Vested Interest

by Bethany Jadin

  I had watched his speech in awe. Us geeks usually aren’t that personable. “You do wonderful in front of a crowd,” I tell him. “And your work with the recognition software — I find that very intriguing. The possibilities are so exciting. I’d love to see what you’re working on.”

  Daniel pauses in setting his napkin in his lap, quickly looking up at me. I think I’ve overstepped some line — who am I to ask to see a CTO’s proprietary software? — but then a gorgeous smile breaks out over his face. “I’d love to show you.”

  It takes just half a second, but there is a faint hint of color on his cheeks, and in that moment, a flood of arousal rushes through me. I avert my eyes to the cheesecake placed in front of me, my brain telling my body that his tone wasn’t sensual, and we are just talking science. Cold, hard programming — not sex, not a romantic rendezvous.

  Gunner claps his hands, his voice deep. “Sounds like a date. How about Monday? All of us.”

  “Hmmm?” Fork and cheesecake in my mouth, I dart my gaze up, looking around the table. I swallow quickly. “Monday? Yes. I can do Monday.”

  Whatever day works for them, I’ll make it happen, even if I have to scramble to get someone to cover my shift at the hospital. Are you kidding me? A meeting with the board of Pentabyte? Hell, they could ask to meet with me yesterday, and I’d do my best to find a time machine.

  I catch Daniel’s eye last, and that hint of something — something not at all to do with numbers and coding — is still there. I go for another forkful of cheesecake, keeping my head down, trying to dismiss the thought of five tan, hunky cabana boys standing on the white sands of a tropical beach...

  7

  Emma

  Zoey bursts through the apartment door in dark green scrubs this time, a bundle of excitement. “Well? Tell me! How did it go?” she asks, flinging her purse on the loveseat.

  She talks a mile-a-minute as she shrugs off her coat. “I wanted to call you all evening, but things were crazy at the hospital — a bus of high-school kids on the way back from a band competition wrecked, and they pulled me down to the ER for triage. Everyone was fine, thank goodness, just cuts and bruises and a few broken fingers, but it was mayhem dealing with thirty teenagers and their parents, and hell, I think half the damn school showed up in support — we had to get security to clear the ambulance bay three times because of everyone standing around gawking. And then, by the time I got in the car, my phone was completely dead, and I still don’t know where my charger went, so I rushed home as fast as I could.”

  I’m curled up on the couch, twelve chapters into a good book, with a bowl of mint chocolate ice cream on my lap, spoon paused halfway to my mouth as I try to keep up the whirlwind that is Zoey. She has a way of rushing through the description of her day like she downed five energy drinks on the way home. Before I can open my mouth to reply, she’s off and running again.

  “Oh no — ice cream.” She sinks down onto the loveseat, staring at my bowl, worry etched on her face. “Ice cream isn’t a good sign. I guess the meeting didn’t go well? What happened? Do they think it’s not polished enough? It’s too far from being finished for them to be interested? Did they find some kind of problem with the code? Are you okay?”

  I lay my eReader on the back of the couch and hold up a hand. “Zoey, take a breath! It’s all good!”

  A wave of hope washes over her face. “It is?”

  I nod, grinning. “Yes, it went fantastic, actually.” I stick my spoon back in the bowl of ice cream and reach over to pick up a stack of papers from the side table, holding them out to my best friend. “Here, this is their offer.”

  Zoey’s eyes go wide. “Holy crap, that’s a lot of paper. Does that mean it’s a big offer?” She takes the stack from me and returns to the loveseat, tucking a leg under her as she starts skimming through them.

  “It’s a really good offer,” I tell her. “Most of it’s legal jargon and fine print, but the exciting stuff is on page eight.”

  “Oooh, okay!” She flips forward quickly and hunches over, her eyes scanning the page rapidly. A second later, she looks up at me, her mouth agape. “Oh my God, is that a typo? Did they include one too many zeros by mistake?”

  I laugh at her expression. “Ha! That’s what I asked, too. But no, that’s the real number.”

  “Holy shitcakes, batman!”

  “I know, right?” I squeal and do a little dance in my seat, nearly turning over the bowl of ice cream. “I’m absolutely floored.”

  Zoey looks down at the paper and then back up at me, her eyes sparkling. “Oh my God, Emma — do you know how many cabana boys you could hire with this money?”

  I grab one of the small decorative pillows off the couch and launch it at Zoey. It smacks her in the chest, and we both dissolve into excited laughter.

  “That’s not all — today I got phone calls from three other firms who researched me after noticing me on the guest list at the Gala, all wanting to line up meetings with me later this week.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I knew that event is famous for opening doors and making inroads to high places, but this is just crazy. I didn’t even mingle much with the crowd. Some of the newcomers were networking hard, just selling themselves left and right, but I was pretty overwhelmed and only introduced myself to a few people, other than the Pentabyte guys. I guess just being invited is enough of an honor to make these companies sit up and pay attention, huh?”

  “Sounds like it. Wow, this is mad money, Emma! And with other offers, too? You could have a bidding war over this thing!”

  I shake my head. “There aren’t other offers, yet — just meetings.”

  “But you’re gonna meet with them, right? Or do you think you should just take Pentabyte’s offer before they change their mind?”

  “This is just a preliminary offer — I can accept it, reject it, or counter it. It’s normal for this offer-counter process to go on for a while. So, I don’t have to decide right away.”

  Zoey leans back on the couch, a dreamy look on her face. “Wow. Just wow. Where are you going to buy your first island? Oh, oh! Can I pick out the private jet?”

  “Of course! We can just spend a year jet-setting around the world, looking for the perfect place to start our own country, how’s that?”

  She smiles blissfully. “I don’t think my boss is going to approve that time-off request, but it sounds perfect.”

  My left hip vibrates, and I dig my phone out of the couch cushions. “Oh! I just got a text from Gunner.”

  She sits up and gives me a sly grin with her head cocked to one side. “Is that the one you said you got handsy with at that conference last year?”

  Warmth spreads across my cheeks. “Yes, but he never mentioned it once, so either he’s too polite, or he doesn’t remember. Or maybe he’s like me and just wants to pretend it never happened, especially since he’s a potential investor now.”

  Zoey squinches her lips sideways. “Mmm, I dunno.” She reaches under the coffee table and pulls out a magazine I picked up yesterday, flipping it open to the lead article, a write-up about Pentabyte. She touches the glossy paper of the magazine, and I can tell she’s stroking the picture of Jude and Daniel. “If these guys wanted to get me alone and pound out a deal, I’d be like, yes, please. Just bend me over the table and give it to me hard, oh yeah.”

  I toss another pillow at her. “And I thought I had a one-track mind.”

  “But seriously, look, Emma!” She turns the magazine around to face me. I glance up, even though I’ve nearly memorized the article by heart. Sure enough, there are the handsome faces of Jude and Daniel staring at me, looking like a billion dollars of hotness.

  “I know, believe me! If you think they look good in a photo, you should see them in person.” I wave my phone at her. “Speaking of which, Gunner is asking if I want to get together with them for drinks later this week.”

  “Whhhaaat?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Maybe he does want more than just a professiona
l thing.”

  “Hmm. You’re right, it’s probably not smart to go.” I stare at Gunner’s message with a frown. “I should decline.”

  Zoey practically leaps off the loveseat. “Gah! That’s not what I meant! You didn’t reply yet, did you?”

  “No,” I say, blinking in surprise. “But you make a good point — this is business, and it needs to stay professional, no matter what happened with Gunner last year. I can’t go out to drinks with five guys I barely know. What would I do if Gunner makes another move? I don’t want to be in that position.”

  She settles back down with a sigh. “Ah, I guess you’re right.”

  I start typing a polite no-thank-you reply to Gunner when Zoey snaps her fingers.

  “Wait, ask who else is coming! Maybe it’s an office thing? Like how I go out with all the nurses sometimes after a late shift. It might not mean anything.”

  “Okay, good idea.” I message Gunner and ask who will be there. He replies right away, and I read his text aloud. “He says, ‘The guys and Callie and Cora, maybe some other people from the office’.” I look at Zoey. “What do you think?”

  She nods approvingly. “That sounds pretty casual. And you won’t be the only woman there. I’d go for it, but you do you.”

  I mull it over for a minute. I really do want to go. I enjoyed meeting Callie and Cora and had meant to get their numbers at the Gala but forgot to. Plus, am I really going to turn down the chance to spend an evening with five sexy guys who are potential multi-million-dollar investors, really?

  “Alright, I’m gonna do it.” I text Gunner with my reply, my hands almost shaking.

  I know it’s just a casual business get-together, and that the guys have been nothing but professional and courteous to me — which is exactly how it should be. But suddenly, my stomach is full of butterflies, and instead of thinking about discussing the fine print on their offer, I’m wondering if Zoey will let me borrow one of her little black dresses and if I can find a pair of heels that will make my legs look less like thick spaghetti noodles and what hairstyle would make this thick mess of a mane look sexiest.

  8

  Gunner

  Jude checks his watch and turns to me. “Are you sure you told her the right time?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Eight o’clock.”

  “And told her the right place?”

  “Dude, of course.”

  “Okay,” Jude says, but he’s frowning.

  We’re all standing outside the club, as we have been for twenty-five minutes now. The sound of thumping dance music floods out to the sidewalk every now and then as people come and go. I check my phone to see if any new messages have arrived. Nope.

  It’s fifteen after eight, and there’s no sign of Emma yet.

  Daniel stomps his feet, wrapping his jacket tighter. It’s an unusually cold evening, and the forecast is calling for snow. We’re all dressed in slacks and long jackets, but the girls were freezing. We told them to go on into the club where it’s warm and grab us a table.

  Jude looks at his watch again and frowns. “I tell you what, I think some of us should go inside. Callie and Cora are waiting on us. Who wants to stay out here and watch for Emma a bit longer?”

  Daniel shakes his head, his lips shivering. “I’m ready to go in.”

  Jax has been leaning against a concrete column at the edge of the building’s overhang, watching the street for any sign of Emma. He straightens up and swings his hands back and forth, bumping his fists together. “I gotta pee, man.”

  “I’ll stay out here,” I volunteer. I’m not that cold, and I really want to be here when Emma arrives — if she does, hopefully.

  “Me, too,” Trigg says. “You guys go on in; check on the girls.”

  “Alright.” Jude nods at the others before turning to the doors, and Daniel and Jax follow him inside.

  Trigg takes Jax’s place against the column. “Where could she be? You don’t think she changed her mind, do you?”

  I shrug and pull my phone out again. It was obvious when she came over to our table at the Gala that she had no idea I would be there — confirming that she had as little clue as to who I was this time last year as I did about her. I’ve been worried ever since then that she’d get cold feet about doing business with Pentabyte because of our little encounter in the back of that dark coat room. “I don’t know. I haven’t received anything from her. I hope she shows.”

  “You didn’t say anything that would scare her away, did you?” Trigg stuffs his hands in his coat pockets as he gives me a reproving look.

  I manage not to stutter. “No, of course not. And besides, you know, she does have a sense of humor. That joke she told in the meeting on Monday was pretty damn funny, wasn’t it?”

  Trigg laughs. “Yeah, it was pretty good. And her smile just lights up a room, doesn’t it?”

  I think of how Emma’s pretty hazel eyes twinkle when she smiles — or when she’s turned on. “Yup.”

  Just then, a cab pulls up, and Emma emerges from the backseat. “Hey!” She waves at us as she scoots out from the seat, and I get a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous dress she’s wearing as her jacket pulls open briefly, then she leans back in to pay the cab driver. A moment later, the cab pulls away, and she walks to meet us. “So sorry I’m late.”

  Trigg gets to her first and reaches out a hand to help her up the steps to the portico. “We’re glad you came.”

  As Emma comes toward us, I can only stand there and do my best not to gawk. She was stunning at the Gala and pretty in her pant suit at the meeting. But this Emma Collins? I shift my hips and resist the urge to adjust myself. It’s getting a little tight in my jeans. That little black dress, the extra liner that makes her eyes pop, her hair swept up like that. Holy hell.

  She takes Trigg’s hand with a quick smile, but as soon as she’s up the steps, she shakes her head with a flustered expression. “The cab driver took me to a coffee shop in Woodsgate.”

  I guffaw with surprise. “What?”

  “He thought I said Espresso instead of Inprizo.”

  “Hope you didn’t tip the guy too much.”

  She bites at her lower lip before admitting with a cringe, “I gave him a little — it’s my fault for not telling him the address. One day, I’d love to be one of those people who tips huge, like a hundred dollars for a drink or a cab ride. You know, just surprise the hell out of someone and make their day.”

  There’s so many sides to Emma, and I’m liking them all. The jacket she’s wearing is thin, and I can tell she’s already getting a shiver. I extend an arm. “Ready to head inside?”

  She nibbles on her lip again, her eyes meeting mine and then darting back to the pavement, but she wraps her fingers around my bicep. God, that nervous tick of hers has all my attention on her mouth, just like it did that night a year ago when I threw caution to the wind and dove in for a kiss. Just thinking about that encounter in the coat room is making me stiff. I didn’t know Emma by sight then; she was just a pretty thing that I had an awkward-turned-erotic moment with when I nearly knocked her down by accident.

  I probably wouldn’t have pinned her against the wall and made out with her for thirty minutes if I knew who she was — but hell — maybe I would have. Her lips drove me wild then, and now that I know how smart and funny she is, I want to kiss her again more than ever.

  As we head away from the steps and toward the entrance, she hears the thumping of the base, and her look turns from bashful to concerned. “Is this a dance club? I thought it was just a bar.”

  “There’s a bar inside,” I assure her.

  Trigg thwacks the back of my head with an open hand. “That’s not what she meant. You didn’t tell her where we were going?”

  I punch him on the arm. “How do you think she got here? The Inprizo. For drinks.”

  “It’s okay,” she says. “I just would have worn something a little more appropriate for dancing.” She flashes open her thin jacket with her free hand and reveals that sexy
black dress again.

  This woman. “Are you kidding me? That dress is killer. I can’t wait to get you on the dance floor.”

  Emma’s eyes dart to me and back to the pavement again. Her fingers rub at the fabric of my shirt. I should probably address the whole Coat Room of Hot Damn before she thinks I don’t remember. Holy fuck, do I remember.

  “You’re making the lady nervous,” Trigg says.

  “I hope so.” God, sometimes I can’t keep my mouth shut. “Sorry, I mean, that dress is perfect for the dance floor, Emma. You look amazing.”

  She blushes and meets my eye for a little longer this time. “Thank you.” Her pretty voice is demur, and it makes my chest swell with pride to have her on my arm.

  Trigg places a hand on her other shoulder. “Let’s get you inside. You look like hypothermia is setting in, and Callie and Cora are waiting on us.”

  She brightens. “Good! I meant to get their contact information at the Gala. They seem like fun.”

  “They are,” I agree. “But I need someone to keep up with me tonight. How are you with tabletop dancing?”

  Her smile is cute, a playful curl at the corner of her lips. “I’ve been known to rock a coffee table or two. But, fair warning, I don’t plan on drinking that much tonight, so you might be on your own.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows at her. “Lucky for you, I don’t need booze as an excuse for a good strip tease.”

  Emma places a hand over her mouth to hide her laugh, and fuck me if all I want to do is make her laugh all night long. Then, thinking of all night long takes my thoughts in an entirely different direction. I shake my head, noticing as Trigg gives me his slow down, cowboy look. Right. We’re on a business outing.

  The thumping base amplifies as we open the door, and there’s an immediate rush of heat. All the bodies in here, twisting and grinding, have raised the inside temperature a good forty degrees above the outside. And that dance floor is calling my name. Especially if it means I can have Miss Emma Collins pressed up against my body again.