She had to clear her throat twice before she could speak. “Yes, you will. I’ll have a very interesting list of ideas to show you.”
“I’m sure you will, but as you already know, it takes a lot to impress me.”
Winnie waited for him to walk toward a burly, dark-haired man before expelling a long sigh. Bracing herself, she gave her friends an embarrassed smile.
“He’s terribly handsome,” Olive said.
“Is he?”
Rhoda snorted. “You’re blushing, dear.”
“Over that ogre? Never.”
Her friends grinned.
“We shouldn’t tease you,” Clem said.
“Thank y—”
“But you were eyeing him like a piece of cake to be devoured,” Rhoda added.
Olive nodded, giggling.
“Doubtful.” Her ears heated again, and her mind turned to what Rhoda had said earlier. “What did you mean about Mr. Donnelly’s family not being able to claim a title of innocence?”
Rhoda shrugged. “I’ve only heard snippets at parties. Our families run in the same set, and people love to gossip. I’ve heard a thing or two about his uncle being in the pocket of some questionable politicians.”
“But have you heard anything about Mr. Donnelly?”
Rhoda pursed her lips in thought. “No, nothing about him.”
The relief she felt surprised her. It shouldn’t matter to her if he was the owner of a gambling den, so long as he approved her ideas. And yet, she was happy to know that at least his reputation was solid.
“Thanks. Now, I think it’s time for that cake. Arealcake”—she pointed a finger at her mischievous friend—“not a man cake.”
“Well, shoot. Now I want a man cake,” Rhoda teased.
Clem laughed. “Come on, ladies. It’s starting to drizzle, and Winnie has already suffered enough.”
As they made their way out of the busy plaza, the first raindrops sprinkling down, Winnie made a vow. If Mack Donnelly was willing to sign their petition, that meant he was on the cusp of supporting her ideas.
She was about to become the most annoying fly in the office.
CHAPTER6
She was everywhere Mack looked, and it was slowly driving him mad.
Somehow, he’d thwarted her list of ideas for another week, but the calculating look accompanying her casual acceptance had raised the hairs on his neck. Ever since, he couldn’t go five minutes without crossing her path. It was as if she had taken on the work of three employees, hustling between the stenographer’s room, the writer’s bullpen, and the editor’s offices, uncannily at the exact time he was in the hallway himself. What was worse, she did it all with a pleasant grin and energetic bounce that did devilish things to his libido.
In an effort to escape her, he’d eagerly taken on the responsibility of covering a fire that had broken out in the factory district. The entire city was up in arms about it, as fires tended to do in Seattle ever since the Great Fire of ’89. For once, he and Horace had agreed on how to cover the story. This was not politics, it was business—and business was not to be trifled with.
He checked his pocket watch again, scanning the Arcade Building entrance and sidewalk for the stenographer he had requested. If someone could record the interviews, he could concentrate on the story itself. He’d wait two more minutes, but he wouldn’t risk losing the scoop.
His attention snagged on Emil, who hovered on the street corner with a man Mack had never seen before. Emil’s head was bent low, his derby hat brim pulled forward as he listened intently. The other man shifted from foot to foot, his eyes sweeping the area as he spoke. Mack angled his body away and watched them from the corner of his eye. A second later, Emil took a piece of paper the man offered and spun on his heel, disappearing into the Arcade Building without a word.
Mack frowned at the intense exchange. That was no normal source. Maybe he should—
“I’m here,” a familiar voice said behind him, and all thoughts of what he’d seen evaporated as his heart catapulted in his chest.
