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12
DARLA STOOD IN the hotel bathroom with her back against the door and her eyes squeezed shut. She’d run from Blake, run because she was afraid of the emotion he was making her feel. She just had to get away from him before she did something crazy, like fall for him. He felt too right, too good, and her track record—even with him—was proof of the trouble that always followed. And so she stood, naked, with her clothes and her purse on the other side of the door—where he was. Which was where she wanted to be, and knew she had no place being.
She inhaled and, against all reason, willed Blake to knock on the door, to talk her off the ledge. Still, she’d be better off if he didn’t and left the room. If he left without a word, in fact, and proved to her that this was about a half dozen condoms and not a half dozen emotions.
Time stretched by and there was no knock. She heard movement, though. He was dressing. Of course, he was dressing. He had to get to the set, just like she did. He’d knock when he was done. He’d say goodbye. He’d ask to see her again and make some sexy remark that referenced using condom number two. That would prove he only wanted sex. That would make this easy. They were supposed to be just about sex. That’s why she’d stepped out on this ledge in the first place. It had seemed simple, uncomplicated. An escape she’d desperately needed.
The hotel room door opened and shut. He’d left? She listened, waited. No sound. Nothing. He’d left and had said nothing before doing so. No request for a sex date. No anything. Not even a goodbye. What did that mean? It had to mean he’d read between the lines when she darted away, that he knew she was running scared and he wasn’t up for the chase—not that she wanted him to chase her. It wasn’t like that. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. The knots in her stomach said it wasn’t this, though. It wasn’t him gone and her in here.
Darla slumped against the bathroom door. She had her answers to the burning questions in her mind, of the possibilities that might exist between her and Blake. This meant there was nothing of substance between them. She should be happy. She wasn’t happy.
Darla yanked open the door and raced around the room, gathered her clothing, pulling items on, trying not to think about taking them off while Blake watched. While Blake stood naked in front of her—tall, broad, ripped, gorgeous Blake. She hadn’t even had time to fully enjoy just how gorgeous.
She shook away the image and rushed to the door to find her purse where she’d tossed it earlier. She stopped dead in her tracks at the piece of paper sitting on top of it.
Her heart skipped a beat and she barely managed to breathe as she darted for it, a bit too eager. She picked it up and five condoms tumbled to the floor. Her throat went dry. She wasn’t sure she wanted to read the note after all.
It wasn’t just sex. I figure I can’t prove that to you while these puppies are taunting me with the many ways we might use them. And speaking of taunting, don’t let Lana win. Show her who is really the boss.
Blake
Emotion welled in Darla’s chest. She was so falling for this man. She was falling and falling and falling. Hard. She liked him, plain and simple. Too much. Yes—“too much” was a theme for her with Blake. She didn’t think it was possible to ignore him, to walk away from this thing between them until she knew where it might lead. You have to, a voice in her head said.
Granted, there was more on the line than just her needs and her feelings for Blake. Making this show work wasn’t only about her. It was about the parents who’d always been there for her, who’d supported her dreams and her life choices.
She had to go back to the same thing she’d told herself in the bathroom. Her track record with men wasn’t one she thought supported a gamble on Blake, not when she owed her parents everything, and they deserved the world.
Darla arrived at a room set up with tables and chairs, with various wardrobe and toiletries. Allison, who Darla now knew would be her makeup and hair person, was there alone, eating a sandwich. She glanced up at Darla, right as she was about to take a bite, and froze. She set down her food and pushed to her feet. “Finally, you’re here! You look like crap.”
Darla exhaled. So much for believing she’d doctored her hair and makeup in an acceptable manner. “Well. No one can say you’re not honest.”
