The bright lights of the cameras shine into my eyes. I blink against them as I take my place on the small stage just to the right of the podium.

Andy brushes past me on her way to the microphone, and the swirl of her heady scent—some sort of flower, maybe Jasmine—invades my senses. I barely managed to contain the raging hard-on I had during our meeting and now it's threatening to make a reappearance.

She hasn't even uttered a single word, but she already commands the entire room. Everyone silences without being asked and sits at the ready waiting for her to speak. She turns and glances back at me only briefly before she dives in.

“Hello. My name is Andrea Mason. As most of you undoubtedly know, I am the new CEO of KBC network. While I may have only started a few days ago, already I've been forced to come forward as the official head of the network to make this statement on something I'd hoped I wouldn't have to. We all know what happened at the charity game. I won’t rehash it, and I don’t expect you to either.”

The crowd remains silent and watches her rapt. I do the same. She’s in complete control and everyone hangs on her every word. She could be listing off an ingredient list for banana bread and everyone would be absolutely enthralled with her. Or maybe that’s just my libido talking.

Lord knows, this woman has me wound tighter than a spring, and I’m ready to snap. The stress of the last few days combined with the undeniable attraction between us is driving me slowly insane.

“Rafe Boswell has been a member of the KBC family for the past two years, and his show, The Bone Doctor, has remained at the number one spot in his category since essentially the day it premiered. Everyone knows Rafe, and we all know he is an upstanding and well-loved member of this community. The fact that I even have to make this statement or say anything is more irritating than I'd like to admit; however, there are people who would like to see Rafe’s good name tarnished. And so, it becomes necessary for us to come forward today to make this brief statement. We will not be accepting any questions after.”

She turns back toward me and holds her hand out. “Rafe.”

I step forward into the spotlight. All eyes are trained on me as they await my statement. The few steps to the podium feel like a mile. Andy waits until I'm right next to her. She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder before she steps away.

The touch of her hand, even through the material of my shirt and jacket, sears my skin and also gives me the confidence to proceed with my statement when all eyes are on me.

You can do this.

Several deep breaths minimally help in slowing my racing heart, but my chest still tightens looking out at the crowd of reporters.

Who would have thought so many people would care what I have to say?

They probably don’t. They probably just want to see me go down in flames in person. Maybe they’re hoping for a repeat performance. Maybe a split in my pants and a fall off the stage.

I shudder at the thought and take a deep breath again to try to regain my composure. I’ve never been afraid of public speaking before, but now, my palms are sweating, and I swear, the temperature jumped about twenty degrees the second I got behind the podium.

“Uh, hello. I’m Rafe Boswell.” I glance down at the prepared statement and try to remember what I’m supposed to be saying. “The incident at the charity game was an unfortunate accident. I deeply regret any traumatic effects it may have had on any spectators or viewers. However, I also feel I must address the vicious rumors being spread. Any insinuation that what happened was in any way planned is absolutely ludicrous and false. I respect and cherish the trust parents and children put in me as the host of The Bone Doctor, and I would never abuse that trust as others are suggesting. I hope we can put this in the past and move forward without further dragging me through the mud. Thank you.”

I added that last line myself. I probably should have left it alone and stuck with the prepared statement, but the fact that any media outlet thinks it’s okay to run such a ridiculous story…that I would ever intentionally show my junk to thousands of people…just blows my mind. It has to stop.

Andy approaches and places her small hand on my shoulder, ushering me away from the platform as questions are hurled at us from all directions.

She doesn’t acknowledge them, just continues to lead me away from the stage and down the hallway toward the conference room.

We pause outside the door, and she finally removes her hand. She offers a small, apologetic smile. “You did well.”

Then, she turns on her heels and elegantly walks down the long hallway back to her office without looking back, as if nothing happened.