Christmas Secrets Collection. Laura Iding

what else to tell you, Dax. I do have a personality. A pretty strong one, to be honest. I want an interesting job that doesn’t require the college degree I don’t have. Working for you just might be perfect. I subscribe to your magazine. I like the layout. The articles are fun and informative and make me want to visit the places I’m reading about. And I enjoy your editorials. And being your assistant would probably offer me a lot of variety, of varying kinds of responsibilities, which means I wouldn’t be bored.”

      He stared out toward the big windows that provided a prime view of San Antonio real estate. “Well, yes. Variety, you’ll get. Beyond the usual, you’ll have some minor editorial responsibilities, probably assist on things like the calendar shoot.” The Great Escapes calendar featured gorgeous women wearing skimpy clothing in a wide range of beautiful settings. “You would have to expect to travel—not in the first few months, but certainly after I have time to learn to count on you.”

      She brightened at the thought. “The monthly Spotlight?” Seven or eight months a year, when he didn’t use a contributing editor for the Spotlight, Dax personally traveled to some exotic locale for his feature story.

      “Yes,” he said. “The Spotlight.”

      She told him candidly, “I’m not looking for an office romance or a chance to break out my Nikon and start shooting. Just a job, Dax. Just this job.”

      He frowned some more. And then he stood up. “All right. Let’s give it a try.”

      She couldn’t believe it. He was hiring her after all. She bounced to her feet and took his offered hand.

      He said, “There’s a two-week trial period, starting Monday. At the end of the two weeks, we talk again. We evaluate and make a decision on whether or not you stay on. Welcome to Great Escapes.”

      She smiled then, a wide smile. If she liked working here, she would definitely be staying on—because she intended to make herself irreplaceable. “Thank you, Dax.”

      “Monday. Check in with HR at eight-thirty.”

      “I will. See you then.”

      Dax sank back into his chair and watched Zoe Bravo go. She had a great walk, smooth, with just a hint of a sway to her softly curving hips. He liked her smile and those beautiful blue eyes.

      But would she make a good assistant?

      He had no clue. As he’d openly confessed to her, hiring editorial assistants was not his strong suit. In fact, he was lousy at it.

      But he had liked her instantly, had wished he could ask her out instead of giving her a job. However, he’d felt a certain obligation to carry through with the offer he had made to her mother. Aleta Bravo was a charming woman. And he was pleased to be able to help her daughter get a start in publishing.

      At the very least, he had a feeling Aleta’s daughter would be amusing. She would keep things lively around the office. He liked things lively.

      And miracles did happen, didn’t they, now and then? Zoe just might turn out to be efficient, organized and hardworking, to have a talent for the magazine business.

      Then he would get over his attraction to her and be grateful to have found her.

      If not, well, it wasn’t as though he’d made a lifetime commitment to her. For once, he’d had the good sense to give himself an easy out. After fourteen days, he could simply let her go.

      And he would. If she wasn’t a good fit, he would fire her two weeks from Monday with no hesitation.

      And then he would ask her to have dinner with him.

      Zoe’s cell started ringing when she got off the elevator on the ground floor: her mother. She smiled at the cute guy behind the security desk and tucked the BlackBerry back in her purse without answering it.

      But then it rang again as she got in her car. Her mom must be wondering—and getting impatient about it.

      “Hey, Mom.”

      “Well?”

      “He hired me.”

      “Oh, I knew it. I think you’ll love this job, sweetheart.”

      “I think so, too.” Or at least, she would if her new boss would only realize that the job was all she was after. “But I’m not locked in yet. It’s a two-week trial and then we’ll discuss a permanent position.”

      “A trial? Is that usual?”

      Zoe almost let herself get defensive. But not quite. It was a reasonable question after all. “I gather he hasn’t had good luck with his assistants. He’s a little trigger-shy. But that’s okay. I am going to be terrific.”

      “I know you are.” Her mom was smiling. Zoe could hear it in her voice.

      “Thanks for the heads-up on this, Mom.”

      “I want to help. You know that.”

      “I do know.” She stuck her key in the ignition. “Okay, then. I’m on my way to the salon next.” She blew a long strand of chestnut hair out of her eyes. “I seriously need a cut. Gotta look good for my first day on the job. Love you and see you soon.”

      “Wait.”

      “Hmm?”

      “We haven’t seen you for Sunday dinner at the ranch in a while….”

      Zoe made a grim face at herself as she adjusted the rearview mirror. Bravo Ridge, the family ranch, was a short drive from San Antonio. Zoe’s mom and dad lived in SA, but most weekends they went to the ranch. Sunday dinner was kind of a family tradition. Not all the Bravo siblings made it every time, but they each made an effort to show up at least every month or two.

      Zoe hadn’t gone in a while, not since early spring. She knew she was past due to put in an appearance.

      “Zoe, honey, you still there?”

      “Right here, Mom.”

      “Say you’ll come.”

      Zoe imagined her dad, Davis, getting all up in her face, calling her his little free spirit, teasing her in that totally annoying way he had, wondering aloud how long this job would last. “I don’t know, Mom. I have so much I need to do this weekend.”

      “Please, honey. It really has been way too long.” Like most mothers, Aleta knew when to whip out the guilt card.

      Zoe turned the key. Her cute little BMW’s precision engine purred to life. “All right. I’ll be there.”

      “Great.” The pleasure in her mom’s voice was almost worth the potential headache of dealing with her dad. “Dinner’s at three or so, but come anytime.”

      Sunday, she got to the ranch at quarter of three just as everyone was sitting down in the dining room.

      Her dad was aggravatingly hearty. “Zoe. How’s my little girl?”

      “Great, Dad. Doing well.” She put on a big smile and reminded herself that when he said “little girl,” he meant it with love. And she was his youngest child—well, if you didn’t count Elena, her half sister, who was a year younger. She went to him and he grabbed her in a hug.

      When she tried to slip free, he put his big hands on her shoulders and held her in place. “What in the hell did you do to your hair?”

      I am not going to let him get to me. She eased free of his grip and smoothed the thick curls that fell below her shoulders. “I always wanted to be a redhead. Now I am.” Like most of her decisions, she’d made it on the fly Thursday, after her interview with Dax Girard, when she went in for a cut. She’d stared at her reflection in her hairdresser’s mirror and decided she was beyond tired of having brown hair. It had to go.

      And no matter what her father said, she knew the vibrant red looked good on her. It set off her fair skin and blue eyes.