CHAPTER ONE

      “Amelia Meyers.”

      Julian Archer always announced my name so the entire newsroom could hear it even though we were in the confines of my office. Part of me liked the way it sounded wrapped in his Scottish accent. The other part of me knew he wanted something big. He perched himself on the edge of my desk and fidgeted with a pen. The brash, allegedly difficult host of The Archer Hour bubbled with excited energy. I leaned back in my chair, ready for whatever insane request he’d no doubt throw at me.

      “We have Brent Garrison on this week.” His sharp blue eyes gleamed. I stifled an eye roll. I’d been dreading this week’s show since my first day of work here.

      “He’s my biggest get all year and I expect nothing but perfection,” he continued. “Your track record so far is impeccable. Since you started our ratings have soared. This week should be no exception.”

      Julian hopped off the desk and started pacing. Everything he did had a certain flourish to it. Tugging at his shirtsleeves, he spouted off another round of ‘expectations’ mostly to hear himself talk.

      “It’s a five minute segment,” I interrupted. “Just stick to the talking points and you’ll be fine.”

      “Be prepared to make changes if needed.”

      “Be prepared to follow the rundown exactly as I’ve laid it out.” I lifted an eyebrow. “This isn’t the Brent Garrison hour. He’s part of one segment.”

      Exhaling in dramatic fashion, he placed his hands on his hips and looked at me. “I don’t like being on a leash. Although I’ve grown quite fond of the way you tug at me.” His smile was flirtatious and gross at the same time. “Alastair Holden is a lucky man.”

      Not a day goes by when Julian doesn’t invoke the name of my fiancé. Not that I minded too much. Anytime Alastair filled my thoughts was like being in heaven. Julian’s constant mentioning of his name was done out of pure determination. He wanted an interview with Alastair and he wanted it yesterday. I was the concrete wall he’d have to bust through in order for that to happen. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t about to budge.

      “Tell that boyfriend of yours if he ever changes his mind about that exclusive—”

      “—to call me,” I said in unison with him. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for the phone to ring.”

      “Feisty.” He grinned.

      After Julian finally left my office, I sighed and focused on the checklist of tasks I wanted to finish before noon. I had a standing lunch date with my best friend Stephanie Tempe and couldn’t wait to get out of the office for a little while.

      Before that could happen though, I had my morning meeting with my news director, Sam Dunning and producer, Robbie Watson. They’d both welcomed me into The Archer Hour family with open arms before summarily throwing me out of the frying pan and into the fire. This program was in shambles when I’d started. There’d been a revolving door of executive producers, a lack of direction and a general feeling of apathy among the staff. The past few weeks had seen a drastic improvement but we still had a long way to go.

      “Excuse me, Miss Meyers?”

      I looked up and was greeted by my intern smiling shyly, holding several files.

      “Mr. Dunning asked me to drop these at your desk. It’s for Friday’s show.”

      “Thanks, Meredith.”

      Robbie waltzed in several minutes later and we chatted on our way to Sam’s office. Unlike my old news director, Sam exuded an air of sophistication. Not one blond hair sat out of place on his head. He was younger than I’d expect someone in his position to be as well. My estimation put him at around thirty-four. Once he finished typing, he turned his attention towards us.

      “Another brilliant show last Friday you two. The ratings are still at a steady climb. I think the program is finally getting the injection it needs.”

      Our meeting was mostly spent brainstorming and planning. Sam was a sharp guy. He had some definite ideas of how he wanted the show to be presented and I thought he was on the right track. In the past, the news magazine program had been a frenetic series of over-dramatic, packaged stories. My thoughts on making it more focused and more conversational with viewers dovetailed nicely with his ideas.

      We both wanted the hour to be designed around providing in-depth coverage of the week’s biggest headlines, but we also wanted to give the audience something unexpected. Turn the news on its head, so to speak.

      Once I returned to my office, I threw myself into the week’s preparations. Seeing as I’d spent the majority of Sunday night awake, putting my brain to good use was therapeutic. Alastair had flown to London this morning and decided to keep me occupied most of the night. I smiled. My enigmatic Englishman did not have an off switch. Turning my attention to the files the intern had dropped off, I sifted through some of the pages. I’d barely read through the first one when my desk phone rang.

      “Lia Meyers.”

      “Don’t kill me but I have to cancel lunch. This day sucks balls and I’m not just talking about the non-stop cold and rain outside.” Stephanie sounded agitated.

      “What’s the emergency now?”

      “These layouts are stressing me out and I’m going to go cross eyed if I stare at them another second. Why did I take this job again?”

      “Because you’re awesome and talented and you love it.”

      She sighed. “I would give anything to go sit out in the sun for, like, the rest of the day. Can we fly back to Orlando this weekend? Alastair has a zillion planes. He won’t mind if we use one.”

      “You ask him.”

      “The guy can’t say no to you. We’ll have a more positive outcome if you do it.”

      “Go back to work, Steph.” I laughed, ending the call.

      A few minutes later, Meredith entered my office grinning widely and carrying a small box. “This just arrived for you,” she said, leaving the box on my desk.

      My heart fluttered as I admired the warm, caramel colored wrapping paper. This was Alastair’s call sign. He liked to use this particular shade because he’d always told me how much he loved the rich, amber color of my eyes. I picked it up, smiling as the familiar pleasurable rush flowed through my body.

      Opening it, I was mesmerized by the gorgeous platinum cuff bracelet nestled inside. Diamonds swirled in an elegant design, sparkling in the light.

      “Wow,” I whispered, wanting nothing more than to kiss him endlessly. And it had nothing to do with the jewelry. Alastair Holden was the love of my life for far better reasons. To the rest of the world he was the wealthy orphan and heir to a mind numbing fortune who never let anybody see behind his well-crafted stoic exterior. Only I knew the true man behind the mask. And he was all mine.

      I noticed a small slip of paper in the box and unfolded it. Written in his unmistakable, perfect block penmanship were the words WEAR THIS TONIGHT AND NOTHING ELSE.

      A yearning filled me so fast and furious that I almost forgot to breathe. Flustered, I placed the cuff back in the box and focused on getting back to work.

      *