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“Thank you,” Anna said. “I’m not really sure why my father put me in charge of the final party details, aside from the fact that he felt like he needed to throw me a bone. And I’m a girl. There’s that, too.”

“Throw you a bone?”

Anna looked up at the ceiling. “I’m surprised Adam hasn’t told you, considering how much time you two spend together. I’ve been lobbying to take Adam’s place since before my dad got sick. I’d like to be the one to carry out his vision for LangTel. Unfortunately, my dad’s logic is straight out of the 1950s. He only approves of me in business if I’m shopping for a husband while I do it.”

Melanie had no idea that the sibling rivalry between Adam and Anna was so intense that they would be at odds over running the company. As much as she wanted Adam to take his rightful position, she sympathized with Anna. “My dad treats me the same way. He’s just waiting for me to fail, so that he can tell me that he told me so. Of course, that only makes me want to work harder to prove him wrong.”

Anna smirked. “Exactly. Do you have any idea how hard I worked at Harvard to beat Adam’s GPA? Just so I could show my dad that I was equally capable?”

“I can only imagine. Your brother is a smart guy. I’m sure his grades were nearly impossible to beat.”

“Tough, yes. Impossible, no. I did it, but it wasn’t by much.”

Melanie’s phone rang for the third time. “Somebody really wants to get a hold of me. I’m so sorry.”

She held up her finger while Anna mouthed, “No problem.”

“Hello? This is Melanie.”

“Ms. Costello, this is Beth, one of the producers for the Midnight Hour. We’ve had a last-minute cancellation on tonight’s show. One of our guests has fallen ill. Is Adam Langford still available? We’d love to have him if he is.”

Melanie glanced at her watch. “What time?”

“Can he be here in an hour for hair and makeup?”

Oh, crap. “Yes. Of course. We’ll be there.”

* * *

Two hours after Adam received the frantic phone call from Melanie, he was ready to walk out in front of the Midnight Hour cameras. Almost ready. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stop sweating.”

Melanie waved a magazine in front of his face. “You’re going to have to find a way to stop. By sheer willpower or something.” Judging by the expression on her face, she was as horrified by his physical state as he was.

“Maybe if I’d had more notice.” He wished he hadn’t sounded so annoyed, but he was still bothered by the things she’d said when they’d gone to Flaherty’s a few nights before.

Yes, he’d made mistakes when he was engaged. He knew better now, even if no one seemed to believe him. And Melanie’s suggestion that he’d get bored with her was absurd. Part of the reason he was so drawn to her was because he was certain she’d never bore him. Still, he had to admit that she had reason to bring it up. There’d been a time when women went through a revolving door in his life. Her comments weren’t completely unfounded.

“Relax,” she said, working hard to convey calm. “It’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t understand. I never get nervous. It’s an omen or something.” Adam ran his hand through his hair.

“Stop messing with your hair. You’ll make it look weird.”

He groaned under his breath. “Do you realize that I’m about to go on a show that millions of people watch? People who expect guests to be funny and charming and clever.” Why had he agreed to do this? This was not what he did. He was always in control. He was always in charge. He didn’t allow himself to fall prey to circumstances, but being on this show—the lights, the audience, the host—made him feel as if he was about to do exactly that. “I can’t perform on command.”

Melanie smirked. “I don’t enjoy seeing you uncomfortable, but I do like seeing a chink in the armor every now and then.” She firmly placed her hands on his shoulders. “First off, you need to take about ten deep breaths. Second off, you need another shirt. I’m not letting you go on television in the one you’re wearing.” She strode over to the garment rack in his tiny dressing room and picked out what was supposed to be a backup. “Take off your shirt.”

“This is no time for sex.”

“Okay, Mr. I Can’t Be Funny and Charming on Command. You’re going to be fine. Now take off your shirt so we can get you out there.”

Adam unbuttoned, distracting himself with the vision of Melanie. Every inch of his body warmed to the idea of doing this with her, taking off clothes, for real. In his fantasy, she did the unbuttoning. Always. How disappointed his body would be when he had to break the news. Melanie didn’t take him seriously when it came to romance. Her career and her company were her first priority, and it would be hypocritical to blame her—he’d suffered a broken engagement for the same reason.

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