Kate Hoffmann: The Drifter

A book in the Smooth Operators series, 2010

Dear Reader,

When I began the SMOOTH OPERATORS trilogy, I was looking forward to writing three books set in three different seasons-winter, spring and summer. But with my writing schedule, I never seem to be writing the books in the right season.

The first book of this trilogy, set in a snowbound cabin, was written during the heat of August. This book takes place in the Colorado springtime and was written as the leaves were turning. And the next book, set in Chicago in the summer, will no doubt be written while the snow is flying. I guess you could say I’m seasonally challenged.

Whatever the season, I find the escape of writing just as much fun as a vacation. So enjoy this trip to Boulder, Colorado. I’ve been there only once, but it was a great place to visit.

Happy reading,

Kate Hoffmann

“IT’S GOT TO BE SIMPLE and concise,” Angela Weatherby said as she slowly twirled around in her desk chair. “The name has to encompass all the traits that make up this guy. He’s a wanderer, he can’t settle down. He’s always searching for the next big thrill, whether it’s climbing a mountain or seducing a beautiful woman. He freely admits that he doesn’t want to commit, yet women fall for him again and again and again.”

Now that her SmoothOperators Web site was such a success, Angela had found it much easier to work on the book she was writing. She’d chosen a title-Spotting the Smooth Operator: A Woman’s Guide to Avoiding Dating Disasters. She’d developed ten solid archetypes of the smooth operator. But, according to her editor, she needed to come up with clever names for each. The chapter on the Charmer had already been written and she’d moved on to the next in line, then become stuck on the header.

“So he’s a wanderer,” said Celia Peralto, Angie’s business partner and webmaster. “A…nomad?”

“That makes him sound like he’s tending sheep instead of seducing women. How about the Traveler?”

Celia shook her head. “Sounds like some stuffy businessman.”

A long silence grew between them. Ceci had been an invaluable help on the book and was always happy to brainstorm ideas. But this one had them both stumped. “It’s on the tip of my tongue,” Angela said. “He’s a…a…” She groaned and closed her eyes, clearing her mind. “He’s a-drifter!”

She opened her eyes to find Ceci grinning at her. “That’s it,” Ceci said. “He’s a drifter. I like it. He can’t settle down, he moves from one woman to the next, he’s footloose and irresponsible and every woman thinks she’ll be the one to change him.”

“But no one can,” Angela said.

“Well, there’s always an exception to the rule,” Ceci said. “If there wasn’t, there would be a bunch of eighty-year old guys hopping from bed to bed, seducing any woman they could find.” She paused. “There was a post on the Web site this morning. Alex Stamos has officially stepped out of the dating pool. His sister added a note to his profile saying that he’s getting married.”

“Well, it’s good I never got to interview him, then,”

Angela said.

When she’d decided to do anonymous and anecdotal interviews with each of her “types,” Alex had been first on her list. He’d been the perfect example of a “Charmer.” Unfortunately, she’d never been able to talk to him and had to settle for a car salesman from Arlington Heights and a bartender from DePaul.

“You don’t believe men can change, do you?” Ceci asked.

“I used to think they could,” Angela admitted.

“But how many profiles do we have on the site? Tens of thousands and yet, only a few men make the transformation from smooth operator to devoted husband.

I’ve had just enough bad experiences to make me cynical.”

“Don’t you hope that someday you’ll find a great guy, someone who won’t treat you like a commodity?”

Angela sighed. In her heart of hearts, she still wanted to believe there was someone out there for her. But she was slowly creeping toward thirty and she knew the odds. The older she got, the smaller the bachelor pool became, until all that was left in the water were the bottom feeders and leeches and poisonous snakes. She was a practical girl who had let go of her fairy-tale dreams a long time ago.

“Of course I do,” Angela murmured. “But I’m not going to hold my breath.”

“A more optimistic attitude might help,” Celia said. She crawled out of her chair and pulled Angela to her feet. “Go ahead. Close your eyes, click your heels together and say it three times. I will fall in love with a great man, I will fall in love with a great man, I will fall in love with a great man.”

Angela laughed and pulled her hands out of Ceci’s grip. “You’re a hopeless romantic. How can you do your job and not see that finding a good guy is like looking for diamond in a pile of dipsticks?”

Ceci sighed. “All right. Maybe it’s better you hate men, at least until this book is done.”

“I don’t hate men.”

Reaching across her desk, Ceci snatched up a magazine and tossed it at Angela. “You wanted to interview a drifter?” She pointed to the picture on the cover of Outdoor Adventure magazine. “Charlie Templeton. He has a huge profile on our site. And he is a classic example. He’s doing a couple lectures at the university in Boulder, Colorado. I figure you could fly out there, corner him and get him to talk.”

Angela peered at the photo. “God, he is gorgeous.”

“He is,” Ceci said. “Of course, if you’d rather, I could fly out there and interview him.”

“No. I’ll do it. If I surprise him, maybe he’ll agree to talk.”

Angela set the magazine down, then went back to scanning the newest profiles created on the Web site. Who would have known that a silly little blog chronicling her dating woes would have turned into a thriving business? She ought to be grateful to every guy who ever dumped her for giving her the opportunity of a lifetime.

There was one chapter she wasn’t ready to write, though. One that brought up all sorts of memories. She needed time to prepare for her memories of Max Morgan, the Sexy Devil. Time to work up the courage to call him for an interview. Would he even remember her?

All through high school, she’d had a secret crush on him and he’d never once noticed her. He’d been the most popular guy, the star athlete, the boy every girl dreamed of kissing. She’d followed him to college at Northwestern, attending all his football and baseball games, taking every opportunity to put herself in his path. Looking back on it, her behavior probably could have been considered stalking.

“Do you want me to make reservations?” Ceci asked.

“What? Oh, for Boulder? Yes. And do the hotel, too. Do that thing you do when you get the really good rates. If Charlie Templeton won’t talk, I don’t want to regret wasting money on a nice hotel room.”

She hadn’t been able to snag Alex Stamos, but she’d learned from her mistakes. The best way to catch a smooth operator was to eliminate any means of escape. They called it ambush journalism, but Angela preferred to think of it as just a way to get the job done.

CHARLIE TEMPLETON STOOD at the top of the world. Literally. He sucked in a deep breath from the oxygen mask covering his face. The air was thin at 28,740 feet and after climbing for nearly twelve hours, all he really wanted to do was lie down and sleep. But he knew the risks of taking just a moment or two of relaxation. Many climbers had died ascending Mount Everest, but the descent was even trickier.