“Who the devil?” Horace frowned. “Mack, see who it is.”
He opened the door even as another bevy of knocks fell upon it, then blinked in surprise. It was the redheaded stenog. Had she come to find him? No, that was ridiculous. She was as surprised as he was, her thickly lashed eyes widening. She was faintly flushed, a curl of hair stuck to her damp forehead, and her generous breasts heaved for breath as if she had run there. It took conscious effort not to stare, and he couldn’t help but imagine running his hands over her lush curves. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Jesus Christ, when had he become so awkward with a beautiful woman?
“You,” she blurted.
“Bobcat,” he said, and he was pretty sure her eye twitched.
“What I meant was, good afternoon, Mr. Donnelly.” She cleared her throat. “I wish to speak with Mr. McEntire.”
He widened the door, and she swept into the office with her head held high. Earlier, she’d been full of embarrassment and irritation, but now, something else propelled her. If he had to name it, he’d call it righteous anger. She looked down her nose at everyone in the room even though she was the shortest by several inches. As she settled into his vacated seat, he swore she whispered something under her breath that sounded like “doormat.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“What do you need, Miss West?” Horace asked. “I’ve already given you my answer.”
“MissusWest.”
Mack’s stomach bottomed out.
He’d been lusting after a married woman. No matter how tempting a woman was—and this one already had him in knots—he would not cross that line. He swallowed his absurd disappointment with a vicious will. There were plenty of other women in Seattle, even if they weren’t as intriguing as Mrs. West. The sooner he found one, the better, if his ridiculous attraction to the insistent sound of her voice was any indication. Wait, what was she insisting on?
“—a new suffrage club down the street from here. As a new member, I am in the prime position to share the latest developments.”
“Another suffrage club?” Emil asked. “Haven’t a dozen or more cropped up in the last six months?”
“I believe so, thus proving the cause has merit,” she said. “A new age is upon us, and it would be in the best interest of history to document its arrival.”
What were the odds that a suffragist walked in the door right after they decided to run anti-suffrage pieces? Mack glanced back and forth between Miss—no,MissusWest—and his uncle. He didn’t like the speculative gleam that came to Horace’s eye, nor the way his gaze lingered on her breasts. So, despite Mack’s decade-old decision to stay out of anything controversial until he sat behind that desk, he found himself stepping in to save the naïve optimist.
“The movement has gained a lot of speed,” he said. “I’ve seen the notices myself, yet unfort—”
“Actually,” Emil interrupted, “We were just discussing the benefits of collecting information on suffrage.”
“Indeed.” Horace’s mouth twisted into a self-satisfied smirk. “Miss West, I’ve reconsidered your plea.”
“Missus,” Mack snapped before he could stop himself. The woman gave him a surprised, but grateful look. Her smile did something strange to his insides, and he jerked his eyes away.
Horace narrowed his eyes at Mack, but he corrected himself. “Mrs. West, we find ourselves in need of human-interest stories. Something that will attract more female readers.”
Mack swallowed a groan. Not only was Horace going to use his idea against him, but he was also going to drag an innocent woman into the mix? Horace’s smugness couldn’t be more obvious, but Mrs. West didn’t notice. If anything, she bounced with excitement. “I can do it, sir. I promise I won’t let you down.”
Horace pointed a finger at her. “This is a trial, mind you.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Two hundred words, weekly. Bring your ideas to Mr. Donnelly or Mr. Anderson—whoever happens to be in the office—every Monday morning for approval. Finished pieces will be published on Friday for space rates.”
Emil gave Mrs. West his signature charming smile, and Mack’s stomach twisted. Women had always thrown themselves at Emil’s feet, even when he didn’t express any interest. It had been that way ever since they started as newsboys together years ago, but it had never bothered him until right now. Would Mrs. West be the same? He realized he didn’t want to find out. He made the split-second decision to be in the office every Monday morning, come hell or high water.
“Yes, sir. Thank you very much.” She gave Mack and Emil a nod as well. “Thank you, gentlemen. I look forward to sharing my ideas with you.”
“And I can’t wait to hear them,” Emil assured her.
“Good luck,” Mack said, his voice flat. Her smile faltered, but damnation, what else could he say, that her mission was doomed from the start?
As soon as the door closed behind her, Emil let out a chuckle. “That one fell right into our laps.”
“And she’ll stay there for as long as she’ll provide us with content. Mack, you need to get away from your infernal analyses, so you’ll write the first counter piece. Mr. Anderson, you’ll take the second.”
