“The front page, Ethan. It’s all yours. Every day, for fourteen days straight.” Lou tapped a finger on the newspaper that lay on the desk between them.
The front page.
For two solid weeks.
If that didn’t get the attention of The Seattle Tribune, nothing would. It was a reporter’s dream. His dream.
Then why did it feel so much like a nightmare? “Where on the front page?”
“Bottom right-hand corner. Twenty inches of space per day.”
“Above the fold. Twenty-five inches.” If Ethan was going to agree to this nonsense, he would make sure it was worth his while.
“Deal.” Lou slapped his hand on the desk in triumph. The coffee cups jumped in time with the throbbing of Ethan’s headache. “You’d better get packing. The clock is ticking. Your first diary entry is due no later than midnight tonight. Ms. Quinn is expecting you.”
Piper was expecting him.
What have I done?
“Get cracking, son.” Lou shooed Ethan out of his office. “And don’t look so worried. This is going to be the highlight of your career. Think of it as being embedded, like a reporter in a combat zone.”
A reporter in a combat zone.
Why did Ethan get the feeling that the comparison wasn’t too far off the mark?
* * *
Piper was ready and waiting when she heard the tires of Ethan’s SUV roll up the sanctuary’s snow-covered drive. She closed the field notebook where she recorded daily observations about each wolf’s behavior patterns, climbed down from the large flat boulder overlooking the property and was standing, arms crossed, toe tapping, by the time her nemesis-turned-volunteer climbed out of his car.
“You’re late,” she said by way of greeting. She wasn’t wasting her time with marshmallows and small talk this time. A fat lot of good that had done.
“Piper.” He nodded. “We meet again.”
He looked as stone-faced as ever, which pretty much confirmed that he hadn’t lost one minute of sleep over the hurtful things he’d written about her. Not just her, but the wolves, the sanctuary, her goals and dreams. Basically, everything she held near and dear.
Unbelievable.
The email she’d received the night before from Lou Marshall at the Yukon Reporter had been nothing if not concise. He’d received her letter and would be printing it in the early edition. No apology. No retraction. But her letter would appear in the paper. She’d been appeased. For the most part.
And then the impossible had happened. Only a few hours after the early edition of the paper had been released, Lou Marshall had called and asked if she’d be interested in Ethan volunteering at the sanctuary for two weeks and chronicling the experience in the newspaper. Of course she’d said yes. Another article from a different perspective was exactly what she’d demanded. What Marshall was offering her was above and beyond that. Fourteen articles. Plus two weeks of free labor.
It was an offer she couldn’t refuse, even if it did mean spending approximately eighty hours in the presence of the self-righteous Ethan Hale. As much as she hated to admit it, she could use the help. Especially help from someone as physically strong and capable as Ethan appeared. There were plenty of chores around the sanctuary that required an able body. Just yesterday poor wiry Caleb had nearly collapsed under the weight of a cord of firewood.
Not that she’d noticed Ethan’s broad chest. Or strapping shoulders. Or thick, muscular forearms.
Okay, so maybe she’d noticed those things, as well as his other knee-weakening qualities. Such as the way his piercing gray eyes looked almost blue beneath the shelter of the hemlock trees. And the way he somehow seemed at home here among the woods and the rocks and the snow flurries. Like the wolves—untamable, yet not wholly wild.
It was a ridiculous notion. He didn’t deserve to be compared to her beloved wolves, even in the secrecy of her thoughts. Because those arms, those shoulders and those extraordinary lupine eyes were all attached to his impossibly stubborn head.
She looked up at him now, towering over her with his chiseled features arranged in an expression of distinct displeasure. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously longing to be someplace else. Anyplace else but here.
What was I thinking, agreeing to this? It’s a terrible idea.
After getting the phone call from his editor, she’d actually wondered if maybe the arrangement had been Ethan’s idea. That maybe, just maybe, he regretted dragging her name through the mud in one of Alaska’s biggest media outlets. Perhaps he’d felt remorseful after he’d read her response in her letter to the editor.
Judging by the look on his face, clearly not.
She swallowed. This could be a mistake. And she couldn’t afford another mistake. But really, what else could he write that could make things worse?
Mistake or not, if he thought she was going to bend over backward in welcome again, he had another think coming. She wasn’t the only one making mistakes lately. Ethan had underestimated her before. He hadn’t taken her at all seriously. That was a mistake she aimed to fix.
She crossed her arms again and pinned him with a stare. “I repeat—you’re late.”
She had a tour arriving in less than ten minutes. How was she supposed to get him properly trained to do anything of any value while she was lecturing her guests and showing them around? Over half her scheduled visitors had either canceled or no-showed so far today, thanks to him. Those who still wanted to see the wolves were getting the royal treatment.
“Your editor told me to expect you nearly an hour ago.”
“My apologies.” His mouth curved in an obviously disingenuous grin. “I had a pressing errand to run on the way here.”
“And what might that have been?” Had he stopped to picket the local animal shelter or something? Had he been busy kicking puppies?
He crossed his massive arms. Honestly, how did a man with a desk job end up with such nice biceps? “If you must know, I had to stop and buy new shoes.”
She glanced down at his feet, clad in a pristine pair of North Face all-weather hiking boots, and her cheeks grew warm. “Oh. I see.”
“So am I forgiven?” He lifted a single, bemused brow.
“For the tardiness, yes. For everything else, no. Not even close.”
“I can live with that. Somehow.”
Could he be any more smug? “I honestly don’t know how you manage to sleep at night.”
“I manage.” He shrugged, then his gaze fell on her notebook. “What’s that you have there?”
“My field notes.” She held the book tighter to her chest. “A written record of the daily behavior patterns of my subject. In this case, the wolves.”
“I know what a field notebook is. Does that surprise you?” He planted his hands on his hips, and Piper vowed not to look at his arms again.
Half a second later, her gaze zeroed in on his forearms. She cleared her throat. “Actually, it does surprise me. Quite a bit.”
“May I have a look?” he asked, gesturing to her notebook.
“Certainly.” She offered it to him. Maybe if he realized how seriously she took her work with the wolves, he’d relent and give her at least an ounce of respect.
He flipped through the pages and glanced up only when he’d reached the end. “Impressive.”
“Thank you.” Heat rose to her cheeks. One kind word from Ethan Hale, wolf hater extraordinaire, and she was blushing like