Tall, Dark & Reckless

He’d had offers from more prestigious news services, but he’d always been a loner and he liked the freedom OMG gave him. He didn’t have to answer to a news team or a producer, except Travis and Travis’s father, and as long as Mark got the story, he could do what he wanted, how he wanted.

Sure, they yelped a couple of times and sure, Mark skated in the gray area, but he got stories the larger media services could only dream about.

“So,” Travis continued. “We want to do whatever it takes to get you back in the field.”

On this, they could agree. “The PT is going great.” Mark ignored the throbbing in his thigh. “By the end of the semester I’ll be good to go.” It was late October. His leg had another couple of months to heal. Plenty of time.

“Great.” Travis clapped his hands together before pointing them at Mark. “Let’s talk possible assignments.”

Mark met his eyes with the same gaze that had compelled everyone from beggars to royalty to tell him more than they’d meant to. “I’ve been gone so long, I want to make a splash with my comeback.”

“Keep talking.”

“Burayd al-Munzir.” Mark sat back.

Travis gazed unblinkingly. “And he is …?”

How could he not know? Swallowing his irritation, Mark said, “Fatik al-Munzir’s youngest half brother. Burayd’s mother came from an influential tribal family in El Bahar, and they were not pleased when she became a third wife instead of the first wife as arranged. His mother’s people are backing Burayd in a disagreement with Fatik over who has rights to the mega oil reserves sitting under tribal lands. Each side wants to be the one to parlay with the U.S., but nobody in this country is taking Burayd seriously. And they need to. The story will take months to develop, but it’ll be worth it.” And staying in villas in modern cities would be easier on his leg than hiking around mountains.

“Sounds very promising,” Travis said. “But we need something with a faster payoff.”

Mark gritted his teeth. “Some issues are more important than money.”

“I like that you think that way and I don’t ever want you to be in a position to realize how wrong you are.” Travis stopped, met his eyes and gave Mark a big, fat smile. “But money is what will buy the plane ticket to get you to whatever sandbox these two play in. Money is what rescued you the last time you went rogue. And money is what has paid for all your physical therapy sessions.”

“Yeah.” Mark shifted as his leg twinged. Keeping his tone offhand, he said, “So how about I go back to the border and finish the gun smuggling story?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“It could be a fast turnaround. I’ve already done the research—”

“No.” Travis spoke with unmistakable finality. “Not now. Not ever. At least, not if you want to continue writing for OMG.”

Mark wasn’t a total idealist, but he’d never sold out and he never would. He tamped down his anger. “Are you threatening me?”

“Do facts threaten you? It was an expensive mistake.”

“Is there a problem, Travis?” This was the first time Travis had ever mentioned money in considering Mark’s assignments.

“Not at the moment, but the more slices, the smaller the piece of pie.”

His sister’s success must have really rattled Travis. “Have you considered that maybe Dancie will make it a bigger pie?”

“Like I said—marriage, babies.” Travis was sounding a lot like his father. Mark had always thought it was an act, but maybe not.

“This is temporary for her,” Travis reiterated. “I don’t mind giving her a salary bump. I don’t even mind if she draws a bigger salary than I do. But a partner’s share of the profits? No.”

Mark had no intention of getting in the middle of a family fight. He’d keep his thoughts to himself and by New Year’s, he’d be on a plane to the Middle East. Or taking care of unfinished business at the border.

Travis checked his clunky gold watch and indicated that it was time to leave. “Bring all the enthusiasm you’ve got to the meeting, but don’t forget to tie any story ideas to potential revenue streams for OMG.”

Was Travis always like this before meeting with his father? If so, Mark was glad he’d never before attended one of these quarterly get-togethers.

Mark tried not to limp as they walked to the elevator. Potential revenue streams? That wasn’t his job. His job was to get the story. Their job was to publish it.

For a moment Mark imagined a world in which he would never “adventure” again. He did not want to be a part of that world. Even so, though he might be forced to compromise, he’d never sell out.

2

Step two: Verify your target male’s type. Only then engage him in light conversation.

AFTER REALIZING THAT THE MAN wasn’t going to turn around, Piper had quietly continued up the stairs, so he wouldn’t hear her and think she’d been standing there watching him. Of course, she had been, but she definitely didn’t want him thinking so.

Her phone buzzed again as she reached the top of the steps and once again, she sent it to voice mail. Then she turned to the right and breezed into Dancie’s office.

Startled, Dancie looked up from her computer. “You’re way early!”

“Good morning!” Piper sang.

Dancie brightened. “Did you bring coffee?”

“Couldn’t carry it.” Piper set her bag and the hanging clothes on the one visitor’s chair in the tiny space.

“Well, darn.” Dancie went back to typing. “Travis took the good coffeepot and I don’t feel like braving the man cave this morning.”

Someone might have made coffee in the downstairs kitchen for the meeting. As Piper considered whether to check and possibly snag a cup for Dancie, her phone went off again. This time, she just let it buzz until it rolled over to voice mail on its own.

Forget the coffee. There wasn’t that much time before the meeting started and Dancie needed the makeover fairy to wave her magic wand. Piper didn’t have a magic wand, but she did have a flatiron, makeup and a change of clothes. Gently, she closed the door. “Are those notes for today, or can you take a break?”

Dancie stopped typing and eyed Piper suspiciously. “Why?” Her gaze drifted to the chair and narrowed.

Long ago, Piper had learned that the way to manipulate Dancie was to keep her off balance by moving quickly and decisively. Talking a lot as she did so helped, too.

“I want to tweak your visual presentation.” As she spoke, Piper walked around Dancie’s desk and pulled her out of the chair.

“What do you mean?”

There was a full-length mirror on the door. Piper positioned Dancie in front of it and tugged the faded navy hoodie off her arms.

“What are you doing?” Dancie jerked at a sleeve.

“Honestly, Dancie!” Piper pointed to a hole where the cuff had pulled away from the rest of the sleeve.

“Nobody’s going to notice that!”

Piper freed the hoodie from Dancie’s clutches and tossed it onto the desk. She should have aimed for the trash basket. “Only because you’re dressing to be invisible.”

“What are you talking about?” Dancie gestured down at her cotton tank, jean shorts, and flip-flops. “This is the way I always look! Everybody in Austin looks this way!”

“Not today.” Piper examined Dancie’s legs. At least she’d shaved them relatively recently. “Today, you’re going to look like a partner in the Online Media Group.”

Dancie went still. Anticipating the coming rant, Piper used the opportunity to remove the plastic bag from the clothes.

And then, the rant began. “If Dad makes me a partner like Travis, it’s going to be because the Women’s Guide to Living Fabulous division has brought in the most revenue the past two quarters and not because of what I’m wearing!”

“Of course it will be.” Piper automatically spoke with the same tone she used to deliver unpleasant truths to defensive clients. “If he listens to you.”

“That’s why I have a written report. It’s with our proposal.” Dancie pointed to the desk where a shiny red folder sat. “Hard copy.”

“Red. I see.” At least Dancie’d put the thing in a folder.

“Yeah. I thought it would stand out.”

“It does. Red means stop. Danger. Red ink. In the red.” From the bag on the chair, Piper withdrew a green folder and handed it to Dancie. “Green is the color of money. It means growth. Go. Green is good.” Piper gestured. “Switch the folders.”

Dancie stared at it. “You actually brought a folder for me?”

“I didn’t want you to stress in case you forgot.”

Dancie walked toward the desk. “This is some of your psychological stuff, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” While Dancie changed her report folder, Piper moved the chair in front of the mirror.

Without turning around, Dancie said, “I see the clothes. Don’t think I’m not aware of what you’re doing. You’re going to say, ‘Dancie, your quarterly report says the same thing. You’ve just changed the cover to make it more appealing. That’s all we’re doing with these clothes. You’re still you—you’ll just have a different cover.’”

“Excellent. We can skip that part, then.” Piper held up a skirt. “And one of the advantages of having roomed with you is that I know your size.”

Dancie saw the skirt. “Oh, hell, no.”

“Watch the potty mouth. Your dad doesn’t like it when women swear.”

“I am not wearing a skirt! I do not wear skirts. I have never worn skirts—something you should have picked up on after three years of rooming with me.”

“It’s a denim pencil skirt.” Piper tossed it at her. “Think of it as a pair of shorts with the legs sewn together.”

“He’ll know I’m wearing it just to get on his good side.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your father seeing you make an effort to look more attractive,” Piper said calmly. “You’re trying to woo him—”

Dancie flung down the skirt. “In the first place, I am not one of your dating clients and in the second, ew!” She shuddered. “Gee, thanks for putting that in my head!”

“Compatibility principles are the same whether you’re talking dating or job interviews or roommate questionnaires.” The meeting was less than twenty minutes away now and Dancie was being more hardheaded than Piper expected. “Salesmen use the technique all the time. And that’s what you are today—a salesman. You are selling yourself as a partner to your father.”

“Ew—ew—ew—ew!”

“Dancie, stop it!” Piper had to speak more sharply than she wanted to, but this was important.

“Travis doesn’t have to do stuff like this!” Dancie wailed.

“But he does.” Piper looked around for an outlet to plug in the flatiron and ended up unplugging Dancie’s desk lamp. “Have you seen Travis today? What’s he wearing?”

Dancie made a disgusted sound. “Khaki Dockers and a UT golf shirt.”

“And probably his big gold fraternity ring. What do you think your dad’s going to wear?”

“What he always wears,” Dancie said. “Dockers with his belly hanging over the waist and a golf shirt with a Longhorn football booster logo …” She met Piper’s eyes as she trailed off.

“Exactly. Travis mirrors your father.”

“Then I’ll wear khakis and a golf shirt!”

“Your father likes pretty, feminine women.” Which was why Piper was rocking a retro sorority girl/receptionist look today.

“Oh, I know,” Dancie snapped. “He wants nothing more than for me to be his little princess until he can hand me off to Prince Charming.”

“So be a princess with a brain.” Piper led Dancie to the chair in front of the mirror and pushed on her shoulders. Unresisting, Dancie sat down, staring unseeingly until she noticed Piper with the flatiron in the reflection.

“Are you cra—”

Piper moved fast, grabbing a hank of Dancie’s curly ponytail and running the iron through it.

Dancie jerked away in outrage. “Look what you’ve done! Now part of my hair is straight and part is curly!”

“Oops,” Piper said, not sorry at all. “I guess I’ll just have to straighten the rest of it, then.”

Glaring, Dancie yanked the elastic off her ponytail. “I’m going to look pathetic!”

“No—”

“Yes, I am! There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me look one-tenth as good as my mother looks when she rolls out of bed in the morning! You making me look all girlie is only going to emphasize it.”

Her beauty queen mother was Dancie’s huge hot button and there was no way around it. Better that she vent now than lose her cool during the meeting.

“Travis is the one who looks like Mom!” Dancie said of her twin.

True. Piper stayed silent and kept flat-ironing Dancie’s frizzy hair. If Dancie would use some product, she’d have great waves. But she didn’t, so Piper was going for long, loose and feminine today.

“He got the blond hair and the blue eyes and the great teeth and the dimple. I ended up with Dad’s brown eyes and kinky black hair and mustache. I got mom’s nose, though,” Dancie continued bitterly. “It was a gift for my sixteenth birthday.”

“And a lovely gift it was, too,” Piper said. “Remember, I’ve seen pictures of you before.”

Dancie gasped, and then they both laughed.

Piper finished taming Dancie’s hair and while it wasn’t perfect, it was an improvement. “This isn’t cheating,” she told Dancie as she applied some basic makeup. “Your dad will see you’re making an effort to look more feminine, so subconsciously, he’ll make an effort to listen. It’s a sales tactic and takes nothing away from what you’ve accomplished.”

Piper’s phone buzzed. She ignored it, but Dancie reached around her and removed it from Piper’s purse.

“Give me that!” Piper grabbed for the phone, but Dancie, grinning, answered it.

“Piper Scott’s office. Are you ready to find your per—” Dancie abruptly stopped smiling. “I—”

Sighing, Piper said, “Put her on speaker.”

Dancie pressed the screen and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” as sobbing sounded from the phone.

“Piiiipeeeeerrrr!”

“I’m here.” Piper kept applying makeup while a subdued Dancie held the phone.

“Dale… He’s—he’s gonnnnne!” More sobbing. “He left meeeeee!”

Piper squinted at Dancie’s eyes and added a little more shading to one. “Did he leave you and your money or just you?”

Hiccup. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You gave him the money, didn’t you?”

“He needed it!”

“They always do.” Piper didn’t want to deal with this right now, which is why she hadn’t answered her phone.

“But—it was for his motorcycle! He couldn’t very well get to his job without his bike, could he?”

“He has a job? That’s different.”

Dancie winced.

“Yes, he does! In Wichita Falls.”

Piper glanced at the office wall clock. Taking the phone, she handed Dancie the denim skirt and a pair of flats. Dancie was clearly feeling guilty, because she put them on without protest.

“Are you in Wichita Falls now?” Piper asked.

“No—I’m in Lubbock. Dale was going to send for me when he found us a place to live.”

Piper closed her eyes and shook her head. “And he hasn’t sent for you.”

Sniff. “No.”

“And you haven’t heard from him.”

“That’s why I called the construction company! I thought maybe he’d been in an accident and was unconscious and—”

“They’d never heard of him.” Same thing over and over again. Her mother never learned.

Sobbing.

Pointing to the clock, Dancie slipped around Piper and closed and unplugged her laptop.

“I thought he loved me!”

“You always think that,” Piper said quietly. “How much, Mom?”

“Wh—That’s—”

“I’m in a hurry. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes. Do you have any money left at all? Or did he take you for everything?”

“Penelope Ann Scott! Don’t you talk—”

Piper took her mother off speaker. “Tell me how much you need and where to send it.”

When she ended the call, Dancie was trying to sneak out the door. “I’m so sorry, Piper. I never would have answered the phone—”

“Forget it.” Piper planned to. Until the next time. “Put on the jacket.”

“But it’s pink,” Dancie said with heavy loathing.

“Blush khaki,” Piper corrected.

“If I were the khaki, I’d blush, too.”

“You wear pink.” Piper indicated Dancie’s tank.

“I got it at a breast-cancer awareness walkathon.”

Piper slipped the jacket over her shoulders. “And now, it’s complemented by the jacket.” It was a lucky break that Dancie was wearing that particular tank top today.

Dancie set her computer and folder down and put on the jacket. “I’m only wearing this because I feel horrible about answering the phone.”

“I know,” Piper said. “But I’ll take it—because you look great!” She gave Dancie a thumbs-up and followed her through the doorway.

“I didn’t realize you were still sending your mom money,” Dancie said as they started down the stairs.

“You have your mother issues and I have mine,” Piper said. “But right now, we need to concentrate on the meeting and getting you made partner.”

“Deal,” Dancie said. And then, “Oh, sh—”

“Language!” Piper cautioned with a laugh.

“—oot!” Dancie finished. “Shoot, shoot, shoot!”

They were at the final turn of the staircase and Dancie was staring across the foyer at the conference table in the old dining room.

Piper followed her gaze and saw the blue-eyed limper from earlier. “Okay, who is that guy?”

“Seriously?” Dancie asked.

“Yeah, why? I ran into him earlier.”

Dancie gave her a strange look. “And you didn’t recognize him?”

“Well…” As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Piper glanced into the room again. “I thought he seemed vaguely familiar, but honestly? All guys are beginning to look alike to me.”

“If all men look like that to you, then you’re working too hard.” Dancie nodded her head in his direction. “That’s Mark Banning, Travis’s star columnist, his big moneymaker.”

There was something more … Piper couldn’t quite remember.

“Oh, come on, Piper! The big-deal foreign journalist who got himself captured last year?”

“Right!” Finally, she made the connection.

“And the only reason I beat Travis in revenue is because Mark got injured. He’s been teaching a journalism course at UT instead of wowing all Travis’s readers with his insane adventures.”

Mark got injured … Now Piper remembered. It had been all over the news. Dramatic rescue and so on. Video clips of the photogenic Mark Banning had run incessantly, including one of him waving from a stretcher, bloodstained bandage wrapped around his thigh—right about where his hand had gripped it earlier, if Piper wasn’t mistaken. Ah.

Dancie exhaled. “I thought I had another quarter before I had to compete with him again.” She headed for the conference room. “Well, if Mark’s back, that must mean his leg has healed.”

“Or maybe not,” Piper murmured beneath her breath. Mark Banning had been stateside for months. If his leg was still that sensitive, then it most certainly had not fully healed.

As they walked into the room, Piper glanced at the famous Mark Banning and found him studying her in a way that meant Travis had filled him in on her identity. Not that either of them would ever have anything to do with the other— unless Mark needed dating tips. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. The only tip he’d need was how to fend off women, something at which he’d no doubt had a lot of practice.

He stood by the sideboard and sipped coffee, his other hand, left and ringless, for what that was worth, rested on the back of a swivel club chair. Long and lean in a leather jacket, surrounded by a cloud of confidence and testosterone. An alpha-alpha, the pinnacle of male desirability. Men wanted to be him. Women just wanted him.

Not even Piper was immune, although she had no intention of treating Mark Banning with anything other than clinical detachment.

A double-alpha male was a lot of trouble. Not only would his woman have to fight to catch him, she’d have to fight off other females to keep him. This type of man lived as though the world revolved around him because it usually did. He didn’t become a part of your life, he drew you into his.

Piper would never recommend a double-alpha male for anything long-term unless a woman was a double alpha herself. And if she was, she’d hardly be a client of Piper’s. The only other kind of woman for a man like that was the completely self-sacrificing type who was willing to devote her life to enhancing his—and willing to look the other way when she had to.

Believe it or not, there were women like that in the world. More power to them.

Looking at Mark Banning, Piper could understand why. He was unignorable, like a Ferrari parked among the mom-mobiles at a suburban grocery store—beautiful to look at and you didn’t have to see it in action to know it had power and speed under the hood. Or needed extra maintenance. However, she wanted no part of a selfish, self-centered, arrogant, unaware … Except hadn’t Mark opened the door for her? Twice? He hadn’t said or done anything to make her feel bad when her bag had hit his leg, either. So maybe he wasn’t totally self-centered and unaware, which would make him unique among the double alphas she’d interviewed. But he still had the looks and power that made her want to take him for a test drive.

“Ladies!” Travis saw them and beamed his showman smile. “May I pour you a mug of coffee?”

“You’d better, since you stole the good pot!” Dancie said to her brother.

“Just for you.” Travis pushed forward an oversize mug with a crazed stick-figure woman that said, “Forget sugar and spice. Give me caffeine and then I’ll be nice!”

All the other mugs were plain. It was a subtle way to diminish Dancie, who didn’t notice as she eagerly gulped coffee. Piper would take care of it later.

As Travis poured more coffee, Piper looked behind the chair and saw that Mark’s knee was bent and one booted toe rested on the hardwood floor. He was keeping the weight off his leg, which made her feel awful knowing her bag had bashed it.

She probably wasn’t his favorite person at the moment. So why was he staring at her, clearly sizing her up?

Piper suddenly understood. She was the competition. Mark was not only the big moneymaker for Travis, he contributed to the OMG news division. At the moment, Piper was the big moneymaker for Dancie, but only wrote for the Living Fabulous division. However, they were presenting a proposal for expansion today and Mark was probably wondering how much of a threat to his budget she was going to be.

A lot, Piper hoped.

“Hey, Piper. How’s it going?” Travis asked.

“Fine.” She smiled. Travis was an alpha-beta, always striving to prove his alphaness, where a true alpha didn’t need to prove anything. He wasn’t her type, either.

He handed her a mug. “Good to see you, as always. You take cream and sugar?”

“Cream.” It was real cream, Piper knew, because the twins’ father wanted cream and not “that blue water they try to pass off as milk.”

As she poured a dollop into her mug, she was aware that Mark continued to watch her. He hadn’t said one word since she and Dancie had walked into the room.

Dancie must have noticed, as well. “I don’t think Piper and Mark have met, Travis.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Travis touched Piper’s elbow and turned her to face Mark’s blue-eyed gaze. “I guess I assumed everyone knew Mark Banning.”

So Travis was going to be a pain. Piper gave Mark a polite nod of recognition. “Piper Scott.” She held out her hand before Travis introduced her. “We ran into each other earlier.”

“And really hit it off,” Mark said with an easy smile and a warm, solid grip.

She felt a flutter of attraction. Oh, he was good. “About that—”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Princess!” sounded from the doorway.

Mark released her hand. “Seriously,” he said under his breath. “Don’t mention it.”

Before she could ask why, a short, older, barrel-chested man with Dancie’s former nose strode into the room. B. T. Pollard, the twins’ father and head of OMG. Actually, the head of several companies. He was the man who’d bankrolled the twins’ college business project and expanded it into a vast online conglomerate. It had been one of his better business decisions.