Follow My Lead

by Lisa Renee Jones

  She reached up and traced his lips. “Blake,” she whispered, unable to find any other words to describe what she was feeling right then.

  He covered her hand with his and kissed her fingers, before slipping his hand behind her neck and bringing her mouth to his. “This is where I want to be every night.”

  She smiled against his lips. “Really?”

  He brushed hair from her face. “If it’s with you.”

  “Yes,” she said, her chest tightening again. “Yes. I want that.”

  She wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they were kissing, their bodies entwined in a seductive, mindnumbing dance, her body tingling and warm all over. Slow turned to fast and wild as their need expanded and took control. They clung together, pressing into each other, trying to get closer.

  Release came on Darla without warning, and she tried to fight it, tried to make this last, but it was impossible. She gasped with the sudden spasm of her body, dropping her head to his chest. He moaned near her ear, and she felt him shake against her, felt the intensity of his release. Time stood still until she brought the room back into focus. For what felt like minutes she didn’t want to end, they lay there, breathing together, just being together, until he affectionately stroked her hair.

  “I have an important question for you,” he announced.

  She leaned back to look at him. “You say that at the worst times.”

  “What’s bad about me asking you if you want to shower before or after we order pizza?”

  She smiled. “While we wait for it to be delivered.”

  He kissed her nose. “I like the way you think. And once you feed me we can give the bed another whirl.”

  “Once you feed me,” she said, “I might need to give sleep a whirl.”

  “As long as you let me try and talk you out of that, I’m a happy man.” And she was most definitely a happy woman.

  19

  FOUR WEEKS LATER, WHEN DARLA stepped into the cabin of the Vegas-bound private jet in Dallas, Texas, she found Blake in the second row aisle seat. His brilliant blue eyes fixed her in one of his searing stares that always set her pulse racing and her body flaming. That it did so now, and that she was thinking of the naughty things they had done the night before, was a testament to just how hot and heavy their relationship had become, because she was sick and getting sicker by the second. “There are no other seats open,” Ellie said from the front row next to Jason. “You’re stuck with Lana.”

  Darla jerked her gaze from Blake’s and centered her attention on the empty seat next to Lana opposite Ellie and Jason. A new wave of nausea overcame Darla, and she sunk into the aisle seat beside Lana, not even caring that Lana would leave the shade up and niggle at her nerves. It was nine o’clock and dark outside and she just needed to sit before she fell.

  “I don’t know why you and Blake don’t just sit together,” Lana commented. “We all know you two are an item.”

  “Sorry, Lana, but you’re stuck with me,” Darla said in the perpetual avoidance mode she’d been in since the first television commercial had run last week. The feedback from the television blogs, as well as the cast and crew, was buzzing about her and Blake. She kicked her bag under her seat, feeling like she was about to end up there, too, if she wasn’t careful, and wishing the bathroom wasn’t at the back of the plane.

  “You okay, Darla?” Ellie asked, touching her arm from across the row. “You’ve gotten paler by the minute today and you didn’t even try and change seats with me. In fact, you didn’t even argue with Lana one time today. I’m worried about you.”

  “Thanks, sweetie, but I’m just tired,” Darla said appreciatively. She liked Ellie, who was truly a nice person.

  “You really do look as white as a ghost,” Lana said, giving her a keen eye. “Are you sick?”

  A ghost. Great. Just what she wanted to look like for Vegas Week. Darla turned to look at Lana. “Why? Are you afraid I’m going to throw up on you?”

  Lana grimaced. “Don’t be silly. I’m not heartless. I only give you a hard time because you’re just so easy to rile up and, let’s face it, because I knew the television viewers would love our dynamic—and they do. This thing with you and Blake will be a one-season mystery that can’t last. The audience’s desire to see us squabble will carry over beyond the season.”

  “Just remember you said that when we disagree in Vegas.”

  “I’ll show you no mercy,” Lana assured her. “For the good of the ratings and job security, of course.”

  Darla managed a small smile, suddenly liking Lana more than she thought possible. “Of course.”

  “We’ll call a truce for now, though. It’s not fun baiting you when you don’t respond with appropriate rebellion.”

  “Truce,” Darla agreed, shutting her eyes as they began to taxi, pretty sure the fact that she didn’t care when the plane lifted off wasn’t a good sign about just how sick she was. This couldn’t happen at a worse time. Things were looking positive, but she’d seen enough in this business to know anything could go wrong, and sometimes nothing went wrong and the studio heads still made unexplainable decisions. Having a good audience response to her performance during Vegas Week, and then as she sat at the judges’ table for the first four live shows, were critical to assuring her bonus.

  * * *

  BLAKE KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG with Darla and it was killing him to sit in his seat and not go to her. He’d tired of this game of hiding their relationship pretty much right out of the gate, but they were bound by their word to Meagan and by the show’s ad campaign, and he’d live with it for now.

  Darla pushed to her feet abruptly and rushed past him so quickly, he couldn’t see her face. He sat there, telling himself not to get up and follow her. Fifteen minutes later, he was too concerned to stay seated. He stood up and Lana turned around, talking to him over the seat. “Yes. Check on her. She’s more than a little sick.”

  Blake didn’t reply. He headed toward the bathroom and knocked. “Darla?” No reply. He knocked again. “Darla.” He yanked on the door and it opened, unlocked. She was sitting on the tiny space in front of the sink, her knees to her chest and her head on top of them. His heart lurched and he knew she was in trouble.

  He didn’t even consider how it looked. This was the woman he loved. To hell with charades and ratings. He bent down next to her. “Darla, honey,” he whispered urgently, gently pulling her head back.

  “Blake,” she mouthed in a barely audible voice, her face was sheet-white with black makeup smudges marking her cheeks. “I…”

  “It’s okay. Don’t try and talk. I’m going to find a place for you to lie down.”

  “No, I can’t…move. Too…sick.”

  “What’s happening?” Meagan asked, pushing in beside Blake. “Oh, God.”

  “Clear the back seats so she can lie down, will you?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  Blake started to lift Darla. “No. Sick. I’m sick.”

  “We’ll get you a bag,” he promised, “but you can’t stay on the floor. It’s not safe. I can’t pick you up in this small space but I’ll hold on to you, okay?” He was already pulling her to her feet and she all but collapsed into him, moaning as though she hurt.

  Meagan stood in the aisle, her expression worried, as she indicated the open row. “She needs a bag.” Blake managed to maneuver Darla and himself into the seats.

  “Bag,” she said in a panicked voice. “Bag. Hurry.”

  The flight attendant rushed up the aisle and handed it to Meagan, who opened it just in time. Blake held her as her body shook. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  He ran his hand over her hair, hating that the seats were too small for her to lie down. “I know. I’m sorry, honey, but I’m here. We’ll get you to a doc when we land.”

  Meagan bent down next to her. “Is it just your stomach?”

  She wet her lips. “My head, too.”

  Meagan glanced at Blake. “It’s so sudden and viol
ent it might be food poisoning.”

  “Started after lunch,” Darla whispered without opening her eyes.

  Meagan nodded. “Food poisoning. It has to be. This is too wicked to be anything else.” She pushed to her feet and claimed the seat in front of them, so that she could stay near Darla.

  Eventually, Darla blinked up at him and whispered, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “You don’t ever have to thank me for that.”

  “Yes, I do.” Her lashes fluttered and she fell asleep. He held her for a good forty-five minutes, thankful she was resting.

  When they were near to landing, Meagan squatted beside him. “The doctor is waiting on her, but he says if he’s even slightly worried about her when he sees her, he’s sending her to the E.R.”

  “I think that’s smart.” He hesitated, all too aware that everyone on the plane now knew he and Darla were together. “Meagan—”

  “If I was this sick, no one would ever keep Sam away from me,” she said, before he could say anything else. “I’ll talk to everyone about keeping quiet but if it gets out, it gets out. The public is enthralled with the two of you. I don’t see that changing.”

  * * *

  BLAKE ESCORTED THE DOCTOR OUT of Darla’s room, having given his diagnosis of food poisoning and prescribed an antinausea injection that seemed to be helping. Blake returned to find Darla sitting up in bed.

  “Hey,” he said, surprised. “The medicine must really be working.”

  She nodded. “It is. I’m a lot better.”

  He gave her a probing look. “And you’re worried about everyone knowing we’re together.”

  “I don’t want to be worried. I’m so tired of hiding.”

  “Agreed,” he said, crossing to the bed to sit down next to her.

  “I’m glad you were with me,” she said. “I am. I just…is Meagan upset?”

  “No. She seems to believe we are deep enough into the tease that a happy ending is acceptable.”

  “A happy ending?”

  “Yeah,” he said, drawing her hand in his. “If I have any say in it, we’re going to have a happy ending.” He scooted down onto the bed, and pulled her next to him, curling his body around hers and kissing her temple.

  “Blake?”

  “Yeah, honey?”

  “I really want that happy ending.”

  “So do I, honey. So do I.” Finding Darla had changed him, torn down the walls of distrust this business had created in him, and made him happy. He was going shopping for a ring.

  * * *

  DARLA WOKE IN THE HOTEL BED to realize that not only was she fully dressed, Blake was wrapped around her, also fully dressed. Her chest tightened with emotion. There was something more intimate about this moment than any other she’d had with this man. She was so in love with him. A knock sounded on the door, and he stirred, then called out, “We don’t need housekeeping!”

  “Good,” Meagan called. “Because I don’t do windows.”

  “Whoops,” Darla said.

  “You’re awake,” Blake commented with unwarranted surprise.

  “You just yelled in my ear,” she teased. “Of course, I’m awake.”

  “And feeling better,” he commented, kissing her temple. “Good.”

  “Hello!” Meagan called.

  Blake got to his feet. “Boss lady calls,” he murmured, heading to the door.

  Darla sat up, pretty sure something had died in her mouth. She needed a toothbrush urgently and she didn’t even want to think about how she looked. If Blake still wanted her after this, he moved way up her ladder to the “keeper” shelf.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Meagan said, stopping at the end of the bed. “Don’t you just look like flowers blooming on a spring day? Or not.”

  “Watch yourself,” Blake warned, stepping by Meagan’s side, his hands on his lean hips, his hair rumpled. “She’s feeling feisty again already.”

  “I’d call myself about fifty percent,” Darla said, glancing at the 7:00 a.m. time. There was a cast and crew meeting at eight-thirty, and the contestants would all be arriving through the day. “I’ll be fine after I shower.”

  Megan dropped onto the mattress and leaned on one arm. “Today is the least important day. Rest if you need to.”

  “No,” Darla said quickly. “No. I’m fine. I have footage for my daytime show to film anyway.”

  Blake leaned on the dresser directly in front of Darla. “She’s too stubborn to rest. You might as well save your breath.”

  Meagan glanced between the two of them, and then settled her attention back on Darla. “So then, are you up to a conversation about the show?”

  “Actually,” Darla said flatly, “maybe I feel sick again.”

  “Don’t start fretting on me,” Meagan said. “What’s done is done. If your relationship goes public, it goes public.”

  “But the studio—” Darla started.

  “Will be happy if the ratings are good. So far, they are terrific. Which, admittedly, makes me want to string out this tease about you two a bit longer. We’re not even into the live shows yet, which is where the dancers get the real exposure and, ultimately, this is about them. So that said, I’m going to warn the cast and crew to stay quiet. They’re professionals with confidentiality contracts, and these types of secrets with reality shows are not uncommon.”

  “Why do I sense a ‘but’?” Blake asked.

  “The ‘but’ is this week, contestants are in the same hotel we’re at,” Meagan answered without pause. “We can’t control them like our own people, especially those that Darla doesn’t send through to the finals, who might lash out at her. So I think that you two need to stay low-key this week, and then we’ll be fine. I want these kids who are dancing their hearts out to have viewers and opportunities, which means big ratings. Last season, the footage in the contestant house was a big ratings grabber.” She patted Darla’s leg. “So do your casting magic and we’ll be set.”

  Right, Darla thought. Casting magic. She knew she was good at picking talent, but she’d never done it with this much pressure, with the world—including her parents’ banker—watching. She glanced at Blake and saw him staring at her. She knew from the look on his face that something was wrong. Meagan rose to her feet. “I’ll let you get showered and dressed and see you in a few.”

  Blake didn’t move as Meagan departed. He just sat there staring at her, and he wasn’t happy. In fact, she was pretty sure he was downright unhappy.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What aren’t you telling me, Darla?”

  20

  “WHAT AREN’T YOU TELLING ME, Darla?” Blake repeated.

  Darla swallowed the dryness in her throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re too desperate to keep this job.”

  “Blake,” she reasoned, “this is a big opportunity.”

  “Yet you say you only wanted to be in casting, that you never wanted to be a star. You know, I’ve beat my head against the wall, wondering what’s kept me from confessing my love for you, but I know now. Something doesn’t add up, Darla.”

  He didn’t love her. Or he did. She didn’t know, but she was pretty sure that if he did, he was about to talk himself out of it. She moved to the edge of the bed. “Blake. I—”

  “Do you remember when you asked me who burned me?”

  Her throat was dry again. “Yes.”

  “Lara Wright.”

  “Lara,” she repeated, feeling stunned. “Wright, as in the movie star?”

  “Only, she wasn’t a movie star when we were seeing each other.”

  Darla’s stomach tightened. “She used you.”

  “Right.”

  She sat there, unable to speak, her mind racing. If she told him about the ranch, would he think she wanted his help? God. Had she told him before, would he have thought she was after his money?

  Blake made a sound of frustration at her silence and pushed off the dresser, starting toward the
door. “You’re not being fair,” she shouted, confused. “You’re judging me because of her. I’m not her. I’m not.”

  He didn’t turn. “I just need to think, Darla.”

  His back to her felt like a slap and her eyes started to burn. “What is wrong with me wanting this to work out? What is wrong with me wanting to work in casting, which I love, but instead of earning pennies, I get to give my family a better life?”

  He turned to her. “Darla—”

  “They aren’t rich, Blake. They struggle. I have great parents. The best. I want to give back to them everything they’ve given to me.” Tears started to stream down her face. She didn’t mean to cry, but she was still sick and she was worried and overwhelmed by everything that had happened. “I’m not Lara, and if you think—”

  Suddenly, he was on the bed, on his knees with her, pulling her close. “I’m sorry.” He wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry, Darla. I’m not too much of a man to admit I got scared.”

  “I’m not her.”

  “I know.”

  “No,” she said, her heart twisting. “You don’t.” She pushed out of his arms. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t with him, and she knew it. He would think she wanted his money if she told him about the ranch. He would think she was about fame if she didn’t. In the end, he would turn his back on her and she wasn’t turning her back on her family. “I think…we have to get through this season and see where we stand.”

  “Are you saying we shouldn’t see each other?”

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  HOW BLAKE HAD STAYED AWAY FROM Darla for a full week, he didn’t know. But when he walked into the Vegas wrap party on the top floor of the hotel, he had one thing in his mind. He scanned the room bustling with cast, crew and finalists, with tables of food and drink and a busy dance floor, looking for Darla. Ready to end the week of hell that was his life without Darla. A week of regretting he’d allowed the past to taint the present. A week of regretting the moment he’d walked out of her room without fighting for her. When he’d let pride and stubbornness convince him that she’d pushed him away because she didn’t think he was worth fighting for, when the truth was, he’d been an ass and he knew it.