To his surprise, she covered her face with her hands, as if she were embarrassed. She was one big wonderful surprise after another, this woman. Feisty and confident one minute, and insecure and sensitive the next. Sam kissed her stomach and slid her farther onto the bed. “You’re beautiful. I loved doing that to you.”
“Sam,” she said shyly, her lashes fluttering, her cheeks turning rosy.
He smiled as he watched her blush. “Don’t go anywhere,” he told her before he moved away from her to finish undressing.
She lifted up on her elbows to watch him, the timidness of moments before sliding away. Her gaze lingered on his body, her expression hot with interest. And when she scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, his cock jerked and hardened. He started for the bed, and then silently cursed his eagerness, grabbing his pants and pulling a condom from his pocket.
And though he was beyond aroused, beyond reason, he didn’t miss the distressed look that flashed across her face. “I don’t carry condoms with me, sweetheart. I wasn’t, however, going to miss a night with you because I didn’t have one. I got a few when we stopped at the store.” He tossed two extras on the bed.
Her lips curved instantly and she nodded her pleasure at that answer. “Can I?” she asked, scooting to sit at the end of the bed and holding out her hand.
“You don’t even have to ask,” he assured her. Every muscle in his body was tense with anticipation as he stepped forward.
She took the package from him and opened it, then wrapped her soft hand around his hard cock, the contrast almost too much for him. When he thought she’d slide the condom on him, she instead slid her tongue over his erection.
Sam sucked in a breath, desire rushing through him, tightening his balls. His hand went to her shoulder. “As much as I like that, I’m about as on edge as a man can get.”
“I like that you’re on edge,” she said softly. “I like knowing you feel what I feel.”
Her words were like fuel on the fire that was his need for this woman. He took the condom from her and rolled it on, before he moved them both to the middle of the bed. He spread her legs, settling between them, fitting his shaft into the warm V of her body.
He kissed her before she could say anything more, claiming her mouth, just as he pressed inside her.
Sam buried himself to the hilt, the tight feel of her squeezing him, driving him wild. She gasped into his mouth with the impact, whispering his name. He wanted to hear her say his name like that over and over. He could never hear it enough.
He pulled back to look at her, seeking a glimpse of the passion on her face. When his eyes met hers, he felt the punch in his gut, the connection that defied one night of sex. And when he did start to move, to make love to her, passion expanded that look, that emotion. A gripping sensual rhythm quickly built, until they were crazy with kissing each other, rocking and pumping, both trying to get closer, to get more of each other. And when they eventually collapsed together, Sam pulled her into his arms and held her. They lay like that for a long while, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest.
Sam turned to his side to face her, and she did the same, curling her hand under her head like a pillow. “Tell me more about the town you grew up in,” he prodded, wanting to learn everything about her.
She laughed. “We’re naked and you want to hear about the town I grew up in? They’d be appalled that we’re laying here naked and having a conversation, I can tell you that for sure. Apart from that there’s really nothing to tell.”
“How do your parents feel about you scoring a national television show?”
“I don’t talk to them about it,” she said. “We decided years ago that it was the only way we could handle my decisions.”
“You can’t mean they don’t approve of the show?”
Immediately, he could sense the tension in her. Sam reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She wet her lips and looked at him. “I know you didn’t. And every time I tell myself I don’t care what they think, that their opinion of me doesn’t hurt, something happens and it does again.”
“They really think what you’re doing is bad?”
She nodded. “Yes. They do.”
Sam took her into his arms. “Well, all I see is a beautiful, successful woman, who inspires me with how she charges after her dreams. Albeit, a little bossy, but I apparently like that in a woman.”
She smiled and kissed him. “Do you now?”
“Seems that way.”
“Maybe I should test you,” she said, and pushed him to his back, before climbing on top of him. And all Sam could say was please and more. He wanted more.
12
MEAGAN SHOT FROM THE DEPTHS of a hard sleep to a sitting position. Her gaze tracked around the hotel room—Sam. Where was Sam? Gone. He was gone, and for reasons she was too groggy and panicked over to fully grasp. The realization twisted her stomach into knots. And, oh God, what time was it? And where was the ringing phone?
She scrambled across the mattress that smelled of musky male sensuality and grabbed for the phone, her legs twisted in a sheet. Under said sheet she was naked. She’d been very naked, and very happy being naked, with Sam. Who, she was reminded again, was gone. And she really didn’t want to know what time it was, considering the prospect of being late to set was very real at this point.
She grabbed for the receiver and it fell. She cursed and yanked the cord, bringing the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“Wake-up call, sweetheart.”
“Sam.” His voice did funny things to her knotted stomach. “What time is it?” She reached for the clock at the same moment that he said, “Five-fifteen. You have forty-five minutes to be on set.”
Samantha meowed loudly.
He chuckled. “I hear the cat. She wants to be fed as badly as I’m betting you want to go back to sleep.”
“Please tell me no one saw you leave.”
“No one saw me leave.”
“You’re—”
“Absolutely positive, which is why I left when it was still a ghost town, when I honestly wanted to stay in bed with you.”
A memory of him curled around her, spooning, flashed in her mind. It was the last thing she remembered. She’d told herself she’d only lay there a minute and then she’d get up, she’d send him away, but she hadn’t wanted to send him away. She’d wanted him to stay.
“Although,” he added, “you do snore.”
“I do not snore!” She scooped up the meowing kitten who was trying to climb up onto the bed, and put her on the bedspread.
“You now have forty-one minutes until set, and a hungry, loud kitten on your hands.” His voice softened. “And yes. You do snore. I guess I’ll have to record you next time to prove it.”
Next time? Next time. He’d said next time. “Sam—”
It was too late. He’d hung up.
* * *
FOUR HOURS LATER, Meagan still hadn’t seen Sam, and she hated how much she pined for when she would. But she’d managed to get enough footage of the contestants and hotel, which the curse had forced them into, to head to the editing room at the rehearsal studio. She’d told everyone to rest. They’d practice at the rehearsal studio again the next morning.
And so it was outside the editing room, after she’d sent her crew to have some dinner, that Meagan entered the tiny break area of the production facility. There, Meagan finally came face-to-face with Sam. She was struggling to get the package of peanuts she’d purchased from one of the two snack machines when it happened. She was actually facing the machine when the tingling awareness started—the same tingling awareness she’d felt in the executive offices, a sensation she’d been too flustered then to identify. But she felt it now, and knew what it meant.
“Sam,” she said softly, steeling herself for the impact that seeing him again would have. And she’d been right to steel herself because if Sam had stolen her breath before she’
d slept with him, he absolutely sucked it straight out of her lungs now.
He stood there, gloriously male, with one broad, perfect shoulder resting on the doorjamb, his jaw shadowed, already fighting the blade of his morning shave.
“Problem?” he asked, his eyes raking over her slim-fitted jeans and studio T-shirt, as if she were naked. And, heaven help her, the real problem was how many times she’d replayed being exactly that way with him today.
She nodded. “The curse appears to have targeted my peanuts.”
His sexy, wickedly capable mouth curved upward, and he pushed off the wall. “Let me see what I can do.”
He sauntered toward her, and she fought the urge to stay right there in front of the machine, right there in his path. She was losing her mind. Sam was making her lose her mind, distracting her from her job, her dream, and the career she had as the only means of supporting herself. And yet, she wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of him again. She realized then, that on some level, she’d push Sam away. Since she now knew he wasn’t just an alpha male who made her tingle when he entered the room. What he made her feel was awareness on a much deeper level. The kind of thing you were lucky to experience, and so you didn’t simply shut it off. Lucky. Yes. She couldn’t ignore what she felt for him. She didn’t want to.
Meagan didn’t move. She stood in front of the machine, and he stopped in front of her. They stared at each other, neither speaking. They didn’t have to. The air around them all but combusted.
His fingers brushed her cheek. “You look tired, Meg.”
“Meagan,” she corrected, fighting the shiver of arousal rushing down her spine.
He smiled. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Voices sounded somewhere in the distance and her heart raced. The last thing she needed was her crew talking about her affair with Sam, especially with Kiki out for blood. Not that Meagan was having an affair with Sam. She didn’t know what she was doing with Sam. Confusion balled up inside her. “Don’t call me sweetheart, either. I said one night, Sam.” She hated herself for saying that, and she wanted to take the words back. She didn’t even know why she’d said them.
He continued to stare at her, his expression unreadable. “Yes,” he finally said. “You did.”
There was a sharp quality to the two words that cut her deeply. Just as she’d thought, she pushed him away and didn’t mean to. It felt bad. Really bad. “I just...we can’t...I just don’t want people to see so that’s why I said no touching and no sweetheart—”
“And no kissing. Got it. I’ll stick to rescuing your peanuts.” He didn’t sound happy and his mood seemed to darken instantly.
She expected him to shake the machine. Instead, he stuck change in the slot and punched a button. Before she knew it, he’d secured two bags of peanuts, and two Dr. Peppers.
He held up one of the sodas. “I believe I owe you this.” He claimed a chair and then tossed out bait to get her to sit with him. “I have news about the contestants’ house. Join me and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“More bribery?”
He arched a brow. “Is it working?”
“Apparently very well.” She sat down across from him, and truthfully she was relieved to have a few more minutes with him, to be able to fix whatever she’d broken. “What about the house?”
“They agreed to all my requests, including the exterminator. If you’re sure you want the place, then I can have it ready for you to move in by the weekend. That should give you time to get settled before you have to go live in the house. And frankly, I’d prefer having the contestants there and contained, rather than at a hotel where I can’t be sure they’re really in their rooms and safe.” He popped open his drink.
There was something about the way he said that statement. “What happened that I don’t know about?”
“A tabloid reporter tried to sneak onto the floor dressed as a waiter.”
She shook her head. “Like I don’t have enough to worry about. Now this?”
“You don’t have to worry about this. That’s what I’m here for. And that’s why I would rather get us to the new house now, rather than later.”
“Yes,” she said. “Please. The sooner the better. I’m all for as much control as I can get, and as quickly as possible.”
Their eyes locked, thick silence stretching between them. “I aim to please, Meagan,” he said, finally.
Meagan. Not Meg. Not sweetheart. That should please her. It’s what she’d always insisted he call her, but it didn’t please her. Not with the distance she felt between them that hadn’t been there last night.
He pushed to his feet. “I need to get the paperwork to the appropriate parties. I’ll call you if anything goes wrong.”
“Okay,” she said, standing with him, searching his face, but his expression was blank, his jaw set. She wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure what to say, and he was already headed to the door. Maybe he didn’t want her to apologize. Maybe...
He hesitated at the exit, and she held her breath, but when she thought he would turn back, he left without another word.
Meagan willed herself not to move, not to go after him. She had a lot of footage to edit, and she needed to check on the contestants herself. She would not go after Sam. She would not go after Sam. She sat down again, rested her elbows on her knees and put her hands to her head. Sam was making her crazy.
* * *
SAM WAS PISSED, and he wasn’t even sure why. He’d left Meagan’s room this morning determined to see her again, to find out where this thing with her was going. He’d gone into that break room, with exactly that purpose in mind. Instead, she’d warned him of her vow to keep things between them to one night and that hit him hard.
She had some deep need for control, and from what he could tell, she had her reasons. Her parents had controlled her and were still trying. Apparently, she thought he would want to do the same, and the only way she could control what was happening between them, what was uncontrollable, was to simply shut it down. Maybe that was for the best. He knew better than to mix business with pleasure. He needed to focus on the show, on security, on Kiki. Both he and Sabrina had agreed that Kiki’s comments to Josh meant she planned to turn Meagan’s show into another bonus opportunity for herself. He just had to prove it before Kiki made it happen.
His mind shifted back to Meagan, to her naked and perfect in his arms the night before, to her rejection today. His stride lengthened, his pace quickened. He was acting like a fool, pursuing a woman who didn’t want him. He needed some space, maybe a bar and another woman, only he had too much work to do. And who was he fooling? He was too into Meagan to want anyone else.
He unlocked the door to his truck and slid inside, before pounding the steering wheel. When his cell rang, he said, “Talk to me,” noting Josh was the caller. Loud music ripped through the phone. “Where the heck are you?”
“Kiki took a group of the contestants to the eighteen and over club on the corner two blocks south of the hotel,” he shouted. “They’re performing, Sam.”
“Without studio approval or security?” Sam asked, and he could already smell the trouble.
“That’s right,” he said. “I told her the studio could be sued if anything went wrong. Sam. She said Meagan approved this.”
Sam cursed. “Where are they?”
“Club Z and they’re filming—”
The line went dead.
Sam punched Meagan’s cell number into his phone. She didn’t answer. Of course not. She was going to make him come to her. He shoved open his door, and started for the building, angry and feeling as foul as a soldier dodging a sniper—who, in this case, happened to be the woman he couldn’t get enough of.
That’s when he spotted Meagan running toward him. “Sam!” Apparently, she’d gotten a phone call, too. “Sam.” She screeched to a halt in front of him, her chest rising and falling with exertion. “Sam, I—we—”
“I know,” he said. “Josh told me. Let’s go.�
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“Josh? What? What’s happening? Is something happening with the cast?”
She didn’t know? Had she followed him to the truck for personal reasons? Was she here for him, not the bar problem? He didn’t get to ask. He quickly updated Meagan.
“Sam, this is bad,” she said when he’d finished and they’d climbed into his truck. “The studio’s liability if someone gets hurt is bad enough. But we have sponsors that expect a family show. If there’s the slightest piece of footage of someone doing something they shouldn’t, we could lose them. And that could be the end of us.”
“And,” he said, “it gets worse. Kiki told Josh that you approved this.”
“What? No. Please tell me no, Sam.”
“I know the truth,” he spoke softly. “I have your back, Meagan.”
13
THOUGH SHE’D MADE SAM WAIT for her to run inside the production building for her purse and phone, having learned her lesson about leaving them behind, the short ten-minute ride from the studio to the hotel felt like a lifetime to Meagan.
The instant Sam put his foot on the brake, stopping next to the valet stand, they were both already shoving open their doors.
“Which way to Club Z?” he was asking the young kid he’d palmed his keys to, as Meagan came around to his side.
“Two blocks to the right, then another right, you can’t miss it,” the valet told him.
She and Sam were walking before the kid ever finished speaking. “I can’t believe Kiki is there, and brought cameras. How did she even manage that, Sam? I mean there would be release forms and legal issues.”
“You know the answer,” he said. “She planned this in advance.”
“Right. She did. She had to have done just that. I can’t let this go, Sam. I have to let Sabrina know, but Kiki’s going to say I’m behind it. I can’t believe this is happening.”
They approached the club, loud music banging through the door, and a long line of people waiting to enter the building. Sam motioned her toward the door, then chatted with the bouncer, leaning in close to the brawny man guarding the entryway, to say something that was, apparently, worthy of entry.
Watch Me Page 8
