The hallway was tight, the air humming with the kind of electric anticipation only live television could produce. Lights flash in rhythm with a countdown clock on the wall. Nathan stood just outside the studio entrance, hands in the pockets of his tailored slacks, trying to appear relaxed.
But he wasn’t.
He tells himself it’s just another appearance. Just another interview. Just another woman who happens to be attractive and aggravating in equal measure.
And still, his stomach pulled tight the moment he heard the sharp click of heels against the floor.
He knew that sound.
Of course, it’s her.
Isla.
He glanced up and—God help him—she was breathtaking. Not in the way women usually aim to be on television. No, there was nothing rehearsed about her today. She’s polished, yes, but not pl
