Follow My Lead

by Lisa Renee Jones

  It was the vulnerability in her in that moment that got to him, that had him cradling her face and lifting her face to his. “Whatever you’re doing to me, keep doing it. I like it.”

  The way she seemed to have no idea how much she affected him, no intent to use it against him. It only made him want to please her more.

  Confusion knitted her brow. “I’ve pretty much been mad at you the entire time we’ve known each other.”

  “Are you mad now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” He caressed her breasts, pressed her backward, her weight on her hands behind her. He licked one pretty pink bud and then the next.

  “We never made up,” she claimed breathlessly.

  “We seem to be getting along pretty well to me,” he said, licking her nipple again.

  “If you don’t get that condom—”

  He kissed her. “I don’t have to be told twice.”

  Blake grabbed his jeans, digging out his wallet. He fumbled for the condom. He wanted her so bad he was trembling. That was a first. There were a lot of firsts with Darla. That seemed good. He hoped. He didn’t know. He didn’t know much of anything right now, except how badly he wanted to be inside her.

  She leaned back on the dresser, her breasts thrust high. For a moment, he went still, his throat dry. His cock got impossibly hard. He sheathed himself in seconds as she watched, and then wasted no time returning to her. Wrapping his arm around her slender waist, he slid his fingers in the wet heat of her body to ready her for him. He wanted to be in her, he wanted to feel the wet wonder of her body clenching him tight and holding on. But he wanted this to be good for her. He wanted there to be a reason to use those five other condoms.

  “I’m way beyond waiting,” she said hoarsely, closing her hand around his shaft and guiding the blunt head of his erection to where she wanted it—telling him she was ready. She was driving him out of his mind with desire. She was hitting all the right marks.

  He parted her with his fingers and entered her. She was tight and hot, and he groaned with the pleasure of her muscles contracting around him. An intense urgency built inside him. He thrust deeper inside her and swallowed her gasp with his kiss, a wild, ravenous kiss. Too wild for the dresser—he struggled to fully reach her.

  Blake lifted her again and carried her to the mattress. He placed her on the bed beneath him, and she opened for him like a flower—a jasmine-scented flower that he couldn’t get enough of. He raised one of her legs over his shoulder and pressed his palm under her perfect ass. He swiveled his hips and drove into her, right where he wanted to be. She had him all now.

  He lingered a moment, his eyes searching the depths of hers. He wasn’t quite sure what she might see in his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. Her fingers traced his lips and he kissed them, then kissed her. He lost himself in the seductive bliss that was her taste, her body. He started to move, to pump into her. What started as slow and cautious quickly became fast and confident. And she met that uncontrollable need—her hands were all over him, her body rocking with his.

  He palmed her sweet ass and thrust again and again. Her hips lifted on a moan, her body stiffened. “Blake I…” Her body clenched around him, pulling the pleasure from him, taking it from him. Blake shuddered with his release until his muscles relaxed. He eased her leg down and buried his face in her neck. Long seconds passed and he forced himself to consider time, and work and things he’d rather forget. He had to talk to Darla about why he was here—why they were here—in the first place. He would upset her and he could think of a lot of things that he wanted to do and with the soft and willing female beneath him, and upsetting her wasn’t on the list.

  11

  BLAKE LIFTED UP ON HIS ARMS, his elbows framing Darla’s face. “What time is it?” she asked urgently.

  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.

  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.”

  “What the heck did you do on your break?” Allison complained, motioning Darla to a chair. “Sit down—and fast. You’re due on set in minutes. The other judges have come and gone.”

  “Sorry,” Darla said, settling into the chair. “I have a case of nerves and lunch didn’t sit well. I’ve been, uh, lying down.”

  “Oh,” Allison said, her brows dipping. “Why are you nervous? You have a show of your own and I love it. Did I mention I’m a fan? Huge, huge fan.”

  Darla gave her an appreciative smile. “Now you’re just saying all the right things, and I prefer the honest, ‘you look like crap’ kind of communication.”

  “I said I was a fan. I didn’t say you don’t look like crap.”

  Darla laughed. “Okay, then,” she conceded. “I stand corrected. Thank you for the compliment and, ah, insult.”

  “All meant in the most loving of ways,” Allison assured her. “I’ll fix you all up on one condition.”

  “Okay,” Darla said cautiously, thinking everyone was all about conditions today. “I’ll bite. What condition?”

  She lowered her voice. “That you put that diva Lana in her place every chance you get this season.” She dropped to a whisper. “We’re all looking forward to watching it.”

  Darla absorbed the words, taking them in with surprise. “Who is ‘we all’?”

  “All the crew,” she said, rolling a cart of makeup and hair supplies to Darla’s side. “No one likes her. She’s just so mean to the contestants. We know you’ll stick up for them, like you do for all kinds of people on your show—and the animals. We all love the animal rescue special you do on Fridays.”

  The comment made her think of her parents, how she had to focus on her agenda to save their ranch. It had suffered from a virus that attacked cattle. Her mother and father hadn’t told her how bad it had gotten until it was almost too late and they’d taken on debt they couldn’t afford to pay back.

  Darla’s chest expanded with warmth and understanding as her father’s frequently spoken words replayed in her head. Words he’d repeated about their financial struggles. Honey, things happen for reasons. You have to have faith. Sometimes we just don’t know what those reasons are until later. Darla’s fear that Blake was a distraction lifted like a cloud of worry and paranoia. Blake had heard Meagan’s concern. Blake had warned her so she could fix what was broken. Blake had made her late enough to the set to have Allison share this piece of information with her. And, most importantly, Blake had given her good advice. She had to be herself in the audition room or she would disappoint everyone, not just Meagan. She’d disappoint herself. She’d disappoint her parents. She had to go into that room and forget about the pressure, about her parents’ predicament. If she did that, everything would be okay. She had to come through for them the way they’d always come through for her.

  After Allison made up an excuse of burning Darla’s hair with a flat iron to buy more time, Darla managed to inhale two chocolate bars—Allison agreed chocolate was safe, even for a sick stomach—and she was ready fo
r work. She was ready for Lana. She wasn’t, however, ready to see Blake. Or to say goodbye. But she had to.

  * * *

  THE AUDITIONS HAD BEEN TAKING place for a good three hours when Blake wished a young male dancer good luck in Vegas, and then found himself being flagged down by Meagan. She lifted her hand and motioned for him to follow her.

  Blake froze in an “uh-oh” moment. He’d been hoping for a break to check on Meagan and hoping, even more so, to find out if she’d shaken off her morning. He now prayed he wasn’t about to find out the opposite, a fear easily conceived considering Meagan had made her suspicions about him and Darla obvious. She’d also made it clear she suspected that Blake was negatively influencing Darla. Hell, Darla thought he was, too—or at least, that was what he’d now surmised about the bathroom incident. And maybe he was. Maybe he needed to keep his distance, no matter how much he wanted to have Darla up close and personal. Not forever, but for now, until she found her footing on the show.

  Blake followed Meagan to an empty event room that had been cleared as a contestant holding room. “What did you say to Darla at break?” she asked immediately, going right for the gut.

  Blake felt the blow, and while he wasn’t one to be at a loss for words, it took him a minute to recover. “Not anything different than I imagine you would have,” he replied cautiously.

  She studied him, as she had earlier and then waved off his words. “Details aren’t important. Whatever you said, it worked and that’s all that counts. She’s back to her normal self in there and I couldn’t be happier. Now, I feel free to actually talk to both of you about an idea my team has been bouncing around since early this morning when we found out about Rick.”

  “Talk to us?” he asked, a warning alarm going off in his head.

  “Meagan,” Darla said, appearing in the doorway and going white as a sheet as soon as she spotted Blake. She was as worried as he was that this was about them.