The second I saw the sexy as fuck blonde in the green dress, everything shifted. When our eyes met, I was poleaxed. An intensely possessive feeling roared to life inside me. The need to touch and claim her was so extreme that I struggled not to drop my mic and go right to her. 
I was known for being a dynamic and unflappable interviewer, yet for the first time in my career, I fumbled for words and struggled for coherence. This was due to the fact that the only thing I cared about was her. Only when I realized that my segment producer had been frantically waving at me from his spot next to the stationary camera did I remember that I had a job to do. 
Forcing myself into host mode, I somehow went about interviewing the group of people the girl in the green dress was walking with. I knew who each one of them was, but her name was a mystery because she stood off to the side, and it wasn’t like I could call her over. 
The rules on the red carpet were simple and definitive. Talk to the talent and keep it moving. Assistants, friends, and family members didn’t get a lot of play, even if they were as sexy as the goddess in the green dress. It frustrated me not to know her name, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time before I solved that mystery.
After I wrapped up my pre-show hosting duties, something that took far longer than one would imagine, I headed into the Dolby Theatre. I was seated with one of my good friends, Liam Hall. He wasn’t nominated but was presenting, so he was in a chill mood. Typically, we’d have shot the shit and pressed the flesh with the people around us, but I was so busy staring at the girl in the green dress that I didn’t have it in me to do much more than phone it in. I was smart enough to train my eyes mostly on the stage when the cameras were rolling, but every time the host threw to commercial, my attention went right back to her. I hated that she was seated so damn far away in another section.
Oscar ceremonies were known for being ridiculously long and what was scheduled as a three-hour broadcast always went over. Sometimes by seventeen minutes, and sometimes by eighty. I’d never hated the length more than I did then. I silently willed the damn show to come in on time for once, but naturally, that didn’t happen. The fucking thing dragged on longer than War and Peace.
During one of the commercial breaks, Liam leaned over and muttered, “What’s the deal with the sexy chick in the green dress you’re busy eye-stalking?” 
While it was true that I was ogling her—clearly not as covertly as I’d hoped—hearing Liam refer to her as sexy set my teeth on edge. That I had any kind of reaction to his question was unusual. I’d had a similar response when I’d seen Dane Garrison take her arm earlier. The only thing that calmed me down about that was the certainty that Dane wasn’t dating her. I knew this because Dane and I were tight. The only girls in his life on the regular were his mom, Gloria Garrison, and his daughter, Maggie. Thank fuck I’d remembered that before I made a fool of myself by telling him to get his goddamn hands off the blonde. I’d never felt territorial about anyone before, but there was no denying that I wanted—needed—her to be mine. That brought me back to Liam, who needed to know that the goddess in green was majorly off-limits.
“Call her sexy again, and we’re going to have a problem,” I grumbled, speaking low enough so only he could hear me.
Sitting back, Liam raised his brows and gave me an “are you serious” look. I dipped my head to acknowledge that yeah, I sure as fuck was. Unbothered by his obvious amusement about what was going on with me, I turned my attention back to the woman in green.