Читать книгу Strictly Seduction: Watch Me - Lisa Renee Jones - Страница 17

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.”

“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.”