Page 6 of Off the Record

“The aspect I loved about your Carnton article,” he continues, “is the profile you did on the employee.”

“Maggie.” I remember her well. “She was a fount of information.”

“She was interesting. The way you framed it, her story was as engaging as the history of the house.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I just did,” he says with a note of finality.

My attention jerks up. I do my best to read him, but I’m having trouble getting through the smolder that seems to be part of his resting expression. The man hides his thoughts behind a brick wall. For someone who seems to go through women likecartons of milk, he hasn’t really exhibited much flirting. This guy is all business, so I’m going to meet him where he’s at. “I can write more articles like that one.”

“Great. I’d like two profiles drawn up by the end of the week.”

Two? In four days? I don’t even have an idea forone.

“This is an experiment; I won’t try to pretend otherwise. That being said, I’d like to see you succeed. If it’s done well, I think this segment has the potential to do great things. Feel free to run ideas by me as you go. Shoot me an email if you get stuck, and I can workshop angles with you. Whatever you need, I’m at your disposal.”

My gaze drops to his hand still spinning the pen on the desk. It implies restless, nervous energy, but he seems cool, relaxed, unbothered. I’m the one freaking out, since I got a direct invitation to workshop my articles with Hudson Owens.

“Right now, they’re considering cutting two columnists,” he says quietly. “I really like your voice, Paisley. I’d like to keep you on.”

Give me a reason to keep you on,his eyes seem to say. The words are there between us, but I’m not sure if I’m reading between the lines or inventing them entirely. He likes my voice, though. He said so himself.

I have to remind myself he means mywritingvoice, but I still search for some strain of flirtation in his declaration. He doesn’t know me. I’m actively choosing not to find any of this flattering, because no decisions have been made yet.

But there’s a chance. He told me as much. Rising, I take my computer from his desk and tuck it under my arm. “Thank you, Mr. Owens. I’ll be sure to get you those articles by Friday.”

“I hope to hear from you before that,” he says, watching me. A hint of a smile curves the edges of his lips. “I think if you’re going to insist I call you Paisley, you should probably call me Hudson.”

Well, lookie here. I’ve found that flirtatious streak he’s famous for. “Of course, sir.” I move toward the door.

“How’s your tire?” he asks.

“Hopefully not deflating as we speak,” I toss back over my shoulder.

He rocks in his chair, watching me. “Should I send my guy to the garage to look? I wouldn’t want you to be stranded here.”

Iknewhe had a guy. It’s a surprisingly thoughtful gesture. “I’ll be alright.” One of six kids, remember? I’m capable, independent, and terrible at accepting help from attractive new bosses. My hand hits the doorknob when he speaks again.

“I look forward to working with you, Paisley.”

All I can do is nod. When I slip out and make it back to my desk, I’m not quite breathing right. The way his gaze lingered on me made a warm fuzziness bloom through my body that’s still present, even after I’ve left his office and started to work on my list of possible article candidates. I can walk myself through the logic here, how flirtation means nothing from someone like him, but that doesn’t make the feelings go away.

Simone rolls her chair closer, leaning in. “What happened?”

“My column just changed.”

Her look of relief isn’t promising. Did she think I was going to be fired? I guess no one is safe, yet. “To what?”

“Honestly, I’m not quite sure. Human interest pieces, I guess.”

“You should start with our new boss.”

He’s standing in the doorway of his office, hands in his pockets and speaking to Andrea, the receptionist he inherited with this interim job. She giggles, twirling her impossibly short hair around a finger. How long wouldshelast?

What would an article on Hudson look like?How to Drop an Office Relationship with Minimal Fallout.The answer is prettyshort: be the boss. “I have a feeling that’s not the sort of human interest he has in mind,” I say.

She shrugs, pushing away from my desk to roll back to her own. “I don’t know. He’s pretty interesting.”

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