by Karen Booth
As much as she wasn’t thrilled to meet Julia, she needed to be here to make sure this interview went perfectly. She needed to be here to give Adam the stink-eye if he started down the wrong path with his answers. She scanned the room, catching sight of Adam perched on a tall wooden stool in the corner, Jack at his side.
She hurried over, admiring him in the icy blue shirt she’d convinced him to wear. It wasn’t lavender, but at least he was taking direction. He was ridiculously handsome in the lighter color, even when the look on his face was one of distinct misery. “It’s okay to smile, you know,” she said.
The male makeup artist working on Adam cast Melanie a knowing grin. “I’ll be done with him in a minute. I don’t think he’s enjoying it.”
“I just want to get this over with,” Adam mumbled as he had concealer applied to the corner of his mouth. “I’ve had about a dozen important emails in the last five minutes. This is seriously the last thing I have time for right now.”
“I made him put down his phone,” the makeup artist said. “It was making him wrinkle his forehead, which makes my job pointless.”
A vaguely recognizable female voice rang out behind Melanie. “I think he looks perfect. Handsome as ever.”
Melanie turned, coming face-to-face with the most stunningly gorgeous nightmare she’d ever seen.
“You must be Melanie. I’m Julia.” She held out her hand, flashing the smile that had graced dozens of movie posters. Her shoulder-length brown hair glinted with auburn highlights, her minimalist makeup flawless. And then there was her outfit.
Julia burst out laughing. Her stunning green eyes grew wide with surprise. “Oh my goodness. We’re wearing almost exactly the same dress. Neiman Marcus? Last fall?”
If Melanie could’ve done anything at that moment, she would’ve gladly taken her chances with the elevator alarm. “Ha. Oh. Wow. Yeah. Funny.” Kill me now. Please. “Mine is vintage. It belonged to my mother.”
“Oh, how wonderful. Even better that you have a story to go along with it.” Julia tucked her hair behind her ear.
Julia’s voice had a sweet edge that instantly put a person at ease, except Melanie refused to be at ease. She was too busy feeling Adam’s eyes on them, knowing he had to be studying how she measured up to the picture-perfect gazelle wearing nearly the same outfit.
“Turn around, so I can get a look at you.” Julia looped a circle in the air with her finger.
Melanie’s stomach sank when she caught the smirk on Adam’s face. This bore far too much resemblance to the things her father used to make her do—twirl around in a fancy dress for the neighbors, look pretty for company. Melanie’s sisters were always far better at it than she was, just as Julia was when it came to showing off the sublime lines of her black wool dress.
“I promise you, you aren’t missing anything.” Melanie internally begged for all attention to be taken away from her. Especially when she was forced to stand next to a woman with four percent body fat and not a single pinch-able inch.
“I’ll tell you one thing, you fill out the skirt so much better than I do.” Julia perched on the back of Adam’s leather sofa.
Melanie would’ve gasped if she weren’t so dumbstruck. Fill it out? Any woman would’ve wondered if Julia was using girl code for fat. Melanie knew for certain that she wasn’t fat, but she was no waif either. She had curves—real hips, a real butt.
“She does look fantastic in it, doesn’t she, Jules?” Adam chimed in.
“Perfection. Makes me think I need to take mine to a tailor.” Julia crossed her mile-long legs.
Now Melanie was beyond confused. Julia hadn’t meant it as an insult? Maybe it was easy to be generous with compliments when she was always the most beautiful woman in the room, wherever she went.
The elevator into Adam’s apartment opened and Fiona March, willowy with short black hair, made her entrance. She was juggling a large designer purse and an oversize bottle of water. “Melanie, so glad you’re here already. Sorry I’m late.”
Melanie rushed over. Fiona was one of Melanie’s most important contacts. “You’re never late. You’re right on time.”
“You’re sweet,” Fiona answered. “You’re also a terrible liar, but so was my third husband and he was fantastic in the sack, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Melanie laughed, leading Fiona across the room. “Let me introduce you to Adam and Julia.”
The three exchanged niceties, but Adam seemed distant, as if something was bothering him. She pulled him aside while the cameraman adjusted the lighting for the photos they would take during the interview.
“Are you okay?” Melanie looked up at him, trying like hell not to get caught up in his eyes.
He cracked half a smile, which was better than most men’s full smile. “You’re so sweet when you want to be.”
I always want to be sweet. My job doesn’t always afford me that luxury. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You’re my client. I need you to be okay.”
“Ah, so that’s what you’re concerned with. Whether or not your client is going to perform for you today.”
“Not exactly. I’m genuinely worried.” She pointed at his forehead. “The makeup guy was right. You get this little crinkle between your eyes when you’re thinking too much.”
Adam rubbed the spot with his fingers, as if to erase it. “I do? No one has ever told me that before.”
“Probably from staring at a computer screen all day long. You need to give your eyes a break every now and then.” She reached out and grasped his elbow. “Let me know if you need a minute, okay? It’s better to take the time to collect yourself now, rather than later. I don’t want you to be caught in an uncomfortable situation.”
* * *
Adam cast his eyes to his arm, where Melanie was holding it so tenderly with her elegant hands. He’d almost forgotten the way her touch brought him to life. Her sweet smell washed over him, her curves in that black dress called to him, reminding him where his hands fit best, the places she loved to be squeezed.
She patted him on the shoulder. “Everything okay?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“You’ll do great. Don’t worry.”
He fought a smile. Even though it didn’t seem to go beyond their professional relationship, she cared. Sometimes she cared too much about things, about what other people thought, in particular, but she was passionate, and that was so damn sexy.
It tormented him to see her in this room, in his apartment, knowing the things they’d shared the first time she was here. Those few hours were engraved in his memory. She’d made him laugh, she’d made him growl with desire, she’d made him feel something strong and real, when that had been missing from his life. He’d never had that kind of instant chemistry with anyone, not even with his ex-fiancée, and he’d been deeply in love with her. Logic said that he could have that with Melanie, but it took two to tango, and she’d shown she had no interest in dancing.
He could still remember Melanie’s words from their night together, as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, her slick heat inviting him inside for the first time. She’d arched her back, rolled her entire body into his, grasped the back of his neck with both hands and murmured in the sexiest voice he’d ever heard, “You feel like a dream.” If he closed his eyes, he could still hear her say it, and that made everything in his body grow tight and hot.
Sure, women had lauded Adam with praise, but much of it was meaningless—things about having an amazing apartment or looking hot in his suit or having an air of power and control, whatever that meant. Melanie had chosen a simple line, sweet and almost poetic, that was all about him as a man, the things he could give to her that had nothing to do with money or prestige. His God-given talents.
“Adam,” Melanie said.
“Yes?�
� She was still close enough to pull into his arms and dammit if his hands didn’t want to do exactly that.
“Fiona is ready to start the interview.”
Adam forced a smile. Showtime. All he could think as he took his place opposite Fiona was that as soon as he was asked about his relationship with Julia, this would all become real, at least to the world. The photos in the tabloids were largely conjecture. This would make it seem authentic, and that made him wish he could stand up and tell everyone but Melanie to leave.
“So, Adam.” Fiona leaned forward and placed her hand on his knee. “May I call you Adam?”
“Of course.”
She smiled warmly. “Tell me about your rekindled romance with Julia Keys. We’ve all been seeing you two around town together, and I’m sure our readers would love to know more about the hottest couple in Manhattan.”
Okay, then. Right into it. Adam cleared his throat, on edge, torn between what Melanie would want him to say and what he wanted to say in front of Melanie if he had the chance. “What can I say? Julia is a lovely woman and we’re having a great time becoming reacquainted.” If only he could spout the reality, because what he really wanted to say was, “Well, you see, the truth is that I went from casually dating dozens of women to having a fake girlfriend while pining for a woman who wants me to remain her client.”
“Can you tell us about how you got back together?” Fiona asked.
Adam shifted in his seat, tugging at his collar, remembering the script Julia had given him at the restaurant. “Well, I heard that Julia was moving back to New York and I wanted to see her, so I called her.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Melanie hanging on every word. Was he doing what she wanted? He thought so, but he’d been wrong before. “She agreed to let me come by her new apartment when she arrived in the city. That was the start of it.”
“Don’t forget about the roses,” Julia blurted, stepping forward and placing her hand on Fiona’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I must. You see, Adam is so romantic, and he doesn’t give himself credit.”
“Tell me more,” Fiona said. “Actually, Adam, if it’s okay with you, I would love it if Julia joined us for the interview.”
Adam shot a look at Melanie, who had her arms folded squarely across her chest. He had no earthly idea what she was thinking. “Perhaps we should ask Ms. Costello.”
Melanie nodded. “Sure. Of course. Whatever seems right, Fiona.” Her voice wobbled when she spoke. Perhaps this was as nerve-racking for her as it was for Adam.
“Can we get a chair for Ms. Keys, please?” Fiona asked.
Julia perched herself on Adam’s chair and draped her arm across his shoulders. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine like this.” She wiggled herself into place against him, making him exponentially more uncomfortable. “So, yes, Adam brought me a dozen roses that night. At first it made me mad, because roses seemed like such a cliché.”
Adam wanted to scream. The damn roses were your idea. Instead, he forced himself to watch Julia as if he was captivated by her every word.
Julia shrugged and pressed a kiss to Adam’s forehead. “But it was so romantic, I couldn’t do anything but tell him that yes, I wanted to get back together with him, too. It’s been like a dream ever since.”
Except that it wasn’t a dream, at all. It was a big, messy lie that he was expected to perpetrate.
Plus, Melanie had called him a dream, and that was the only context in which he ever wanted to think about that word again.
Eleven
Melanie’s email and voice mail had become the Julia and Adam show, and she, its unwitting choreographer.
Everyone had questions. Is it true that they’re serious? How was Melanie supposed to answer that? It appeared so. The photos were heartbreakingly convincing. Even when Melanie was supposed to know, deep down, that they weren’t really a couple, it looked as if they were. Why else would she get a pit in her stomach every time she saw them in the newspapers together?
Is he finally settling down? His family sure seemed to think so. Roger Langford had called and thanked Melanie again for her supersmart plan. The Langfords had reportedly hosted Julia for dinner and she regaled everyone with her wit and Hollywood stories. Adam’s mom had apparently remarked that Julia and Adam would make beautiful babies. Of course they would...not that Melanie could stand to think about that for even a minute.
Will Julia be the woman to tame him? Melanie audibly snorted when she read that one. Tame Adam Langford. It made him sound like a lion in the circus, when she knew that he was nothing of the sort. Not even when he’d been engaged had Adam allowed himself to be anything less than the person who called the shots.
Her cell phone rang and she was about to chuck it across the room, especially when she saw on the caller ID that it was Adam. Spending the past three hours dwelling on the question of whether or not the relationship between Adam and Julia was real had left her in no mood to converse with the man in question. But she had to answer.
“Adam, hi.”
“I’m coming to your office.” The sound of car horns blared in the background.
“What? Where are you? When?” Melanie closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why?”
“Aren’t you full of questions? I’m in the car, stuck in traffic, and late for the interview with that tech magazine. We’re about a block from your office. I just had my assistant call the writer and tell him to meet me there. It actually works out better for him, anyway.”
Melanie surveyed her disastrous desk. The lobby area was fairly tidy, but there was one glaring thing missing—someone manning the actual reception desk. How does someone run a so-called up-and-coming public relations firm with no staff? She had absolutely no idea, only that she had to do it every day.
She scrambled to put on a pot of coffee and arrange a suitable interview space in her reception area for Adam and the writer. The final throw pillow on the sofa had been fluffed when Adam strolled in.
“Sorry. Crazy day,” Adam said, hitting a button on his phone and shoving it into his front pocket. He was dressed in impeccable gray flat-front trousers and a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, no tie. The dark stubble along his jaw was at its usual perfection. It was a windy day in the city and Adam’s hair showed the effects, disheveled and mussed, just so—sexy and enticing, almost like bed head.
She had to clasp her hands together, squeeze them hard, all while gritting her teeth to keep from combing her fingers into the thickest part of his hair, at the top of his head, where it got a little curly when it was wet. It was no wonder he had such a pull on her. Why did he have to be so flawless? Well, he did have one or two flaws, the most glaring of which was his unwillingness to make a serious relationship with a woman a priority.
Adam scanned the reception area. “Where is everyone?”
“Everyone?” She turned, forcing herself to keep from drifting closer to him after catching a whiff of his heady scent.
“Your staff. Receptionist. Assistants. Interns. I had visions of a busy office like mine. Your client list is a mile long.”
It used to be a lot longer. When Josh was here. There had been a lot of things when Josh was still there— someone to share the workload, someone to talk to about her problems, someone to hold her at the end of a long day and tell her that everything was going to be all right. Her support system, her safety net, was gone.
If she’d had the strength to put the right spin on the merits of a one-woman operation, she would have, but she’d spent her morning creating spin. Putting a glossy shine on everything she said to Adam was exhausting. It was so much easier to be honest. “It’s just me right now. Lean and mean. Makes things a lot simpler.”
“Oh. Okay.” He seemed skeptical despite the affirmation, furrowing his brow. “But who runs the office?
Who buys office supplies and fixes computer problems? And what about things like arranging your travel or organizing your calendar or hell, even the little stuff, like making appointments to get your hair cut or running to the dry cleaners?”
When he had to put it like that, it made it all sound impossible, so utterly absurd. “Maybe my life isn’t as complicated as yours. I work all day, I go home and sleep. Rinse. Repeat.”
“Sounds boring.”
It is.
“And a little unfulfilling,” he had the nerve to continue.
“It isn’t, thank you very much. It also makes it remarkably easy to keep myself out of the tabloids.”
Awkward silence hung in the air. “Ouch.”
She felt horrible. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“Just seems like you’d get a lot more clients, and bigger ones at that, if you had a staff to take care of the little things. You need to delegate if you’re going to be successful.” He was not about to let this go.
“Follow me. I need to get you guys some coffee. Unless you’d prefer water.”
“Definitely coffee. I need the afternoon pick-me-up.”
Melanie stalked into the state-of-the-art office kitchenette, twenty times nicer than what she had in her apartment and just as expensive, to finish cobbling together some hospitality, yet another of the many hats she wore. She removed a lacquered tray from the cabinet, spread out a white linen napkin and topped it with a sugar bowl and pitcher of cream. Two teaspoons were added to finish it. “Will you want anything to nibble on? I have a few different kinds of cookies in the pantry. Or I could run down to the bakery and see what they have for pastries.”
“See? Like this. You should not be doing this. You’re a smart, capable businesswoman and you work hard. You should not be worrying about cookies and pastries for a client.”
Did he really see her that way?
He leaned against the black granite counter, his hand close to her hip—so close he could’ve touched her with little effort if he’d wanted to. “I’m not wrong.”
