Miss White And The Seventh Heir. Jennifer Faye
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This was her office—her rules. Even if he didn’t see the harm with earbuds. He allowed his employees to use them. His motto was happy workers were productive workers. But the problem was that he wasn’t the boss here.
She continued to stare at him. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I didn’t realize...” His voice trailed off as he scrambled to his feet and followed her.
“I thought you might be interested in the process of deciding on a cover for next week’s edition.”
She was right. He was definitely interested. Perhaps this was where she sprinkled her fairy dust that made all the vendors sit up and take notice of QTR once again. “Yes, I would be very interested.”
She gestured for him to follow her into her office. Three large computer monitors sat on a table. She moved to her desktop computer and pressed a couple of keys. Her gaze moved to the monitors, which remained dark. Her fine brows drew together as her rosy lips pursed together. She tried again with the same results.
Computers were his field of expertise. “Can I give it a try?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got it.”
She tried again with the same results.
“I’m pretty good with computers.” He moved to her side ready to take over.
He reached for the keyboard at the same time she did. Their fingers touched. Her hand was soft and warm. And her touch sent a wave of attraction washing over his eager body.
When he raised his gaze, he caught the look of desire in Sage’s eyes. But in a blink it was gone and he was left wondering if it had ever been there at all.
She glanced away. “I’ll get it. Just hang on.”
“You do realize that I’m your assistant, right? So let me assist.”
“No. I can figure this out.”
“Are you always so stubborn?”
Her gaze met his. “I refer to it as independent.”
He shook his head and backed off. He wondered what had happened to her to make her so stubborn and unwilling to accept help.
After flipping through a couple of papers and reading something, she tried again. A triumphant smile lit up her face as the monitors flickered on. “There we go. I hit the wrong key before.”
Each monitor displayed a cover of QTR. There were different headlines and different fonts. He had to admit that this was all new to him as for so much of his career he’d focused on software development and website design.
“These are the three layouts that my staff has put together for the upcoming week.” She gave him a moment to read the headlines. “Now they want me to choose which will have the biggest reach both online and in the supermarket aisles.”
He read each headline.
Superstars Go Pink and Blue
Serenaded Beneath the Stars
Singing for Angels
Trey turned to Sage. “They’re each different stories?”
“No.”
He frowned. He hoped she wasn’t going to slip into his father’s old ways. Had she decided that responsible journalism was just too hard? Disappointment hit him. He’d expected so much more from her.
He crossed his arms. “Is this a bit of sensational journalism? A tricky headline to draw in the reader and then a story that takes enormous liberties with the facts of the story—”
“Certainly not.” She studied him for a moment. “I was hired to put integrity back into this magazine and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
“So there’s a country superstar in the backwoods?”
“Something like that. There’s a charity event in San Diego to fundraise for the children’s ward in a local hospital. There’s a lineup of celebrity singers from pop to classic to country. The benefit concert will be televised and have a very special audience. The children in the hospital that are well enough will be moved by wheelchair to the outdoor garden area. Others will see it televised live in their rooms and they will also meet some of the performers afterward.”
He breathed easier knowing that she hadn’t resorted to nefarious means of keeping the magazine afloat. And then it struck him that he was rooting for her. When had that happened?
He gave himself a mental shake. She was getting inside his head with her pretty smile and her good heart. But he couldn’t let himself get caught up in her plans as he had his own job to do.
“What do you think?” Her voice jarred him from his thoughts.
“It sounds like it will be a successful event.”
“It will. The tickets are all sold out.”
“I’m assuming you got a couple.” He wouldn’t mind helping such a good cause. He could accompany Sage—unless she already had a date. The thought didn’t sit well with him.
“I did.” She gave him a strange look. “Is something wrong?”
He shook his head, hoping it would chase away the unwanted thoughts. “No. Will you, ah, need someone to accompany you?”
“The tickets aren’t for me. I’ve assigned a reporter and a photographer.”
For some reason that he didn’t want to examine too closely, her answer disappointed him. He would have liked getting to know Sage outside of the office. She was a complex person. She had a good heart, but she didn’t let people get too close. She was willing to help people, but she refused to be helped. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to know about her.
Sage stared at the three layouts. “Does one speak to you more than the others?”
“The singing for angels one makes me want to know who is singing and are they really singing to angels.”
“My thought exactly.” She turned off the other layouts and focused on the one he’d suggested. “I think the headline should be larger.”
“Aren’t you going to run a photo to go with the headline?”
“No.”
“I think you should.”
“That’s what other publications would do.”
“They do it because it works.”
Her gaze narrowed in on him. “Are you saying you don’t trust my judgment?”
“I’m saying why take chances when a photo will draw the fans?”
She leaned a curvy hip against her desk. “And what about the readers that aren’t big fans of the celebrity? Will they be drawn in, too?”
He shrugged. He hadn’t considered that angle. “But what if no one picks up the magazine or opens the digital edition?”
“Nothing is guaranteed.”
“Then why take a risk?” He stopped himself, realizing that by playing devil’s advocate he was fighting for the magazine to succeed. What was it about being around Sage that mixed up his thoughts?
“Because it’s my call.” Her tone was firm.
He got the hint. She was the boss and he wasn’t. So his opinion didn’t count. This gave him pause.
He’d said similar words to his own employees. He hadn’t any idea of how those words felt when you were on the receiving end. Going forward, he’d have to listen more and let his employees know that he valued their opinion.
“You’ve heard things about me, haven’t you?” Her gaze met his straight-on. Not giving him a chance to answer, she continued. “I know people talk,