Front Burner (Published)

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

“Shit!”

Emma Rosen slammed on her brakes, trying to avoid the pick-up driver who swerved into her lane.  But the damage was done.  The front of her yellow blouse was splashed with scalding coffee.  What was wrong with people in this city?  This was the second time this week someone tried to kill her on this very road. 

The sea of vehicles heading downtown was poles apart from life in small town, Georgia.  She hated the traffic, but vowed to overcome.  This was home now.

She looked down and swore again – thankful no one was around to hear her.  There was no way Emma would find success on her third day as the editor’s assistant if she arrived looking like this. 

Emma made a right turn at the next intersection and headed back to the apartment she shared with her all-too-perfect roommate.  She fought back tears as she glanced at the clock on the dash and pushed on the gas.  Emma really needed today to go right, if she expected this job to give her the fresh start she moved here for.  

She needed this.  There was no other option.

Editor-in-chief Richard Gray had sent an email to Emma yesterday, informing her of a conference with the newspaper owners this morning.  Bottom line: she needed to arrive an hour early today to record the discussion for her boss.  Emma couldn’t understand why Mr. Gray couldn’t pick up his own pen, but she wouldn’t complain while she was getting paid several dollars above minimum wage. 

If her second-favorite shirt could be unearthed quickly, and if the rest of the rush-hour commuters called in sick, she might make the seven-thirty meeting.  Might.  She had to have hope.  But she rolled her eyes.  Emma just wasn’t a very optimistic creature.  In her mind, she was already job-hunting again.

Frustrated, she threw open the front door and sprinted through her new home to the second bedroom, running past a small, open kitchen that flowed into a cozy living space, only separated by a bar.  This was a space she wholeheartedly embraced, even after only a month. 

Tech-whiz Taylor Ortiz occupied the larger room, which was only appropriate, since she forked over the majority of the rent.  Of course, Taylor’s room was empty, because she managed to make it to her office on time. 

No reason to take this out on my best friend, Emma thought bitterly, as she dug through her closet to snatch a silk, grey button-up top.  She fumbled with the buttons and allowed herself a quick check in the mirror, grateful she had chosen a versatile black skirt the first time she stood here this morning.  

She was back on the road in five minutes, but back-tracking had cost her much more.  She managed to snag every red light between her apartment and the downtown area, and then got stuck behind somebody’s grandmother who wanted to take up two lanes as she hunched herself over the wheel. 

By now, she accepted the worst-case scenarios running through her mind.  Mr. Gray would fire her, and she’d just delete this week from her work history.  Could be worse, right?  She considered, as she smirked to herself.  She might as well go down fighting then.

Finally, Emma pulled her 12-year-old Honda into the parking garage and high-tailed it into the three-story brick building that housed the family-owned Rochester Herald.  The front of the historic building was adorned with 15-foot arched windows, which were skillfully being polished by uniformed washers. 

Maybe the window washing industry was hiring, she thought, sardonically.

When she set out on her job hunt three weeks ago, Emma was gunning for a writing position.  But no one wanted to hire a college graduate with limited professional experience on her resume.  So, assistant it was.  Mr. Gray expected her to fetch coffee, take notes and run errands, but Emma planned to prove herself – and soon.  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up with these mindless tasks.

Unfortunately, clocking in twenty-two minutes late during her first week was not putting her on the fast track.  Emma waved to Rebecca at the front desk, who widened her eyes at Emma’s arrival.  Yep, I’m late.  Then, Emma turned and chose the creaky stairs, taking them two at a time.  On the third floor, she paused at the top to catch her breath and adjust her twisted skirt.

***

Emma pushed open the heavy wooden door and caught her heeled-toe on the raised carpet. She tumbled across the doorway and steadied herself on the bronze handle.  As she composed herself once again, she looked up and cringed at the audience in front of her.  After the spilt coffee, why did she even bother showing up?  It’s not even eight, and this whole day can go to hell.

Apparently this was an all-hands-on-deck meeting with every reporter and editor present.  At the far end of the table, the large, light-haired Mr. Gray offered her a raised brow and shifted his attention toward his expensive watch.  Before heading to the lone chair at the rear of the room, Emma glanced toward the head of the large oblong table. 

Where she expected to find the white-haired Vincent Michaels, long-time owner of the paper, Emma instead found a man with piercing dark eyes and dark hair neatly combed into place.  He stood before everyone in a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt and a skinny red tie and commanded a powerful sense of authority without making a sound. 

Why wasn’t he talking? Emma realized and wondered, as she scanned the table to confirm that everyone’s attention was, in fact, on this dark creature. 

Daring to take a final peek at the perfectly sculpted man, Emma cowered even further when she discovered that he was glowering at her with fire in his eyes.

Oh!