The rest of the news meeting members had drifted off to other responsibilities once Luxford had postponed the conference for an hour. If they found the editor’s order for a delay a curiosity, none of them had mentioned it. But Rodney had lingered. He’d got a good look at the face of the man who’d been accompanying Luxford, and there was something about his expression of barely con-trolled hostility that suggested to Rodney that he hang about Miss Wallace’s compulsively neat cubbyhole on the off chance something of interest occurred. Something had occurred, but when Rodney responded to the sound of raised voices and crashing bodies by throwing open the editor’s office door in a display of his deep and abiding concern for Luxford’s safety, the last thing he expected to see was the red-haired woman sprawled out on the floor. Mr. Hostility had been lurching over her, which suggested that he was the one who’d put her there. What in hell was going on? Once Luxford—always the personifi cation of gratitude—summarily ordered him out of the office, Rodney considered the possibilities.
What do You think about In The Presence Of The Enemy?
