Note to self: Not all surprises are good surprises!
“I thought you were supposed to have practice tonight,” Corie says as she gathers up her workout bag.
“I thought so too. I don’t know what happened. We had our individual practice earlier today and Beau never mentioned anything about a cancellation. In fact, he told me he’d see me tonight. Maybe he’s sick?” I say as I walk with Corie towards the door. We’re supposed to have our last group practice for our team performance tonight for this week’s performance. We’re supposed to practice at the studio one more time before we do the run through on the stage Wednesday morning.
“Maybe. I don’t know, but I do know this: you now have the night off. So come with me!”
“And where would you be going? Last time I trusted you and went along with your shenanigans, my ass hurt for a week,” I remind my pint-sized friend.
“That’s because you’re out of shape. All the more reason for you to join me in tonight’s class,” Corie says as we leave her hotel room and head down to mine.
“What kind of class is it?” I ask as I insert the plastic keycard.
“One that every woman should do at least once.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” I mumble as I step inside and grab my workout clothes.
“No t-shirt. You need to wear tight stuff. Just grab your sports bra and a pair of stretchy shorts. Oh, grab those tiny purple ones,” she says with a saucy grin.
I don’t like the feel of this. Not one bit.
“Corie -” I start before she cuts me off.
“Don’t question. Just grab the clothes, change, and let’s go! Class starts in thirty minutes,” she says with twinkling eyes.
I gather my belongings and step inside my bathroom. Something tells me I’m going to regret the day I met Corie Brooks.
We decide to walk to the studio since it’ll be a great warm-up, or so Corie says. Me? I just want to stretch out on the bed and take a nap. There are so many more things I’d rather be doing other than working out on my night off. Namely sleeping. I haven’t slept well since my phone conversation with Tiffany last week. I analyze everything from the length of time Beau glances at me to the way he brushes my fingers casually when he’s pointing to the music sheets we’re discussing.
Corie tells me all about the drama surrounding her team. Apparently the older woman and younger man contestants have been flaunting their tryst on and off the camera. After a few blocks of discussing who’s sleeping with who, she tries to pick my brain about Beau, but I’ve become a pro at the art of deflection. Even Corie isn’t going to get more out of me right now. Besides, I can’t exactly talk openly about what–if anything–is happening with Beau when you’re being trailed by a camera crew everywhere you go. Plus, there’s the fact that I, myself, don’t even really understand what is happening with the man. I do know this: there is chemistry and enough sexual tension to slice it with a dull knife. But that’s the end of it. Beau has never made an advance or a proposition for anything more than subtle flirting. It’s almost like I’m imagining the whole thing. But then I’ll catch him watching me from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, and the fire is evident in his eyes. I know there’s more there. I feel it.
We walk into the front of the studio and head back towards the gym. I follow along as Corie leads me down a long hallway towards the back room. The sign outside of the door catches my eye instantly sending little shivers of dread, and maybe a little bit of excitement, coursing through my body.
Introduction to Pole Dancing.
I stop dead in my tracks as Corie opens the big wooden door. “Please tell me you’re kidding, Corie,” I mumble, searching her eyes as I wait for the moment she yells ‘Gotcha!’
“Why would I joke about something like this? I’ve heard these are the best workouts out there! They’re supposed to do amazing things to your Abdominals and Gluteus Maximus,” she says with a little bit of a smirk.
“My abs and glutes are just fine,” I tell her.
“Fine. They’re great, but this is going to be fun! You never know when the things you learn here will come in handy. Come on,” she says as she pulls me into the classroom.
Inside, a dozen poles are bolted from the ceiling to the floor, strategically placed around the room so that each girl has enough room to maneuver. I drudge along behind my little spitfire friend until we find an empty spot along the back wall for our bags. Now I see why she told me not to wear loose clothing.
“Come on, let’s grab a spot,” she says as she pulls me towards two open poles in the back of the room. They might be right by the entrance, but at least they’re as far away from those floor-to-ceiling mirrors that line the walls around the room.
“Good evening, good evening,” an older petite woman says as she steps out from a hidden door at the front of the room. “I am Eleanor and I will be your instructor for Introduction to Pole Dancing,” she adds dramatically as she does a little curtsy.
“We’re going to get a great workout tonight. Let’s begin with a little stretching, shall we?” she asks before pressing a button on the sound system on the floor by her pole. Instantly, Bruno Mars “Uptown Funk” is piped through the ceiling. It’s a catchy tune that I’ve heard several times and instantaneously pulls you into the beat and soul of the music.
“Grab your bar with your right hand and reach down to your foot, stretching and extending for a count of five, four, three, two, and one. And now switch. Stretch and reach. Feel the pull as you reach and hold it. Five, four, three, two, and one.”
After Eleanor takes us through a series of stretches and warm ups, all involving our metal pole, she begins to teach us the basics of the routine we are apparently learning this evening.
“Ok, ladies, we’re going to start with three basic maneuvers for pole dancing. The first is the Fireman. You’re going to stand on the tips of your toes like so and use your dominant arm to grip the pole as high as possible without feeling uncomfortable.”
The eleven other ladies all follow the instructions, watching Eleanor as she extends gracefully up on the balls of her feet and grabs the pole.
“Grip the pole tightly in what is called a baseball hold, similar to how you would grip a baseball bat. Keeping your shoulders back, you’re going to take three steps around your pole, like so,” she says as she demonstrates the move. “Give yourself a little push off of your outside leg and use that momentum to swing around the pole and spin. Make sure you keep your inside arm in a firm position so that you don’t kiss the pole,” she adds with a smile.
It takes me several attempts to feel comfortable enough to actually try this move on the pole, but once I let go and actually do it, I find it easier than I thought. Fun, actually. Freeing.
“Excellent, ladies, excellent. Our next move we’re going to learn is the Pinwheel. This maneuver has the same technique as the Fireman, but instead of both legs wrapping around the pole like this,” she says as she demonstrates a perfect Fireman twirl, “you’re going to extend a leg out, low and back, like this,” she continues as she shows us the move.
It doesn’t take us long to catch on to the slight variation of the move we’ve already learned, so Eleanor moves us along to our third maneuver, the V Spin.
“This one is going to showcase your strength, ladies. You are going to extend your dominant hand up to the top, but instead of your other hand being chest level, you’re going to extend it downward like this,” she says, showing us the arm positioning.
“Keep your pelvis forward and your grip wide as your extend your legs,” she says, showing us a damn good V Spin. My arms are already throbbing and just the thought of having to use them in this twirl scares me a little.
“Very slowly slide down the pole as you twirl, keeping your arms extended and your legs straight.”
After we practice our three basic moves, Eleanor teaches us some seductive dancing moves. I should probably die of embarrassment at this point, but to be honest, it’s actually kind of fun. I’m probably going to be feeling it tomorrow in my arms and legs, but to be able to let loose and dance somewhat provocatively is freeing. It makes me feel like a woman. Sexy. Alluring.
“Excellent work. We’re going to take a quick water break and then start to piece it all together into the small routine,” Eleanor says as we all venture over to our water bottles.
“Well?” Corie asks as she takes a big pull from her pink bottle.
“It’s actually kinda fun,” I confess before taking another drink of my own water.
“You have moves, girl,” she says with a big smile and a wink.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s fun to try.” I take the hand towel and wipe off as much sweat as I can from my face and arms. This is definitely a workout.
“Okay, let’s get back to our poles. The last half of class is going to be putting the routine together and executing. I’m going to teach you the dance piece by piece. If you have any questions at any point, just holler,” Eleanor instructs as we all take our places at our poles.
After another thirty minutes of learning the routine, we’re finally running through it with music. “Lady Marmalade” by Christina Aguilera, P!nk, Lil’ Kim, and Mya pipes through the speakers, loud and proud. It’s the perfect song for seduction. It’s tantalizing and provocative, and makes me want to put a little extra shake in my hips.
“We’ve only got five minutes left, ladies. Let’s take it from the top one last time. Give it your all. Put your hips and your ass into the dance. Feel the music and let it move you,” Eleanor tutors from the front of the room.
We all take our places around the outside of the room as the music starts one final time. The walk towards the pole is key to setting the tempo and the mood for the dance. I crisscross my legs over each other as I walk, putting as much hip action into the act until I reach my pole. I touch it, caressing it, as I take my position for our first spin. I close my eyes and let the music wash over me, absently singing along. I move my hips, running my hand seductively down my side, and roll my neck backwards as I dance the moves I now know by heart. Another twirl and hip thrust later and I’m almost to my favorite part of the routine. The V Spin.
I gather myself and get ready for the spin. I open my eyes, placing my hands in the proper position on the pole when my eyes collide with a set of dark ones full of smoldering embers…and anger. I stumble momentarily at the realization that Beau is standing in the open doorway right behind me. He’s watching me through the mirror, shock written all over his gorgeous features.
I keep my eyes locked on his through the mirror as I start the V Spin. I take my eyes off of him just long enough to spin completely around the pole, dropping down to a squatting position before I roll my body back up from my knees all the way up to my chest, rolling against the cold hard metal. When I hit the final pose, I’m panting from exertion and probably a little from the sparks of desire my own body is suddenly producing.
“Oh my God, that’s Beau,” Corie gasps next to me.
No shit. And he looks pissed.
“I didn’t realize we had a guest,” Eleanor says from the front of the room, drawing the attention from everyone in the room. Loud giggles and gasps of shock bounce off the mirror-covered walls as Beau Tanner’s dark eyes remain locked on mine.
“Ladies, y’all did great. I was hopin’ I could speak to Layne for a moment. In private,” he says through gritted teeth, the intensity in his eyes never wavering from mine.
“Oh, Beau Tanner. You can borrow her for as long as you’d like,” Eleanor purrs like a cat as she fans her suddenly flush face.
“Layne,” Beau says as more of a statement than a question.
My legs are Jell-O as I follow him through the doorway and into the narrow hall; though I’m not one hundred percent sure my shaky legs are from the workout. He walks with purpose straight across the hall and opens a closet marked “Janitor.” Without even looking at me, he holds the door open and waits.
Once inside, Beau doesn’t flip on the light as the heavy door shuts with finality, encompassing us in nothing. It takes my eyes several seconds to adjust to the darkness. The only light is what little bit is filtering through the cracks in the mini blinds on the windows. The only sound is the deep pants coming from Beau. Or coming from me. Take your pick.
Before I can even question what I’m doing in the janitor’s closet, I hear the heavy steps of Beau’s cowboy boots as he takes three large steps towards me. He spins me around and slams his mouth down onto mine so fast and with so much dominance that all thought evaporates from my mind. Poof. Gone into thin air.
Beau sweeps his tongue along the seam of my lips causing my mouth to open instantaneously as I moan my approval. The feel of his hot, wet tongue against mine sends shockwaves of lust spiraling out of control throughout my body. He wraps his strong, muscular arms around my sweaty body, plastering me against unforgiving muscles and hot flesh. I can feel his body heat burning me through his tight black t-shirt, but I don’t mind. Hell no, I don’t mind at all. Beau nips at my lips, sucking my lower lip ever so gently into his mouth. I practically melt into a pile of hormonal mush right then and there.
“God, you drive me crazy,” Beau mumbles through gritted teeth. “Watchin’ you work that pole may have been the sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever witnessed. I will forever picture your body wrapped around that damn piece of metal. The way your hips swayed in rhythm to the music. The way your body moved. It reminded me of sex, Layne. Pure, unadulterated, rough sex that I want to have with you so fuckin’ bad my entire body is throbbin’.” And to prove his point, Beau presses his rock hard groin against the slickness of my spandex shorts. The friction alone practically causes me to orgasm.
“Where were ya tonight?” he whispers harshly as he pulls away from me, causing me to stumble from the sudden vacancy. Tension fills the space where his body once was.
“What?” I ask, trying to shake lose any ounce of dignity and common sense I can muster.
“Tonight. Ya skipped rehearsal to pole dance? Do you even understand what you’ve done and what message you’ve sent to the network by skippin’ our final rehearsal before Wednesday mornin’s run-through? I can’t believe -” he says as I cut him off.
“Wait. What? I didn’t skip rehearsal, you cancelled.”
“I did not. Why would you even think that?” he asks as those gray eyes blaze a trail straight to my soul. Even through the darkness, I can see those hungry eyes.
“I got a note,” I whisper. “There was a note left for me at the front counter. It said you were cancelling team practice tonight.”
“Darlin’, I didn’t send any note. Everyone else was there. Everyone but you.”
“But…that doesn’t make any sense,” I whisper, dumbfounded. Why did I get that note?
“Shawna stopped by the rehearsal on her way out and mentioned that she saw you goin’ into that dance studio.”
Of course. Shawna.
Well played, Conniving Bitch Barbie. Well played.
“Shawna,” I mumble, dropping my head and giving it a little shake. I can’t control the bubble of laughter that erupts from my mouth. Lord knows this situation isn’t funny. Not once tiny bit. “I can’t believe she did this. No wait. I can believe it.”
“You’re sayin’ Shawna did this?” Beau asks, his anger subsiding dramatically as he takes two steps forward and right back into my personal space.
“Who else? You said it yourself that I was the only one who wasn’t at practice. Then she ‘conveniently’ stopped by and ratted me out on where I was? She totally set me up,” I defend, making air quotes when I say conveniently to better accentuate my point.
“You didn’t intentionally skip practice to prepare yourself for your new career as a pole dancer?” he asks, wrapping those large, defined arms around me once more.
“Is that what she said?” I laugh.
“She said you couldn’t handle the pressure of performin’. She said she heard you were quittin’.”
“I’m not quitting, not even a little. I will fight until I’m voted off, Beau. I want to be here,” I tell him a little breathlessly since his arms are wrapped around me again.
“What about here?” he asks as he pulls me taut against his body. “Do ya want to be right here?”
“Yes,” I whisper, knowing that it’s probably the wrong answer. I try to latch onto the tiny voice in my head screaming that this is a mistake. I grab onto that little sliver speaking on behalf of my conscious with so much force, that I practically stumble backwards. Fortunately, if I’m thinking with my heart, Beau is still holding onto me and keeps me from faltering. Or unfortunately if I let my head do the talking. “We can’t do this,” I finally get out between my desert-dry lips.
“I know,” Beau answers as his lips hover momentarily above mine. “But I don’t know how much longer I can fight this.”
His confession is like a punch to the esophagus. Swallowing becomes harder and breathing non-existent. The air between us sizzles and crackles as he moves a fraction of an inch forward and places his warm, wet lips against mine. I respond instantly…again. But this time, the kiss doesn’t deepen. It doesn’t last longer than a few seconds, yet it’s long enough to scramble any remaining brain cells.
Beau is panting and his eyes remain closed as he leans forward, placing his forehead against mine. “I’m goin’ to do everything in my power to not do that again, but I need ya to understand somethin’. I need ya to know that, while I’m not physically kissin’ ya, I’m imaginin’ that I am. While I’m not touching your soft skin, my fingers are twitching to caress you. And while my arms aren’t wrapped around ya, my body aches to have you against me. Being in your presence isn’t near enough. I need to touch you, and now that I’ve had a little taste, this is goin’ to be the greatest struggle of my life.”
God, those words. Like words to a song, they’re deep and meaningful and have me so completely spellbound with him that I don’t know which way is up. And I’m starting to think that’s okay.
“Practice tomorrow mornin’ at nine. We’ll run through your parts of the group song first and then do your individual practice afterwards. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Beau finally opens those dark, soulful eyes, stealing my breath once more.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good. I’ll be lookin’ forward to it,” he says as he places one more kiss on my swollen lips. “And I’ll be thinkin’ of you tonight.” His confession is like a lightning strike straight to my tingling lady parts.
I can’t even respond. The words I try to say come out a mumbled grunt. I feel cool air against my body as Beau steps away, putting great distance between us. We both take several minutes to get our breathing under control before Beau grabs the doorknob.
“Ready?” he asks and I can feel his eyes on me even through the darkness.
“Yes.”
Suddenly we’re bathed in florescent lighting from the hallway. I blink rapidly as my eyes adjust to the sudden onslaught of brightness, and as soon as my eyes adjust, I’m staring straight into the lens of a large black camera.
Beau stands between me and the device recording my every move as Corie approaches from my left. “Oh my God, girl!” she whispers harshly into my ear. “I thought you were supposed to wait until after that final show before you maul the man in the closet.” Her eyes twinkle and her smile is mischievous.
“It’s not like that,” I defend even though my face colors the same shade as a fuchsia crayon. It’s a good thing a liar’s pants don’t actually catch on fire.
“It’s never like that,” she replies with a wink before throwing my workout bag into my chest and dragging me down the hallway, leaving Beau and the nosey camera in our wake. I don’t turn around, fearful of what the camera would see on my face. Fearful of what I’ll see on Beau’s face.
We head straight towards a waiting van, ready to take the last few contestants back to the hotel. The hotel. Where I’m expected to not let the images of Beau and the memories of that kiss consume my thoughts. Where I’m not supposed to lie in bed and imagine that I’m not alone. Where I’m supposed to find sleep and rest for tomorrow’s practice.
I have a feeling sleep won’t be my friend at all tonight.
Note to self: Grab some sleeping pills. Maybe some Jack Daniels. Yeah, go with the Jack.
*****
“Layne and Chelsea are going to be right here,” Mallory says at the base of the riser. Mallory is the resident choreographer who dictates our placement during the routines. Usually when we work with her on our individual performances, it’s not nearly as time consuming and detailed. But, this is a group performance and there’s a lot to take in.
“Ben, you’re going to be over here,” she says as she leads Ben to the opposite side of the stage. “And finally, Maxwell, over here,” she says situating him to center stage.
Beau is sitting at the top of back risers, a hard metal staircase leading up from the stage. Halfway through the song, Chelsea and I will split up and work the crowd as we try to get them into the song–as if someone needs help getting into “Love Shack.” However, while Chelsea goes out and into the audience, I will go up the stairs and towards our team leader.
He’s perched up at the top of the center stage riser, casually sitting behind a drum set wearing his trademark tight jeans and a black t-shirt. His legs are extended and his arms are crossed over his chest. Each hand holds a drumstick and he looks as carefree as humanly possible. Until you get to his eyes. His eyes are always intense. Constantly.
In addition to our team performance, tonight is our first performance where the fan votes determine our future. For my individual number, Beau picked a song I haven’t heard in years. Years. When he said Nancy Sinatra, I just prayed that I could do his song choice justice because it’s a classic. The video is iconic. And tonight, I’ll be wearing a tasteful black leather bustier with red satin ribbons laced up the front, matching black leather shorty-shorts and boots. Thigh high black leather boots with red satin laced up the fronts. My hair will be teased high in a true Nancy do, and my makeup dark and dramatic.
“Let’s run through it again,” Mallory says as we get back in our starting places as instructed.
Our outfits for tonight are something straight out of the seventies, which works well for me with my big, teased Nancy hair. My dress is white with big pink and blue flowers. How they found matching heels, I’ll never know. And I probably don’t want to know. Chelsea’s dress is a pink number with silver and gold sequins in a psychedelic pattern. The guys sport some crazy, brightly colored shirts with tall collars and black dress pants.
We all spend the rest of the day doing run-throughs with Mallory, vocal run-throughs with network vocal assistants, and hair and makeup. On live show days, you don’t have time to pee, let alone think. These are the days that give me a sense of purpose. They remind me of why I’m here. They leave no room for wallowing in self-pity.
At 6:45, Gabby gathers us all up from the back green room, which couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve caught stares and glares from some of the other contestants tonight, especially Shawna. An uneasy feeling settles in, as I get ready to go on stage.
“Hey, is it just me or is everyone staring at me?” I whisper to Corie before she goes to stand with her teammates.
“Um, well…” she starts but stops.
“What, Corie?”
“So rumor has it that you’re sleeping with Beau, and that’s why you were chosen over Shawna and Troy,” she says quietly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble, taking several calming breaths in and out. “Why would they think that?”
“Well, everyone seems to be listening to whatever garbage Shawna is spewing. Throw in that video that went live last night with you and Beau coming out of that janitor’s closet, and she has just enough leverage to make it look like her lies are true.”
“I don’t believe this,” I mumble.
“Listen, honey. I know that you’re not sleeping with him and that you have what it takes to win this whole thing. Use that and show these skinny, catty bitches who’s the boss!”
I can’t help but laugh as I throw my arms around my friend. She hugs me back fiercely which is just what I need since I can’t hug my loved ones right now.
“Five minutes,” Gabby yells from the front of the backstage area.
“Tonight, you’re going to sing for votes so it doesn’t matter what everyone says. It’s not Beau’s choice whether you stay or go tonight. Got it?” I nod at my friend and get into position for the start of the live show.
“Welcome to Rising Star,” Becker says as he flashes that bright white smile to the camera. “Tonight, each of these sixteen contestants will perform for your votes. If you want a contestant to stay, then you need to vote because every vote counts.” I smile as the camera pans across the stage giving each contestant camera time.
“Let’s bring out the coaches, shall we?” When Beau, Felix, Sophia, and JoJo step onto the stage, Becker throws us the biggest shock of the evening. “Tonight, each contestant will perform. Tomorrow night, someone will go home. And not just one person. Tomorrow night, live, the contestant with the lowest votes from each team will go home! That’s right. Tomorrow night, we will go from sixteen contestants to twelve. Are you ready?”
And just like that, the competition is officially on.
When it’s finally time for me to perform, I give myself one last look in the tall mirror behind the stage. My hair is big and poofy and my lips are blood red. The bustier classily pushes a little cleavage heavenward, and I’m thankful for the extra time I’ve put in at the gym recently with Corie because these shorts leave nothing to the imagination. But my favorite part is these boots. I’ve been trying to figure out how to smuggle them out of here when I’m done.
Note to self: Bring large tote bag tomorrow to the reveal.
Because if I’m going home, I’d prefer to be going home with fabulous boots.
I walk out onto the stage, positioning myself in the spot Mallory indicated for me, and I wait for the audience cheers to die down before I hear the familiar start of the song.
“You keep saying, you’ve got something for me. Something you call love but confess.”
I look out at the audience as I make my way to the front of the stage where the coaches are sitting and watching. They all wear big smiles as I sing the classic tune, but it’s Beau’s eyes that all but steal my breath. I have to look away quickly to keep myself from fumbling the song. Knowing that he’s watching is equally intoxicating and nerve-wracking. It makes me put a little more swing in my hips, a little more sass in my walk. I channel my inner pole dancer as I use some of the hip moves to my advantage. I put everything I have into this routine, giving it every ounce of energy and feistiness I possess. I’m a woman scorn, but hell bent on proving that I don’t need a man. Just like the song.
When I finish, the audience is on their feet and cheering for me. The smile on my red lips is genuine as I take in the accolades before making my way over to where Becker is standing. I have yet to look over at Beau or the rest of the coaches for fear that I’ll lose my bearings and do something incredibly stupid like trip.
“Layne Carter,” Becker says to the crowd. “Layne, how are you feeling tonight?”
“Great, Becker. How can you not after a song like that?” I ask with a sassy smile.
“Your coach, Beau Tanner, seems to have a way of bringing your natural attitude and charisma out with each performance.”
“He picks great songs for me that fit my personality,” I say.
“That he does, Layne. Let’s hear from some of the coaches about your performance tonight. JoJo?”
JoJo flips her coal black hair over her shoulder before speaking. “I agree. Beau seems to have this knack for picking awesome songs that fit your style. Tonight’s performance was entertaining and energetic. I loved it.”
“Sophia?” Becker cues.
“First off, great performance tonight. But what I really want to know is if I can borrow those boots when we’re done here,” she says with a huge smile while the audience erupts into cheers. “Seriously! I love them and would figure out how to work them into my wardrobe on the road.”
“Felix?”
“Layne, Layne, Layne. That was amazing. You worked that stage like you’ve been doing this for years. Each time you come out here, I kick myself for not pleading harder to get you on my team,” Felix says.
“Beau? What did you think of tonight performance?” Becker asks the cowboy in front of us. My heart rate kicks up a few hundred beats per minute while I wait for him to critique me.
Clearing his throat before he speaks, Beau finally says, “After hearin’ ya sing that song, I feel like it was written just for you. Like you were meant to perform that song live on this stage. You have this natural ability to make any song your own without changing much. Your version was probably better than Nancy’s and way better than Jessica Simpson’s.”
“Well, there you have it. If you want to see Layne Carter next week, she needs your votes. Call 1-800-555-7006 or log on to rising star dot com and cast your votes there. Up next, Corie Brooks.”
And with that, my performance for tonight is complete.
*****
“Hey, Layne, great performance,” Ben says as we gather up our personal belongs after the show. The audience has finally cleared out and the stage crew is busy prepping the studio for tomorrow night’s vote off.
“Oh, thanks. You did great, too.”
“Layne, can I have a word, please?” I hear from behind. I don’t need to turn to see exactly who is standing behind me. If the deep twangy timbers of his voice didn’t give it away, the invisible electricity coursing through the air and shooting straight at me would do it.
“Sure,” I reply as I follow Beau towards a door at the end of the hallway.
I know instantly where we’re going. I’ve never been this far down the hallway, but everyone knows that the end of the hall is reserved for the coaches. Beau opens a door with his name on it, politely ushering me through. The door closes with a definitive latch, sealing us off from the rest of the contestants and production crew. Suddenly, I’m apprehensive about how it’s going to look to everyone else that I’m alone with this man…again.
“There are no cameras in here,” Beau states as if sensing my anxiety.
“Oh,” I reply, the word hitching in my dry throat.
“Are ya okay?” he asks, removing that trademark black Stetson and running his hand through his midnight hair.
“Yeah, why?” I ask as I shuffle from foot to foot, trying to figure out something to do with my hands. Something that doesn’t involve running my own fingers through those dark, dark locks.
“Well, I was informed of a rumor runnin’ around amongst the contestants.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s fine. I imagine they just need something to talk about. It’ll blow over soon enough.”
Beau takes a step forward, so very close to invading the personal space that I want him to enter. Oh, no you don’t! “For your sake, I hope you’re right. I’m used to this shit, but you aren’t. Just don’t listen to the crap. They’ll say and do just about anything to get ahead in this game. That includes sabotagin’ your game to better their own,” he adds while giving me a pointed look as if to remind me of Monday night’s FUBAR.
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” I reply, willing my legs to stay planted and not step closer to Beau.
As if reading my mind, he steps forward once more until I’m consumed by his body heat. If it was anyone else, I would have stepped back and put some distance between us, but with Beau, I only want to greedily step closer yet.
“You did great tonight,” he whispers as he tucks a piece of my teased, hairsprayed-to-heaven hair behind my ear.
“Thank you,” I respond, feeling a slight blush creep in at the compliment.
Another slight step forward.
“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” he confesses as he runs his hand up my bare arm and lets it rest at my neck. His warm fingers kneed and flex as his thumb gently strokes my pulse point.
“I wouldn’t mind that…if we weren’t in the middle of this competition,” I state, hypnotized by those damn eyes of his.
“I know.” Beau rests his head against my forehead in the same manner he did the other night in the closet. We’re close, so close, but not quite close enough.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask, knowing that I need to know the answer to the burning question that has been nagging me since I heard the rumor before tonight’s show.
“Of course, darlin’.”
It’s now or never. “Last week, did you vote for me to advance to the next round because you’re attracted to me?”
Beau’s eyes darken instantly. I don’t know how it’s possible, but they do. His nostrils also flare out in a way that I would associate with anger or annoyance. “No,” he says decisively. “I voted ya to the next round because you were better. Having you here with me every day is just an added bonus because I’m attracted to ya.”
And then his lips are on mine. The kiss is hesitant at first, but as soon as I open my mouth, granting him the access he’s seeking, all bets are off. My tongue duels with his, sliding back and forth in the most delicious way possible. I thread my fingers into that black hair, tugging ever so gently, while he pulls me flush against his hard body. When he moans into my mouth, my knees buckle. Fortunately, Beau holds me with such intensity that I know I’m not going anywhere.
A knock sounds at the door breaking the spell of the kiss. “Shit,” Beau mumbles, yet not letting me go.
“I should go,” I whimper, trying to pull away.
“I don’t want you to go,” he declares, locking his arms securely around my waist.
“I have to.”
Beau leans forward one more time, placing his forehead against mine. The action has a calming response from me, and it appears to have the same effect on him. Our breathing starts to even out, but my heart rate is nowhere near normal.
“I’ll see ya in the mornin’,” he whispers before stepping back and away from me. The void of his body heat is felt instantaneously. I crave his touch, his kisses, his presence.
“I’ll be there,” I reply as he goes to open the door.
Gabby stands on the other side giving each of us a pointed, direct look. “Jackson is looking for you,” she says to Beau while bouncing her eyes from him to me. You can practically see the wheels in her head spinning.
“I’ll be right there. I was just discussin’ tomorrow’s performance with Layne,” Beau says casually. You’d have no idea he had his tongue down my throat thirty seconds ago. I just pray that my lips aren’t as swollen as I fear they are.
“Don’t be long. The other coaches are already there.” Gabby glances my way one last time before turning and heading back down the hall.
“I need to go and catch up with the others. I don’t need to give them anymore reason to question me,” I say.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I confirm, taking in his heated gaze one more time before turning and walking out the door.
Damn. It’s been two days since the closet incident and I’m already failing. And, miserably, at that. I’m never going to make it another five weeks. I’m not going to be able to resist him.
But I have to.
My life on this show–my career–depends on it.