When air-time approached, it seemed almost a replay of the preceding night. Cameras maneuvered into position, make-up girls flustered about with the tools of their trade, copy-editors plopped crumpled, last-minute additions onto her pile of meticulously organized notes—Tess had experienced it all it seemed a thousand times, except for her enervating feelings for Jared Cox. Those sensations she could not ignore. Certainly, when he had taken his place behind the anchor desk a moment earlier, once again donned in a designer suit that looked painted over the rippling muscles she had viewed earlier that day, Tess felt the same fierce s****l attraction that had tongue-tied her during the previous evening’s broadcast. But now, with her plan to unnerve him firmly in place, she felt more secure tha
