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Ross was close enough to hear the hitch in Amanda’s breath.
“You put yourself in danger tonight for a story,” he said. “You will never do that again, or I will fire you. Understand?”
She nodded, and her lips trembled, and he felt something inside him soften toward her. He wanted to…kiss her.
Back off, he commanded himself. It would be a mistake. Even if he weren’t pursuing a story that might lead directly to her father, he couldn’t get involved with someone who worked for him.
Amanda, despite her veneer of sophistication, was really a small-town girl at heart. She was the sort of person who believed in love and fidelity and happily-ever-after. All the things he dismissed as fiction.
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, the glance tentative, questioning, as if she wondered what he was thinking.
He couldn’t let her know.
MARTA PERRY
has written everything from Sunday School curricula to travel articles to magazine stories in more than twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for the Love Inspired lines.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her six beautiful grandchildren, traveling, gardening or relaxing with a good book.
Marta loves hearing from readers, and she’ll write back with a signed bookmark and/or her brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at [email protected], or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.
Heart of the Matter
Marta Perry
MILLS & BOON
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But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
—Matthew 6:33
This story is dedicated to Pat and Ed Drotos,
my dear sister and brother-in-law.
And, as always, to Brian, with much love.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Amanda Bodine raced around the corner into the newsroom, sure she was late for the staff meeting. She skidded to a halt at the sight of her usually neat, work-manlike desk that now bloomed with a small garden of flowers. Above it floated a balloon bouquet with a streamer that fairly shouted its message. Happy Birthday. Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach.
She glanced at her watch. Two minutes until the editorial meeting. If she could just get everything out of sight…
“Ms. Bodine.” The baritone voice dripped with sarcasm, and she didn’t have to turn around to identify the speaker—Ross Lockhart, managing editor of the Charleston Bugle. “It seems your personal life is intruding into the office. Again.”
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t her fault the her large family seemed to take it for granted that they were welcome in her workplace. One noisy visit from two of her cousins had occurred when Lockhart was addressing the staff. He was not amused.
She forced herself to turn and face the man. Drat it, she never had trouble standing up for herself in any other circumstances. Why did her grit turn to jelly in the presence of Ross Lockhart?
Because if you get in his way, he’ll mow you down like a blade of grass, her mind promptly responded.
“Get rid of it. Please.” The addition of the word didn’t do a thing to mitigate the fact that it was an order. “Editorial meeting, people.” He raised his voice. “Conference room, now.”
A rustle of something that might have been annoyance swept through the newsroom, but no one actually spoke up. No one would. They were all too aware that hotshot journalist Ross Lockhart had been brought in by the Bugle’s irascible owner and publisher, Cyrus Mayhew, to ginger things up, as he put it. Lockhart seemed to consider firing people the best way to accomplish that.
Lockhart stalked away in the direction of the conference room before Amanda needed to say another word to him, thank goodness. She should have made sure she’d regained her professional demeanor before coming back to the office from the birthday lunch with her twin sister. Lockhart already seemed to consider her a lightweight in the news business, despite her seven years’ experience, and she didn’t want to reinforce that impression.
She moved two baskets of roses and daisies to the floor behind her desk and grabbed a notebook to join the exodus from the newsroom.
“Happy birthday, sugar.” Jim Redfern,
