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.”“Be that way, then.I really do appreciate you taking the assignment.The publisher saw me in the elevator yesterday and he congratulated me on landing this story.Before last week, I don’t think he even knew my name.”“That’s great.I’m happy to hear it.Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”“I’m counting on you to turn in a killer story.It’s going to be the lead for the November issue, did I tell you?”“No, you didn’t.” A shiver of excitement swept through her at the idea of a cover story—followed closely by apprehension.She’d have to work harder to pin down Paul and get him to tell her his whole story—not just what had happened on McKinley, but all that had led to that moment.“If you need anything from this end, research or anything, let me know,” Mark said.“I will.” They said goodbye and she slid her phone shut and stared through the gap in the curtains at the snowcapped mountains.Most people probably saw tremendous beauty or awe-inspiring majesty when they looked at those peaks.Sierra remembered her mother helping pack her father’s climbing gear as he prepared to leave on yet another expedition.Tears streamed down her mother’s face as she worked, and her father pretended not to notice.Once, when eight-year-old Sierra had begged her father to stay home, he’d patted her shoulder and smiled.“This is what Daddy has to do,” he’d said, as if he was a coal miner who was forced to risk death to feed his family.But what was it about mountain climbing that he “had” to do? As she’d grown older, Sierra had decided her father used climbing to avoid his other responsibilities, including taking care of his family.After all, who could be expected to remember to change the oil in the car or renew the insurance policy when there was an expedition to Everest to plan?Was Paul as irresponsible? He’d mentioned being so involved in his work he’d stood up Kelly on dates.Maybe he wasn’t really a “new breed” of climber at all—just the same fanatic in different clothes.The idea focused her determination.No more wasting time with Paul Teasdale.She was going to pin him down and make him answer her questions.Then she’d write a story the readers of Great Outdoors would never forget.She was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when someone knocked on her door.Had Paul come looking for her?Her visitor wasn’t Paul, but Kelly, red high heels in hand.“Thanks for the loan,” Kelly said, handing over the shoes.“They were a big hit.”“I’m glad to hear it.” Sierra glanced from the glamorous shoes in her hand to the hiking boots on her feet.“I guess I should buy some boots of my own.”“Just borrow those for the week.” Kelly gave the boots a dismissive wave.“I have others.” She sat on the edge of the unmade bed.“How’d it go with Paul yesterday?” she asked.The chance to discuss the situation with another woman, especially one who knew Paul, was too good to pass up.Sierra set the shoes on the dresser and pulled up a chair across from Kelly.“Yesterday was interesting,” she said.“I’m supposed to be interviewing Paul, but he doesn’t talk much about himself.”“Yeah.Unusual in a guy, right?”“Right.So, how long have you known him?”“Since he moved to town five years ago.”“And you know him pretty well?”“I can tell you he has a pretty nasty scar on his chest.”“Oh?” Sierra grabbed her notebook and jotted this down.“Was he injured in a climbing accident?”“I don’t know.Like you said, he doesn’t talk much about himself.”“What about his family? Do they get along? Does he have brothers and sisters?”Kelly frowned.“Are you asking me to dish dirt on my friend?”“No!” Sierra set aside the notebook.“I’m simply trying to get some background on him.”Kelly relaxed a little.“I’m sorry.I really can’t help you, though—I don’t know anything.”“And I’m sorry if you thought I was out of line.I promise, I’m not writing a negative piece.It’s just helpful to have input from other people who know the subject of a profile like this, especially if the subject is as modest as Paul.” And as closemouthed.“If I think of anything interesting, I’ll let you know,” Kelly said.“Thanks for the tip about the private swimming hole story.”“You asked him?”“I did!” Sierra laughed.“Though he made me promise not to use the story in my article.Did you see him when he hiked back into town?”“Oh, yeah.People lined the streets to get a look.We could have sold tickets.”“He seemed to be a pretty good sport about it.”“That’s Paul.He never gets too worked up about anything.”Sierra thought of his patience while she shopped yesterday, and his calm as he navigated the steep, winding road.Was he really so Zen—or merely emotionally detached? What would it take to set him off? “Have you ever seen him lose his temper?” she asked.Kelly shook her head.“Never.He’s just not that type of guy.”Levelheadedness was certainly a good quality, but weren’t there times when being more emotional was appropriate? How could a man who professed to be so passionate about mountains be so even-keeled about the rest of his life?Sierra was aware of Kelly studying her.Did she think Sierra was a little too interested in Paul? Time to change the subject.“How was your date?” she asked.“Oh, it was great.” Kelly crossed, then uncrossed her legs, her expression somber.“Were you serious the other day, when you said you could put me in touch with some people in New York who could help me?”“Absolutely.”“My boyfriend is talking about paying my way, so I might be moving out there sooner than I thought.”“Generous boyfriend,” Sierra said.“Yeah, he really is.”“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll give you a list of names and numbers,” she said.“Thanks.” Kelly stood.“And thanks again for the shoes.” She grinned.“You should have seen my boyfriend’s eyes pop when I walked in wearing them.”“Thank you for the boots.I’d probably be crippled now without them.” Sierra followed Kelly to the door.“Have you seen Paul this morning?” she asked.“No.He’s probably still repairing his roof.If he’s not at his house, you might try the hot springs.Or he could be hiking one of the trails around town.”“All right.Where is the hot springs?”“Just as you come into town, on the right side of the highway.But this early in the day, he probably won’t be in the pool.He goes there to climb.”“To climb? At the hot-springs pool?”“There’s a rock wall that’s popular with local climbers.They can climb in the morning, and hit the pool in the afternoon.”Of course.Some people drank coffee to get going in the morning, Paul climbed rock cliffs.He was one of that breed of men who seem to think something isn’t worth doing unless it’s difficult, painful and carries the risk of serious injury or death.Her mother had once said that if she could have figured out a way to make it more dangerous, she wouldn’t have had to nag her father about mowing the lawn.Apparently Paul had found a way to make even a relaxing trip to hot springs risky.SOME PEOPLE RELAXED by doing yoga or jogging.Paul preferred climbing.Scaling a wall of rock or ice forced him to focus on precisely where to place his hands and feet and when to shift his weight.When he was climbing, there wasn’t a lot of room in his head for other things.But this morning, even climbing couldn’t keep out thoughts of a certain shapely journalist who pretended to be cool and aloof, but who had shown signs yesterday of unexpected warmth
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