Gypsy king

It didn’t. The moment I was in my chair, Dash was perched on the edge of my desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing with the movement. The definition around his muscles wasn’t something you saw often on mere mortals, all tight skin covered with tattoos.

I swallowed down a wave of drool. “What do you want?”

“A snake?” The corner of that sultry mouth turned up. His eyes were shining and full of mischief.

I shrugged. “It fits.”

He gri

Oh, for fuck’s sake. That kiss had scrambled my brain and given him the upper hand. Somehow, I had to take it back, which was going to be difficult with him sitting on the edge of my desk, smelling like sin and pure temptation.

“Was there something you needed?” I asked.

“How about a thank you?”

“For?”

He nodded to the pressroom door. “For fixing your press.”

If not for the stress it would take off Dad and the paper’s budget, I would have died a thousand deaths before uttering a word of gratitude for a job I hadn’t asked him to do. But Dad’s relief had been palpable. “Thanks.”

“Was that so hard?”

“Would you mind getting off my desk? I have work to do today.”

“Can’t.”

“Jesus. Here we go with the can’ts again.”

“Read your paper yesterday.”

“And.”

“It was . . . informative.”

“Well, that is the purpose of a newspaper. To inform the people.”

“You’re doing a hell of a job.” His compliment seemed genuine; therefore I didn’t trust it for a second. “I have a proposition for you.”

I arched an eyebrow, a silent I’m listening.

“Let’s call a truce.”

“A truce?” I scoffed. “Why would I agree to a truce? I’m wi

“Maybe.”

Bullshit. “Definitely.”

“Fine. You’re good. But we both want the same thing. We both want to find out who killed that woman.”

“But I already know. It was—”

“It was not my dad.” He held up a finger. “If it was, you can prove me wrong. But if I’m right, which I am, wouldn’t it be better to print the real story? The one about the real killer, before anyone else?”

“I hate to break this to you, King, but I’m the only one in town spreading the news. I don’t need your help getting the story. Hell, I can wait around and print what the cops feed me and I’ll still keep my readers.”

“But that’s not your style.”

No, it wasn’t. I wanted a scoop. And not just against other news outlets. I wanted to scoop the police too. “What exactly are you suggesting we do with a truce? Work together?”

“That’s right. Seems like we might be real good together.”

Heat flushed my face as his eyes drifted to my lips. We’d only shared a single kiss, but he was right. Given the sparks that crackled when we were in the same room, we’d be incredible together. The chemistry, mixed with our mutual dislike of one other, would ignite like fireworks. We’d probably set the sheets on fire.

I

“Same. I’ll share what I find with you.”

“Including whatever you learn from your father?”

He thought about it, finally saying, “’Kay.”

Tempting. The proposition—the man—both tempting. My eyes narrowed as I studied Dash’s face. It seemed sincere. If he was lying, he was good at it, but I wasn’t going to hand over all my information on a Monday-morning whim. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough.” He stood from the desk and relief rolled over my shoulders. He’d been sitting much too close.

“Bye,” I said to his back.

Except Dash didn’t walk to the door as I’d expected. He crossed the aisle to Dad’s desk and sat in the chair. “What are you doing?”

He waved a hand at the chair. “Sitting.”

“Why are you sitting?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, Dash sca

I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I used to work in TV.”

The picture he held was one Mom had had framed for Dad. It was of the three of us about a year ago. They’d come to Seattle for a visit—and to talk me into joining the paper and finally moving to Clifton Forge after hemming and hawing for years.

The day of the photo, they’d come to the TV station to see where I’d worked. My makeup had been heavy and my hair styled. I’d been dressed up in a navy suit, ready to go on camera.

“Huh.” Dash put the frame back and looked me up and down. “I like this better.”

“Me too.” I turned to my desk, opening a drawer for my calendar. Since his last visit, I’d made it a point to put everything in a drawer or cabinet before I left for the day. I flipped to today’s date, seeing that I needed to schedule a dentist appointment.

I’d do that after I got rid of Dash.

“Why’d you go into TV?”

I flipped a page in my pla

Dash chuckled, angling his chair and dropping his forearms to his knees. “Until you answer the question.”

“Why? Why do you care?”

“Call it curiosity. I usually know a little more about a woman before I kiss her.”

“I find that impossible to believe.”

He dropped his head, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. “Yeah. You’re right. I don’t always ask questions first. But I am today.”

“And if I answer them, you’ll leave me alone?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Scout’s honor.”

I frowned to hide the smile that threatened. Was this flirting? No surprise, he was good at it. God, he needed to leave. I didn’t feel like talking about myself, but if discussing my history was the ticket to a Dash-free office, then I’d spill.

“I went to college at Montana State in Bozeman. I majored in English because they didn’t have a journalism program. My favorite professor knew I wanted to become a journalist, so he got me an internship at the TV station. My boss at the station said I had a knack for it.”

I despised the word hypnotized, but looking back, a part of me had been spellbound by the glitz and glamour of television. As an intern, I saw only the exciting events. I accompanied reporters as they went into the field, armed with microphones. I stood next to the cameramen as they filmed a crime scene with flashing blue and red police lights in the background. I shadowed the producer for the evening news. The evening anchor was a beautiful woman, smart and witty. She wore designer suits and had a makeup crew to paint on her flawless face.

It had all seemed so special. So exhilarating.

In college, I’d lived with my parents, forgoing dorm life to save them money. So I hadn’t had a typical college experience. No sharing a bathroom with twenty other women. No fraternity parties or wild nights at the bars. I’d taken a heavier than normal class load and graduated a year early.

For a twenty-one-year-old who’d craved a new adventure, television was it.

“How long did you work in TV?” Dash asked.

“Too long.”