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“Hello?” she said in that soft, ever-feminine voice, her tonemaking it more of a question than a greeting.
“How was dessert?” he asked, lying back on his pillow.
“Better without dodging your bullets at the table,” she said.“What’s with the ‘deal’ talk and the ‘truce with benefits’?”
“If I’d have known it would have gotten me kicked,” he said,chuckling, “I would have controlled myself.”
“So not true,” she accused. “The ‘truce with benefits’ commentcame after I tried to kick you.”
“So you admit you tried to kick me then?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re big on the ‘absolutely’ statements tonight.”
“You bet I am. You do remember Meagan saying she didn’t likescandal, right?”
“It’s only a scandal if someone else knows about it, and theywon’t.”
“We could have been seen,” she said. “I shouldn’t have taken arisk that we might be seen together.”
“Translation. I’m absolutely not coming over tonight, amI?”
“Not a chance.”
“Ouch,” he said. “I wasn’t coming over anyway.”
“Good.”
“Good, huh?”
“Yeah. Good.”
“You aren’t going to ask why I wasn’t planning to comeover?”
“No.”
“First of all, you have a big show tomorrow and you need sleep.If I come over, you won’t sleep, and then if things go wrong tomorrow you’llblame me. They won’t go badly, by the way. You’re going to rock the house. Butthe bottom line is that you doing well matters to me, which brings me to thesecond reason why I wasn’t planning to come over. I want to come over. And by that I mean I want to come over more thanI should. Too much, Darla.”
Silence, until she said, “I don’t know what that means.”
His voice lowered to meet hers. “Yes. You do.” More silence.Okay. That wasn’t good. Or maybe it was.
“I have no interest in being in tabloid headlines,” she said.“That’s not how you build a lasting career. At least, not the kind of career I’mbuilding. Not the kind of career I want.”
“It’s not the kind of career I want, either, and my actionsboth past and present support that as accurate.”
“Tonight, you—”
“Got carried away. You’re adorable when you’re feisty and Icouldn’t resist teasing you. But I would never have gone too far. What happensbetween us, Darla, is between us. I told you that earlier and I meant it.”
“Blake—”
“Go to sleep. You have an early morning. I’ll see you then.” Hehung up and then sat there, half expecting the phone to ring again, wanting it to ring again. But it didn’t. She didn’tcall back and he had a bad feeling she was far more happy he was leavingtomorrow than he was. Which was exactly why he should go home and not look back.He wouldn’t, though. This was new territory for him, that his younger, veryhappily married brother would find amusing. Blake wasn’t laughing but he wasn’trunning, either. And he had to figure out why, even if that meant taking a fewdarts from Darla in the process. Hopefully, he could convince her to lick thewounds.
8
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. MORNING came with Blake’s words repeating in Darla’s head. And no. No, she did not know what he meant, but she’d darn sure spent the entire night trying to figure it out. No wonder she didn’t have one-night stands. Apparently, she was really really bad at them—hauntingly so. She managed to spend the night in bed with the man and he wasn’t even there. Darla just hoped she didn’t fail the awkward morning greeting as bad, because she was about to see him again.
With that thought in mind, dressed again in sweats, with no makeup on, and her hair freshly washed for a stylist to work magic on, she dragged herself to her door. She’d see him on the 6:00 a.m. shuttle to the audition site and she looked like crap—and why, why did she care about seeing him, or that she was seeing him premakeup artist? She supposed her distraction meant that Blake had actually achieved success with his “deal” because she wasn’t thinking about camera nerves anymore. She’d been thinking of him then, as she was now.
Darla shoved open the door and tugged her roller bag filled with clothing and a variety of other items behind her. The door slammed on the bag and she turned to free it. That was when the door to her left—Blake’s door—opened and she stopped.
“Trouble already?” he asked, rushing forward to shove her door open and free her suitcase.
“Yes,” she whispered furiously. “And you’re it. If you were going to keep me up all night you could have at least done it in person.” She wasn’t sure who was more stunned by those words—her or him. She froze. He froze. Silence expanded until she finally said, “I can’t believe I just said that. More proof that you are making me crazy.”
He pulled her suitcase into the hallway and let her door fall shut. He was wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt with Stepping Up written on it in a deep blue that matched his eyes. He looked good. So very good.
