At her cocked brow, he explained, “It’s a joke with Steph and I.”
“Very cute.” She picked up the pizza cutter and eyeing the middle, ran the sharp blade through the thin crust veggie pizza several times. Cheese stuck to the pizza cutter, the crust crunching beneath the pressure.
“Kind of like you.” He slipped the first slice off the peel, handing it to Belle, the cheese burning his fingers. He picked up one for himself, folded it half and took a bite, the saltiness heaven on his lips. During the season, he had to watch what he ate. Sucky, since he worked out all the time but it was his job to stay in shape.
“Exactly like me.” She followed his lead and folded her slice, a mischievous glint in her stare.
Laughing at her smartass reply, he bit into the pizza once more. The second bite was even more delicious than the first. Outside, rain pelted the panes of glass, followed by the distinctive pinging of hail. “It’s coming down hard.”
“Lucky we came inside.” Belle popped a piece of crust into her mouth, wincing as a string of cheese landed on her chin. She grabbed up a napkin to wipe at her mouth. “Just call me Grace.”
“Okay, Grace.” Erik stole the napkin from her hand and tilted her chin. Using the corner of the fabric, he wiped a smear of red sauce from under her lip. “You missed a spot.”
“There’s no clean way to eat pizza, except with a fork and knife and I refuse to do that.” The smile she cast him melted his resolve.
He’d made a promise not to kiss her but damn, he was about to break it.
“It’s un-American.” Dipping his head, he caressed her lips with his, the fullness of her mouth beckoning. She stilled, not moving and not returning the kiss. In that charged second, he realized he’d fucked up. He began to lift his head when she arched her neck, bringing their mouths together. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth, pleased by her response.
Thunder crashed, followed by a flash of lightening and then the power went out.
Chapter Twenty-One
“That’s a wrap for the night.” Darius called out to the waiting crew. The power had been off for a while, each minute spent pacing the kitchen and recalling Erik’s kiss was torture. She wanted to go home, bury her head under the pillow, and try to forget.
Except every time he’d kissed her, the memory became stuck in her mind. Her one consolation was they weren’t alone. However, that didn’t seem to matter much for her. She was willing to throw caution to the wind on a whim.
“Belle. Erik.” Darius approached. One of the crew members had a battery-powered key light which lit up one end of the kitchen. “Let me review the footage and I’ll let you know if we need to film more. Luckily, we got the kiss.” He walked off and huddled with the director.
“Yes, lucky,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. She’d asked Erik not to kiss her and when he did, she had tried to resist. Tried being the operative word.
More like failed miserably.
“Everything looks good. Belle, I’ll have Tim walk you out to your car,” Darius said.
Erik shook his head. “I’ll walk her out.”
“Sounds good. Good night you two.” Darius offered Erik a flashlight before he disappeared into the darkness beyond the kitchen.
“Where did you leave your things?” Erik asked, turning the flashlight on.
“In the dining room.” It was the catch-all room for the crew and cast members. Unlike the auditorium, there was no designated dressing room for the talent in the house. She’d been forced to change in one the many bathrooms.
She moved past Erik into the long, thin room off the kitchen. He followed close behind, lighting the way. Part of her wanted to escape from him, and quick. Her fickle body ached to be closer. Erik, the man, was disturbing her peace of mind. She wasn’t supposed to be falling for him but being in this house was difficult. For two seasons, the show filmed in this house and although she’d never been there, it was familiar. The watch parties with her friends were a huge part of her life. It wasn’t about the show but the comradery with Kendra and Ashley.
The room was cast in shadows and she picked her way through the piles of discarded belongings until she found her familiar silver suitcase. Her purse lay next to it. The luggage was light since it only held a change of clothing. She popped the handle up on the suitcase. The show had provided her with the designer clothing that she wore—hers to keep as part of the contract. Turning on her heel, she nearly ran into Erik. Heels digging into the carpet, she halted her momentum.
“Is that it?” he asked, his face shadowed by the night. The flashlight beam didn’t provide much light and she was grateful for the fact.
She was troubled and was certain it would show on her face. The last thing she wanted was questions. She was confused enough as it was. “Yes. We can go now.”
He led the way through the darkened house to the side door where they’d entered earlier. Tense silence existed between them and she ached to have the quiet comradery back.
Misty rain greeted them as they rushed down the staircase and around to the driveway in the back of the house. Her little beater car was wedged between two Mercedes, making the shabby Toyota look even sadder. “That’s me.”
“How far away do you live?” he asked.
“About thirty miles from here, give or take a few.” In this weather, it would be a miserable drive.
