The Mighty Quinns: Malcolm

Her guide to adventure…in and out of the bedroom

New Zealand wilderness guide Malcolm Quinn is stunned to learn that his father’s body—lost near the summit of Everest almost twenty years ago—has been found. The discovery stirs up painful memories for Mal, and brings eager reporters out in droves. He is ready to resist them all, until he meets the pretty little Yank who turns his blood to liquid lust….

Amy Engalls needs this story to make her career, but Mal refuses to be interviewed. Instead the gorgeous Quinn offers Amy the kind of adventure she’ll never forget. She accepts, realizing she may be jeopardizing her future for a short-term fantasy. By breaking the rules, will she lose everything…including her heart?

Praise for Kate Hoffmann’s Mighty Quinns

“Hoffmann does a wonderful job tying up the ends

of this saga with an open-ended conclusion.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Dex

“Keep your fan handy! It was impossible for me

to put this steamy, sexy book down until the

last page was turned.”

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Jack

“Strong, imperfect but lovable characters,

an interesting setting and great sensuality.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Brody

“This is a fast read that is hard to tear the eyes from. Once I picked it up I couldn’t put it down.”

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot

“Sexy, heartwarming and romantic, this is a story to settle down with and enjoy—and then reread.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Teague

“The only drawback to this story is that it’s far too short”!

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another Mighty Quinn adventure! This time, we’re introducing you to another branch of the family—the New Zealand Quinns: Malcolm, twins Rogan and Ryan, and Dana.

Rugged New Zealand is the perfect playground for these Quinns. Together they run an adventure travel business, giving vacationers the time of their lives all over the world. Adventure is in the Quinns’ blood—their father is a legend in the climbing world, even years after his untimely death on an expedition. Malcolm, as the eldest, has taken responsibility for the business and for his siblings. So when his father’s body is discovered and reporters swarm the family, Mal is determined to protect his mother and siblings from going through that pain again.

Amy Engalls is equally determined to get an interview from Mal. She’s staked her career on this story, and she won’t leave New Zealand empty-handed. But Mal has no intention of letting Amy leave just yet. He promises her an adventure…and not just on the mountain. It’s not the story she came for, it’s not the experience she expected to have, but together, she and Mal may just find ecstasy…and love.

Enjoy the trip!

The Editors

The Mighty Quinns: Malcolm

Kate Hoffmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kate Hoffmann began writing for Mills & Boon in 1993. Since then, she’s published nearly eighty books, primarily in the Mills & Boon Temptation and Mills & Boon Blaze lines. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys music, theater and musical theater. She is active working with high school students in the performing arts. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat, Chloe.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Excerpt

Prologue

TENSION HUNG IN the air in the small house in Rotorua, setting everyone on edge. Ten-year-old Malcolm Quinn tried to keep his younger siblings occupied, seeing the growing worry in his mother’s expression. But the twins, seven-year-olds Rogan and Ryan, knew something was up. Only their little sister, Dana, was unaware that all was not right.

Their father, Maxwell Quinn, had left advance base camp with his climbing party and Sherpas earlier that day, ready to conquer Everest. It was his father’s sixth summit attempt and once complete, it would give him a perfect record.

Max Quinn and his partner, Roger Innis, had been guiding Everest expeditions for almost as long as Malcolm had been alive, first working for other expedition companies, and then for the past four seasons, working for themselves. Since founding Outbound Adventure, his father had rarely been home. But when he did walk through the front door, life was suddenly much brighter for the family. For in that moment, they all knew he was safe. They couldn’t say that today.

“What time is it?” Rogan asked.

Mal looked up. His gaze met his brother’s and Mal forced a smile. “Don’t worry. They’re probably just too busy to call. Or maybe they can’t get through. Satellite telephones can be dodgy.”

“But it’s getting late,” Ryan said. “It’s nearly midnight. That means it’s ten there. He should be back at camp by now, shouldn’t he?”

“I’m sure he is. But he has a lot of responsibilities.” Mal repeated the words that his mother had said to him just ten minutes before, hoping they calmed his brother’s concern more than they had his.

Ryan rubbed his eyes. “What if something bad happened?”

“Yeah,” Rogan said. “Maybe they’re afraid to call us.”

Mal crossed the room and pulled them both to their feet. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you when the call comes. I promise.”

To his great relief, they wandered off in the direction of their bedroom. Mal waited until the door shut behind them, then turned and hurried into the kitchen. Lydie Quinn sat at the kitchen table, Dana curled up in her arms, sound asleep. His mother was humming a tune that Mal didn’t recognize, repeating the same phrase over and over again.

Mal silently walked by her and put the teakettle on to boil. When he sat down across from her, she refused to look at him, her eyes fixed on a point above his head.

“Mum?”

Her gaze didn’t falter and the tune continued.

“Mum, would you like a cup of tea?”

Mal watched as tears welled up in his mother’s eyes. He rose to comfort her and as he did, the phone rang.

“Don’t answer it,” she said.

“But, I—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, the tears now tumbling down her cheeks. He’d never seen his mother cry before and Mal wasn’t quite sure what to do. Dana stirred in her arms and Lydie grasped her daughter to her more tightly, rocking back and forth.

Mal quietly picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Who is this?”

“Malcolm Quinn.”

“Malcolm, it’s Roger Innis. I need to speak with your mother.”

“No,” Malcolm said. “You can tell me.”

“Son, put your mother on the phone. It’s very important. This is no time for childish games.”

“She won’t speak with you,” Mal insisted. “She can’t. We know something is wrong. Just tell me and I’ll tell her.”

As he listened to his father’s partner explain the situation, Mal slowly began to realize that his life—and the lives of his mother and siblings—would never be the same.

1

IT WAS GOOD to be home.

Malcolm Quinn grabbed his duffel from the back of his battered Range Rover and hefted it over his shoulder with a groan. He’d left Greenland three days ago after leading a four-week expedition across the ice cap from east to west, following the Arctic Circle. After boarding a bush flight from Greenland to Iceland, he’d flown from Reykjavik to Copenhagen, then to Dubai, then to Sydney and finally landed in Auckland just that morning after two days in airports. The two-hour drive home to Raglan was the final leg of his trip, and now that he was home, he could finally relax.

To say he was knackered was an understatement. But it was the good kind of exhaustion that he only experienced after a successful expedition. His clients had been thrilled with the experience and were grateful he’d led them on a trip without a single serious hitch.

But it was nice to be able to walk around in a light jacket and shorts. It was early April, spring in the northern hemisphere. But in New Zealand, winter was on its way. Still, the weather felt balmy compared to the constant cold of the Arctic.

The offices for Maximum Adrenaline were located in a low-slung white clapboard building just outside the town limits. For a company that specialized in high adventure, the office was rather unremarkable, distinguished from other nearby businesses by just a small sign above the door. A porch spanned the front facade; weathered wooden furniture was scattered along the wide expanse.

As he slammed the hatch on the SUV, the front door opened and the family dog, Duffy, came bounding out, followed by Mal’s younger sister, Dana. “Hey, Duff, look at you. Hey, Dana.”

The black Lab was so excited he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and when Mal squatted down, Duffy knocked him off his feet. He surrendered to a thorough tongue bath, laughing as the dog pinned him to the ground. When he finally was able to sit up, Duffy had stretched out across his lap, the dog’s subtle way of keeping him in one spot.

“I can’t move,” Mal said to his sister, “or I’d give you a hug.”

“Welcome home,” Dana said. “I expected you tomorrow.”

“I caught an earlier flight. Martin stayed with our gear to get it through customs. God, it’s good to be home.”

Duffy wriggled in his lap, nuzzling his wet nose under Mal’s chin. “Enough, Duff,” he said, struggling to his feet.

“He’s missed you,” Dana said.

“I’m sure he hasn’t thought of me since I left. Considering the way you baby him, you’re the only one he’d truly miss.”

“I’ve been taking him running every day. And he’s actually lost a bit of weight.”

Mal bent down and patted the dog on his flank. “Ugh, don’t talk about exercise. Right now, I need a stiff drink and a shower. And I’m not sure which I’ll have first. Then, I’m heading into town to kick back and get laid. And I’m not sure which will come first.”

It was an unwritten rule in the guiding business that you didn’t bonk the clients, no matter how attractive they might be. He had one job and one job only—to bring his clients home safely. Sex was a distraction from that responsibility, especially in extreme environments. He was also a bit superstitious. You didn’t disrespect the mountain gods.

That didn’t mean the trekkers and climbers didn’t have sex in their own tents, but Mal turned a blind eye and often made excuses when the locals were offended.

So from the time he left until the time he returned, he lived a celibate life. But when he got back to Raglan, Mal knew a handful of girls that were willing to provide a randy bloke with a night or two in bed, no strings attached. Raglan was a surf capital, a beach town with a plethora of pretty girls.

Though Mal and his brothers were considered attractive, there weren’t many women on the North Island who wanted to settle down with a guy who was gone ten months out of the year, no matter how good he was in the sack. Which was just fine by Mal. He’d never been interested in anything long-term. His life was pretty perfect the way it was. And he wasn’t prepared to alter it to make a woman happy—no matter how good she might be in bed.

Besides, he had his family’s business to keep afloat. Any time wasted on a woman was time he could put to better use building their clientele, getting publicity for Maximum Adrenaline and working out new trips to offer.

“Any important messages for me?” Mal asked his sister as he got up.

He strode toward the door, but Dana stayed glued to the spot at the base of the porch steps. Mal turned to motion to her, then saw the pained expression on her face. A sick fear clutched at his gut and he drew a sharp breath. Something was wrong. “What is it? Is it Ryan? Rogan?”

His younger brother was climbing Lhotse in the Himalayas with an Aussie film crew. And Ryan’s twin, Rogan, was in Alaska, doing a prep course for a Denali climb. Either trip had the potential for trouble. And then there were the other hundred or so guides that they employed on various expeditions throughout the year. “Who is it?”

“It’s Dad,” she murmured.

“Dad?” Their father had died twenty years ago this spring, somewhere near the summit of Mt. Everest. Mal had been ten, the twins seven and Dana only five.

His sister nodded, fighting back tears. “They found his body.”

Mal gasped. “When?”

“Three weeks ago. Gary Branbauer’s expedition. The snow cover has been light this year and as they were descending, they noticed a flash of color in the snow. It was him.”

“How do they know?” Mal asked.

“They took a photo and got a GPS bearing. Roger Innis confirmed it was the right location and gear. The news is out and the media has been calling. It’s been crazy.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” He and Dana had been in contact by satellite phone at least four or five times over the past three weeks. And he’d been a simple email away for the past two days.

“I decided to wait until you got home. I haven’t said anything to Ryan and Rogan either, although considering how the news is spreading, they’ll probably both hear about it before I can tell them in person.”

“Mum,” Mal said. “She knows?”

Dana nodded. “She’s a little upset over all the attention. They’ve been calling and wanting to talk to her, but so far she’s refused to comment. She’s coming to stay with me for the weekend.”

The media attention made sense. Maxwell Quinn had been one of the most renowned climbers of his generation and, in the early ’90s, only one of a handful of men who had completed the Seven Summits in less than a year. Max’s partner, Roger Innis, had used the media coverage after Max’s death to his advantage, claiming that Max had died trying to rescue a client. With all the publicity, Outbound Adventure had suddenly become a high-profile guiding company.

But because of a badly written business agreement, Lydie Quinn had been left with virtually nothing. All the business assets went to Innis, and though Max was supposed to have had a life insurance policy through the company, Innis had stopped paying the premiums a few months before the Everest expedition. So Lydie had been forced to sell their little house in Rotorua and move the family back to Auckland, where they’d lived with Mal’s grandparents.

Though they’d moved away from their childhood home, Max Quinn’s sons couldn’t forget his legacy. So they’d started their own adventure guiding business, the name a nod to their father—Maximum Adrenaline. In deference to their mother, they refused to return to Everest, but with only two eight-thousand-foot expeditions on their trip list, it had been hard to compete with Innis’s company.

The family’s relationship with Roger Innis became almost hostile when they became competitors, with Outbound Adventure doing all it could to win the battle for clients and reputation.

But Innis took chances, sometimes putting his clients at risk in order to get them to the top of a mountain. The Quinns were known to err on the side of caution, and for climbers who paid dearly to get to the summit, this was not always a popular choice. Nor was it flashy enough to get them the media coverage they needed to expand their business.

But they were getting it now, weren’t they?

Mal sat down on the front steps and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“Well, you’d better come up with something. We’re going to have to make a statement to the media at some point. I didn’t think it was my place, and Mum just refuses to talk about it.”

“All right. The next person who calls, have them ring my mobile and I’ll make a statement.”

“There’s something else,” she murmured.

“Please tell me the business is bankrupt or my house has burned to the ground. I’d be much more equipped to cope.”

“Innis announced that he’s going to mount an expedition to recover Dad’s effects.”

Mal felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach, his breath leaving him. “What the hell? Where does he get off? It’s his fault Dad is dead. Does he think he can make up for that by rescuing him now? He should have done his job twenty years ago.”

There had been whispers all those years ago, comments from other climbers about Innis’s reckless disregard for his partner’s safety. They’d said he’d made decisions that had directly contributed to Max Quinn’s death. But those had only been rumors; no one knew the real story except for Roger Innis and Mal’s father—and neither one of them was talking.

Dana wrapped her arm around Mal’s and leaned against him. “It’s just talk,” she said. “Publicity. You know how he is—he’ll use anything to get his business in the news. Just last month he had the cover story in High Adventure magazine for his Antarctica expedition.”

“The cover?” Mal cursed. “How the hell does he manage that?” Mal had been trying to get a feature in High Adventure for years. Mal was convinced the glossy American magazine was key to capturing more American clientele. “I suppose he’s hoping for another cover with this harebrained scheme of his. The bludger.”

“He can’t mount a trip to Everest until at least next spring, and even then, he’d have to get permits and shuffle his clients around. By then all the interest will have died down and—”

“He wants Dad’s journal,” Mal muttered. “He’s well aware Dad kept it in his climbing suit and he’s afraid of what might be written there. Innis has worked all these years to rebuild his reputation. He’s not going to let it all fall apart now.”

The sound of a phone ringing echoed from the office and Dana stood up. “Probably another reporter.”

“Do you want me to handle it?” Mal asked.

“No. You’re just home. You deserve a chance to relax a bit. I’ll tell them what I’ve been saying for three weeks. No comment. Although that seems to make them even more determined to get a quote.” She paused. “You know, maybe we should give an interview. All of us, Mum, too. The publicity couldn’t hurt. We could beat Innis at his own game.”

“Maybe,” he murmured.

“And High Adventure magazine has rung three times in the past few days. I told the girl you’d be back tomorrow. Maybe you should talk to her.”

A feature article about their father and the Quinn family business might finally bring them out of the shadow of Roger Innis. Especially if they mounted their own expedition. Maybe it was time they learned the truth about that week on Everest.

But did he really want to know? It wouldn’t change anything. His father would still be dead and he’d force his mother to relive the tragedy all over again. And he’d promised her that he and his brothers would never climb Everest. There were so many reasons not to go.

Yet Mal couldn’t help but wonder if learning the truth—his father’s truth—might not put to rest some of the pain he and his family had suffered. Could the answers be found in his father’s journal? Had he written his farewells there before he died on the mountain? There were so many unanswered questions.

“I’m going to go see Mum,” Mal said, pushing to his feet. “And then I’m going home to grab a shower and a drink, and maybe I’ll get myself a haircut.”

“What about the woman?” Dana asked with a wry smile.

“That might have to wait,” he murmured.

Mal gave Duff a rough pet and the dog trotted beside him to the Range Rover. “You want me to take him?”

“No, I’ll keep him.”

He waved at his sister, Duffy at her side, as he drove out to the main road. Life had always been pretty uncomplicated for Mal and he liked it that way. But the reality of their business problems was beginning to weigh on him. There was never extra money; he could barely afford to make rent from month to month. When finances were tight, he bought new equipment instead of food and ate expired rations from their expedition stockpile.

He reached into his pocket and grabbed the wad of cash that he had left over from the client tips he and the other guides had divided amongst themselves. He’d take enough for a single night out. The rest would have to go to pay the bills.

“I’d better make it a bloody good night,” he muttered. “I’ve had enough of living like a damn monk.”

* * *

“HEY, BILLY FINSTER! Set me up with a pint and make it quick. I’ve got myself a powerful thirst!”

The shout echoed through the empty pub and Amy Engalls looked up from her laptop at the tall, lanky man who strode up to the bar. His hair was shaggy and he wore a well-worn T-shirt and faded jeans. The cap on his head was turned backward and his eyes were hidden by a pair of bright blue sunglasses.

He glanced around and his eyes lingered on her for a long moment. Amy grabbed a quick breath and held it. Was this Malcolm Quinn? He wasn’t due back until tomorrow, but she’d studied the photos and it could be him. Word around town was that he and his brothers hung out at Brawley’s Pub near his place on the beach. So she’d decided to stake it out. When he turned away, she quickly pulled a file folder from her bag and searched for a reference.

Her breath slowly escaped as she stared down at the handsome face in the photo, then compared it to the profile of the man at the bar.

An instant later, the barkeeper burst through the swinging kitchen door and confirmed her suspicions. “Mal Quinn, you old dog. I was wonderin’ when you’d roll back in. Where was it you were?”

“Greenland,” Mal said as he slid onto a stool.

The barkeeper drew him a glass of beer and set the pint in front of him. “Bloody hell, what’s in Greenland?”

Mal took off his sunglasses and tossed them on the bar. “Lots of ice. And snow and cold.”

“Any pretty girls?”

Mal laughed. “Not that I saw. The whole expedition was blokes. Not a woman for miles.”

Billy nodded, then slapped his hands on the worn wood surface of the bar. “At that is exactly the reason why you’ll never find me out there, trudging up some mountainside or walking across some bloody glacier. I can’t do without female companionship. And they can’t do without me.”

“You can’t do without your smokes and Foster’s for more than a day,” Mal teased. “It’s hard yakka out there. Not for a piker like you.”

The barkeeper frowned, then patted his stomach. “I could get in shape for it. Give up the ale and the cigs. You could put me with a group of ladies and I’d keep them all entertained.”

Amy listened as they exchanged jibes, silently taking in Mal’s appearance. How would she describe him in her story? Tall, graceful, fit. He was thin but muscular, broad shouldered and narrow hipped. His dark hair was long and shaggy and streaked by the sun, and his tanned face was shadowed by the stubble of a beard.

He was, by all accounts, one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. The pictures she had didn’t come close to conveying the energy that surrounded him. He was powerful and focused, even in casual conversation. Here was a man who lived life to the fullest, a man who wasn’t afraid of danger. A man she wanted.

She shifted uneasily, surprised by the depth of her attraction to him. It wasn’t just his looks. It was something deeper, more perplexing. Maybe she admired his courage because she had never had much of her own. She’d spent her entire life accepting what was tossed her way and had never really stood up for herself.

Until now, she hoped. She was here to change the course of her life. And she wasn’t about to let opportunity slip by, even if it meant approaching an impossibly sexy man and convincing him to do something he wouldn’t want to do.

A phone rang and Billy moved to the end of the bar to answer it. Amy continued to observe Mal Quinn from her spot at her table, wondering how she ought to introduce herself. Should she take the initiative now, or wait until tomorrow? What if she didn’t get another chance?

She’d worked as a copy editor for High Adventure magazine for the past six years, hoping for her big break into feature writing. But most of the feature writers were adventurers themselves, out in the world, doing daring deeds and living to tell their tales. She was just an ordinary girl who could write a really good story. An ordinary girl who just happened to be the publisher’s daughter.

Amy had never wanted to write for an adventure magazine. In truth, she would have been happy working at any one of the numerous women’s publications that her father owned. But with her father’s twisted sense of purpose, he’d put an impossible goal in front of her and challenged her to meet it, all the while assuming she’d fail. That was the way it had always been with Richard Engalls. He wanted his children to prove they were worthy of his valuable attention. Her brother had been a model student and was an adventurer himself. But Amy didn’t seem to possess the Engalls backbone. She was her mother’s daughter, still scarred by her parents’ divorce when she was thirteen, still hoping that her father might notice her and approve.

Which was why she was here. Amy knew a good story when she read one. And just because she’d never been on a big adventure didn’t mean she couldn’t write an adventure story, did it? For the first time in her life, she’d show her father that she had what it took to succeed in publishing. She’d cashed in her savings and wagered it on one bet—that she could land a feature with the Quinn brothers. She’d follow their journey, documenting the story of the three Quinn brothers in regular articles. It had everything her editor looked for in a feature—conflict, emotion, a high-profile location and adventurers with personality.

Her editor had scoffed at the notion that Amy could get an exclusive and convince her father to fund the expedition. But beneath his bluster, she could tell the editor had found her idea intriguing, and she didn’t doubt that he’d go to her father at the first available opportunity and ask for the story himself. But Amy was one step ahead of both of them. She took her two weeks of vacation and, after checking Mal Quinn’s online itinerary, bought a plane ticket from New York to Auckland.

Gathering her courage, she pushed her chair back and walked to the bar. She’d order something to eat and maybe strike up a conversation with Mal. She’d almost reached a spot beside him when his mobile rang. He fished it out of his pocket and then slid off the stool and walked to the front door, stepping out into the afternoon sunshine.

Amy groaned inwardly. She was no good at this. Give her a manuscript and she could make it pulse with excitement. She was better with words than people, and she’d never been comfortable talking to strangers. And now, because of her dithering, she’d lost her chance. Mal Quinn had walked out the door. What if he didn’t come back? Even worse, what if he did?

Talking to a handsome, sexy man wasn’t exactly her forte. Her palms sweated and her heart pounded in her chest and every rational thought just slipped out of her head. It was a wonder she’d managed to have relationships at all. She had, though they were never anything she wanted to make permanent.

When Billy the barkeeper returned from his phone call, Amy slid onto a stool.

“What can I get you, darlin’?” he asked. “Another diet cola?”

“I—I thought I’d have something to eat. Do you have any specials today?”

“Bangers and mash, mussels in cream sauce and a crispy salmon patty. The soup is a crab chowder. The kitchen opens for supper in another half hour. I can probably scratch up a sammie for you or some potato fries if you can’t wait.”

“I’ll just have a bag of crisps,” Amy said. “And a beer. Whatever you have on tap.”

She needed the drink. Diet cola wasn’t going to give her any courage at all. It only made her jittery. She drew a deep breath, then heard the door open behind her. Afraid to look, Amy tried to appear nonchalant.

Billy brought her the beer and crisps. “That’ll be six dollars.”

“I’ll get it.”

She froze as she heard his voice behind her. Slowly, Amy turned, and her gaze met his. Oh, hell, he was even more handsome close up. He had that rugged, outdoorsy thing going on. The kind of man that just oozed masculinity. He probably smelled like fresh air and soap and woodsmoke.

Amy wanted to speak, but she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She gulped some air and felt the blood rush to her head as he came closer. Oh, he did smell good. But like cologne, subtle and musky.

Was she supposed to accept his gesture? Was that why he was regarding her so strangely? “I—I have money,” Amy finally managed to say.

“So do I,” he said with a crooked smile. “I’m just back from a month away and I’ve got tips burning a hole in my pocket. I reckoned I’d buy the house a drink.”

“There’s only two of us here,” she said.

He leaned closer. “I know. The perfect plan, don’t you think?”

“Thank you,” she murmured, grabbing her beer and crisps. “And—and welcome home.”

She hurried back to her table, needing just a moment to regroup. All right, he was handsome and very charming. And that smile was enough to melt any woman’s resistance. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t act like a professional.

Amy fixed her attention on her computer screen, afraid to risk another glance. The problem was, she really wasn’t a professional journalist. She knew exactly what made for a perfect story, she could even write a perfect story. She’d just never gone out and found a story. There were probably all sorts of tricks that journalists used to get their subject to confess all their deepest secrets. She just had no idea what those tricks were. She’d been more worried about beating her father and her editor to the story than to research journalistic practices.