraman. “You know how I feel about that.”

“You’re no fun, Meagan,” the cameraman shouted.

“I’m not supposed to be fun,” she commented. “I’m the producer.”

“That’s why they have me,” Kiki said, lifting her glass.

Meagan gestured to her, and Kiki sighed heavily before arriving at her side. “Before you say anything, we had no brilliant footage ideas for tonight, so we all decided to just chill out and talk, and hope for something good to happen.”