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That would be a pain in the ass, trying to find another assistant.
But he would manage it somehow. There was going to be no holding Zoe back, he knew that.
At least when he lost her there wouldn’t be any crying, no groping for the right words and coming up with only hollow clichés. She would be happy when he lost her. He would be resigned, would do his best to keep her at the magazine. If he couldn’t have her guarding his office door forever, at least Great Escapes could get the benefit of her talent and drive.
And that was as good as it got.
In the end, a guy had to be grateful for small favors.
“So I have this idea …” Zoe said the following Tuesday, as they were winding down the morning huddle.
He’d been expecting this. Of course, she had an idea. She’d been working for him for just four weeks and already organized his slush pile. She knew the plan for the next seven issues backward and forward, had a great instinct for what would work for the magazine and what wouldn’t. When she flagged a piece for him, he knew it was something he had to make time to take a look at.
She was on her feet by then, clutching her laptop, the absurdly large diamond on her engagement ring twinkling at him. “It’s … for a Spotlight.” She actually sounded hesitant, which rather charmed him. Zoe rarely sounded nervous about anything. Even when she wasn’t sure what she was doing, she took care to project confidence. “I was thinking we could discuss it—I mean, when you’ve got a spare moment or two.”
“I’m listening. Tell me about it now.”
“Well, all right.” She dropped back into her chair again, set the laptop on her knees. “I’m thinking ‘Spotlight on a Shoestring’—because of the economy, you know? That people are looking for value in everything they do, including when they travel. I’m thinking Mexico—and no, do not give me that look. Not Cancún or Puerto Vallarta. I’m thinking of something a little more out of the way.”
“Like?”
“Southern Mexico, the state of Chiapas near the Guatemalan border. San Cristóbal de las Casas, to be specific.”
“You’re kidding.”
She sat straighter and got that pugnacious look. He really liked that look. “I am one-hundred-percent serious. It’s a great value. Four-star hotels at a hundred bucks a night. Wonderful food at really low prices and a fabulous central market where you can get amazing deals on local arts and crafts. Biking, birdwatching. Rainforest all around, filled with thousands of exotic plants and animals. Spectacular Mayan ruins …”
He put up a finger. “Two words.”
“What?”
“Armed insurgents.”
She wrinkled her adorable nose at him. “I had a feeling you would say that.”
He knew a lot about Mexico. But then, he knew a lot about many places. “They’re called the Zapatistas, Zoe. And they’re nothing to fool with.”
“Most of the trouble was back in the nineties. Things are better now.”
“But is better good enough?”
“It is, yes. I’m sure it’s safe. Yes, the Zapatistas are in a war against the Mexican state, against globalization. But it’s mostly a nonviolent conflict. My research tells me that travelers are safer in and around San Cristóbal than in just about any major American city. As long as they behave respectfully and don’t take pictures without asking first.” She produced a memory stick. “Here’s what I have. I’ve tried to cover everything—what to pack, what to see, where to stay, how to get there.”
“A spreadsheet for projected costs?”
“That, too.”
He held out his hand. “I’ll give it a look.”
Her sleek brows drew together. He knew she was considering working on him a little more before she turned him loose with what she’d worked up. But apparently she decided against that, decided to let the work she’d done speak for itself. He very much approved of that.
She rose and passed him the stick. “Can’t ask for more.”
That evening, he read her proposal. And the next morning, when they went over his calendar, he told her what he thought.
“I like it. We’re going to do it.”
She gasped and those blue eyes lit up, bright as stars. “You mean it?”
He nodded.
“Yes!” In her excitement, she almost dropped her laptop. It slid off her knees. She lurched to rescue it and whacked her hand hard against the side of his desk. The enormous diamond made a loud cracking sound. Something plopped to the floor.
They stared at each other.
She let out a wild little laugh. “Oops.” She had her laptop stabilized on her knees and she was clutching her left hand with her right. She pressed her lips together as a scarlet flush rushed up her creamy cheeks. “Uh, sorry.”
Was she hurt? “Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Fine. Perfect.” She pulled the ring off her finger—but carefully, keeping it out of his sight. “I think I, um, bent the setting on my ring a little.”
“Sounded to me like you broke the damn thing.”
The flush on her pretty face intensified. Her cheeks were now cherry-red. “No, no. Of course not.” Trying not to be obvious about it, she scanned the floor around her chair.
He pushed back his own chair and looked under his desk.
Near his left shoe, half of her engagement diamond sparkled at him. He bent and picked it up.
When he straightened, she was staring at him. The look on her face was absolutely priceless. He leaned across the desk and held the broken stone out to her.
She took it from him. “Uh, thanks.”
“It appears that Johnny will be buying you another ring. Tell him not to be such a cheap bastard this time.”
She looked as if she wished she could sink right through the floor. But Zoe was not one to be cowed by a little thing like abject humiliation. She pulled herself together and jumped to Johnny’s defense. “I’ll have you know that Johnny is not cheap—and this …” She looked down at the two halves of her supposed engagement diamond. “It’s nothing.”
He arched a brow but kept his mouth shut. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. Hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time.
She backpedaled madly, that quick brain of hers firing on all cylinders. “A … duplicate, a fake. I had it made.”
“Made?”
“Yes. Made—you know, because I was nervous. Muggings are … simply rampant these days.”
Simply rampant, huh? “No kidding?”
She fisted the broken ring in her palm and sat up straighter, flicking a thick swatch of that gorgeous red hair back over her shoulder. “Yes, well. Ahem … where were we?”
He debated whether to torture her some more or move on. In the end, he took pity on her. “The San Cristóbal Spotlight.”
She swallowed, nodded, eager to talk more about her proposal—and to put the embarrassing incident with the ring behind her. “I’m so pleased, Dax. I can’t tell you how much this means.”
“I’ve been thinking about what month we should use it.” With relish, he delivered the bombshell. “I’m thinking January.”
Her mouth dropped open again. He really did enjoy catching her off-guard. “B-but January is already locked in.”
Yes, it was. Spotlights, along with the rest of the magazine, were planned and scheduled nine months to a year in advance.
“I run this magazine. And if I say we go to Chiapas and not Greece for January, then that’s where we go.”
“But you’re leaving for Greece in a week and a half. I have the travel arrangements all set up.”
“Then you will change them. A little spontaneity is good now and then.”
“But … what if I can’t get that fabulous hotel?”
“You’ll find another fabulous hotel. I have faith in your ingenuity and resourcefulness.” He sat back in his chair and waited for her to confess what was really bothering her.
“But I …” She had her free hand folded over the one with the broken ring in it and both of them resting on her shut laptop. She stared down—at her hands, at the laptop? He couldn’t tell which. Her slim shoulders were slumped. She almost might have been praying.
“Zoe.” He spoke softly. “You what?”
The red head lifted, the shoulders went back and the blue eyes gleamed. “I was hoping, well, that it would be a little later. At least not for a few months. Not until, um, after the rainy season ends.”
“I don’t see a little rain as that much of a problem.”
“Daily, Dax. It comes down in buckets.”
“I know my weather patterns. It rains hard, but mostly just in the afternoon.”
So much for the rainy season. She let that go and cast about for another excuse to postpone the trip. “But I, well, if you could only wait until I’ve been working for you longer, until …” Words deserted her.
He didn’t let her off the hook. “What? Tell me.”
“Oh, please.” Her heated gaze accused him. “You know. I know you know.”
“You still have to say it. That’s how it works. You have to speak up and say what you want. Come on. Look at it this way, if you don’t get what you ask for, at least you’ll know you put yourself out there, that you did everything you could to make it happen.”
She sat up even straighter. “Fine. All right. I want you to wait to do the Spotlight on San Cristóbal until you’re ready to take me along as your assistant, instead of one of the associates. That’s what I want, okay? I want to go.”
He rested his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers. Yeah, he was playing this, stringing it along to enjoy her honest excitement, her clear desire to be directly involved in the feature she had just proposed. Most of the time, she was careful around him, she guarded that light in her eyes from him. She tried to keep things all business.
And he respected that, he really did. Still, it was gratifying for him, to listen to her speak with heat, with passion. To see her eagerness, her enthusiasm, her willingness to push for what she wanted, to try to get him to give her a chance, to let her take the next step.
She glared at him. “Just tell me. Just give me an answer. Will you wait for a few months to do my Spotlight?”
“No.”
Her sweet, soft mouth trembled as she pressed her lips together to keep herself from calling him a thoroughly inappropriate name. He liked that about her, too. She had passion, but she also kept herself in hand. She took care not to step over the line.
“Well.” A slow, deep breath. A toss of that flame-colored hair. “Fine, then. You were right, I needed to ask. At least I’ll never kick myself because I didn’t even try.”
“I don’t think you’ll kick yourself at all.”
She blinked. And then she gasped. She got what he was hinting at. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. It’s early, I know. But you learn fast. I think you’re ready. You’ll get to prove yourself.”
“I’m going with you?” Breathless, heartbreakingly hopeful.
“Yes, Zoe. I’m doing your Chiapas trip instead of the one to Mykonos. I’m leaving Monday, August second. And you are going with me.”
Chapter Four
“Have you made the reservations for Mexico yet?” Dax asked the next morning as he stepped out of the elevator.
Of course she had. She’d worked late the day before, getting everything set up. She handed him his coffee. “Yes. Mexicana Airlines. One stopover in Mexico City and then on to the international airport at Tuxtla Gutiérrez, the capital city of the state of Chiapas. We can get a taxi from there to …” She let the words trail off as she saw that he was shaking his head. “Is there a problem?”
He took the lid off his coffee, sniffed it the way he always did and then enjoyed a careful sip. “Cancel the flight.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“How are you in small planes?”
“With enough Dramamine, anything is possible, but—”
“Good. I’m going to fly us.”
Not in her plan. Not in the least. “Dax …”
“Don’t argue. Just do it.”
“If I could only make one little point …”
“You’re boring me, Zoe.”
“Too bad. I intend to make my point and my point is that readers like to know how you got there—on a commercial flight, just the way that they will. Especially since this is supposed to be a budget destination.”
His smile was annoyingly smug. “Now you know more than I do about what readers want in a Spotlight?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you sure as hell are thinking it. Cancel the reservation. We’re going to have some fun.”
The way he said that kind of scared her. “I, um, didn’t know you were a pilot.”
He gave her a look of endless patience. “I may be in magazine publishing now, but I spent years adventuring in the wilds, from Borneo to the South Pole.”
