Barbara Boswell - Forever Flint

“Let’s stick to your magazine and its focus—whatever that is,” countered Flint. “For starters, redefine what you mean by ‘charming.’ Because if it involves things like running water and gourmet dinners and shopping, none of those were in last month’s issue of Tour & Travel.”

“Oh no, last month’s issue!” Ashlinn heaved a groan. “I’d actually managed to forget about it. Or maybe it’s simply pure denial. That issue was the first one to come out under the. . .new publisher. He’s changed the entire format, the entire concept of the magazine. Everything is different now.”

“I see. Sort of.” Flint gazed quizzically at her. “That still doesn’t explain why the magazine sent you out here. I can’t imagine that Carmody wasn’t clear about this being an all-male excursion.”

“Well, I guess the ‘Asher’ could have been a typo. But I’m becoming more and more convinced that he—Presley Oakes Jr., the new publisher of T & T—did this on purpose.” Ashlinn’s deep-brown eyes flashed fire. “It would be exactly like him to pull a stunt like this, first assigning me to write an article, then making it about a testosterone-fueled trip into some godforsaken wilderness.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you don’t much care for your new boss,” Flint said dryly.

She drew a sharp breath. “I was a senior editor at the magazine until Junior’s father bought it and turned it over to him. Do you know what it’s like to work for a boss who’s just celebrated his twenty-third birthday?”

“Twenty-three, huh?” Flint wondered what response she was expecting. Weren’t women notoriously touchy about their age? He cleared his throat. “Er, I guess that makes him younger than you?”

“Duh!”

“I was trying to be tactful,” Flint defended himself.

“You needn’t bother. I’m not ashamed of my age, which is five years older than Junior. Five pivotal, crucial years!”

“I’m guessing things got off to a rocky start when Junior took the helm,” Flint surmised. “So he’s making a senior editor write about a camping trip, and to top it off, he sends a female to go with a bunch of guys. Yeah, things are beginning to fall into place now.” Flint nodded his head knowingly. “Too bad Paradise Outdoors got dragged into Junior’s scheme to get rid of you. Wait until I talk to Carmody! He should’ve picked up on the. . .”

“There is no scheme to get rid of me!” cried Ashlinn.

“No?” Flint arched his brows. “If you’re so secure in your position, then why didn’t you refuse this assignment? It doesn’t sound like you were very enthused about it, even before you got here and found out it was men only.”

“That’s not true, I. . .”

“Shall I quote yourself to you? ‘The Badlands, the name itself says it all’ . . .‘what can be good about going there?’ Let’s not forget ‘some godforsaken wilderness.’ And then there was your unsurpassed glee when you assumed the trip was canceled. You actually smiled.”

He remembered the flash of sexual heat her smile had inspired in him. He’d better make sure that didn’t happen again.

Ashlinn’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, you’re right. I wasn’t looking forward to the trip. And I . . . didn’t do much reading about the state of South Dakota so I thought the Black Hills were in the Badlands, not separate areas. No offense.”

“None taken. Not too much, anyway. So you felt you couldn’t just say no when you were given the assignment?”

“One doesn’t say ‘no’ to Junior and still have a job. So far I’ve survived the purge that followed his takeover.” She heaved a sigh.

“Sounds bad. Why haven’t you quit?” Flint was genuinely curious.

She made a wry face. “I have this practical side that asserts itself, reminding me that I can’t afford to be unemployed. I’ve barely made a dent in my student loans and I have other key bills to. pay—you know, like food and rent. I’d really hate to give up eating and live on the streets.”

“Cheer up, this expedition should definitely broaden your options. You’ll learn survival skills so you can live off the land.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Well, yes.” Flint’s lips twitched. “I thought a little humor couldn’t hurt.”

“You might notice that I’m not laughing.” She glowered at him.

There was nothing remotely humorous about her predicament, Ashlinn mused glumly. As if this assignment from the little weasel who’d pronounced T & T’s format—and staff—stale and stodgy and too old weren’t bad enough, it was now quite clear that she was unwelcome on the expedition. The group leader was as eager to be rid of her as Junior was to replace her at Tour & Travel with one of his young buddies.

Well, she wasn’t going to give either one the satisfaction of her quitting!

Ashlinn clutched her overnight bag so tightly that her fingers ached. To say that she hadn’t been looking forward to this trip was definitely an understatement. She’d always loathed Carey family camping vacations while growing up, and as an adult gladly avoided places where sleeping bags, cooking over an open fire and applying mosquito repellent by the quart were required.

Now this. Plus, she was to be the only female among a gang of would-be Daniel Boones bent on exploring the wilderness with high-tech gadgets and equipment. Could it get any worse?

It could.

“We’re scheduled to leave at dawn tomorrow,” said Flint.

“Dawn?” Ashlinn echoed, dismayed. “Why so early? It’s not like the Badlands—uh, the Black Hills—are going anywhere. They’ll still be there if we leave at a decent hour in the morning.”

“Dawn is the decent hour to begin this trip,” Flint said firmly “We have to drive nearly the length of the state to reach the campgrounds.”

Ashlinn glanced at her watch. It was already past ten—and that was Central Time Her body was still operating on Eastern Standard Time, which made it a whole hour later.

“Where’s the baggage claim?” she asked wearily. “I’ll collect my luggage and then we can get out of here.” She was booked into a motel tonight and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and try to get some sleep before the odious dawn departure.

“Luggage?”

“You look as if you’re unfamiliar with the concept.” Ashlinn’s patience was wearing very thin.

“How much luggage?” His testy tone matched hers

“Just two suitcases,” she began defensively. “I. . .”

“Well, you’ll have to leave them behind. We’re only bringing what we can carry in the extended-journey-size backpacks. Everybody is receiving identical ones, courtesy of Paradise Outdoors”

Ashlinn stared at the man who was not marketing chief Sam Carmody. His eyes, black as obsidian chips, were watching her closely, no doubt to gauge her reaction to his latest pronouncement. He was openly trying to discourage her; he was still hoping that she would bail out of the torturous fate awaiting her.

Not that she didn’t want to.

But that practical side of her nature dismissed the misery of rising before dawn and lugging a heavy-duty backpack through rugged terrain. She really had no choice. The raise she’d been counting on had fallen through when Tour & Travel had been sold, and her living expenses seemed to be increasing, though she’d actually cut back her spending. She hadn’t eaten out once since Presley Oakes Jr. took over the magazine, and in a city of great restaurants like New York, that was a cruel hardship indeed.

But the prospect of unemployment was far worse.

If she were fired, the benefits she would be eligible for wouldn’t come close to making ends meet. And if she quit her job, she wouldn’t get a cent from anywhere Either way, she would have to leave New York. . .