So do I, he said with a crooked smile. Im just back from a month away and Ive got tips burning a hole in my pocket. I reckoned Id buy the house a drink.
Theres only two of us here, she said.
He leaned closer. I know. The perfect plan, dont you think?
Thank you, she murmured, grabbing her beer and crisps. Andand welcome home.
She hurried back to her table, needing just a moment to regroup. All right, he was handsome and very charming. And that smile was enough to melt any womans resistance. But that didnt mean she couldnt act like a professional.
Amy fixed her attention on her computer screen, afraid to risk another glance. The problem was, she really wasnt a professional journalist. She knew exactly what made for a perfect story, she could even write a perfect story. Shed just never gone out and found a story. There were probably all sorts of tricks that journalists used to get their subject to confess all their deepest secrets. She just had no idea what those tricks were. Shed been more worried about beating her father and her editor to the story than to research journalistic practices.
Should she introduce herself right off the bat or should she get friendly with him first and ease her way into an interview? Maybe she could just get him to talk about his work or his family and he wouldnt even realize she was interviewing him. Was that ethical? Probably not, but it might be the only way she could get what she needed.
So what are you staring at? You seem awfully intent on that screen. Let me guess. Porn?
Amy froze, then slowly looked up. No, not porn. Its my work computer. I cant watch porn on my work computer. That would be against the rules.
Do you always follow the rules, then?
II try to, Amy murmured. Mal pulled out the chair across from her, turned it around and straddled the seat. He rested his arm across the back and took a slow sip of his beer. Go ahead. Carry on. I dont want to interrupt your work.
Amys heart slammed in her chest as she refocused on the screen in front of her. Here he was, ready to talk. Now she just had to keep up her end of the conversation. Thank you for the drinkand the crisps. She glanced up to find him grinning at her. What?
Nothing, Malcolm replied. Im just enjoying the view.
She scanned the room. II dont understand. Then she realized he was talking about her. Amys face flushed with embarrassment.
I havent seen a beautiful woman in a month, so Im just going to sit here and stare at you, if you dont mind. Ill try not to bother you.
Pretty? Did he really think she was pretty? Shed never really applied that term to herself. She wasnt unattractive, just...ordinary.
You must have been gone longer than a month if you think Im pretty, she murmured, unable to keep herself from returning the smile.
Aw, now, dont say that. Youre lovely.
She glanced around the pub. I dont have much competition, she countered.
Well, I happen to be a very good judge of beauty. Ive seen some of the most beautiful places in the world. So trust me on this.
Thank you, Amy said. For the crisps and the compliment.
Im Mal Quinn, by the way, he said, holding out his hand.
Nice to meet you, Amy said.
A long silence fell between them as she tried to decide what to do. In the end, she didnt have a choice, the introduction just came out. Im Amy Engalls. Im a reporter from High Adventure magazine and Ive come here to interview you.
She quickly grabbed his hand and shook it, then held on tight, hoping that he wouldnt get up and walk out the door.
He studied her silently, as if he needed time to form a response. Well, I certainly didnt expect that. Mal slowly got to his feet. I suppose you want a quote. Ill make it quick and painless. No comment.
He pulled out of her grasp and headed toward the door. Amy hurried after him. Wait. Im sorry. Let me explain.
No explanation necessary, he muttered. Billy, it was nice seeing you again.
The barkeeper watched them, confused. You goin already, Mal?
Yeah. The place is a little quiet for my tastes right now. Ill be back later. He set his glass on the bar and walked out.
Amy looked at Billy and groaned. Im sorry, she called.
What the hell did you say to him? Billy asked.
No comment. She hurried over to her table and gathered her things, hoping she could catch up to him. A real reporter wouldnt give up her story without a fight, and neither would Amy.
* * *
THE MOMENT MAL got outside the pub, he let out a long string of profanities. Hed realized hed have to deal with this sooner or later, but he hadnt expected it this soon. What the hell was a reporter doing here, in his hometown? The story must be much bigger than hed ever assumed.
And how the hell was he supposed to react? He and his family had dealt with the loss for nearly twenty years now, and yet the pain hadnt dulled at all. There were still the what ifs, all the possible scenarios that could have unfolded that day on the mountain that could have resulted in a different outcome. Those were the worst.
What might it have been like to grow up with a father? It wasnt as if his childhood had been bad. Thered just been a huge, gaping hole in his family that Max Quinn should have filled. How was he supposed to explain these things to a total stranger? This wasnt about some frozen body on Mount Everest. This was about his father.
Mr. Quinn!
He spun around to find the reporter running toward him. In the next instant, she stumbled over a crack in the pavement and before he could reach to help her, she went down, face-first. Oh, hell, Mal muttered, racing to her side.
By the time he got to her, she had managed to sit up, but both her knees were scraped and bleeding and her computer was in pieces around her. Oh, no, she said, picking up the shattered bits of plastic.
Are you all right? Did you hit your head?
She reached up and touched her forehead. No, I dont think so.
Anything broken? Does it hurt anywhere?
Just my pride, she said, wincing.
He met her eyes and his anger softened. She was only trying to do her job. Maybe he shouldnt have been so rude. Can you stand?
She nodded her head. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. Thank you.
Whats your name again?
Amy Engalls.
Amy Engalls from High Adventure, Mal said. Any relation to Richard Engalls, the publisher?
Hes my father, she said.
And that would make David Engalls your brother?
Yes, she said.
Richard Engalls had built his media empire, in part, to fund his love of adventure. Hed circumnavigated the globe in a balloon, had attempted to row across the Atlantic, and had climbed all Seven Summits. Hed also funded a number of expeditions and was the go-to investor in adventure expeditions after the National Geographic Society. Mal had also met David Engalls, the younger version of his father, who was very good at spending millions of Daddys money on his own exotic adventures. Mals opinion of David was that he was a horses arsebut a very wealthy horses arse. Mal had never known there was a daughter involved in the business, as well.
He reached down to brush the dust off her skirt, moving to a spot on her backside before he realized what he was doing. She had a very nice bum, as bums went. In fact, there wasnt much about Amy Engalls that he found unattractivebeyond her profession. Come on. Lets get those scrapes fixed. I live just down the road. Ive got antiseptic and bandages.
Ill be fine, she said.
If I were you, Amy Engalls, Id accept my offer. And while Im bandaging your knees, you can try to get a comment out of me.
This brought a smile to her pretty face. All right.
He picked up the pieces of her computer and then led her to the Range Rover. She groaned in pain as he helped her climb up into the passenger seat. Mal jogged around to his side and hopped in, then started the car.
As they headed out of town, he glanced over at her. She was pretty. Not overblown gorgeous, but cute in a clean, girl-next-door way. Her pale hair fell in waves around her face, framing eyes that were an odd mix of green and blue. Although none of her features were particularly striking, when put together, they made a face that he found very pleasant to look at.
As for her body, she was slender, but there were curves in the right places. Coming from a climbing family, he expected her to be lean and wiry, the kind of woman who could hold her own on a mountainside. But instead, she seemed soft and feminine despite clothes that did nothing to enhance her figure.
So tell me about yourself, Amy Engalls. Do you share your familys love of adventure?
Oh, yes, she said.
What was the last mountain you stumbled up?
She laughed softly. Very funny. Im not always so clumsy. I studied ballet. Im just not used to...running.
I can see that. That was quite a fall you took.
I wasnt actually running, I was chasing. You, she said.
Oh, and now youre blaming me?
No, I just wanted to explain.
That you studied ballet?
No, why I came here to interview you.
You have me alone right now. Its as good a moment as any. Have at it.
She didnt say anything for a long time and Mal waited, wondering what her first question might be. Im not sure I can do this, she finally said.
Do what?
Pry into your personal life, she said.
Youre not a top-notch chaser, and if you wont pry, you wont get very far as a reporter, either.
She straightened in her seat. All right. Tell me how you felt when you heard the news that theyd found your father.
My fathers body, he corrected. Mal could explain exactly how hed felt. He just wasnt sure he wanted to start blathering on about it. From the time of his fathers death, he and his family had always maintained a stiff upper lip. Max Quinn had died doing what he loved, that was what theyd always said. And no one ever knew when hed go. He could be hit by a bus tomorrow.
And yet, what had that answer ever gotten them?
Mal glanced over at her and sighed softly. The answer would be...gobsmacked.
It must have brought back a lot of memories.
Hes never been far from my mind, Mal admitted.
In truth, his fathers memory had loomed large in Mals life. Max Quinn was a legend, a man everyone had assumed was invincible. Hell, he was the bloody Titanic of mountain climbing, the guy who could conquer any peak and do it with a smile.
And the climbing community had expected Mal to take after his father, to court risk, to laugh at danger. But even though Mal wanted to do his father proud, he knew what another loss would do to his family. Yes, he was carrying on his fathers legacy. But would Max Quinn have been proud?
Its been a long time, she said.
I was ten when he died. My siblings dont remember him as well as I do.
He was just six years older than you are now when he died.
Thirty-six, Mal murmured. Jesus, she was right. His father had already accomplished so much by that age. Hed founded a successful business and had been up and down Everest five times. And what did Mal have to show for his life? A struggling business? A dwindling clientele? He didnt need to conquer Everest to carry on his fathers legacy. He just needed to run a successful guiding business. At least that was what hed always told himself.
As they pulled up to Mals small bach on the beach, he thought of his father, with so much of his life in front of him, with a wife and family back in New Zealand. Had he been flooded with regret in his last moments? Or had he been satisfied that hed died doing something he loved?
Mal shut off the Range Rover, then rested his hands on the wheel. Some people said that he was a selfish man. That he should have given up climbing the moment he got married and had children. What do you think? he asked.
I think that some people are driven to make something out of their lives. And others are content with what theyre given along the way.
And what kind of man am I? he asked.
I cant say, Amy said. Weve only just met. She paused, then shook her head. That was a rhetorical question, wasnt it?
Maybe not, Mal said, opening the car door. If you come up with an answer, let me know.
He helped Amy out of the car, grabbing the pieces of her computer as she slid down to the ground. They walked slowly up to the cottage and he pointed to a wooden rocker on the wide porch. Sit. Ill be right back.
He pulled open the screen door and stepped inside. Reporters were all alike, only interested in getting the story they wanted and never worrying about the people involved. Even now, he remembered those days after his fathers death, how theyd been hounded by the media hoping to get photos of the grieving mother and her children. Lydie Quinn had been so upset, shed refused to let her children leave the house, depending upon friends to bring them what they needed. So Mal knew he shouldnt trust her.
Yet even though she was a reporter, Mal couldnt deny that he found her attractive. And she didnt seem like the kind of cutthroat opportunist that most journalists were. She was...sweet. And he found the damsel in distress thing sexy as hell.
Dont fool yourself, Mal, he muttered as he rummaged through a tin of first-aid supplies.
When he returned to Amy, she was bent over, examining her injuries more closely. Its not so bad, she said.
He squatted down in front of her, then sprayed antiseptic onto both knees. She winced and Mal leaned in and blew on her wounds, hoping to take away the sting. Better?
Mmm, she said, nodding.
He carefully bandaged the scrapes, then slowly ran his hand from knee to ankle. She had beautiful legs, slender yet shapely. He couldnt seem to help himself and he ran his hand up her calf, enjoying the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers.
When he heard her suck in a sharp breath, Mal risked a look up and found her staring at him, wide-eyed. It should be good now, he murmured. He sat back on his heels. I could use a drink. Would you like one?
Sure, she said. Water would be fine. Or a diet cola.
I was thinking about something a bit stronger. Whiskey, perhaps.
Oh, whiskey would be fine, she said.
Mal straightened, his gaze still locked on hers. He ought to just kiss her now and be done with it. Hed never been the kind of guy to hide his desires. When he wanted a woman, he made it clear from the start. And what was there to stop them? They were two consenting adults. At least, he was consenting.