He waved his phone. “This isn’t substantial, but it’s fun. Put it on your résumé and cook up something meatier. I’ll wave it under the nose of a starving Salon editor, and we’ll see what happens.”

Simon had never offered her a favor like this before, even when she was working for him. Why now?

Her question must have shown in her eyes because he said, “Maybe I was just waiting for you to show me what you’ve got.”

“You said it wasn’t substantial,” Jules pointed out. “I’ve written better stuff that—”

“Never got published. Do you want this or not?”

It wasn’t the time to be suspicious. Simon was dropping a golden opportunity in her lap, and he was her friend.

She nodded hard. “Of course. What are they looking for right now?”

“A friend over there tells me their culture section wants new blood. Look at the website, see what they publish, and come up with something good.”

“By when?”

“Do I work at Salon? As soon as possible, obviously. I told you to always have something on the hop.”

“I will.” Her head was already spinning. “I’ll have it done in just a couple of days. Thank you, Simon. I owe you one.”

“Yes”—he folded his arms—“you do.”

It seemed an awfully serious response to abject gratitude, but Jules pushed the thought aside while she packed up to leave. She had a lot of research to do tonight.

* * *

She didn’t go home. Instead, she headed straight to her favorite coffee shop so she could work surrounded by the comforting scents of roasting beans and baked goods. A caffeine boost could only help.

One espresso and a half hour later, though, Jules was still dry of ideas. None of the potential topics she’d been playing with were suitable for the culture section. Now she was uninspired and jittery.

It was just past eight and cold. Her apartment called seductively to her, but she wouldn’t find anything in there. Jules recognized this itch. She needed to walk.

Good thing she was wearing low-heeled boots. Jules slung her bag over her shoulder and headed out into the night.

New York wasn’t as dangerous as people liked to say, but a woman still had to be careful by herself at night. She needed somewhere with plenty of people but with enough space that she could think.

Brooklyn’s Domino Park was well out of her way—a half hour by subway. It was one of her favorite places, though, and tonight it was worth the trip and the chill.

The subway ride proved similarly uninspiring, and when Jules set foot onto the park paths, she sighed. She tightened her wool scarf, tugged her beanie down farther over her ears, and stuck her gloved hands into her coat pockets. Her breath misted the air.

“Let’s see how this goes,” she muttered.