Fast Courting Read Free Page B

office. It was a comfortable-sized room, bright and well-kept, modern, as was the entire building, one of the more recent additions to Boston’s clustered skyline. No, she couldn’t find fault with Bruce McHale, the magazine’s owner, on that score. He believed that his people worked best in pleasant surroundings. Hence, this office.
    The walls and desks were white, the carpeting and obligatory bulletin boards burgundy. All else was done in crisp navy blue, from padded desk chairs to lamp shades to ashtrays and file cabinets. Wood was markedly absent. Rather, the furnishings and accessories were of the highest quality vinyl, formica, steel or fabric—all blended to preclude harshness while allowing for clear lines of utility. The room held two desks, each in its own work area, delineated by a freestanding, open bookshelf. It was through the fronds of a spindly asparagus fern on one of these shelves that Nia’s eyes met Priscilla’s.
    “Something wrong, Nia? You’ve been daydreaming longer than usual.”
    Nia’s gaze moved about the room once more. “I was just reminding myself how lucky we are that McHale believes in the finer things in life. We could be set up in an ancient flea-trap.”
    Priscilla chuckled. “There aren’t many of those left now. Urban renewal has done wonders. Believe it or not, this very area used to be one of the seediest parts of town. You would never have dared pass through here alone, and if you happened to work here, chances are you were a …a…”
    “I get the drift,” Nia indulgently rescued her friend. “But you native Bostonians take your age for granted. I grew up on the West Coast where, historically, at least, things are younger. There is a remarkable beauty in some of the landmarks here—the Custom House, the Old City Hall, Paul Revere’s house. Then, once you get out to Lexington and Concord, another whole world opens up.”
    “You do like it here, don’t you?”
    “Yes. I’m glad I stayed.” Her implication was clear and triggered a new train of thought.
    “Say,” Priscilla burst out, “have you heard anything about the Western Edge assignment? Wasn’t Bill going to let you know this week?”
    Nia thrust her fingers through her thick mane of mahogany layers and sighed. “No word yet. But there’s no rush; my family isn’t going anywhere. I’d like to see them, and it would be super to combine a visit with work.” She grinned conspiratorially. “One of the advantages of working for a magazine that has a sister publication on the opposite coast!”
    “Further kudos for Bruce McHale,” Priscilla joked, lifting an imaginary goblet in toast. “For interior decorating and a generous travel allowance.”
    “Hmmm.” Nia glanced at the calendar on the bulletin board by her desk. “I do seem to have plenty of travel coming up, what with research to be done on the Amish in Pennsylvania and the lowdown on life on Washington’s Ambassador’s Row. Those are all immediate; then there’s that assignment Bill gave me this morning….”
    That was the true source of the nagging doubts in the back of her mind. For some reason, this particular assignment had struck her the wrong way.
    “It’s still bothering you, isn’t it?” Priscilla homed in on the problem.
    “I suppose so. I wish he could have found someone else.”
    “But, why, Nia? He was right. You’re perfect for this feature. If anyone can handle men, you can.” There were both admiration and a hint of envy in Priscilla’s voice, but Nia was too immersed in her own dilemma to appreciate that.
    “That’s just it! I don’t want to have to handle anyone. I picture these five men as enamored of their own ‘availability.’ If they’ve agreed to the feature, they’re bound to be cocky, to say the least.”
    “But…they haven’t. Have they?”
    Nia frowned. “Haven’t what?”
    “Agreed. I got the impression that you’ll be making the initial contacts.”
    “Oh, Lord,” Nia groaned. “I’d