LITMIR.BIZ

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should go to the hospital, with one of Sam’s men escorting her to avoid the tabloid photographers.

      His man, Josh, had just learned he would be that lucky man. “Josh’s an ex-SEAL,” he explained to Meagan. “If he can’t handle Tabitha, nobody can.”

      Meagan snorted. “Neither of you know Tabitha or you might reconsider that statement. I can’t possibly let you take on this job by yourself. Believe me, you’ll want backup.” Before Sam could object, Meagan flagged Kiki over, and Sam didn’t miss the flash of interest across Josh’s face.

      Sam leaned close to Josh. “I hear she killed her last lover.”

      Josh, who had a way with the women, said, “I can think of worse ways to die.”

      Kiki joined them, looking irritated at having been summoned. “I need you to please go with Tabitha to the hospital,” Meagan said and pointed at Josh. “This is Josh Strong, one of Sam’s men. He’ll go along with you for security reasons.”

      Kiki looked disgusted. “Why is this my job?”

      Sam arched a brow at Kiki’s blatant disrespect toward Meagan. It heightened his worries about Kiki, but Meagan responded with remarkable composure. “Because I need to review property options for the show with Sam, and I can’t risk any exposure, tabloid or otherwise, that might hurt us. In other words, I need you, my next-in-charge, who has pull and power. Josh here will offer muscle if you run into trouble. You deal with Tabitha and her injury.”

      “Shouldn’t I be included in the property search?” Kiki asked, sounding a bit like a spoiled brat afraid of getting one less cookie from the jar, and not at all concerned about Tabitha.

      “When I know where we stand, you will be,” Meagan assured her. “But right now, I need you to attend to Tabitha. Go, please.”

      Kiki frowned and eyed Josh, motioning to her left. “This way.”

      “Nothing like having a studio exec’s niece forced on you,” Sam said, imagining that Kiki resented having to work under Meagan.

      Meagan turned to him. “How’d you know that?”

      “I make it a point to know things,” he said. “And I’d watch my back with her. If a curse exists, it’s probably down to her. The last three shows she’s been on failed.”

      “Yeah, I know,” Meagan said. “I’ve heard all kinds of rumors about her that I’ve tried to tune out. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt because I know how gossip grows. And really, it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s a mandatory part of this show, per my contract with the studio.”

      Sam wasn’t going to tell Meagan everything he knew about Kiki, but he did want to alert her to keep up her guard. “I understand your position, but there is some truth to what you’ve probably heard. For instance, she did sleep with that producer who ended up fired.”

      She laughed. “Well, I won’t be an easy target in that department, at least. She can’t get me into bed to manipulate me. You might want to warn your man, Josh, though.”

      “I plan to.”

      She nodded. “Good, because I’d hate to see him hurt when he’s just trying to keep us all safe. All I can say is thank God my director is an angel, so I have someone I can truly trust. She was picked for me, too, and she’s marvelous.”

      Meagan could trust him, as well, but he knew she wasn’t ready to embrace that concept. Not now. But he intended to change that.

      Fifteen minutes later, the contestants had returned to their rooms, and he’d ordered three more security personnel to keep them that way. The crew, who’d been put up in the hotel for ease of filming, headed to the lobby bar to “analyze” the day’s events over drinks and food.

      Derek lingered with Sam and Meagan. “What about you two? Surely you both need a good, stiff drink or two, after that disaster. And here I thought football players were rowdy. Those kids are crazy.”

      “You can’t say I didn’t warn you before you took the job,” Meagan reminded him.

      Derek scrubbed his jaw. “Yeah, yeah. I thought you were exaggerating.” He gave her a pointed look. “You weren’t.”

      “Nope,” she said. “I wasn’t. So have a drink for me as well because I need one but don’t dare indulge. I have work left to do.”

      Derek eyed Sam and Sam held up a hand. “I never drink on duty, and the next few weeks are all duty for me.” Sam liked Derek. Derek had spent his NFL days racking up awards—not scandal—which was exactly why he didn’t think Derek would survive beyond season one.

      Derek smiled warmly. “All right, then. I’ll make an exception to my one drink rule, and have a few for the two of you.” He waved goodbye, and trailed after the crew.

      Sam’s gaze shifted to Meagan to find her frowning. “I so wish this night was over,” she pleaded.

      “Not yet.” He watched her frown, noting the dark smudges under her eyes, half moons on pale perfect skin. “You look exhausted, Meagan.”

      “Gee thanks, Sam. Just what a girl wants to hear.”

      “You still look gorgeous,” he said, meaning it. “Just tired.”

      “Compliments delivered after an insult are meaningless and even less effective when followed by ‘just tired.’“

      “Saying you look tired isn’t an insult. It’s a concerned observation. I should feed you and review these prospective house locations for you so you can get some rest. My crew will keep an eye on things.”

      She opened her mouth, clearly intending to argue and then seemed to change her mind. “You and your crew haven’t had any rest, either. Last night was hell for us all.” She settled her hands to her slim hips and sighed. “I guess we should at least try to eat before someone’s screaming about the curse again.”

      For a split second, he’d seen a softer side of Meagan. The one he knew she hid behind. He wanted to know more about that part of her.

      They stepped into the elevator, neither spoke. Each of them leaned against a wall so that they faced one another. There was no mistaking the way an awareness filled the space. It may be only dinner, but he wasn’t leaving that “trouble” he was worried about behind—Meagan was trouble. And standing in this car, with the soft female scent of her tickling his nostrils, her green eyes flickering, he wasn’t sure it was trouble he could walk away from.

       5

      AVOIDING THE HOTEL’S packed restaurant had seemed a smart move at the time, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. While sitting in a dark, secluded corner of the hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant next door, Meagan had never been so aware of Sam, never so certain she was captive to her desire for this damnable, impossible-to-ignore man.

      His gaze met hers over the menu.

      “I haven’t had good Chinese in forever.” He spoke softly, but everything in his voice, said, I haven’t had you and I want you, instead. Or maybe she was imagining the hidden meaning, maybe some part of her wanted that to be the case. Because as much as she wanted to hate Sam, wanted to believe there was nothing beyond his arrogance, but trouble, there was more there, more to him, more to what she felt for him. It had occurred to her during Tabitha’s crisis. He’d not only respected her on the set tonight, but also willingly, efficiently, helped her deal with that mini-disaster.

      Suddenly, she noticed she was staring at him—studying the solid square strength of his jaw, the high cheekbones, the full lips—and not discreetly. His face was as chiseled and perfect as his body.

      She cut her gaze to the menu, ignoring his keen stare. “I order from a place near my apartment at least once a week,” she said, cursing herself for revealing even one small personal detail. There was just something

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