by Addison Fox
“I spent some time assessing your systems.”
She glanced at the slim, high-tech tablet in his hands, a match for her own. “When?”
“During the press conference. Your firewalls are good.”
“You tried to hack into my system during the press conference?”
“Yes.”
His expression was so bland—so devoid of any bit of remorse—she had to take a quick breath. “Why the hell did you do that?”
“Why not? I’m here to find problems, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but...” She felt herself sputtering to a halt. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“Do you think your competition is resting?”
“No.”
“So I wanted to see what we’re up against.” He lifted the tablet with a slight wave. “Your security is good.”
“Oh, thank you.”
He tapped the screen of his device without looking up. “I heard those delightful overtones of sarcasm and snark.”
“I meant you to.”
He handed her the tablet and Abby was struck by the heat of his body that still warmed the metal frame. The brief moment of intimacy ran a line of shivers down her spine and she tried to shake it off.
“Look there.” He leaned closer and pointed to a series of images on the screen, the same heat she felt warming the device now in imminent proximity to her body.
She pushed thoughts of heat and broad shoulders from her mind and nodded at the layers of commands and computer code that were as familiar to her as reading English. “The system’s secure.”
“Which means your seven-minute man got in a different way.”
She sat back and gave the screen of the tablet one last glance before she met his gaze. “Why do you think it’s a man?”
“A vague sense. And it doesn’t mean I’m ruling anyone out at this point.”
“Anything beyond that?”
“There aren’t a lot of people who can pull something like this off. And while there have been some very successful female hackers, women generally aren’t drawn to hacking like men are.”
“Women have better things to do with their time?”
“Something like that. Add in a driving sense of anarchy and men have a strange affinity to the field.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
The ready smile and easygoing nature vanished. “I’ve had my career ups and downs.”
* * *
Campbell had spent very little time thinking about past sins, but they weighed around his neck under the intensity of Abby’s gaze.
He knew women talked and it would be stupid of him not to think Kensington hadn’t shared some of his past exploits with her good friend. But even his sister didn’t know the full depths of his past choices.
Only Grandfather had a real sense of what he’d done.
“I know there’s a short list of individuals who have this type of skill. Does that mean I can rule out my staff?”
“Afraid not. In addition to creating a mess, anarchists have a rather sizeable affinity for mercenary jobs.”
He saw her agile mind click through the implications of a mercenary-for-hire and the hope that her trusted colleagues weren’t involved faded from her eyes. “So it just got more complicated. Not only are we looking for a responsible party, but we’re also looking for the money.”
“Yep.”
“Well, Mr. Steele. It looks like I stand convinced. Consider yourself hired.”
“Campbell.”
She nodded. “Campbell.”
“I understand your annual board meetings are in Paris this week. Any chance I can convince you to postpone them?”
“I’m not canceling them.”
“Postpone, not cancel. Just for a few weeks until we have a sense of what you’re really dealing with.”
“I won’t run in fear and I won’t change my plans. We’ve got serious business to discuss.”
Whatever fear he’d sensed in her gaze vanished at the implications she should pull back on her business. Campbell turned it over in his mind, again fascinated by just how sexy she was with this intriguing mix of beauty, brains and drive.
He’d always been attracted to strong women, having been raised around a group of females who could more than hold their own. He didn’t care for weak people—regardless of gender—but he’d never understood men who found strong women a threat.
Campbell had always believed a smart woman was more than worth his time and interest.
Besides, what fun was life without a little challenge?
“Since you won’t postpone them, it looks like you’ve got a travel buddy. It’s a good thing I’ve already got my tickets.”
“That’s not necessary. You can do the job from here. Computer issues aren’t location-specific.”
“You don’t want me along?”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“A trip to the City of Lights is hardly being put out. Besides, the technology might not be location-specific, but your problem is centered with an individual. I’m not just digging into your computers, I’m digging into your team.”
“Campbell. These people aren’t just colleagues. They’re friends. I’ve known them for years. You can’t come in and start poking around. All of them are senior experts in their field and they’ll suss out an investigation in a heartbeat. If—and that’s a big if—one of them is responsible, he or she will be in the wind before you can blink.”
“Not if I beat them at their own game.”
He saw it the moment the words hit their mark, those lush brown eyes narrowing under the sleek arch of her eyebrows. “What are you suggesting?”
“The best hacks are a result of a whole lot of preplanning.”
“Social engineering the con. I’m familiar with it, Campbell. The mark is identified and a whole host of information is secured in advance before a single piece of technology is breached, like phishing scams for passwords.”
Once again, Campbell had to admire her agile mind and deep grasp of her business. He’d worked with some of the best and brightest and few had such an immediate and intuitive understanding of the things he rambled off when setting up an investigation.
Pulling his thoughts back to the problem at hand and off of Abby McBane’s perceptive gaze, he continued. “Let’s assume that’s happened. Our hacker has manipulated a password or a key piece of data out of someone.”
“Who? My staff knows they can’t share that information. Even if they were attempting to be malicious, their actions within this building are monitored. Anything they do with a piece of technology equipment from this company is monitored.”
“Just because someone’s monitored doesn’t mean your senior team had to give up the information. A lower-level person could have inadvertently allowed the break-in. That’s what we have to find.”
“I’ve got over twenty thousand employees. I realize we could likely narrow down a group of suspects, but the breach could be anywhere.”
“Which is why we’re going to social engineer a little con of our own.”
Confusion and curiosity combined in equal mix across Abby’s face. “And what do you propose?”
He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but the moment the words were out, Campbell knew it was the exact right course of action. “You’re looking at your brand-new boyfriend.”
* * *
“No way. Absolutely not.”
“Come on, it’s the perfect cover.”
“It’s so not the perfect cover.” Abby stood to pace, unable to sit still any longer.
“Come on, Abby. As a cover, it’s ideal. People will grant a dewy-eyed couple, wrapped up in a fresh, brand-spanking-new haze of passion quite a bit of leeway.”
She came to a halt at his words. “We’re not brand-new or spanking.”
A light flush crept up her neck at the obvious gaffe, especially as a decidedly naughty twinkle lit up Campbell’s gorgeous blue gaze. “You know what I me
ant.”
“I think I do but maybe you can give me a few pointers.”
Abby crossed to her desk, eager to escape the sudden shot of sexual tension that gripped the room. Although her initial reaction to his idea was less than positive, his scheme actually had quite a bit of merit. Presenting a social front to her team would give Campbell the leeway to investigate behind a legitimate cover. Add on the idea of having an ally with her for the week of meetings in Paris—both with the board as well as with her key European management team—and she couldn’t quite shake the sense of relief that she wouldn’t be facing it all alone.
“Do you really think this will work?”
Campbell stood and crossed the room. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her gaze from following the long lines of his body or the competence that sat on his shoulders. “It’s the cover we need to find who’s doing this to you. And it will give me access in a way no one will dispute.”
A light knock on the door broke the moment and Abby turned to see Stef opening the door and poking her head into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt but you’ve got one more meeting this afternoon and your dress came for the benefit.” Stef held a garment bag high.
“Thanks. Mr. Steele is actually joining me for the benefit this evening. If you could give him the details.”
Her stalwart assistant simply nodded, as if Abby brought last-minute dates to every event. “I’ll have the details for you when you leave. I’ll just need your address, Mr. Steele, and we’ll get the car service rerouted to pick you up.”
Whatever surprise Campbell might have had was masked behind that ever-present smile that managed to be an intriguing mix of endearing and sexy as Stef turned on her heel and walked out.
As soon as the door closed, he added one raised eyebrow to the mix. “Your date this evening? I assume this means you’re fully on board?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then I’ve only got one question.”
“What’s that?”
Campbell moved up and took her hand in his. The moment his fingers brushed over her wrist her stomach cratered as heat flooded her entire body. “How did we meet, darling?”
* * *
Abby struggled to keep a hold on her emotions three hours later as her limo glided down Fifth Avenue toward Campbell’s home in the West Village. Her stomach had continued its weird gymnastics routine since that brief moment in her office when he’d held her hand and try as she might, she couldn’t get her emotions in check.
What was it about the man? He was attractive, certainly. And she was a healthy, single red-blooded woman who could appreciate a man with a strong intellect and a ready self-assurance that was confident without being overbearing.
But it was something else.
Like a good old-fashioned dose of sexual attraction, her inner voice piped up as she stared out the window. With the unfailing honesty she was known for—especially when it came from within—she acknowledged the sentiment. And then went to work debunking whatever insanity had gripped her since he walked into her office.
Campbell Steele was an enticing package. Altogether too enticing, she quickly admonished herself. And, as of this afternoon when she’d signed off on the contract Kensington had sent over, he was also an employee.
“So get a freaking grip,” she whispered to herself and turned toward the window in an effort to quell the feel of her hand enclosed in his.
The lights of Washington Square Park and the George Washington Arch filled up the early fall dusk as her driver took a right onto Waverly. The neighborhood was known for its effortless blend of old townhomes and bohemian apartments and she held no small measure of surprise when the car pulled up along one of the townhomes that ringed Washington Square Park.
She’d have pegged Campbell for the bohemian apartment, for sure.
Of course, the debonair man swathed in a custom-fit tuxedo standing on the front steps went a long way toward assuaging that thought. The nerves that had accompanied her trip downtown took off on another flight through her stomach, but this time they were paired with a dose of anticipation as he beat the driver to the car door.
Campbell slid his long frame into the limo, the fading evidence of a shower curling his slightly damp hair at his nape as he shifted toward her on the bench seat. The driver had the door closed and the light winked off overhead as Campbell’s leg brushed against hers.
“You look beautiful.”
That anticipation morphed another determined step toward infatuation as she allowed her gaze to settle on his mouth. “And you look very handsome. Not the bohemian I’d taken you for.”
His lips quirked into a slow smile. “What?”
“When the driver mentioned we were headed to the West Village, I pegged you as the resident of a bohemian studio for sure.”
Where she expected a quick retort, instead a far more sober note tinged his face with the slightest edges of sadness as the smile faded. “It was my parents’ first home. My mother’s sister kept it until she retired to Florida and I moved in a few years ago.”
Of course.
“I’m sure it’s absolutely lovely.”
Abby forced herself to keep the sympathy at a minimum, but knew instinctively she’d hit a raw nerve. Charles and Katherine Steele had been killed in a car accident a few years before she and Kensington became college roommates. Although she’d visited some of the family’s other homes, the brownstone on the Upper East Side that now served as House of Steele’s headquarters had been the most frequent destination. Even so, she knew their wealth had extended to other homes.
Other memories.
“What’s that look for?”
She saw the question in his gaze before adding a question of her own. “I’m trying to understand how it is we’ve never met. I’ve known your sister for twelve years.”
“I had quite a few years where I didn’t spend much time at home.”
“What changed?”
“A lot of things.” He shrugged, the motion casual, but she knew there was much more behind his words. “I grew up, mostly.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“I suppose it does.” The shadows faded from his eyes, replaced with another vivid, killer smile. “You bring up a good point, though, which reminds me you never answered my question earlier. About how we met.”
“I’ll follow your lead.”
“Nope. We need to be in sync on this, especially if we’re asked separately.”
The point was a legitimate one and she threw out the first thing that came to mind. “Walking in the park.”
“Too cliché.”
“Cliché?”
“This is New York. A lot of people meet in the park.”
“Which would make it a logical way to meet.”
He shook his head. “Nope. It’s too efficient. You strike me as the type who pops in her earbuds, does her run and pays no attention to anything, or anyone, around you. Something else.”
The urge to argue was strong, but she had to give him credit for being spot-on. “How’d you know I was a runner?”
“Those legs.” His gaze roamed lightly over her body and she sucked in a breath at the electricity that hummed underneath her skin at the perusal.
“Hmm. All right. How about at a business meeting?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Then people will ask what I do, leading to another lie.”
Abby had to give him credit. What started out as a simple exercise was rapidly morphing into a more serious discussion where walking in unprepared could give them away. “What do you do, then? You know. If I’m asked.”
“I’m in software. If anyone pushes any harder, say fractal wave patterns and it’s usually more than enough to shut them up.”
“You do realize fractal wave patterns are a legitimate, documented phenomenon in the financial industry. What are you going to do if you get a banker asking the question?”
“Ramble.”
“Often enough to know that people really don’t want to know the ins and outs of a computer geek’s mind.”
“All right. Let’s just say we met on an internet dating site and be done with it.”
“I don’t need to get a girl through my computer.”
She shook her head at his sexist—and outdated—comment. “First, it’s a perfectly respectable way to meet someone. Second, you do live your life attached to a computer. It would make sense.”
“No.”
“Fine. You’ve got a better idea?”
“We met through my sister. A simple family connection. It’s not exactly a secret you went to Radcliffe. So did Kensington. It’s a perfect cover and it has the added bonus of being one hundred percent true.”
“If this was your goal all along, why not just say it?”
“Wasn’t it far more fun to debate it? Add to it that you’re far less nervous than you were when I got in the car and I’d say it was well worth the time.”
And there it was.
That simple knowledge that he wasn’t to be underestimated, under any circumstances.
He saw far too much and thought too much.
And most of all, he saw her. From the workings of her mind to her exercise routine, he observed, dissected and analyzed. It was unnerving.
Not to mention more than a little exhilarating.
“So what is this event this evening?”
Abby welcomed the change in topic as the lights of Lincoln Center came into view outside the car windows. “The opera.”
A dawning look of horror covered Campbell’s face. “Any chance I can convince you to turn the car around just throw money at the event instead?”
“I’ve already thrown money at the event. This is the result.”
“So they already got what they wanted. Let’s bail. We can get a few hot dogs at Gray’s Papaya and go to the movies instead.”
“What is wrong with you? It’s a few hours and a few arias. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Who’s this evening’s diva?”
“Carlotta Luchino. Why?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
* * *
Whatever questions Abby had at his not-so-subtle rejection of the opera vanished in the whirlwind of the evening. The requisite ode to culture only involved about three pieces of music and the swanky after-party kicked into high gear.