by Karen Booth
Adam coughed. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve gone for the jugular and reminded her that their acquaintance had started out as a one-night stand. As much as the events of last night had scarred his ego, he couldn’t do it. He’d never thought of her as a meaningless fling, not even when they’d had only a few hours together. “You want me to start dating classier women.”
“Woman. Singular. Basically, you need a girlfriend. A serious one. You need to find a woman and be seen around town together. Ideally, for the next few weeks leading up to the LangTel gala. Then you take her to the party that night, your father makes his announcement about the succession plan, you’ll have been in magazines and on talk shows by then. It’ll be the unveiling of a brand-new Adam Langford.”
He grumbled under his breath. “Great. My debutante ball.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You’re going to find me a new girlfriend?”
“You’re going to have to do that part. I do have some criteria for you, though.”
Adam slid his phone onto the table next to him and took a sip of club soda, but it felt more like bourbon o’clock. “Can’t wait to hear this.”
Melanie cleared her throat. “She should be beautiful, of course. You’re Adam Langford. No one will believe you’re with anyone who isn’t stunning.”
Jack looked up into her eyes, shot a glance at Adam, and went back to being as close to a lapdog as he could, draping his head across her legs.
“She should be someone who is well-known,” Melanie continued. “But she should have a pristine reputation. No more party girls. It should probably be someone who’s accustomed to the media microscope. You know as well as anyone how tough that can be to deal with.”
“And what do I do with this person?”
“Go out to dinner. Go out for coffee. Take Jack for a walk. You’ll just need to let me know ahead of time, so I can leak information to the press.”
“I really don’t think this is going to work. I’m not good at faking anything. The photographers will see right through it if it isn’t real.”
Melanie considered him with those blue eyes of hers, the ones he wished he could see looking up at him while she was pinned beneath his body weight, at his mercy. “You might have to get good at faking it.”
That was never going to happen. It was already too much work to sit here and talk about another woman. “What happens if I fall in love? After all, I’m hopelessly single and, despite what you might think of me, I don’t plan to be that way forever.” Shut up already.
“Whatever the emotional entanglements are, that’s for you to decide.”
“Of course.” Was this her way of getting rid of him? Pushing him into another woman’s arms? If so, she might live to regret it, although he couldn’t fathom anyone capturing his imagination the way she had. Perhaps if she were a tinge jealous, it might be enough to make her rethink the wisdom of turning him down.
“Do you have anyone in mind?” Her voice squeaked at the end, as if she’d forced disinterest in the answer.
“I do, actually. I think I know the perfect woman.”
* * *
The perfect woman. Great. I can’t wait for the perfect woman.
On paper, Adam finding a fake girlfriend was a beautiful idea, crafted in the middle of the night amid crying jags and brainstorms. It accomplished two very important things—it rounded out Melanie’s PR plan, and it created distance between her and Adam. They would be working together a lot. At least if he had to keep his hands to himself, she could do her job and ignore how badly she longed to put her hands all over him.
She glanced at Adam as they rode in his limo on their way back into the city. Her thoughts drifted to what this moment would be like if she and Adam were a couple, if they’d just spent an impossibly romantic weekend at his mountain estate. Surely they’d spent hours making love, hardly ever getting out of bed, except perhaps to tiptoe downstairs for a bite to eat. They’d curled up in front of the fireplace, drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. Perfect wouldn’t begin to describe it, but perfect wasn’t reality.
Adam had been on the phone with his father since they landed, discussing LangTel business. She had her own phone call scheduled with Roger Langford tomorrow morning. Would he actually ask her questions about whether or not anything had happened between her and Adam? And what would she say if he did? She’d crossed the line, big-time.
The embarrassment of the scene on the couch Saturday night still ate at her. How could she have gotten so wrapped up in Adam that she hadn’t even cared that he’d unbuttoned her blouse? If anything, she’d welcomed it. How could one man have that much influence over her, mind and body? Not even her ex could make her cast aside restraint like that.
Adam said goodbye to his dad and began scrolling through the contacts on his phone. “I was thinking I should get the ball rolling with my new girlfriend. No time like the present.”
“Fake girlfriend.”
“I told you that I’m not good at faking things. I have to buy into it a little bit or it won’t work.”
She choked back a sigh of frustration. “Whatever you need to do.”
“Just remember,” he said, cocking an eyebrow, “it’s your fault if I fall in love.”
Melanie longed to slap him silly. Fall in love. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate way for him to get even with her? After all, she hadn’t merely left his apartment in the middle of the night. Now she was guilty of losing her moral compass and leaving him with what she’d witnessed as an extra-snug fit in his pants. “As long as you’re taking my directives, that’s all I care about.”
“Here she is.” He tapped his phone decisively. “Lovely Julia.”
Melanie’s stomach turned so sour it was as if she’d downed a gallon of lemon juice. Julia? Julia Keys? Was Adam really going to pick an ex-girlfriend and one of the most beautiful women in the history of mankind to be his new fake, but possibly real, girlfriend?
“Julia. It’s Adam. How are you, beautiful?”
Beautiful? Melanie sighed. She probably deserved the punishment of listening to this conversation. Desperate for a distraction, she yanked a magazine from her tote bag and began flipping through the pages, imagining they were Adam’s very slappable face.
“I hear you’re back in New York. I’m hoping we can get together. I have a proposition for you.” He leaned back, caressing the black leather seat with his hand.
Was that Julia’s effect on him? That merely talking to her made him want to rub things?
“I was hoping I could ask you in person,” he said in a voice entirely too sexy for Melanie’s liking. “Let’s just say that I might have a new role for you. It would involve us spending a lot of time together.” He smiled at whatever she said in response.
Melanie pursed her lips, reminding herself that he was doing exactly what she’d asked him to do. Exactly. So why was she so pissed off? Oh, right. Because she’d hoped Adam would pick someone pretty and proper and not much else. She certainly hadn’t bargained on him picking a woman who exemplified the feminine ideal, nor did she think he would pick someone he might actually fall in love with.
“Would dinner Tuesday night work?” he asked. “I’ll have my cook prepare a meal at my place, just so we can talk privately. If you’re up for my plan, we can go out for dinner later in the week if your schedule allows.” This time, Adam laughed—he practically guffawed—at whatever Julia had said.
Great. She’s beautiful, talented, wife material and apparently hilarious. Melanie glared out the window. They were only a block or so from her Gramercy apartment, thank goodness. The end, in sight. She couldn’t live through another minute of Adam’s phone call. She shoved the magazine in her bag and leaned forward to speak to the driver. “It’s right here, on the left.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The driver p
ulled up to the curb in front of her brownstone.
She turned to Adam as the driver opened her door.
Adam was nodding and grinning like a damned fool. He put his hand over the receiver on his phone. “Anything else?”
The light filtered through the open door, glinting off his sunglasses. She tried to remind herself that this was the real Adam Langford—the flirt in the expensive car, doing whatever the hell he wanted to. He wasn’t boyfriend material. He was a client, end of story.
“That’s it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She scurried out of the car before she could say something foolish, something like, “Please hang up the phone and forget that I ever came up with this stupid fake-girlfriend idea.”
Melanie fumbled with her building keys. Why was the car still sitting there? It felt as if Adam’s eyes were boring into her back. Finally, the lock turned, she stumbled through the door, and the limo pulled away. She longed for a measure of relief, but all she felt was confused and disappointed.
She trudged up the stairs to her second-floor walk-up. She’d moved in after Josh had dumped her. Even if she didn’t miss him, she missed their old apartment. It was quaint and quiet, in the Chelsea neighborhood, with the best spot for reading on a Sunday afternoon, cuddled up on the couch. Luckily, that apartment had gone to a month-to-month rental, or she’d be stuck with that and her office space. The bad news was that they hadn’t renewed the apartment lease because they were looking to buy a home, one big enough for a nursery.
Melanie rounded the railing to her door. Her neighbor Owen came down from the third floor, dressed for a run.
“You’re back from your trip.” He grinned wide and jogged in place, as if to remind her that he was in exceptional shape. Funny how his perfect physique did nothing for her except reassure her that she was out for more than a hot bod. She needed a companion. A partner.
She managed a smile. Owen was harmless, even if the way he kept tabs on her bordered stalker behavior. “Yep. Just now.”
“Good to hear it. The building is too quiet without you around. Maybe we can see a movie this weekend.”
He dipped his head to make eye contact, but she was nothing if not distracted by the thoughts of Adam whirring through her head—their near miss and the aftermath, the humiliating apology and her plan to keep herself on the straight and narrow.
“Um. Maybe,” she answered. “We’ll see. I’m in the middle of a huge job right now.”
He nodded and smiled reassuringly. “Gotta keep the bills paid.”
“You know it.” Understatement of the year, actually. She unlocked the door to her unit. “I’ll let you know if my plans change.” With a quick wave, she bid Owen goodbye and let the door close. Exhausted, she leaned against it. Her apartment felt nothing like home today. It really just felt empty.
Seven
Every time Melanie opened the doors at Costello Public Relations, memories smacked her in the face. Time had dulled the pain, but it was still there—the betrayal of the man she’d once loved, the man who’d stuck her with the office lease from hell.
Things had once been perfect in this office, she and Josh working as a team, a devoted support staff around them. The sky was the limit, the future bright. She and Josh went home every night together, tired but satisfied. They were building something, and it felt wonderful.
They had made a vow to spend at least one hour each evening talking about things other than work. That typically made conversation difficult since their entire lives revolved around the business. The easiest thing was to fall into bed and make love. It wasn’t fireworks, but it was an extension of their life together, inexorably wound together. They completed each other, or so she had thought.
She’d had no idea that the last eight months of their relationship were a lie. Josh was so good at faking it, so adept at putting up a facade that said everything was peachy keen, when in fact he was sneaking around, meeting another woman, romancing her, taking her to bed.
When she’d suspected that something was going on between Josh and their client, he’d dismissed it as preposterous. The flirtation, the rapport beyond the professional, was all in her head. The next thing she knew, he had a cold and was staying home for the day, when in fact he was emptying his things out of their apartment, hopping a plane to San Francisco and relocating with his new love, his “soul mate.” Melanie didn’t want it to hurt so bad anymore. It was exhausting.
She hurried past the unmanned reception desk. It’d been months since she’d been able to keep someone on full-time. For now, it was better to run a tight ship, continue to build back the client list and come out on the other side stronger. That was the entire reason she’d done what she probably shouldn’t have done and taken this crazy Adam Langford job in the first place.
She sat at her desk, quickly remembering that she hadn’t made coffee. She sprang back out of her seat. Once that task was done and she had a steaming-hot cup of courage, she sat down to call Adam’s dad, Roger.
“Ms. Costello,” Roger’s voice boomed over the other line. “To be honest, when I hired you, I was fairly certain that this would be the phone call where I would have to fire you.”
Melanie swallowed. “Sir?”
“You know, the first check-in after you’d worked with Adam.”
Right. Work. Adam. “The weekend went very well, Mr. Langford, I assure you.”
“I hope I can count on you for complete honesty, Ms. Costello. I love my son very much and there’s no one I trust more when it comes to business, but he has a verifiable lack of good judgment when it comes to the fairer sex. I trust that you kept to our agreement?”
How would she answer this? Find a technicality? She didn’t have a choice. She needed this job and one could argue that she’d made only one mistake, even if it was a doozy—kissing Adam on the couch and losing all sense of time and space. “I stayed away from Adam’s bedroom, if that’s what you’re asking.” That much was the truth, but guilt still choked her. She’d not only violated the contract keeping her company in the black, she’d done the thing she told herself she’d never do—she’d become involved with a client. Thank goodness she’d had the presence of mind to stop herself. If Adam’s lips had roved any farther, if she’d taken the chance to caress his bare chest, there would’ve been no looking back.
“Forgive me for even asking. It’s just important to me that we keep things aboveboard.” Roger cleared his throat. “I won’t keep you, Ms. Costello. I spoke to Adam. He’s very impressed with your work, which isn’t quite what I expected to hear. He fought me hard on hiring a PR person, although he softened on the idea when your name came into the mix. As soon as he researched your background, he said yes. I suppose your reputation preceded you.”
Melanie’s mind raced. She knew Adam had fought the public relations campaign—he’d said as much himself. What he’d failed to mention was that he changed his mind after he found out she’d been hired. Researched her background... Her picture was front and center on her website and he’d said that he never forgot a woman, even though she hadn’t anticipated that was his superpower. What went through his mind when he made the connection?
“Adam told me all about your plan with Julia,” Roger continued. “It’s a stroke of pure genius. Mrs. Langford and I adored her the first time we met her. Their romance was so short-lived, but maybe they’ll see the error of their ways now that they’ll be spending time together. Nothing like close quarters to kindle love’s flames.”
Kindle love’s flames? Melanie’s stomach churned. How would she make it through the coming weeks without wanting to take a nap on railroad tracks? “The press will eat it up, sir.” Will they ever.
“Absolutely excellent, Ms. Costello. Looking at Adam’s interview schedule, I’d like you to keep me apprised of the Midnight Hour appearance. I’d really like for that to happen.”
&nb
sp; She scribbled herself a note to make yet another call to the Midnight Hour producer, knowing the answer was likely still “we’ll see.” Adam was the right kind of guest for the late-night talk show—in the limelight, a “personality”—but their schedule was booked months in advance. “Yes, sir. I’m on it.”
“Well, keep up the good work. I’ve spoken to my assistant. Your next check is on its way.”
Melanie exhaled—money. That and a stellar endorsement from a man as powerful as Roger Langford was the reason she was doing this. Having to aid and abet Adam and Julia was merely the horrific trade-off. “Thank you, sir. I’ll keep you posted.”
It was only a little past nine thirty when she said goodbye, but she already felt as though she’d been at the office for days. Coffee. More coffee.
The next hour was spent catching up on other clients—a New Jersey real estate agent who wanted to build her profile with the well-heeled of New York society, and a hotshot chef in need of a PR campaign surrounding his nomination for a prestigious cooking award. After finishing her second cup of coffee, she got around to the mail—big, fat bills for her rented office furniture, internet, travel. Even the little things such as office supplies added up. When would every day stop feeling like one step forward, two steps back? She was a fighter and she wouldn’t quit, but being a one-woman army was no fun.
The main office line rang. Melanie hated it when this happened, because it meant that she had to pretend to be the receptionist. She’d trained most people to call her cell phone, and many of her clients preferred email for communication, but her sisters still called the office when they needed her to deal with their difficult dad, and of course, new clients often placed a phone call first.
“Costello Public Relations,” she answered. “How may I direct your call?”
“Melanie? Is that you?” Adam’s warm, familiar voice did peculiar things, sending both excitement and nervousness pumping through her veins. “I hope your receptionist is out on a coffee run. The boss should never answer her own phone.”
