No. No. No. This was not happening

She ran through the dark maze of desks and cubbies. The daily reporters had left for the day, leaving an empty hollow feeling in place of the usual bustle.

All she needed was to get back to her office, shut and lock the door, and everything would be all right. Yeah, who was she kidding? She wouldn't be safe in there either. But it didn't matter, at this late hour there was nowhere else to turn.

She reached the security of the door sporting a bronze plaque etched with her name and title: Mackenzie Adams, Senior Editor. Most days it gave her a kick to see her name suspended in time like that. Not today. This day she wished she were just a contributing reporter and could tell the editor of the newspaper where to go. She did not want this assignment or the prestige that would come with it.

Entering the spacious office, she slammed the door. The resulting boom shook the pictures on the wall, but didn't quell the anxiety coiled in her belly. Not bothering with the lights, she headed straight for her oak desk.

"Where are they?" Mackenzie rifled through the crap filling the deep well of the bottom drawer. At one time she'd been organized. A half empty bag of mints, batteries, glue sticks, and her phone charger were among the detritus she pawed through. It all stood in the way of the one thing she needed right now. "Oh, sweet mother, there you are." Mackenzie held the box of Marlboros up to her lips and kissed them. Flipping open the lid, she inhaled the acrid aroma of stale tobacco.

"I thought you gave them up," the disjointed voice said.

Cigarettes sailed in the air with the scream from her lips.

"I'm happy to see you too, Mac," Ian O'Malley said as he pushed his lanky frame from the wall.

"You... I... it's..."

"It's been awhile, I know." His smile was predatory.

Yeah, like three years. She thought she'd have another day before he arrived. Twenty-four hours to come up with reasons why she couldn't work with this photographer. Professional reasons, not personal.

"You're not supposed to be here," she said.

"Not here in your office or not here in northern Maine?"

Mackenzie swore his shadow would never cross her path again. Not now, not ever. But one didn't always get what one wanted, now did they? What had she done to deserve this fate? Nothing. Sometimes life just dealt you crap. And in her opinion, Ian O'Malley definitely fell into the "shit" category.

"Mac, didn't anyone tell you I was coming?" Amusement sparkled in the depths of Ian's green eyes. He stepped closer to the desk.

Mackenzie's heart flipped over to play dead. "Dan's right behind me. Dan Nasson, my Editor-In-Chief?" Though she wasn't in danger, she feared his proximity more than she wanted to admit.

"I met him this afternoon. Nice guy." Ian picked up two cigarettes from those scattered among the papers and pictures on her desk and put them in his sensuous mouth. "You seem a little jumpy, Mac. Is that what a desk job does to a person?"

Mackenzie bristled, but couldn't seem to get her thick tongue to do anything more than swipe at her dry lips.

Pulling a lighter from his jeans, Ian set the flame to the ends of the cigarettes and inhaled. The tobacco hissed orange and the smoke rose to wrap around the thick mop of blond. The man still kept his hair long. Even with the years marking time on his rugged features, it looked good on him. Not like some men who sported a ponytail just to keep the last vestiges of their youth. No, Ian O'Malley didn't need to fake vitality. It sluiced off his body in waves that oozed confidence and energy.

He handed her one of the cigarettes. "Quite a hoot-the two of us working together again after all these years?" His laugh rumbled through her chest.

"You think this is funny, O'Malley?" She shook a finger at him. "I'm warning you. Stay the hell out of my way." She pulled hard on the cigarette, the thick smoke swirling in her lungs, calming her racing heart. Amazing how the body never really stopped craving the stupid things.

She really didn't want to pick up this old habit. Not the cigarettes and especially not the man standing in front of her.