The man in shirtsleeves and loosened tie stopped pushing buttons on his computer. His first polite glance sharpened when he saw her face. She reminded him of a cameo his grandmother had worn at her neck on special occasions. Automatically he straightened his shoulders. “Did you want to rent a car?”

Lee considered that a moment, then rejected it. She hadn’t come to do any sightseeing, so a car would hardly be worthwhile. “No, just transportation into Flagstaff.” Shifting her bag, she gave him the name of her hotel. “Do they have a courtesy car?”

“Sure do. You go on over to that phone by the wall there. Number’s listed. Just give ’em a call and they’ll send someone out.”

“Thank you.”

He watched her walk to the phone and thought he was the one who should have said thank-you.

Lee caught the scent of grilling hot dogs as she crossed the room. Since she’d turned down the dubious tray offered on the flight, the scent had her stomach juices swimming. Quickly and efficiently, she dialed the hotel, gave her name and was assured a car would be there within twenty minutes. Satisfied, she bought a hot dog and settled in one of the black plastic chairs to wait.

She was going to get what she’d come for, Lee told herself almost fiercely as she looked out at the distant mountains. The time wasn’t going to be wasted. After three months of frustration, she was finally going to get a firsthand look at Hunter Brown.

It had taken skill and determination to persuade her editor-in-chief to spring for the trip, but it would pay off. It had to. Leaning back, she reviewed the questions she’d ask Hunter Brown once she’d cornered him.

All she needed, Lee decided, was an hour with him. Sixty minutes. In that time, she could pull out enough information for a concise, and very exclusive, article. She’d done precisely that with this year’s Oscar winner, though he’d been reluctant, and a presidential candidate, though he’d been hostile. Hunter Brown would probably be both, she decided with a half smile. It would only add spice. If she’d wanted a bland, simple life, she’d have bent under the pressure and married Jonathan. Right now she’d be planning her next garden party rather than calculating how to ambush an award-winning writer.

Lee nearly laughed aloud. Garden parties, bridge parties and the yacht club. That might have been perfect for her family, but she’d wanted more. More what? her mother had demanded, and Lee could only reply, Just more.

Checking her watch, she left her luggage neatly stacked by the chair and went into the ladies’ room. The door had hardly closed behind her when the object of all her planning strolled into the lobby.