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big-name celebrities. He listened, smiled, flirted mildly and even took her number when she offered it.
    As Will rode the elevator down to his apartment, he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.
    He tried to brush the feeling away as he entered his apartment. Valencia was just what he needed right when he needed it—a professional woman who shared his tastes and desires. She was beautiful and petite with smooth dark skin and a trendy haircut. Just his type.
    So why did he feel so…disinterested?
    Dropping Valencia’s card on the coffee table, Will grabbed his remote. There was still time to catch the end of the game. He stared blindly at the screen until his gaze drifted back to the phone number scrawled across the top of the card. On some strange level he felt as though he should have been with Melody.
    But that was ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything wrong. They weren’t even dating. Yet , his mind finished silently.
    Did taking her out for an extended dance lesson qualify as a date?
    Will wasn’t sure, but it surprised him how much he was looking forward to finding out.
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    Melody threw down her pencil in frustration and pushed away from her art board. She was supposed to be finishing the panels that introduced the Ambassador story line. Instead she kept absently sketching the angles in Will Coleman’s face.
    His face was handsome in all the conventional ways, but that wasn’t what stirred her artist’s fascination. It was the war going on behind his eyes.
    He had the makings of a comic-book hero—boy-next-door good looks with a little something extra. The hint of a secret identity, maybe? With her pencil, she darkened his brow into a brooding look. The eyes always showed the strain of a double life.
    Snatching the sketches of Will from her drawing board, she shoved them into a drawer. She was projecting qualities on to him that didn’t exist. Will wasn’t a superhero—no matter how perfect she made him out to be.
    And she didn’t have time to waste inventing new comic-book characters. She’d gotten up early that morning to get some work done before her house became overrun with wedding paraphernalia. Stephanie had begged her to let them use her apartment to address wedding invitations.
    Melody had just started to get a rough outline of the Ambassador’s first panel when she heard the doorbell ring.
    Her heartbeat sped up as she crossed the room to get the door. “Bass,” she said, feeling both relief and disappointment. “What are you doing here? My sister will be here any minute with her bridesmaids.”
    Bass leaned against the doorjamb, clutching his skateboard and a bag from CompuCity. “And good morning to you, too. I stopped by to check out the first draft of the Ambassador sketches. You said they’d be done this weekend.”
    Embarrassed at her lack of progress, Melody continued to block the entrance. “Since when do you get out of bed before noon on a Saturday?”
    â€œIt was an emergency. My motherboard blew up right in the middle of a Web site redesign.” Bass looked over his shoulder to survey the empty hallway. “So what brings Bridezilla and her merry minions to your humble abode?”
    â€œStephanie’s apartment is being painted and my mother—the etiquette Nazi—claims the Rush name will be dead in New York if we don’t mail the invitations Monday. So you stand at the gateway to wedding hell.”
    â€œWhat about one of the other bridesmaids? Don’t they have apartments?”
    â€œI’m the maid of honor.” She hung her head in mock sorrow. “It’s my cross to bear.”
    â€œWell, this won’t take long.” He tried to look past her into the loft. “Show me the sketches and I’ll be out of here before they arrive.”
    â€œActually…” She grabbed his arm, pulled him into the room and