LITMIR.BIZ

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The good people of Claxton, many of whom she’d known all her life, had let her down by believing such nonsense. They had been quick to believe the worst and decided a mayor with a history of pole dancing just wouldn’t cut it, regardless of the fact it was one of her ancestors, the first Ainsley St. James, who had founded the town and had been the town’s first mayor.

      “I’m hoping Bobby calls me back before I leave. I want to have some definite plans in place before returning to Claxton. With Luis Higgins as mayor, I won’t stay in town any longer than I have to. Dad is doing better so he doesn’t need me any more. I’ll return just long enough to pack my bags. Mom and Dad understand.”

      Ainsley was glad she had sub-leased her New York condo in Harlem. The couple had only wanted a six-month lease, which meant she had a place to stay when she returned. However, with this trip and the personal money she’d thrown into the campaign, she needed an income to pay her bills.

      “So, have you run into Mr. Hot-Throb any more?”

      She’d told Tessa about meeting Winston at the nightclub a week ago, but she hadn’t told her anything about spending the night with him. That was too much to share with anyone, even a best friend. “No, I haven’t run into him. He’s probably left the island already.”

      She couldn’t help wondering if he had. She hadn’t gone back to the Sparrow, but she had gone to a couple restaurants on that side of town. And she’d always felt the need to look over her shoulder, nervous about running into him again.

      It was hard to believe it had been a week already. She hated admitting there hadn’t been one single day that she hadn’t thought about Winston—remembering something he had said or recalling how he would look at her with those dark penetrating eyes of his.

      Some days a part of her wished she hadn’t sneaked out of his hotel room like a thief in the night. It would have been nice to have spent the morning after with him, possibly even sharing breakfast if nothing more. Then on other days she was convinced she had done the right thing. One-night stands didn’t need to extend into the next day and night. It was best to make a clean break and move on.

      She had ended her phone call with Tessa, gone back to her room to shower and change for dinner at one of the resort’s restaurants when her cell phone rang again. Her heart kicked up a beat when she saw it was her old boss, Bobby Ryerson. “Bobby, I was wondering if you were going to call me back.”

      “Hey, kid, I didn’t want to interrupt your vacation until I could deliver good news.”

      “And you can?” she asked, crossing her fingers. She needed her old job back. The sooner she could return to New York and the life she’d had there the better.

      “Sort of. Like I told you, with the economy the way it is the paper isn’t hiring or doing rehires … except for special projects. I think I’ve come up with a freelance piece I can bring you back to write if you’re interested.”

      “What’s it about?”

      “Not what but who. Ever heard of Dr. R. J. Chambers?”

      A frown burrowed her brow. “No.”

      “But you have heard of the prescription drug Norjamin.”

      “Yes, although it’s still pending approval by the FDA, it’s the drug that’s supposed to run rings around Viagra. I’ve heard it’s better all the way around with minimum side effects.”

      “That’s good news all the way around, and Chambers is the marine biologist who was the mastermind behind that pill. His identity is a heavily guarded secret. The only thing anyone knows about him is from what’s going through social media. But I have a lead that Chambers is working on this remote island off Hilton Head. I want to put you on it right away. The paper will cover everything.”

      “Okay.” Additional time on Hilton Head wouldn’t be so bad, especially when the last weather report indicated it was snowing in New York. “For how long?”

      “At least three weeks. We want you to get inside his head. Get the scoop on his next project. Find out why he prefers living the life of a recluse. And it’d be ideal if we could put something in print around Valentine’s Day weekend, when sex is on a lot of people’s minds.”

      Ainsley rolled her eyes. “I believe it’s romance that’s on everyone’s mind on that day.”

      “Same thing.”

      Deciding not to give her opinion on that, especially after her recent one-night stand, she said. “I need an address.”

      “Does that mean you’re going to do it?” Bobby asked and she could hear the smile in his voice.

      “Like you didn’t think I would. But I have a few stipulations,” she said, pulling the hotel notepad out of the drawer.

      “You know I can’t promise you anything, St. James.”

      She didn’t believe that for one minute. “I want my old job back, Bobby—including my office and weekly column.”

      “You resigned, so sure that you were going to win that election, and we hired someone else.”

      He was right. She had thought she would win. Deciding to use another approach, she said. “My replacement is doing a piss-poor job with that column and you and I both know it. I read the reviews.”

      Bobby let out a deep sigh. “Giving you your old job back won’t be that easy. She’s the niece of someone at the top.”

      Ainsley nervously gnawed on her bottom lip. In that case, it wouldn’t be easy but not impossible. “I’ll give you what you want from Chambers and you work on getting me what I want.”

      Bobby didn’t say anything for a minute and then, “You deliver the goods on Chambers and I’ll see what I can do. And I need a newsbreaker, St. James. Chambers has been a recluse on that island. So far we’re the only ones who’ve gotten a lead as to where he lives so we need to move fast. It’s going to be up to you to convince the old man to do the interview.”

      “Wait! Hold up! Are you saying Chambers hasn’t agreed to talk to me?”

      “Not just you, he hasn’t agreed to talk to anyone. I understand he prefers the solitude with all those sea creatures. He doesn’t have a life. In fact, he doesn’t even know anyone has discovered his whereabouts. Chances are he won’t be too happy when you show up, but hopefully you can soften up the old man.”

      She frowned. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

      “No problem and if you get discouraged, just remember that this story makes you one step closer to reclaiming your old job, including your office and your column.” He quickly added, “But I can’t make promises.”

      Ainsley smiled. “Too late, Bobby. You just did. Get the presses ready. I plan on giving you one hell of a scoop.”

       Chapter 6

      Ainsley brought her car to a stop and glanced at the huge sign. Entering Barrett Shores. You’re not welcome unless you were invited.

      Well, she thought. You couldn’t get any clearer than that. She then looked ahead at the bridge in front of her, the one that would take her across the Port Royal Sound to the island. The first question that came to her mind was whether or not it was safe. It was made of wood and the planks didn’t look sturdy enough to hold a cart much less a car. But tire tracks ingrained in the wooden surface over time indicated vehicles had driven across without making the old bridge come tumbling down. She compressed her lips deciding she would take her chances. What choice did she have if she wanted her old job back?

      Humming “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” she put her car in Drive and slowly moved ahead. As soon as her front tire touched the plank, she held her breath and tried taking her mind off the lack of sturdiness of the bridge by noticing the beauty of the surrounding area. Through the tall oak trees peeked the blue-green of the Atlantic

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