Impossible Bachelor

by Ruth Cardello

  No one can link this back to me. All I did was tip them off and connect them. These brave women did the real hard work.

  When my phone rings I nearly let it go to voicemail. I don’t want to disrupt this mental victory lap I’m taking. But it’s my assistant, Tabby, and while I’m prone to call her after hours and put her to work, she rarely calls me.

  “There’s some kind of problem. I think you’ve been hacked. Can you come in and check your computer?” She sounds worried and tired. I’m normally still in the office this time of night and a pang of guilt sets in. Logically I know working fifteen-hour days isn’t a requirement, but it’s what has always kept me one step ahead of most people. I’ve been slacking some lately. I’m still there more than anyone but not as much as usual.

  “What do you mean I’ve been hacked? Did you call the IT department?” I’ve become the catch-all for most of the problems at our headquarters. That’s because I know how to get things done. We have a director of technology, but when something goes wrong I’m still the first call and in charge of coordination.

  “They’re stumped and panicking. Some kind of code was sent from your profile, and they think it’s a virus or something. I think you should come in and try to log on.”

  “I’ll be there shortly.” I’m still standing in front of my hit list. Will another domino fall? All it will take is a hint that one of the men in the building is involved and the judge will take them down with him. Career ending scandals can stop here, or they can sweep through this building. Their choice, not mine.

  I consider that my computer issue might be related, but I don’t think it is. I’m smart enough to make sure nothing can be tracked back to me. I scan the remaining men on my wall. Would any of them be bold enough to try to take me on directly?

  The one thing that can be counted on from this particular group of men is that they are too cocky or too stupid to keep their mouths shut. I don’t like this side of business, but if it’s me or them—my choice is pretty fucking clear.

  Be careful you little shits. Be very, very careful.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ben

  I might have pushed Kylie too far. She’s been radio silent for several days and I’m not proud of how many times I’ve checked my phone. I’m filling my dishwasher when she finally does call. I almost drop my phone trying to answer it before it goes to voicemail.

  “Ben, I need the name of a really good IT guy.”

  I smile. She really needs to get to know me better. Or at least google me. Is a little Internet stalking too much to ask for? “You’re speaking to one.”

  “I’m serious. I know you’re in the field, but who is top notch?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s my computer at work. My people can’t figure it out. At this point I don’t know if it’s some kind of virus or a malfunction. I keep an enormous amount of vital and private information on my computer. I need to resolve this quickly and discretely.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “I got a call a few hours ago. It’s bad, Ben. Really bad.”

  “Kylie, I’m on my way.”

  “You don’t need to come, Ben. But I do need to talk out my options and—well, I trust you.”

  That’s something.

  “I talked to someone we’ve used for cyber security in the past, but his people couldn’t find the issue either. I need to know exactly what happened and if anyone’s information was compromised. I can’t access anything on my computer. I need the best person you know.”

  “Kylie, you say you trust me.”

  “I do.”

  “I can find the issue. I am the best you can call in. I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t confident that it’s true.”

  She’s quiet for a minute. “Okay.”

  “And I’ll bring coffee.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Good coffee always helps. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  I’ve got a bounce in my step as I head her way. Kylie needs me. I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life. Nerd skills get the girl. I’ll charge in, save the day, and sweep her off her feet—right into my bed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kylie

  Tabby is standing in the doorway of my office looking like she just struck it rich on a scratch ticket. Her lipstick is freshly applied and her cheeks are slightly flushed. The same reaction she gets when our very attractive delivery man comes by with some packages.

  “You have company,” she coos. “Ben. He’s holding a tray of coffees. Is that the Ben?”

  “Yes. No. Yes, that’s the Ben I know but—just send him in.”

  “If he was a book, I’d read him twice.”

  I’m not entirely sure what that means, but she winks and goes to get him. Ben might be hot as hell, but right now the idea of a fried computer and lost files is killing me.

  Ben sticks his head through the door and smiles at me. I stand and have a powerful and unfamiliar urge to throw myself into his arms. It’s not practical. It won’t help but the urge is there. Hold me. Tell me this will all be okay.

  “Give me the rundown,” he says as he hands me my coffee and rounds my desk to look over my shoulder. The smell of his cologne knocks anxiety down a few notches even though there’s no logical reason why. All at once I’m terrified of and grateful for the power he has to impact me.

  “Apparently some kind of code was sent around the company from my user profile. When I logged on, everything locked up. I’m completely flying blind. I need this fixed.”

  “Bring your best IT rep. I want to know more about the code that was sent and the timeline. Don’t get the head of IT, get the person everyone goes to when they need stuff fixed.”

  “Shouldn’t the head of IT be the best?”

  “It never works out that way. Ask around, your staff will know who to send up.”

  “I’ve contacted a large cyber security firm. They’re coming later today but they had no luck trying to sort it out remotely.”

  “I’ll have it fixed before then.” His confidence should be infuriating but right now it’s hot.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “How can you doubt me?”

  I sip my coffee, and maybe it’s these rose-colored glasses I’ve put on, but it’s perfect. The temperature. The taste. It’s exactly what I wanted. I want to believe Ben. I want to believe in Ben. Even considering it is scary a hell. Is this guy’s magic for real?

  “What is your password?” Ben is in my seat, his hands hovering over the keyboard waiting for my answer.

  “Should I share that?”

  “Only if you want this resolved.”

  Touché. I lean over. “I’ll type it in.”

  He gives me a funny look. “Now I’m intrigued.”

  He sees too much. “I change my password weekly. It’s just easier to remember when I type it in.”

  “Sure.” His smile is smug. “Is it my name? Ben is hot 3456?”

  “You wish.”

  “Tell me.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  He sits back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest. “I’m just about to save your ass and you won’t trust me with your password? That hurts.”

  “You save my computer and you can have more than my password.” The words are out before I can think of what context he’ll apply. Did I just offer my body to this man in exchange for some computer repairs? And more importantly why am I smiling about that?

  “Work first. Determine your debt later.”

  He gets right to work after I scratch down my password for him. Penny7912.

  “It’s the street number of the house we lived in before our parents split up. It was the last place we lived together and the last time I remember my life being normal.” I don’t know why I feel the need to explain that to him, but it feels nice to say it out loud.

  He’s a good enough man to not push me further on that explanation. Instead he sips on h
is coffee and tries to breathe life back into my seemingly dead computer. I sit across from him and study his face. There’s a dimple at the corner of his smile, and it’s nearly hidden by his five o’clock shadow. His dark hair is thick and styled in a messy sort of way. He’s casual, in my book, to a fault. It’s sexy. It’s alluring. But it’s not polished or professional.

  “You can relax. I’ll be able to fix this.”

  “All right.” I nibble at my lip and reach for my phone. A little internet stalking is way overdue. I don’t normally let myself get this close to someone without knowing everything there is to know about them. Shit, who am I kidding? I don’t let myself get this close to anyone period.

  “My middle name is Jaxson. That should help you find me faster.” He looks over the top of my computer monitor with a silly expression.

  “Why would I need that?”

  “It’s Jaxson with an x. It’s a family name.”

  I pretend to ignore him as he gets back to work. A moment later I’m typing his name into the search bar on my phone, Jaxson with an x and all.

  “Are you kidding me?” My voice is high and surprised, but he doesn’t skip a beat. “You were awarded the Young Global Leader Honor by the World Technology Forum? You were in the running for Entrepreneur of the Year on the Forbes list?”

  “I bribed them.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “I slept with the woman who runs the Forum.”

  “It’s run by a man named Ted Willard.”

  “Who was a gentle and kind lover. Now you know my secret.”

  “Be serious. Why hide that you’re successful?”

  “I don’t hide anything, but I don’t see a reason to mention it unless I’m asked.”

  “You’re credited for some of the biggest technological advances in the last three years. What the hell are you doing here helping me?”

  “I like you.”

  He says it so casually I’m temporarily at a loss for words. I’d convinced myself he was unreliable and unmotivated, just like my father. I don’t know what to think now.

  Ben keeps his attention focused on the computer as he clicks away on my keyboard. He looks disappointed. “I suppose now that you know I’m not some slacker, my chances just got a lot better.”

  Ouch. He’s wrong, but I’ve never been good at explaining my feelings. “It doesn’t change anything.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “We’re still too different.”

  “Since when is being different a bad thing?”

  Since always. “You’re a good guy, Ben. I can see you with someone just as nice. Someone like”—I swallow then force myself to keep going—“like Opal.”

  “Do you know what your problem is?”

  A vice around my heart cranks tighter. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “You’ve never been swept off your feet.”

  “What?” My voice raises a few octaves.

  “Don’t worry I’m going to rock your world.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  His gaze meets and holds mine. “You’re worth it.”

  My breath catches in my throat, and he gives me the beautiful gift of redirecting his attention back to my computer. This is the romantic sappy shit I usually run from. I don’t believe in it, but why does it sound so good?

  “Done.” He spins my computer around. My desktop is right back the way it was before. Right down to the background wallpaper picture of Penny and me swinging next to each other at the park when we were kids.

  “You fixed it?”

  “I did.”

  “That was fast.”

  “I’m quick.” He stands and gives me a lopsided grin. “With computers at least.”

  I’m not touching that one—not here in my office. “Well, thank you. I should probably make sure it’s all there.”

  “It is.”

  “I’ll feel better once I confirm that.”

  “You should let your computer cool down for about twelve to eighteen hours.”

  “I might not be as tech savvy as you, but I know bullshit when I hear it.”

  He shrugs those beautifully wide shoulders. “If you’re willing to risk it freezing again, go ahead. I’m telling you, this computer needs a break. You should be off it, out of the office really, until tomorrow at lunch time.”

  “Really?” I put a hand on one hip. “So I should take my work home.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Being so relaxed with him feels right and wrong at the same time. “I’m not taking you home.”

  “That’s fine.” His words don’t match his expression. “I mean I did just save your computer and all your precious files. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “I don’t.” My voice is suddenly husky. God, I want what he makes me feel to be real, but this is exactly the mistake my mother made—and it nearly ruined her. I slide the mouse over and begin to confirm that all is as it was before. Everything seems good. I look up—feeling a little guilty I wasn’t willing to take it on his word. “Ben—”

  He gives me the easy smile I find so hard to resist. “Full disclosure, I would have had to check too. I’m not offended.”

  Hand still on the mouse, I blink a few times as I choose my next words. “Thank you.”

  “I have plans for you for tonight. Don’t overthink it. Say yes.”

  I’m not the type to make anything that easy—not even when I want to. “I am not going to have sex with you.”

  His grin is back and his other hand goes to his chest. “Is that all you think about? There’s more to me.” He gestures toward his cock then his face. “Eyes up here, lady.”

  I almost smile. “I’m serious.”

  He laughs as he traces my chin with his thumb. “So am I. I planned it right after you called. Let’s go have some fun together.”

  “I don’t have time for fun.”

  “Then you’re not as in control of your life as you think you are. I work hard, but I leave time for me. Who are you when you’re not in the office, Kylie? Who do you want to be?”

  I don’t know the answer to that question, but I want to.

  I want to as badly as I want to kiss him.

  It’s exciting and scary as all hell.

  I tell Tabby to clear my schedule for the rest of the day and the next morning. She doesn’t look surprised at all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ben

  Kylie slides into the passenger side of my sports car, looking as jumpy as a woman fearing she’s about to be kidnapped. Most of my dates start on a more positive note. “I don’t like surprises.”

  “You’ll like this one. It’s different.”

  “That does not fill me with confidence.”

  “I’d think that a woman who could step into a boxing ring wouldn’t be afraid of a little outing with a sweet man like me.”

  Her eyes narrow, but I can tell she’s intrigued. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Good, because if you let yourself enjoy it, this will be fun.”

  “Says every man always . . .”

  I laugh and start the car. I like her snarky wit. “Are you?”

  “What?”

  “That tense in bed?” I know there’s a risk the question might offend her, but since I just pulled out of the driveway she’s trapped with me long enough that we can talk it through.

  “It was a joke.” She folds her arms across her chest.

  I pull out onto the main road. “Hey, not judging. Women are lucky. You have second thoughts, and you just say no. A man questions if he should actually sleep with his best friend’s ex and his limp dick says it for him.”

  Her eyebrows arch. “Sounds like a problem.”

  “Yeah, morality sucks.”

  I glance at her in time to see her smile briefly. “I thought men could and would fuck anything and anyone.”

  “Some men.” I wave at my cock. “We came to an agreement early to choose quality over quantity.”

&n
bsp; “We?”

  I shrug. I don’t know if women think of their pussies as creatures who have minds of their own. Men do for the simple reason we’ve been betrayed by that little bastard enough to not trust it. Hard-ons happen at enough ridiculous times that we can either hate our cocks for embarrassing us or befriend the fuckers, name them, and keep them contained.

  I don’t tell women I have a name for my cock. There are certain things women don’t get because—they’re women.

  Trust me, if they had dicks, they’d name them too.

  I decide to change the topic.

  “I’ll have you back in the office by lunch tomorrow.”

  “Wait, where are we going? I want to be back at my place tonight.”

  “You can be if you want to.”

  “I hope work clothes are appropriate for this surprise destination because that’s all I have.”

  “Penny packed you a bag.”

  “She what?”

  “She packed you a bag.” I repeat the words more slowly as if that’s what she required. I can’t help but grin at her growl.

  “I already told you I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  “Sex. Sex. Sex. I have a mind too. You might try to pretend you’re interested in that as well.”

  “You crack yourself up, don’t you?”

  “Seriously.” I change my expression so she knows I mean it. “There is no pressure. I have something planned I think you’ll enjoy. Where it goes from there is up to you.” When she sucks in her bottom lip and her eyes dart away, my cock takes that as a yes and drains the blood from my brain. This is where the battle begins for a man. If allowed, that little bastard will reduce me to blubbering and begging. I imagine an error in a long chunk of code and all the ways it could elude me. Slowly, I regain control.

  Take that, Mr. Closure.

  I slept with a programmer once and tried to explain the name to her, but she confused the term with anonymous function which took all the humor out of the term. A named closure is not anonymous. I chose it to imply it works best in one environment. When a closure is exposed to too many variables, it can lead to messy garbage data. Any good coder would know that.