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He checked the clock. “We have half an hour. We should get dressed.” He didn’t move.
“Yes,” she said, but she didn’t move, either. “We should get dressed.”
“For the record, I could stay in bed the rest of the day with you and be a happy man.”
She reached up and touched his face, her small fingers gentle. The touch sent a rush of renewed heat down his spine. “I’m still mad,” she said.
He smiled. He couldn’t help himself. He loved the way she dueled with him, the way he knew he had to work to earn her. He loved that she didn’t want him just because of who he was or what he could give her.
“In case you missed basic emotion 101,” Darla scolded, “anger is not a reason to smile.”
“Be angry. Be whatever.” His voice sounded gravelly, affected. “Just tell me you don’t regret this.”
“Blake, I… No. No, I don’t.” Her tone shifted from a mix of sultry innocence to a stronger one. “Not yet, that is. Not unless you make me late to the set.”
Darla scooted to the edge of the bed and he resisted the urge to reach across and shackle her wrist in a gentle hold. He turned to face her, unconcerned about his nakedness. He liked being naked with her. But she wasn’t in such a receptive mood. She kept her back to him, as if debating a run for the bathroom.
“Just tell me this,” he said, baiting her to turn around, to talk to him. “Why are you so damn feisty, and in my face, but you let Lana run all over you in that audition room?”
She whirled around, her breasts bouncing in a way that he couldn’t help but admire. She yanked the sheet up around her, obviously noticing. “Lana isn’t running over me.”
“Says who?”
“Blake—”
“Meagan noticed. She said you weren’t acting like yourself. She’s the one who gave me your phone number.”
She paled instantly. “What?”
He shook his head. “I was standing at the monitors when you argued with Lana and then walked out of the room for the break. Meagan heard the entire exchange and she commented about you backing down.” She ran her hand through her hair, her bottom lip quivering as if she were fighting tears.
He softened his voice. “If this is about us, about Lana’s threat—”
“It’s not.” She swallowed hard. “Not really. I mean, yes, I’m worried about her causing trouble for us, but I’m not sure I’m rational about it, either.”
Us. He didn’t miss the choice of words, and it pleased him.
Darla continued, “I know I’m not myself and I certainly wasn’t myself in that audition room. I hate that Meagan noticed. I hate that I’m letting her down.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You aren’t letting Meagan down.” He was both surprised and impressed that she was self-aware enough to know when she wasn’t in the right mind-set, that she was open enough with him to say so and to share her fears. “Meagan just wants the real you in that room and on the show. The same you who came storming down the hallway not so long ago, ready to lay into me.”
She studied him a long moment, her green eyes glistening with a story he wanted her to tell, but he had a good feeling she wouldn’t. Not now, not yet. “Most people in competing time slots wouldn’t have told me about this,” she finally said. “They’d hope I would fail.”
She was right. “I live in this world, Darla. I don’t live this world.” He drew her hand into his. “Talk to me, Darla. Is there something going on with your studio? Did they put some condition on you doing Stepping Up that you’re struggling with?”
“No.” She shook her head, her fingers curling beneath his, telling him he’d hit some sort of nerve. “It’s just that…it’s complicated.” She glanced at the clock. “Oh, God. It’s later than I thought. I have to go. We have to go.” She dropped the sheet, making a mad dash for the bathroom. Blake tried to catch her, but his damn feet got stuck in the sheet. He had no chance to stop her. No chance to talk to her about the show, about him hosting it or about the next time they could be alone together.
The bathroom door shut with a decisive thud. Blake was shut out. Of everything. She was running from something and he had somehow become a part of that that. Which meant he had to find a way to help her if he wanted a chance with her. And he did. In fact, for a man who hadn’t been looking for a woman, he was remarkably ready to do some fighting of his own for that chance—for her.
Blake considered his options. Pushing Darla now, when she had to go in front of a camera to face whatever personal demons she was battling wasn’t going to earn him points. She wanted space and he had to give it to her. He had to respect what she had ahead of her the rest of the day. He darn sure wasn’t throwing her the bombshell that he was going to be around a whole lot more than she thought from outside a bathroom door. No. She wanted him gone now, so he’d be gone. He just wasn’t going to like it.
