Don't Start Now

1

Only ten minutes past nine on Monday and Eve Richards was already wishing for Friday. Nothing like starting your workweek off with a ticket.

You better hurry. The editorial meeting started, the latest college intern called from behind the welcome desk of the Naples Tribune & Magazine.

Overheated and out of breath, Eve checked the urge to snap at the poor girl as she raced through the lobby. Why the hell do you think I’m sprinting? She could damn well read a clock!

She passed her own desk without sparing the time to place her stuff down on the white IKEA workspace with dual monitors. Her editor in chief, Nik, already stood in the glass-encased conference room, examining the assignment charts projected on the wide, flat-screen panels. Every day he went through each staff reporter’s workload in alphabetical order, assigning stories and checking on the status of previous pieces. Thankfully, he was only on Carl.

The smell of coffee wafted over Eve and she longed to pour herself a cup, but she was way too late for that. As inconspicuously as possible, she clutched the purse, which also doubled as her laptop bag, to her chest and slid open the large, sliding glass door. Spotting her at once, Nik arched a red eyebrow high over his rounded spectacles, continuing to address the group without pause, but Eve read the rebuke in his stare. Ducking her head, she tiptoed over to the only empty seat at the long, Formica conference table, right next to … Adam Seager.

Great. As if her nerves weren’t already shot this morning.

An intangible, electric current of heat seemed to radiate from his tall frame, only to slap right into Eve, causing her to stiffen. Ever the observer, the investigative hotshot silently scanned the room with eyes the color of coal, taking in all its details, occupants … and her. His intense stares from across the office both delighted and unnerved her. She’d be flattered if she didn’t know it was just his habit—the same skill that had made him famous. After all, his keen eye had led him to uncover Senator Jesse Clark’s misappropriation of charitable funds and extramarital affair. Before that, Adam had served as an embedded journalist, bringing readers along on dangerous missions with a team of Special Forces in Afghanistan.

It was rumored he still had physical scars from the overseas incidents, not that Eve could confirm or deny that. Despite her own secret stares back at him, she’d never been able to spot any markings beneath his work attire. Whenever she pictured him out of his clothes … well, scars weren’t her focus.

Not that it mattered. She couldn’t—and wouldn’t—pursue a relationship with a coworker. Not again. So, despite the butterflies his rare smiles conjured up in her stomach, Eve did her best to ignore him. Unfortunately, he made that hard to do. For the last year, he seemed to enjoy going out of his way to rile and annoy her. Only her.

With a thrust of her hips, Eve scooted the large, leather chair closer to the boardroom table. As she slid, her bare arm accidentally brushed Adam’s. She almost gasped at the intimate skin-on-skin contact. Holy crap!

The innocuous swipe felt as though a trail of warm, liquid chocolate had been sensually brushed up her skin, and damn if she didn’t have an urge to lick it off. Biting down on her bottom lip, she noticed how his hand clenched his chair’s plastic armrest.

Had he felt the heat, too, or was he annoyed that she’d accidentally touched him? She folded her hands together on the table, fighting the sudden need to brush against him once more to find out. Sorry, she mumbled, trying to keep her voice low so as not to interrupt Nik, who was berating Carl for failing to get someone official on record.

Adam whispered back, How’s it going, speed racer?

What? she asked, turning sharply to look at him, the faux-leather seat making a rubbery noise as she swayed. No one else seemed to hear it, but to her, each awkward squeak was deafening.

How could Adam possibly know about her minor run-in with the law? She grimaced just thinking about her morning ordeal. Eve blinked, remembering, and her heart thudded as red and blue lights strobed across the inside of her eyelids for a moment. If that sheriff hadn’t nabbed her for doing a rolling stop, Eve wouldn’t have been late at all. Seriously, who got pulled over for that? For Pete’s sake, she was only making a right-hand turn onto an empty street. The same as every morning since she’d moved to the Southwest Florida gated community six months ago. Didn’t the police department have bigger fish to fry? Apparently not.

My contacts over at the precinct texted that O’Malley issued you a ticket this morning, Adam explained.

Eve opened her mouth in shock and again cursed herself at her stupidity for not doing a full, three-second stop. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone about the humiliating experience, but of course Adam, of all people, had found out. Given his government and city beat, she shouldn’t be surprised. He probably had plenty of buddies at the station. Not sure what to say, she pressed her lips firmly together. She searched his rugged profile, trying to gather her wits, but instead noticed again how his thick, black hair curled around the tips of his ears and the collar of his shirt.

He grinned. I’m surprised you didn’t bat those baby blues at him and talk your way out of it. Didn’t know O’Malley had such resolve.

Snapping open her laptop, Eve refused to take his bait and get into yet another tête-à-tête with him, especially not in front of their chief. But Adam waited for her to respond, and dammit, she couldn’t keep quiet. I’ve never been pulled over before, she admitted in a whisper only he could hear. I could barely find my registration and insurance card.

Don’t worry, speedy, I got you.

His teasing she was used to, but was he trying to reassure her? You got me? she asked, dumbfounded.

He nodded, bringing his elbows up on the table alongside her. She leaned closer to hear his next words. Go ahead and contest the ticket. O’Malley won’t show up in court, so it won’t go on your record or ping your insurance. After all, he’ll be too busy to appear, what with going to the Yankees–Red Sox spring training game at JetBlue Park. You owe me, though. I was really looking forward to that matchup.

What kind of bizzaro world was this? They were barely work friends. She would never have thought to ask for his help in this matter. Perhaps she was still asleep. Maybe she’d never gotten that traffic ticket to begin with and was still curled up in bed. She shot a nervous glance around the room, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. Are you serious?

He quirked a brow. About owing me? Damn serious. I had seats right behind home plate. But yes, consider the traffic violation dropped.

Wow, thank you! An ounce or two of Eve’s morning stress released with her exhale, causing her posture to sag. The fine, combined with her insurance rates going up, would have blown her budget. She’d just saved up enough to fly to Atlanta to meet face-to-face with a prospective literary agent, too. Her travel guide plans wouldn’t have to be pushed back after all. Of course. I owe you big. Whatever you want, just name it, she rushed out in excited relief.

His stormy, gray eyes darkened before once again returning to their usual state of aloof amusement. With a lopsided grin, he bent closer to whisper in her ear. Be careful, Evie, I mean to collect. His voice was a silky, hot caress. This time, she couldn’t control the gasp that escaped her suddenly dry mouth.

Eve! Nik barked in annoyance, breaking her out of their increasingly intimate huddle. She jumped guiltily away from Adam. How many times had their boss called her name already?

Um … yes? She met Nik’s curious glare hesitantly.

Glad you could join us, Nik said in his usual half-joking, half-serious tone. A few of her colleagues around the table snickered, sending a hot blush across her cheeks. Your press trip next week on the seven-day cruise has been approved. I know I’m not supposed to say it, church and state and all, but the advertising department is particularly jazzed about this new partnership. Nice job bringing in such a big brand.

The heat in her cheeks only deepened at his rare doling out of praise. Well, hell. Her day was already an emotional whirlwind, and it was only nine thirty. She straightened in her chair. Thank you. I’m excited, too. This was a career-making opportunity.

There’s just one thing, Nik said, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet. The higher-ups want this to be bigger than your usual travel stories. Possibly a whole insert with multiple articles, which is why we are sending Adam along with you.

What? Adam said sharply, rolling his chair forward as he sat up straight. I don’t do those kinds of pieces.

Well, excuse me! Eve dug her nails into her fisted palms.

Exactly. That’s why it’s perfect, Nik replied. Eve will be coming at it as a travel pro, and you’ll bring both a fresh point of view and a male perspective. This way, it’ll be relatable to all our readers, no matter how familiar they are with cruising. Sort of a ‘he said, she said’ piece from our very own Adam and Eve.

Laughter filled the room at the pairing of their names. Embarrassed, Eve cast her gaze down to her lap until their amusement died off.

Someone down in advertising suggested that part, Nik continued. However, it does have a memorable ring to it, so I allowed the digital team to mock up a logo and sidebar graphics for you two. I can see this becoming a regular feature, especially if your name is tied to it, Adam.

She could feel the blood draining from her face. This was supposed to be her big break, a chance to have her own byline appear on a travel piece and not with her ex or anyone else, for that matter. But Nik, she sputtered. The invite was just for me.

Don’t worry. We worked it out with the ship’s public relations team and got an additional credential.

Oooo, me! Carl raised his hand and bounced up and down in his seat, as if on an invisible pogo stick. If Adam doesn’t want to do it, I volunteer.

Put your hand down, Carl, Nik admonished. "This isn’t the freakin’ Hunger Games. You can’t volunteer in his place. It’s Adam and Eve or no one."

She glanced at Adam to find him already staring at her. Their eyes locked. His expression seemed unsure, almost concerned. How strange. Was Mr. Badass scared of doing a lifestyle piece? Sure, this wasn’t his cup of tea, but it wasn’t like they were being sent to a country on the brink of revolution. It was just a cruise around the Caribbean. Although, given his illustrious career, he probably would have preferred the former. Which brought Eve back to the question always on her mind when it came to Adam. Why was he here at the Naples Trib?

She wasn’t alone, either. Everyone wondered why he’d taken such a huge step backward, trading in a high-powered career in Washington D.C. to cover a tourist destination and wealthy retirement town. He was older than Eve by possibly a decade, but that only put him in his late thirties, maybe early forties—hardly time to take it easy. It couldn’t be writer’s block, either, because he was still whipping up some beautiful, insightful prose, even if focused only on local politics.

Now, Adam, before you go arguing about your responsibilities, if you ask me, a lighthearted piece once in a while would do you some good. As I’ve explained a thousand times, our readers do not give a shit about how many mayors are in the Cape Coral race this year. They would much rather learn where to take their grandkids on vacation, where to eat, or what new restaurant chain is coming to town. So, lighten up. You have this whole week to pack your bags and get things in order. Your itineraries are already on your desks. Nik jabbed his thumb toward the newsroom behind them. You’ll receive your boarding passes at the press check-in that day. Also, some popular travel publications are going to be on this trip, too, and management is excited that we’re among the bigwigs for once, so play nice with them. Nik speared Adam with a look. You understand?

Perfectly, Adam answered through gritted teeth and a forced smile.

Nik nodded and pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose, a habit he displayed whenever he was uncomfortable. Eve, he added, turning to her with a smirk. Be sure and show Adam the ropes, introduce him to the right contacts and all that.

Adam snorted in obvious disgust.

She wanted to snort, too. Show him the ropes? Nik had to be kidding. The Pulitzer- award-winning Adam Seager taught a journalism course at the nearby Florida Gulf Coast University. She didn’t need to tell