Meagan laughed, wondering how it was that Sam always had such interesting timing.
“Tabitha!” Carrie screeched abruptly from the other room. “That was so mean.”
Meagan and Sam both raced toward the girls, but it was too late. Rena grabbed a cupcake, and smashed it into Tabitha’s face. A snowball effect ensued, and before Meagan knew what hit her—as in a cupcake or two or three—there was icing flying everywhere.
“Enough!” Meagan shouted, standing in the middle of it all. Another cupcake bounced off her chest.
Sam echoed her order. “Enough!” he yelled. A cupcake bounced off hit him in the forehead.
Meagan burst out laughing. Seeing rough and tough Sam plopped in the head with a strawberry cupcake was just too much on too little sleep.
He cast her a grumpy look in reaction to her amusement. Meagan liberated one of the last cupcakes from a contestant’s hand and scooped some icing. She wasn’t even going to think about the furniture or the floors. She’d be damned if she was wasting a gourmet cupcake, when she hadn’t eaten today.
Once she’d finished her cupcake, and was starting on a second, the frenzy died down, and Meagan’s cell phone, tucked in her pocket, began to ring. With sticky fingers, she pulled out her cell and eyed caller ID.
Meagan’s gut clenched. This wasn’t about cupcakes. It was about ratings, and since the call wasn’t going to Kiki, but to her, her stomach clenched tighter. Maybe she only got the bad news calls, and Kiki got the good? She answered, listening to Sabrina deliver the verdict. And it wasn’t bad news, not bad news at all.
Meagan grabbed Sam’s arm and had him boost her up on top of the coffee table to shout out. “Top show of the night, people! Top show of the night!” At least in preliminary ratings, and that was fine by Meagan. Joy ensued, and Kiki of all people jumped on top of the table and hugged her. Sparkling grape juice sprayed Meagan and Kiki’s already strawberry-flavored skin.
“Midnight swim!” someone hollered. “Midnight swim!” A mad rush for the door followed.
Meagan stood where she was and tried to revel in the moment. But next week’s ratings would be the real test, and next week’s booted contestant might not get a Broadway audition.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” Sam ordered, standing beside the table. “Tonight is about success.”
“What about the contestants?” she asked. “I have to watch out for them.”
He grabbed his phone and made a call, in which he asked someone to see to her gang. “Josh will keep an eye on them,” he told her and held out his hand. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
She glanced down at Sam from on top of the table. at his hot-and-hungry stare, she felt certain he was prepared to clean the icing from her entire body. And boy did she believe she could do the job on him. For days now she’d wanted this man, for days she’d wondered if it was unquenched desire for him or something more. For days now she’d been stressed, worried, confused. She’d felt as if the world were spinning out of control.
For tonight, what was wrong with being on top of the world? Okay, she was on top of a coffee table, but with a cake-covered, gorgeous army guy about to carry her away to a private place, she believed she could do anything. She had a hot show and a hot man. If that was a curse, bring it on.
She slid her hand into his.
* * *
SAM HAD PLANS FOR Meagan, a celebration of her success, that led them down the beach, off the grid of the cameras, to a secluded area where he’d pitched a tent and set up a lantern inside.
Meagan laughed the minute she saw the tent.
“I thought I’d show you how a soldier roughs it on the beach.” He motioned her inside, and she disappeared through the open zipper. “And you and I get privacy we wouldn’t get at either of the houses.”
“Champagne?” she asked, as he joined her on the inflatable mattress.
“Unless you prefer the sparking grape juice you’re wearing as perfume? Derek was right when he said those kids are crazy.”
She laughed. “They’re excited.”
“As they should be,” he said, and popped the top on the bottle and filled her glass. “Congrats on your ratings.” His mouth brushed hers. “You taste like strawberries. I think I just decided I love strawberries.” And yes, he’d said love. He was falling in love with Meagan. He’d never been in love, thought it wasn’t in his cards. And he was probably a fool to choose a woman sure to kick his ass a hundred times over, but then, Sam never ran from a challenge. And Meagan was more his kind of challenge than any he’d known in a very long time.
She inhaled on his words, as if she’d understood the discreet message. Softly, she breathed out his name. “Sam.” Her fingers curled on his cheek, and for long seconds stayed there. The air was thick around them, electric and hot, until she pressed her lips to his. “You... taste like strawberries, too.”
“I taste like you,” he told her, leaning back so she could see his expression. Then he slipped a glass into her hand. “Drink up. You deserve to celebrate.”
She crinkled her nose and downed the drink. “Always the bossy one, aren’t you?”
“Hmm,” he said, emptying his glass and scooting to her side. “You seem to like me being bossy, like I do you, at least sometimes.”
“Only because it hasn’t gone to your head,” she said, letting him ease her to the mattress. “The minute it does—”
“You’ll put me in my place,” he said, framing her face with his hands. “I know. Believe me, I know. I like that about you, too. But do you know why you keep letting me take control?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me,” she commented dryly, but not without a rasp of desire in her voice.
“Aside from trusting me,” he began.
“When did this become about trust?”
“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” he asked, sliding her shirt up to her stomach and kissing the delicate skin he’d revealed.
“I didn’t say that.”
He caressed her narrow waist, her hips. “So you do trust me?”
Her expression softened. “I do,” she whispered. “I trust you, Sam. Very much.”
The confession took him off guard, warmed him. “I’m glad,” he said, resting his hand on her belly. “Not so long ago, I wasn’t so sure you ever would.”