A Heart's Refuge. Carolyne Aarsen

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СКАЧАТЬ glanced around the room. She wasn’t the only disheartened one, but somehow Rick had zeroed in on her.

      She stifled her resentment and chose her words carefully. “I’m just thinking about all the work ahead for each department. It’s going to be difficult to turn the direction of this magazine around midstream.”

      Rick flipped his hand to one side, as if dismissing her concerns. “Any change we implement is going to take some sacrifice and time.” He gestured toward the chart behind him. “The figures speak for themselves. If this magazine keeps going in the direction it is, most of the people in this room are going to be out of a job. The only choices available to you now are hard work.” Rick looked around the room, his arms crossed, his legs spraddled in a defensive posture. “Or no work.”

      There was nothing more to be said. Rick waited a heartbeat more. “Meeting’s over,” he said. “You’re dismissed.”

      Cliff Thiessen let his chair drop back onto the floor with a thud and got up. “Well, better get back to it,” he muttered to no one in particular. As the rest of the staff left, there was some muttering, but for the most part people were subdued by what their new boss had told them.

      “Becky, I’d like to see you a moment,” Rick said as she gathered up her papers in preparation for leaving.

      Panic tightened her chest, but she masked it with a vague smile. She thought she had done pretty good up till now. She didn’t know if she could handle a face-to-face meeting quite yet.

      She shuffled through her papers while the room emptied, buying some time.

      “What can I do for you?” she said, once the door closed behind the last person.

      “I just wanted to take a moment to speak with you privately.” Rick walked around to the other side of Nelson’s desk, glancing out the bank of windows that filled one wall. Becky couldn’t help follow the direction of his gaze. Beyond the roofs of Okotoks, the golden prairie rolled toward the soft brown of the Porcupine Hills, which nudged against the jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains, faintly purple in the morning sun.

      “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” she said quietly.

      “It will help compensate for having to live out here for a while.”

      Cynicism again. She shouldn’t have been surprised. “What do you mean?”

      Rick turned back to her and rested his hands palms down on his desk. “You may as well know, I’m here a maximum of twelve months and that’s it. My grandfather issued me an ultimatum I have a lot of incentive to keep.”

      Becky frowned lightly, but held his steady gaze. “What ultimatum?”

      “Turn this magazine around in twelve months and he’ll leave me alone to go back to traveling and living my life as I see fit.”

      “And then what happens to the magazine?”

      Rick shrugged and pushed himself off from the desk. “Not my concern.”

      “Will your grandfather still own it?”

      “I don’t know. You could buy it if you wanted.” His casual words held a lash of mockery.

      “I’ve got my own plans,” she said softly.

      “And what would those be?”

      Try to ease away from the relentless deadlines of magazine work. Write a book that would make her current editor sit up and take notice. Offer her the temporary stability of a multibook contract.

      But Rick Ethier was the last person she was going to dump her “treacly” dreams on.

      “I’ve got a few things on the go.” She drew in a slow breath and looked up at him again. He was watching her, his head canted to one side, his mouth softer now that it no longer was twisted into a cynical smile.

      And in spite of her negative feelings toward him, she felt a nebulous connection spark between them, then lengthen into a gentle warmth.

      She was the first to look away, confusion fighting her initial antagonism. What was wrong with her? So he was good-looking. So he possessed a certain charm that it seemed even she wasn’t immune to.

      He was her boss. And the man who had a hand in delaying her dream.

      Rick cleared his throat and shuffled some file folders on his desk. “I understand from Nelson that you have been working on setting up an appointment with the Premier of Alberta?”

      “I don’t have a firm commitment, but I’m in communication with his secretary.”

      “Congratulations. That’s quite a coup. I’ve been trying to get an interview with him since he was voted in with such an overwhelming majority.”

      “Jake’s pretty private.”

      “I’ll say. He guards his private life like a Doberman. I’ve tried a few times to get an interview for Colson’s magazine, but I’ve always been turned away with a polite but firm no.”

      Becky knew this about Jake. In fact, he had said the only reason he would consider an interview with her was because he knew it wouldn’t turn into a gossipfest. Before he had become premier of Alberta and after, she and Jake Groot had been members of a province-wide committee devoted to preservation of native grasslands. They had gotten to know each other on a social as well as committee level and Becky had used that leverage to snag this formal interview.

      “I’d like to help you with that article.”

      The cold finger she had felt before became an icy fist. “Actually, I always work on my own,” she said quietly but firmly.

      “When is the interview?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

      “Not for a few months.”

      “Keep me in the loop, then.”

      He’s your boss, Becky reminded herself when she looked up at him. “Okay, I’ll do that,” she said quietly. More than that she wasn’t going to promise. Jake would not be pleased if she dragged along a whole phalanx of people.

      She gathered up her papers and Rick laid his hand on hers. She flinched as if she’d been burned.

      “Sorry, I believe that’s mine.” He pointed to the small burgundy engagement calendar in her hands.

      “I don’t think so,” Becky said, shifting the papers that were threatening to spill out of her arms. “It has my initials on it. R.E.”

      Rick held up a similar calendar and frowned down at it. “This one has the same initials.”

      Becky flipped hers open to a page with a butterfly sticker in one corner and a reminder to pick up butter scribbled in purple pen on a stained and dog-eared page.

      “This is mine,” she muttered, closing it and slipping it between her papers and her chest.

      “I’m sorry,” Rick said, tapping the folder he held against his other hand. “I’m guessing Becky is short for СКАЧАТЬ