Follow My Lead (2 page)

Surprise registered on his chiseled, too-handsome, arrogant face. “Are you always so honest?”

She stood up. “With appropriate discretion—which means not at the risk of hurting someone. What you and Rick did to me could have hurt my career and my livelihood. You made me look like I wasn’t focused on my job, like I was playing games on the red carpet. And, no, it didn’t get me fired, but had my ratings dipped, it would have been brought up again, and you know it.” It certainly had made her doubt her desire to be in the public eye. She threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “And for the record, I didn’t take your call because I was afraid our conversation would later become a part of your show. I have to run to catch my flight.” She started walking.

He fell into step beside her a bit too easily, as if he’d anticipated the move. She glared up at him, quickly turning away before those blue eyes captured hers, sending a flutter to her stomach. “Why are you following me?”

He ignored the question. “If it’s any consolation, not only did that show’s content not hurt your career, your fans—and mine, for that matter—were furious with me. I got hate mail and the phones rang off the hook for weeks after. My viewers thought the incident was just as inappropriate as you did.”

She knew that because she’d gotten her share of mail, as well. And that mail had been what had kept her from quitting. That—and her family who, as always, loved and supported her. “What you did was inappropriate.” She cut him a look. “But I assume your ratings softened the blow of the outcry.” They’d been huge—off the charts.

He threw up his hands. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened. I swear to you, Darla. I would never have done something so callous. If you replay the footage of my show you’ll see the shock on my face. And you’ll see I tried to salvage the situation while I was on air.”

Dang. He sounded sincere. So sincere that…
Don’t do it,
she silently warned herself. Don’t fall victim to the wrong guy saying the right things. She wanted to do it, too, she wanted to believe him, to stop and tell him that it was okay, that it was old history, because that is what she did. She made people feel better, she forgave them. She lay down and let them walk all over her.

Knowing how close she was to making a huge mistake with this man, Darla all but shouted with joy at the sight of a ladies’ room. She had her escape from Mr. Wrong.

Darla stopped abruptly. “Excuse me, but I have to run in here.”

“Wait, Darla. There’s something—”

“Sorry,” she said, knowing if he talked one minute more or kept looking at her with those damnable gorgeous eyes, she’d start caving in again. She motioned behind her. “No men allowed.” Cringing at the silly statement—like he didn’t know no men were allowed?—she rushed down the narrow, tiled hallway.

The instant Darla was out of Blake’s sight, she slumped against the wall, unaware that she’d been holding her breath. He was just one heck of a lot of man. And there was no question that it would be easy for her to forget why she had to be on guard around him, forget he was her enemy.

She pushed off the wall and plopped her bag down on the corner of a long counter running beneath a mirror. She’d vowed to lay off the Easter chocolate, which always meant an extra five pounds, and the wrong men, which usually amounted to an extra seven. The camera was pretty darn unforgiving, which helped strengthen her otherwise weak promise. There was no Blake Nelson anywhere in her future but as a competitor for ratings.

There was, however, something to look forward to. Though her show wasn’t a money-maker, not yet, she still sent every dime she could home.
Stepping Up
could solve all her problems by giving her enough to pay off her parents’ debt and get them ahead.
If
Darla made it through the first four episodes. That’s when the reality show’s executives either had to call her a one-season wonder or take up the option, guaranteeing her one more season with a big fat bonus. Even if they didn’t option her, she hoped she’d have enough of a ratings boost on her morning show to increase her pay there.

Darla shoved Blake and worries over the future out of her mind and focused on the urgent matter at hand. She did an inventory of her bag for the flight to Denver, the first audition city. Chocolate—check. Book—check.
Oh, no
. Where were her headphones? She had to have her headphones so she wouldn’t hear the sounds the plane made. A frantic search proved they weren’t there and she cringed when she remembered reminding herself to grab them off the kitchen table.

She snatched up her bag and headed for the exit, intending to search out the gift shop, not even thinking about Blake. That was until she was out the door and felt a rush of disappointment that he was gone. Clearly, she was so not over her Mr. Wrong guy syndrome. Nor, she realized five minutes later, was she going to have a headset for the flight. Darla charged down the walkway, and just that one chink in her travel armor had her fear soaring. What if they crashed? What if the engine stopped working? What about birds?

She halted at the gangway to the plane and handed the stewardess her boarding pass. The woman scanned it and smiled. “Welcome, Ms. James. You’ll be in a window seat on the fourth row and I’ll be by to check on you momentarily.”

“Thank you,” she said, and wondered if the reality show had put her in first class because it was safer. That had to be it. Why else would they spend such a ridiculous amount of money on a seat not so unlike the others a few rows behind? She inhaled, and fought the urge to ask the stewardess the millions of questions rushing through her mind—like how experienced the pilot was and how much rest he’d had.

Forcefully, she sent a command to her legs to move, to walk through the entry and down the aisle. And that’s when the second wave of turbulence hit her, because Blake Nelson was sitting in the seat next to hers.

2

“
I
TRIED TO WARN YOU,”
Blake said, doing his best not to smile at the adorably distressed expression on Darla James’s face. He could see why the Colorado country girl gone big city had charmed her audience into a top ratings slot. He was as taken with her as her viewers were, something no woman had done to him in a very long time, he realized.

“Warn me?” she asked, blinking in confusion and shoving a lock of blond hair from her eyes to see him more clearly.

“Right,” he said, unable to keep himself from teasing her. “When you tucked tail and ran into the bathroom.” And it became abundantly clear that she didn’t know he was taking the trip with her.

“I did not tuck…” Understanding slid across her lovely heart-shaped face. “You were going to warn me that we were traveling together?” He gave a slow nod and her pale green eyes glinted with yellow flecks, then narrowed on him suspiciously as she, no doubt, began to put two and two together. “How would you have known we were on the same flight, next to each other, unless…”

The same person made our reservations,
he finished silently for her. Noting the flight attendant approaching her from behind, he suggested, “I think you need to sit down.” He stood up to let her by and reached for her bag. “Do you want me to put that overhead?”

“I’ll keep it and I don’t need to sit. I need you to tell me what is going on.”

“Hello, Ms. James,” the flight attendant said, drawing her attention. “Is there a problem? I need to clear the aisle for boarding. I can help you with your bag if you need help?”

“I… No. No problem.” She turned a perplexed look on Blake, her ivory cheeks now flushed a pretty pink. “I guess I need to sit down.”

His lips twitched and he motioned her forward. “Probably a good idea.”

She scooted into the seat by the window and Blake quickly took his seat, the soft scent of her floral perfume hung in the air—sweet like the woman. He was really ready for sweet, and someone with her own career, her own dreams, instead of the women who chased his success or his money.

She whirled on him, her tartness doing nothing to sour her sweetness. “What’s going on?”

“I work for the same network as
Stepping Up,
” he said, stating the obvious. “I’m filming a special segment on the first audition stop.”

She inhaled and exhaled, her fingers curling around her bag, which she clutched in her lap. “I’d have thought someone would have warned me.”

“Well,” he said. “I did the same thing last year. They probably assumed you knew that since we have competing morning shows. I guess I should warn you that I’ll be back the first week the finalists move into the contestant house to film the reality portion of the show. Then again when the winner is announced and gets the studio contract and the two hundred and fifty thousand dollar prize. And, for the record, I doubt the studio thought you’d react quite so…shall we say
intensely
to my presence, since you’re the one with the new cable contract.”

“I was surprised, not
intense,
” she countered. “Whatever intense is supposed to mean.”

He glanced down at her bag. “You’re holding on to that bag like you either plan to hit me with it or make a run for the door.”

“Hitting you with my bag would bring me a lot of joy after what you did to me a few months ago,” she said. “Unfortunately, it would also bring unwanted attention and trouble, so I’ll settle for simply fantasizing about it. It’ll distract me from the run to the door. And I’ll just tell you right now that I don’t like to fly. You might want to consider changing seats with someone. I’m going to drive you bonkers. Then again, maybe you should stay. This trip will be my revenge for your past sins.”

“Ah,” he said. “You’re a control freak.”

“I’m not a control freak.”

“People who don’t like to fly are control freaks.”

“I’m
not
a control freak. And by the way, before I forget and you think I didn’t catch what you said—you wouldn’t have felt the need to ‘warn me’ if you didn’t think I was going to react intensely to you being here.”

“I thought you said you didn’t react intensely?”

“Your word, not mine.”

“Can I get you two something to drink?” the flight attendant asked, stopping beside them.

“A glass of champagne,” Darla said quickly.

Blake frowned. “It’s ten in the morning.”

“Then make it a mimosa,” she told the attendant, then to Blake, “That has orange juice in it. I wasn’t joking when I said I was a bad flyer and, honestly, I’m not a good drinker, either, but it’s better than a sedative.” She glanced back at the attendant. “In fact, you better bring him one, too. Actually, you might want to have one yourself because you were unlucky enough to have me on this flight.”

Blake laughed along with the attendant and nodded his approval. “Bring me one, thanks.”

The attendant glanced at Darla’s bag. “It needs to go under your seat for takeoff.”

Darla unzipped it and handed Blake a bag of chocolate. “Hold this, please.” Next she handed him a book. “And this.”

He glanced at the romance novel and read the title. “
Dangerous Passion
by Lisa Renee Jones?”

She shoved her bag under her seat and buckled her seat belt. “Paranormal with a hot military hero who is going to save the world and his woman.” She grabbed the candy and the book. “It’s for the book club on my show. You got a problem with romance?”

“Not at all,” he chuckled. “In fact, maybe I need to send a few to my sister. She falls for losers and then wonders why they walk all over her. I’d rather she find a hero in a book than try and turn someone into one that isn’t.”

“Your sister and I should talk,” she murmured. He would have asked about that loaded comment, but she quickly added, “And on that note, not one word we exchange on this flight better end up on your show. If you turn my fear into a joke, I swear to you—”

“I won’t,” he said, capturing her gaze, trying to let her see the truth in his. “I wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Mimosas have arrived,” the attendant said. “But drink up quickly. We’ll be getting underway soon.”

Blake accepted the drinks and handed one to Darla. She reached for the glass, their fingers touched, and damn if he didn’t know that touch. She felt it, too, that connection they’d had on the red carpet. A connection that he’d fully intended to act upon, if not for the disaster on his show the following morning. He’d been hot for this woman then, and time hadn’t changed that. Hot and hard, and remarkably getting harder from nothing more than the idea of touching her, holding her as he had when she’d fallen against him. He was going to hold her again, all right, and this time without an audience. There was something about this woman that made him want to know her and that was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He lifted his glass. “To new beginnings.”

She studied him a moment and clinked her glass to his. “To new beginnings.” And suddenly, the plane’s engines started.

“Oh, God,” Darla exclaimed. All the heat and fire in her stare turned into panic.

“I promise you,” he said, strongly contemplating the likelihood that kissing her right now as a means of distraction would end with him getting punched. “Everything’s fine. If it makes you feel any better, my father’s a retired commercial pilot, so I’ve flown a lot.” He glanced down at her drink, but not before he noticed, and not for the first time, the small, sexy mole just above her lip. Damn, he liked that mole. “This might be a good time to drink that mimosa.”

She downed it. “Can I have another?”

He handed her his. “I thought you said you weren’t a good drinker?”

She downed his drink. “I’m not. I need to eat something.” She tore open the chocolate.

“Chocolate isn’t food.”

“Chocolate absolutely is food.” She laughed. “Oh, boy. I’m already feeling a buzz.” She sank in her seat and cut him a look. “Did I mention that you should probably find another seat?” The stewardess came by and took the empty glasses while another began the standard instructional chatter.

“You did,” he assured her. “And I refused.” The plane started to move and she sat bolt upright to look out of the window.