Forever Flint

Now this. Plus, she was to be the only female among a gang of would-be Daniel Boones bent on exploring the wilderness with high-tech gadgets and equipment. Could it get any worse?

It could.

“We’re scheduled to leave at dawn tomorrow,” said Flint.

“Dawn?” Ashlinn echoed, dismayed. “Why so early? It’s not like the Badlands—uh, the Black Hills—are going anywhere. They’ll still be there if we leave at a decent hour in the morning.”

“Dawn is the decent hour to begin this trip,” Flint said firmly “We have to drive nearly the length of the state to reach the campgrounds.”

Ashlinn glanced at her watch. It was already past ten—and that was Central Time Her body was still operating on Eastern Standard Time, which made it a whole hour later.

“Where’s the baggage claim?” she asked wearily. “I’ll collect my luggage and then we can get out of here.” She was booked into a motel tonight and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and try to get some sleep before the odious dawn departure.

“Luggage?”

“You look as if you’re unfamiliar with the concept.” Ashlinn’s patience was wearing very thin.

“How much luggage?” His testy tone matched hers

“Just two suitcases,” she began defensively. “I. . .”

“Well, you’ll have to leave them behind. We’re only bringing what we can carry in the extended-journey-size backpacks. Everybody is receiving identical ones, courtesy of Paradise Outdoors”

Ashlinn stared at the man who was not marketing chief Sam Carmody. His eyes, black as obsidian chips, were watching her closely, no doubt to gauge her reaction to his latest pronouncement. He was openly trying to discourage her; he was still hoping that she would bail out of the torturous fate awaiting her.

Not that she didn’t want to.

But that practical side of her nature dismissed the misery of rising before dawn and lugging a heavy-duty backpack through rugged terrain. She really had no choice. The raise she’d been counting on had fallen through when Tour & Travel had been sold, and her living expenses seemed to be increasing, though she’d actually cut back her spending. She hadn’t eaten out once since Presley Oakes Jr. took over the magazine, and in a city of great restaurants like New York, that was a cruel hardship indeed.

But the prospect of unemployment was far worse.

If she were fired, the benefits she would be eligible for wouldn’t come close to making ends meet. And if she quit her job, she wouldn’t get a cent from anywhere Either way, she would have to leave New York. . .

She couldn’t leave New York, she wouldn’t! Ashlinn resolved once again. She loved the city; living there had always been her dream and an obnoxious little twerp like Presley Oakes Jr. wasn’t going to drive her away. Neither was the replacement for the hapless Sam Carmody.

She was going on this trip, she would write the wretched article and keep her job. She would show this outdoor fanatic that she could survive in the wilderness, and when she returned to the office she would outlast Junior, who was bound to grow bored playing a magazine publisher. As it was, he had nothing in common with the adults on the T & Tstaff, and seemed to spend most of his time at work playing computer games in his office.

An invigorating wave of hostility washed over her. “Who are you, anyway?” she demanded.

“Flint Paradise, president and CEO of Paradise Outdoors.”

“And you have the time to take over the role of group leader into the wild, even though you’re the president and CEO of a company?” She regarded him suspiciously. “Doesn’t sound like your presence is exactly vital to your business. Or maybe your company doesn’t do much business? Is this trip a desperation measure to garner some kind of. . .”

“Paradise Outdoors is having a banner year,” Flint cut in testily. She’d clearly struck a nerve with her jibes at his company. “Furthermore, I’m viewing the next two weeks as a paid vacation, the first I’ve ever taken.”

“Translation—you couldn’t get anybody else to go,” taunted Ashlinn. “That certainly bodes well for this trip.”

Flint was irked. How had she guessed that his entire senior staff had opted out of the trip, citing irrevocable family plans and obligations, an excuse they knew he couldn’t give? Still, he was loathe to admit that to her.

“Why wouldn’t I take advantage of an all-expenses-paid trip? Because the entire expedition, including guide fees, has been bankrolled by your magazine.”

Ashlinn was momentarily taken aback. “It has?”

“It has” Flint started walking toward the baggage claim area.

Automatically, Ashlinn trotted alongside him. “Junior didn’t mention that Tour & Travel was financing the trip.”

“Well, you are. Carmody arranged the logistics of the expedition, but Tour & Travel is footing the bill for everybody. Paradise Outdoors will also get a year’s free advertising in the magazine and publicity for the products used, because you’ll be writing about them in your article.”

They came to stand beside a revolving carousel, waiting for the luggage to appear.

“Let me make sure I have this right—Tour & Travel is funding this camping trip and giving the Paradise Outdoors Company free advertising for a year plus free publicity for products sold by the company?” Ashlinn said carefully “What exactly does the magazine get out of this deal?”

“That’s what I asked Carmody.” Flint shrugged. “He told me the publisher said Tour & Travel wanted the article badly and thought it was worth paying for.”

“I see.” Boy did she ever! Junior hates me and is hoping I’ll either quit or get permanently lost in the wilderness, Ashlinn thought grimly. He’d consider that worth paying for, especially since it was his daddy’s money, not his own, that he was throwing around.

“Carmody had all the proper contracts signed so I had no objections to this trip—until now,” Flint added, narrowing his eyes. “Now, I not only have objections, I have grave reservations.”

“Oh, I had those from the start,” muttered Ashlinn.

They watched in silence as baggage from the flight began to slide down the chute onto the carousel. Ashlinn quickly claimed hers, two matching top-brand suitcases that she’d purchased on sale. She was an excellent shopper, tracking down bargains, finding quality merchandise at the lowest prices. It was a talent that wouldn’t come in too handy on this particular trip, she acknowledged ruefully.

“Let’s go.” Flint handed her his clipboard and his sign and lifted a suitcase in each hand. He grimaced at the weight.

She decided to beat him to the punch with, “Go on, make the predictable tired old quip about rocks being in there. How about asking me if I packed everything but the kitchen sink?”

“Did you?” He headed toward the doors. “Now it’s your turn to laugh politely at the lame joke.”

“Ha, ha,” she said. “Was that polite enough?”

Though he carried the two heavy bags, he was striding along at a rate that made her half run to keep up with him. They left the terminal and headed toward the parking area, eventually reaching a champagne-colored Saturn.

Flint proceeded to load her bags into the trunk.

“I guess we won’t be taking this car into the Bad Hills,” Ashlinn said. She sounded nervous, even to herself.

She was nervous. Because it had just occurred to her that she was expected to climb inside this car with this man, whom she hardly knew. At night, in an unfamiliar city. She was too well-versed in stranger danger not to be uneasy. Alarm quickly followed. What should she do?

“That would be the Black Hills,” corrected Flint. He opened the passenger door for her and stood there, waiting for her to get in. “And you guessed right. My car stays home. We’re taking a big van with four-wheel drive and tires sturdy enough for the roughest terrain.”

Ashlinn hesitated beside the door and began to leaf through the pages on the clipboard, stalling for time. She couldn’t bring herself to move, let alone get into the car where the two of them would be alone together in the darkness.

She skipped over the ‘Asher Carey’ page and read aloud the names on the other four sheets. “Jack Hall. Etienne Bouvier. Rico Figueroa. Koji Yagano. They’re the other ones going on this trip?”

Flint nodded. “Hall is Australian, Bouvier is French, Figueroa from Argentina and Yagano from Japan. Each writes freelance articles for men’s travel-outdoor-adventure magazines in his own country.”

“Then there’s me, from the USA. The group is a veritable United Nations of travel magazines.” Ashlinn managed a faint smile.