Tall, Dark & Reckless. HEATHER MACALLISTER

means the Guys of Texas will have less operating funds. That means less money for your expensive little adventures, as popular as they are.”

      This time when Mark sipped his coffee, he burned his tongue, which was good because otherwise he’d be using it to tell Travis to go to hell. On his “little adventures,” Mark rooted out corruption, fighting against rulers and thugs who terrorized their citizens as they made power grabs. He exposed tribal chiefs and gang leaders who showed gratitude to the foreign-aid folks while they took the money for their own use. Because of Mark’s “little adventures,” people’s lives had been saved. Wars had been stopped. Leaders deposed. Mark reported the stories, but the behind-the-scenes “little adventures” were what Travis printed as columns in the Guys of Texas webzine. Mark didn’t like the trivialization, but the advertising revenue was what got him overseas.

      He’d had offers from more prestigious news services, but he’d always been a loner and he liked the freedom OMG gave him. He didn’t have to answer to a news team or a producer, except Travis and Travis’s father, and as long as Mark got the story, he could do what he wanted, how he wanted.

      Sure, they yelped a couple of times and sure, Mark skated in the gray area, but he got stories the larger media services could only dream about.

      “So,” Travis continued. “We want to do whatever it takes to get you back in the field.”

      On this, they could agree. “The PT is going great.” Mark ignored the throbbing in his thigh. “By the end of the semester I’ll be good to go.” It was late October. His leg had another couple of months to heal. Plenty of time.

      “Great.” Travis clapped his hands together before pointing them at Mark. “Let’s talk possible assignments.”

      Mark met his eyes with the same gaze that had compelled everyone from beggars to royalty to tell him more than they’d meant to. “I’ve been gone so long, I want to make a splash with my comeback.”

      “Keep talking.”

      “Burayd al-Munzir.” Mark sat back.

      Travis gazed unblinkingly. “And he is …?”

      How could he not know? Swallowing his irritation, Mark said, “Fatik al-Munzir’s youngest half brother. Burayd’s mother came from an influential tribal family in El Bahar, and they were not pleased when she became a third wife instead of the first wife as arranged. His mother’s people are backing Burayd in a disagreement with Fatik over who has rights to the mega oil reserves sitting under tribal lands. Each side wants to be the one to parlay with the U.S., but nobody in this country is taking Burayd seriously. And they need to. The story will take months to develop, but it’ll be worth it.” And staying in villas in modern cities would be easier on his leg than hiking around mountains.

      “Sounds very promising,” Travis said. “But we need something with a faster payoff.”

      Mark gritted his teeth. “Some issues are more important than money.”

      “I like that you think that way and I don’t ever want you to be in a position to realize how wrong you are.” Travis stopped, met his eyes and gave Mark a big, fat smile. “But money is what will buy the plane ticket to get you to whatever sandbox these two play in. Money is what rescued you the last time you went rogue. And money is what has paid for all your physical therapy sessions.”

      “Yeah.” Mark shifted as his leg twinged. Keeping his tone offhand, he said, “So how about I go back to the border and finish the gun smuggling story?”

      “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

      “It could be a fast turnaround. I’ve already done the research—”

      “No.” Travis spoke with unmistakable finality. “Not now. Not ever. At least, not if you want to continue writing for OMG.”

      Mark wasn’t a total idealist, but he’d never sold out and he never would. He tamped down his anger. “Are you threatening me?”

      “Do facts threaten you? It was an expensive mistake.”

      “Is there a problem, Travis?” This was the first time Travis had ever mentioned money in considering Mark’s assignments.

      “Not at the moment, but the more slices, the smaller the piece of pie.”

      His sister’s success must have really rattled Travis. “Have you considered that maybe Dancie will make it a bigger pie?”

      “Like I said—marriage, babies.” Travis was sounding a lot like his father. Mark had always thought it was an act, but maybe not.

      “This is temporary for her,” Travis reiterated. “I don’t mind giving her a salary bump. I don’t even mind if she draws a bigger salary than I do. But a partner’s share of the profits? No.”

      Mark had no intention of getting in the middle of a family fight. He’d keep his thoughts to himself and by New Year’s, he’d be on a plane to the Middle East. Or taking care of unfinished business at the border.

      Travis checked his clunky gold watch and indicated that it was time to leave. “Bring all the enthusiasm you’ve got to the meeting, but don’t forget to tie any story ideas to potential revenue streams for OMG.”

      Was Travis always like this before meeting with his father? If so, Mark was glad he’d never before attended one of these quarterly get-togethers.

      Mark tried not to limp as they walked to the elevator. Potential revenue streams? That wasn’t his job. His job was to get the story. Their job was to publish it.

      For a moment Mark imagined a world in which he would never “adventure” again. He did not want to be a part of that world. Even so, though he might be forced to compromise, he’d never sell out.

       2

      Step two: Verify your target male’s type. Only then engage him in light conversation.

      AFTER REALIZING THAT THE MAN wasn’t going to turn around, Piper had quietly continued up the stairs, so he wouldn’t hear her and think she’d been standing there watching him. Of course, she had been, but she definitely didn’t want him thinking so.

      Her phone buzzed again as she reached the top of the steps and once again, she sent it to voice mail. Then she turned to the right and breezed into Dancie’s office.

      Startled, Dancie looked up from her computer. “You’re way early!”

      “Good morning!” Piper sang.

      Dancie brightened. “Did you bring coffee?”

      “Couldn’t carry it.” Piper set her bag and the hanging clothes on the one visitor’s chair in the tiny space.

      “Well, darn.” Dancie went back to typing. “Travis took the good coffeepot and I don’t feel like braving the man cave this morning.”

      Someone might have made coffee in the downstairs kitchen for the meeting. As Piper considered whether to check and possibly snag a cup for Dancie, her phone went off again. This time, she just let it buzz until it rolled over to voice mail on its own.

      Forget the coffee. There wasn’t that much time before the meeting started and Dancie needed the makeover fairy to wave her magic wand. Piper didn’t have a magic wand, but she did have a flatiron, makeup and a change of clothes. Gently, she closed the door. “Are those notes for today, or can you take a break?”

      Dancie stopped typing and eyed Piper suspiciously. “Why?” Her gaze drifted to the chair and narrowed.

      Long ago, Piper had learned that the way to manipulate Dancie was to keep her off balance by moving quickly and decisively. Talking a lot as she did so helped, too.

      “I want to tweak your visual presentation.” As she spoke, Piper walked around Dancie’s desk and pulled her out of the chair.

      “What do you mean?”