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trust him. That was fine with him. He was here to turn this newspaper around, not make friends. He didn’t need any more so-called friends who waited with a sharpened knife for him to make a slip.
    Amanda’s desk was at the far end of the row. Focused on her computer, a pair of glasses sliding down her nose, she didn’t see them coming. She wore her usual version of business casual—well-cut tan slacks, a silky turquoise shirt, a slim gold chain around her neck.
    That was a bit different from the way she’d looked at the beach house in an old pair of shorts and a Fort Moultrie T-shirt. He let his mind stray to the image. That had definitely been casual, to say nothing of showing off a pair of slim, tanned legs and a figure that would make any man look twice.
    He yanked his unruly thoughts back to business. Amanda’s only usefulness to him was the opening she provided to the Coast Guard base. And given that tantalizing mention of scandal, to the Bodine family in particular.
    He stopped a few feet from her desk, feeling the need for a little distance between them.
    “Ms. Bodine.” Amanda, he thought, but didn’t say.
    Her gaze jerked away from the computer screen. The startled look she turned on him softened into a smile when she saw that he wasn’t alone. No, the smile wouldn’t be for him.
    “This is C. J. Dillon. C.J., I’d like you to meet one of our reporters, Amanda Bodine.”
    “Hi, C.J. It’s nice to meet you.” Amanda held out her hand. After a moment, the young woman took it gingerly.
    “C.J. is the winner of the journalism competition Mr. Mayhew set up in the local schools.” The contest had been another of Cyrus’s bright ideas for drawing attention to the Bugle, and all the staff should certainly be awareofit.
    “That’s great. Congratulations.” She focused on C.J. “What did you win?”
    Obviously the staff, or at least this member of it, hadn’t kept up-to-date. His decision was even more appropriate, then.
    “C.J. has received a six-week internship with the newspaper. A chance to find out if journalism is the right career for her, as Mr. Mayhew said in his editorial about the competition.”
    Which you should have read. The words were unspoken, but Amanda no doubt caught his meaning, since her lips tightened.
    “You’ll be happy to know I’ve decided to assign C.J. to work with you for the duration. You’re going to be her mentor.”
    “I see.” A momentary pause as Amanda turned to the young woman, and then came the smile that resembled the sun coming up over the ocean—the one she had yet to turn on him. “That’s great, C.J. I look forward to working with you.”
    The ironic thing was that she probably did. For him, this brainstorm of Cyrus’s was nothing but a nuisance. He had no particular desire to have a high school kid wandering around his newsroom.
    Still, paired with Amanda, she couldn’t do much harm. And if Amanda could persuade her that skintight jeans and a skimpy top weren’t appropriate professional apparel, so much the better.
    “Don’t I have anything to say about who I work with?” The kid turned a belligerent frown on him. “I don’t want to run around town covering stuff like boat parades and charity races. That’s all she does.”
    He’d been so intent upon ridding himself of the problem that he was actually surprised when the kid spoke up. Irritation edged along his nerves. She was lucky to be here. Still, she’d obviously done her homework and paid attention to bylines.
    “C.J., that’s how everyone starts out,” Amanda said quickly, as if to block out his response. Maybe she sensed his annoyance. “You’re lucky you weren’t assigned to the obit desk. This is much better than writing obituaries, believe me.”
    C.J. didn’t noticeably soften. “Not much,” she muttered.
    “Hey, we do interesting stories. In fact, this afternoon we’re heading down to Coast Guard Base Charleston for an interview. You’ll have a chance to see the