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Sophie, women don’t usually play hard to get with me.”
    She decided to ignore his lascivious smirk. “Where would you like to meet tomorrow before the race?” she asked impatiently.
    It took another ten minutes for him to settle on a time and place, and then she was finally free to head home. He stood and offered his hand as she slipped out of the booth.
    “Until tomorrow then,” he said.
    She shook his hand. “Good night.”
    Glancing at her watch, she walked toward the door. Almost three hours now. Unbelievable, she thought. If there wasn’t the possibility of another story here, there was no way she would spend another second with this man. He was insufferable. And what did he mean by “curvy”? Was he telling her he thought she looked healthy? Wholesome? Chubby? Or overly endowed? He’d been glancing at her chest every other minute since they’d sat down. And the comment that he wouldn’t bother with her if he didn’t think she was pretty? Was that supposed to be a compliment? The man was unbelievably rude, and his ego was somewhere in the stratosphere.
    Sophie had calmed down by the time she’d reached home and was bolting the door behind her. It was rare for her to be home on a Friday night. The truth was, she couldn’t remember the last time she had stayed in, and she planned to take advantage of her down time. She would catch up on her e-mails and go to bed early.
    But time always seemed to get away from Sophie, and tonight was no exception. She didn’t get to bed until well after one a.m., which would have been fine if she didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn for her second round with William Harrington.

JOURNAL ENTRY 22
ARCTIC CAMP
    Brandon and I headed out again. It was a bitterly cold day, but we took every precaution against frostbite. Last week, Eric and Kirk had spotted a pack of wolves crossing this plateau, and they tracked them to see where they would settle. Brandon and I won’t set up our monitoring equipment until we are certain we have found a stable sampling.

H ARRINGTON HAD BEEN INSISTENT THAT THEY MEET TWO hours before the race. He was waiting for her at the designated spot in front of a fountain that was one of Sophie’s favorites. It was shaped like a weeping willow with water gently cascading down from the top branches.
    He was doing stretching exercises as she approached. True to his word, he wore his uniform: white running shorts, which she thought were a little too form-fitting; a red T-shirt; black running shoes; and red socks with a thin white band around the top. She snapped quite a few photos while he chatted away and made suggestions for poses. Sophie wasn’t much of a morning person, but Mr. Self-Involved seemed not to notice or care that she wasn’t saying much. How could he possibly notice? He never stopped talking … or giving directions.
    “Are you sure you’ll have your camera ready at the finish line? Do you know where you’ll wait? I think the steps across the street from the finish line would be the best spot. It’s important that you get a good picture, don’t you think? Especially since it’s going to be on the front page.” His tone sharpened as he asked, “It is, isn’t it?”
    “I don’t know. I’ll have to check—”
    He interrupted. “I was promised the front page.”
    “You were? Then I guess—”
    Again he interrupted. “It was implied.”
    “I see.” She didn’t, but it was all she could think to say. Oddly enough, her response seemed to placate him.
    “Now about the photos,” he began. “You have to be ready. A professional photographer would know that. I honestly don’t understand why
you’re
taking the pictures. You should have brought one of the photographers from the paper with you. Do you even know what you’re doing? Be sure to snap at least one of me at the starting line, and you have to get just the right angle with the sun behind me when I cross the finish line. Not exactly right behind me, mind you, or