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His brows dipped. “I thought you’d be glad for the ratings boost.”
“Not like this,” she said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. At first, I was just relieved to find out we didn’t get cancelled. As the day has gone on, though, I’m not so sure. I worry we’re headed away from the premise of the show and into trouble.”
“Meaning what?”
“My father’s a preacher in a small Texas town—and I’m talking small town like in the movie Footloose.”
“So you’re worried that the show may become offensive?”
“Yes and no. I want to give dance credibility and I think having real talent evolve will give it longevity, while short-term thrills and chills only give a facade of success that ultimately fizzles. The curse falls into that category in my opinion. If we build ratings on the pretense of a curse, what do we follow that with? Will dancing and the personal journeys of the dancers, who we want the audience to passionately love or hate, be enough?” She shook her head. “This curse really is a nightmare I wish I could make go away.”
“I can see that,” he agreed.
“Aside from the staying power issue, I’ve seen how a small group of people can create demons where they don’t exist. It makes people irrational, and irrational can be dangerous.” She took a bite of her egg roll and made a sound of pleasure. “And either this is really good or I’m just really hungry.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I’m too hungry to be objective.”
“I’m leaning toward thinking it’s really good food,” she said. “I’m hoping the rest of the meal is, as well.”
They ate in surprisingly comfortable silence for a while before he leaned back in his chair. “I’d never have figured you for a small-town girl.”
“Yeah, well, I got out of that small town the minute I could.”
“And then you ended up in L.A.”
“Not immediately,” she said. “I went to school and that led to me producing a news program in Waco, Texas. Some random lucky breaks and I ended up in Dallas at a much larger station. A connection there gave me the chance to pitch this show. And now that I’m here, I don’t want to blow it.”
“Then I say we need to look at this property,” he said. “The right location and security might just silence this curse nonsense. We should go check it out early tomorrow.”
“That’s impossible. I have footage to shoot and get edited.”
The waiter appeared with their food, and Sam paused until he left, before adding, “A busy schedule is all the more reason to secure the right location and move on to other things,” Sam said. “And I might be pushing a bit on this but—”
“No matter how amazing the location is, I don’t have time tomorrow.” She shook her head. “Not unless I can be cloned.”
“I have a key,” he said. “We can go after we finish here if you like. Or I can go check it out and let you know if it’s a waste of time, but if it’s good, you have to find time tomorrow—”
“No,” she said quickly. She wouldn’t be able to make the time, but she also knew this couldn’t be left to someone else to decide. It was too critical to the show. “Tonight. We’ll go tonight.”
For several crackling seconds, they stared at one another, and reality washed over Meagan. She’d just committed to going to a secluded beach house with Sam. She immediately picked up her fork, stabbing a water chestnut.
Sam chuckled and Meagan’s eyes lifted to his. “What’s so funny?”
“The absolute horror on your face when it occurred to you we’d be alone somewhere private. I can have one of my staff take you. Or you can bring along one of your staff members, if you want.”
The offer surprised her. Her reaction surprised her even more, though it shouldn’t have. She didn’t want a chaperone. “You were some sort of Special Ops guy, right?”
“For fourteen years.”
And since he was in his early thirties, that meant he’d gone into the army when he was a late teen. She wondered why, she wondered…damn it. “Then I’d say you’re experienced enough to protect me,” she said, shoving aside curiosity, refusing to get to know Sam any more than she felt she already did. She knew too much. She liked too much. She didn’t want to like Sam.
She ate her chestnut and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. He was watching her. She could feel the warmth of those blue eyes as surely as if she were looking into them. Finally, when he didn’t speak, she glanced up at him, his inspection too intense to bear, his unspoken thoughts unnerving. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
