“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.”