Hard Impact: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel Read Free

profiling was someone well-known by the American public, or at least soon would be.
    I left the restroom and wove my way between the desks cluttering the main room of the office space toward my desk. Staff from the magazine took up nearly the entire floor, divided into a number of cubicles along one side of the room. The other half was filled with fax machines, copiers, and flat-screen televisions hanging on the walls, sound muted. It didn’t exactly look like a newsroom, but close. People came and went in all states of emotion from calm and collected to agitated and frazzled, probably depending on their deadlines, potential revisions, and of course, keeping on the editor’s good side.
    As I approached my desk, Melanie glanced up and urged me quickly forward, anxious to know why the editor-in-chief had requested my presence. Before I could even sit down at my desk, my friend pounced.
    “Well? What did she want? Did you get an assignment? Who? Or are you in trouble?”
    I held up the envelope. “She gave me an assignment—”
    “ Who?”
    “I have no idea—”
    “You mean you haven’t opened it?” Melanie asked, eyes wide. “Hurry up! Who is it?”
    I smiled as I slowly turned the manila envelope over and reached for the little metal clasp. Melanie squirmed with anticipation, and I enjoyed teasing her. I glanced up at my friend every few seconds, squeezing the metal arms of the tab together, taking my time lifting the flap, then inching my fingers inside to grasp the papers enclosed.
    “Misty, stop teasing me! Who is it?”
    I glanced down at the eight-by-ten photograph on top of the thin sheaf of papers. My mouth dropped open and my heart did something funny in my chest. What did they call it? Pitter-patter? If so, my heart was definitely pitter-pattering. I gazed down at a photograph of a handsome man, maybe early thirties. It was an outdoor shot with a backdrop of mountains.
    He wore jeans and a t-shirt that displayed impressive musculature, but not the bodybuilding type, just the sporty type. And one of the most handsome faces I’d ever seen. Gorgeous, windblown dark brown hair, a little on the long side, but not long enough to pull into a ponytail. Strong jaw line, chiseled features, defined cheekbones and a high forehead. Perhaps some Native American blood? The man in the photo wore a grin that prompted me to smile in return. The expression on his face was one of pure bliss. Even I felt a sense of excitement over something he pointed toward off-camera.
    “Well? Who is it?” Melanie asked impatiently.
    I shrugged slightly and shook my head. “I have no idea.” I turned the photo toward my friend, who gasped.
    “Almighty God! That’s Blake Masters!”
    Blake Masters? The name rang a bell, but I couldn’t quite figure out where I’d heard it before. I turned the photo around, glanced at it again, then at the three pieces of paper attached to it.
    “You’re going to interview Blake Masters?” Melanie was now fanning herself with his picture. “Oh my God, this is unbelievable!”
    I glanced at my friend. “Why? What do you know about him?”
    “You mean you don’t know?” She hugged his picture to her chest.
    “No,” I said, feeling more than a little stupid. “Is he from around here?”
    “Yeah, his offices are across town—”
    “Offices for what?”
    “He owns an outdoor adventure company,” Melanie explained. “You know, hooking up people with outdoor adventures. His company is called Hard Impact. Horseback and packhorse hunting excursions, extreme skiing, ice climbing, skydiving, wingsuit cliff jumping… you get the picture?”
    “You mean thrill-seeking foolishness for bored businessmen, stuff like that?” I shook my head. Adrenaline junkies. What made people risk their lives in such a way?
    Melanie smiled and shook her head. “That’s just half of it. His company took off, but he’s an extremely private individual. You know what he likes to do during his downtime?”
    I