Barbara Delinsky - Fast Courting

ONE

At the instant Antonia Phillips whipped into

TWO

His eyes were dark and piercing. His voice

THREE

The short return trip was made in silence.

FOUR

The relentless spatter of the rain masked the

FIVE

Nia raced to the door, leaving it ajar as she

SIX

Daniel! she exclaimed, a response that

SEVEN

Nia hadnt felt so happy in years. She knew

EIGHT

To Nias amazement, the week flew by. The

NINE

It was the sound of Daniels angry voice that

TEN

Something had changed. It was an almost

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PRAISE

BOOKS BY BARBARA DELINSKY

COVER

COPYRIGHT

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

A t the instant Antonia Phillips whipped into the office of Eastern Edge editor Bill Austen, she sensed something afoot. Of the magazines working editorial staff, she was the last to arrive. Four faces turned her way, each bearing a trace of guilt. Instinct told her that the odd welcome had nothing to do with her tardiness.

Ooooops she murmured, stopping just short of the threshold. Why do I have the feeling my slip is showing? It was purely a figure of speech, for, in fact, she wasnt wearing a slip. What she wore was a smart croppedjacket wool suit of loden green, whose stylish split skirt required no assistance in falling softly to a point below her knee, where it met the rich leather of her boot. She was undeniably attractive, tall and slim, the image of confidence in her own casual way.

Come on in, Nia, Bill gestured, smiling with a hint of mischief that made her all the more alert. We were just talking about you.

Mmmmmm. She raised a speculative brow. I thought so. She settled into the only free chair and deposited her oversized shoulder bag on the floor, then fished a notebook and pen from it before sitting back. Im sorry Im late. I spent longer with Humphrey at the theater than Id intended. But the storys good. Her apology was to the entire group, though it was outwardly directed at Bill. Again, she sensed an odd air of anticipation. Uhis something wrong? Her violet eyes widened in the silence. You did get my message, didnt you?

We got it, Nia. And thanks for stopping to call. Bills grin was overly indulgent, sufficiently out of character to add to her suspicions. He shrugged benignly. We took the liberty of going ahead.

In a habitual gesture, she shook her head to flip the few windblown strands of her heavily layered mahogany hair into place. She needed no mirror to vouch for the acceptability of her appearance. Why, then, the continuing limelight?

You were talking about me? she repeated. Slowly, she perused the group, pertly challenging them to come forward with further information.

Priscilla Cole, the associate editor with whom she shared chores and an office, offered an indirect explanation. We were discussing the feature assignments for the June issue.

That was no surprise. Hadnt it been the stated purpose of the meeting? This was March; they were right on schedule. Great! Where were you before I so rudely interrupted? Nia grinned, camouflaging curiosity in congeniality.

The Ten Most Eligible Easterners. James Cabot, one of the two senior editors, supplied the clue, pronouncing each word carefully. He was middle-aged, intelligent and straightforward. Nia turned to stare at him.

Youve got to be kidding she chided.

Christopher Daly, the other senior editor, joined the exchange with a smug grin. Nope.

Astonished, she looked at Priscilla. Youre not kidding.

The other woman simply shook her head.

Bill? Nia turned to their leader as a last resort.

Why the surprise, Nia? He was mildly critical. Weve discussed the possibility of doing this piece.

Nia winced. To discuss it is one thing; to actually plan it, to put it on the schedule, is another. Its the kind of thing the scandal sheets do so well. Weve always stayed a cut above. Her argument was not unfounded. Eastern Edge had established itself as a monthly magazine with class, appealing to a wide assortment of thinking people up and down the East Coast. It contained a balanced blend of humor, human interest, expos and education and was both well written and beautifully presented. In the four years Nia had worked for the publication, she had never had cause for doubt.

And well continue to stay a cut above, as you put it. Bill solemnly took command. Our feature story will be done with taste and sophistication, and with just enough tongue-in-cheek humor to deflect any flack. Well approach it with an attitude of intelligence rather than an eye for the spectacular. It will be researched carefully and written by the best. He hesitated for a fraction of an instant to let his point sink in. Youll be doing the men.

Me? The men? Oh no you dont. Nias gaze narrowed as she suddenly understood the nature of the apologetic looks cast her way by her colleagues. I wont be saddled with it. Just because I wasnt here to defend myself

Its got nothing to do with your lateness, Bill insisted, his customary curtness returning to his voice. Id decided to give you the assignment even before this meeting began.

Why not She looked quickly around, but Priscilla was the only other female in the room. Priscilla Cole was a petite woman who was, at thirty-four, Nias senior by five years. She was quiet and hardworking, excelling in articles that relied more closely on research and less directly on personal interviews. A talented writer, she was even more skilled as an editor, able to quickly diagnose and treat copy problems over which others might agonize for hours. But she was single and vulnerable, precisely the type who would be eaten alive by the nearest most-wanted man, Nia mused. Much as Nia was reluctant to handle this assignment, she couldnt, in good conscience, will it on Priscilla.

Why not one of the staff writers? she made a blind stab.

Bill only shook his head. Not skilled enough. Or tested. In the hands of some of the staff writers, this piece could easily resemble something in those scandal sheets you scorn.

Nias gaze shot to the men beside her. Why not either James or Chris? Theyre competent enough. She grinned, only to have her amusement wiped away by Bills summary dismissal.

I want a woman to interview the men. After all, the piece should be written from a womans point of view. Youre the perfect choice. His expression held discouraging finality.

The perfect choice? she echoed in dismay. Im the worst choice, Bill. I hate eligible bachelors! You know that.

She swung around as Chris, who was sitting next to her, laughed. Present company excluded, of course, he quipped, beaming endearingly.

Of course. She recovered quickly, reaching over to squeeze his arm affectionately. She was genuinely fond of Chris, who had moved into the slot of senior editor soon after shed joined Eastern Edge as a staff writer. He had remained a close friend when she convinced him that she wanted nothing more. Indeed, he had been one of the more vocal proponents of her appointment as associate editor the year before. Turning, she addressed Bill again. You know what I mean.

I know where youve been , Nia, if thats what youre getting at. His voice lowered with his head. I think its precisely that background that will make you much more critical in your analysis. Your piece will be that much more intelligent and less emotional.

As Nia shook her head, wisps of brown brushed her shoulders. I dont know, Bill. I disagree with the whole thing on principle.

What disturbs you? James asked, succinct as always.

II suppose it sounds too much like a one-way dating service. We will be including the phone numbers of these magnificent specimens, wont we? she jibed facetiously.