Susan grinned as she pushed a drawer shut with her hip. “I will. Headshots today. Then there’s a gala Friday night, and I’m going to hitch a ride on the channel-ten chopper for the bike race Sunday.”

“Shut up,” Melissa griped as Susan rounded the end of the desk.

Melissa would be sitting right here all week long, in the stuffy, hot office, combing through the minutes of various City Hall committees, looking for permits or variances or financial-policy news, anything that might lead to an interesting business story.

“What’s that?” asked Susan, nodding to the computer screen.

Melissa refocused on the verdant green and bright flowers. “Montana,” she answered. “Where I’d be if Seth had half a heart.” Or half a brain.

She clicked on an area map. There was an airport in Missoula and everything.

“Not my cup of tea,” said Susan, popping a jaunty plaid hat on her curly brown locks.

“Not mine, either,” Melissa admitted, gathering her own straight, blond hair into a knot at the nape of her neck in an effort to let the building’s weak air-conditioning waft over her hot skin. “But I’d fly there in a heartbeat to meet Jared Ryder.”

“So do it,” said Susan.

“Yeah, right.”

“Why not?”

Melissa swiveled to face her coworker. “Because Seth turned me down flat.”

Susan shrugged. “Tell him you’re doing City Hall research from home. Then get on a plane.”

Oh, now that seemed brilliant. “Lie to my boss and ignore his orders?”

“He’ll forgive you if you get the story.” Susan’s lips curved in a conspiratorial grin. “Trust me.”

Melissa let the hair slip out of her hand. The idea was preposterous.

Susan leaned in and lowered her voice. “If you don’t get the story, somebody else will.”

“At least it won’t be Brandon.”

“Result will be the same.”