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She laced one of her boots, seeing no reason to deny that he’d called. “I didn’t want to talk to you any more than I want to work with Rick. But we don’t always get what we want.”
Surprise registered on his chiseled, too-handsome, arrogant face. “Are you always so honest?”
She stood up. “With appropriate discretion—which means not at the risk of hurting someone. What you and Rick did to me could have hurt my career and my livelihood. You made me look like I wasn’t focused on my job, like I was playing games on the red carpet. And, no, it didn’t get me fired, but had my ratings dipped, it would have been brought up again, and you know it.” It certainly had made her doubt her desire to be in the public eye. She threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “And for the record, I didn’t take your call because I was afraid our conversation would later become a part of your show. I have to run to catch my flight.” She started walking.
He fell into step beside her a bit too easily, as if he’d anticipated the move. She glared up at him, quickly turning away before those blue eyes captured hers, sending a flutter to her stomach. “Why are you following me?”
He ignored the question. “If it’s any consolation, not only did that show’s content not hurt your career, your fans—and mine, for that matter—were furious with me. I got hate mail and the phones rang off the hook for weeks after. My viewers thought the incident was just as inappropriate as you did.”
She knew that because she’d gotten her share of mail, as well. And that mail had been what had kept her from quitting. That—and her family who, as always, loved and supported her. “What you did was inappropriate.” She cut him a look. “But I assume your ratings softened the blow of the outcry.” They’d been huge—off the charts.
He threw up his hands. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened. I swear to you, Darla. I would never have done something so callous. If you replay the footage of my show you’ll see the shock on my face. And you’ll see I tried to salvage the situation while I was on air.”
Dang. He sounded sincere. So sincere that… Don’t do it, she silently warned herself. Don’t fall victim to the wrong guy saying the right things. She wanted to do it, too, she wanted to believe him, to stop and tell him that it was okay, that it was old history, because that is what she did. She made people feel better, she forgave them. She lay down and let them walk all over her.
Knowing how close she was to making a huge mistake with this man, Darla all but shouted with joy at the sight of a ladies’ room. She had her escape from Mr. Wrong.
Darla stopped abruptly. “Excuse me, but I have to run in here.”
“Wait, Darla. There’s something—”
“Sorry,” she said, knowing if he talked one minute more or kept looking at her with those damnable gorgeous eyes, she’d start caving in again. She motioned behind her. “No men allowed.” Cringing at the silly statement—like he didn’t know no men were allowed?—she rushed down the narrow, tiled hallway.
The instant Darla was out of Blake’s sight, she slumped against the wall, unaware that she’d been holding her breath. He was just one heck of a lot of man. And there was no question that it would be easy for her to forget why she had to be on guard around him, forget he was her enemy.
She pushed off the wall and plopped her bag down on the corner of a long counter running beneath a mirror. She’d vowed to lay off the Easter chocolate, which always meant an extra five pounds, and the wrong men, which usually amounted to an extra seven. The camera was pretty darn unforgiving, which helped strengthen her otherwise weak promise. There was no Blake Nelson anywhere in her future but as a competitor for ratings.
There was, however, something to look forward to. Though her show wasn’t a money-maker, not yet, she still sent every dime she could home. Stepping Up could solve all her problems by giving her enough to pay off her parents’ debt and get them ahead. If Darla made it through the first four episodes. That’s when the reality show’s executives either had to call her a one-season wonder or take up the option, guaranteeing her one more season with a big fat bonus. Even if they didn’t option her, she hoped she’d have enough of a ratings boost on her morning show to increase her pay there.
Darla shoved Blake and worries over the future out of her mind and focused on the urgent matter at hand. She did an inventory of her bag for the flight to Denver, the first audition city. Chocolate—check. Book—check. Oh, no. Where were her headphones? She had to have her headphones so she wouldn’t hear the sounds the plane made. A frantic search proved they weren’t there and she cringed when she remembered reminding herself to grab them off the kitchen table.
