Strictly Seduction: Watch Me. Lisa Renee Jones
backseat driving.”
“So, you’ll backseat drive.”
“Exactly.”
Sam laughed and barely resisted the unnerving urge to grab her hand and pull her along with him—telling himself that he only needed to touch her once, that this thing was sex and sex only. He motioned her forward. “If we walk around to the side of the hotel, we can go straight to the garage and avoid another crew ambush.”
“Don’t you need to get the property listings from your room?”
“I put the address for this one in my GPS earlier. It’s about a forty-minute drive, so we better hit the road. It’s almost seven now.”
Meagan groaned and they fell into step together. “I have a six o’clock shoot in the morning, and I am going to be hating life when it starts.”
“Then it’s good I’m driving,” he said. “You can nap on the way to the property and back, if you want.”
She stopped.
“What?” he asked again.
“Stop being nice to me. I liked you better when you were intentionally trying to agitate me.”
She meant she felt safer, but he didn’t say it, not when she could back out of their private outing before they ever left. “I simply assumed you required more rest than I do.”
Her hands went to her hips. “Why would I need more rest than you? Because …” She paused, eyes lighting with understanding. “Wow. You just proved that you can bait me at will, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “But you can do the same to me. Don’t even think about saying you don’t know it because we both know you do. We both know how to punch each other’s buttons.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I guess we do.”
Damn, he wanted this woman. She didn’t even try and play coy with him. He liked that. He liked it a hell of a lot. “Let’s get out of here before we’re cornered. Or worse, before Tabitha returns.”
“True,” she said, her face lit with a warm smile.
At his vehicle, he held the passenger door of his Ford F150 open for her, and she gave him an awkward look. “You don’t have to do that for me. I can get it.”
He pressed his hand to the side of the truck, the distinctly feminine scent of her reaching him. “I’m a soldier at heart. Opening a door for a lady is as natural to me as busting my chops is apparently for you.”
A rich, laugh left her lips. “I don’t imagine many people ‘bust your chops’ easily, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“They don’t and I’ll take your acknowledgement of that fact as a compliment.”
A subtle but obvious tension lit between them. “Actually, it is a compliment.” She paused. “Sam. I, well, I’ve given you such a hard time that I think I should tell you how much I really appreciate how you handled the problems on set tonight. Rather than doing what I would have expected—charging in and taking over—you respected my role.”
“And unless there’s an imminent threat to someone’s safety, I always will. My hope would be that if an unfortunate situation like that arises, you’ll respect my role, as well.”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“That means no running into buildings that could go up in flames any second. You wait for me.”
She pursed her lips. “Unless someone is in imminent danger and I can help.”
He lowered his voice. “Meagan—”
She held up her hands. “Yes. Okay. I’ll wait. Probably. I’ll try. And I admit running into the house wasn’t one of my more brilliant moves, but I was afraid the show would go up in flames with the house. Like everyone’s dreams. Everyone who’d hoped this show would change their life would have lost their dream, too. I just couldn’t let that happen.”
Tension curled inside Sam. Somehow, every moment he’d ever shared with Meagan, every thought he’d had, every assumption he’d made, merged into this one instant. And there lay the danger of moving forward with his intention to finally sate his hunger for her tonight.
The morning-after might not deliver the complication-free, tension-easing relief they’d both hoped for, because he simply wasn’t certain that one night would be enough. And he knew combining romance with work never ended well.
Several voices sounded nearby, interrupting their moment. “Come on. We have to go before it gets any later.”
She jumped into the truck, and closed the door behind her. As he rushed to the driver’s side, he tried to talk himself back off the ledge, tried to convince himself not to touch Meagan, to reel himself in before it was too late. Too late? Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t find the “off” switch if his life depended on it.
MEAGAN LISTENED to the engine roar to life with a fleeting realization that she didn’t have her phone or her purse. She’d taken off for their dinner, expecting to stay in the hotel, with nothing in hand. Normally, she’d insist on going back for both.
Instead, she found herself fixated on Sam’s powerful forearms, as he maneuvered the truck out of the parking spot. Everything about Sam was strong and powerful. His hands, his face, and his eyes, when they caught her in one of those penetrating stares.
She wanted him with as much passion as she knew he was wrong for her, which was to the point of complete and utter distraction. Worse—to the point that he was now controlling her with anticipation and fantasy.
Still, it was clear to her that avoiding him wasn’t the answer, for all kinds of reasons. Sleeping with him—well, he’d offered her one night, to get “it” out of their systems. She just had to be certain there were no strings. Then, maybe he was right.
Sam sparked something inside her, consumed her without even trying. His voice, his eyes, his powerful presence, all resonated with her.
Honestly, her attraction for Sam wasn’t going away, nor was he. But would making love with him extinguish the flames between them or cause them to burn brighter? Meagan admitted this had been her concern all along.
So why was she still considering it?
7
MEAGAN STARED AHEAD as the truck exited the garage, resisting the magnetic pull of Sam next to her, of the desire to turn to him, to study him—to slide up next to him and finally, finally, just be with him. The moon dangled low in the sky, like a lamp on an invisible chain, like her unyielding need for this man.
“Rest if you want,” he said. “I’ll wake you up when we get close.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and sank down low in the seat and closed her eyes. She needed to think, she needed to…she didn’t know. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what she needed to do. Her mind raced to the point that she wanted to sit up, wanted to do something, anything. Instead, she pretended to sleep, sensing the shift in shadows as they maneuvered the streets of L.A., her mind playing with images. Sam looking hot. Sam looking hot while he stood in the basement dripping wet.
She forced herself to remember why she needed to concentrate. Sam might misread her, might think he had more claim to power on the set, if they slept together. They’d argue. Everyone would be affected. But then she thought of Sam’s eyes when he’d walked right into the chaos earlier, when his eyes had met hers, when he’d silently asked if he could intervene.
They must have been a good thirty minutes into the ride when Sam said, “I can hear you thinking, Meagan.”
She didn’t pretend she wasn’t awake; in fact, not pretending was a relief. She turned to face Sam. “Did you hear anything that made any sense to you,