“Well, I thought you might be having trouble so I’ve signed you up on one of those Internet dating sites. I’ve emailed you the details. There are some very nice men on there. I wrote down their names and sent that to you as well.”
“You did what?” Several heads turned in her direction as her voice rose three octaves and ten decibel levels.
“Bernice Anderson came to visit last night and said her daughter had trouble finding a husband as well. But after she signed up online she was married within three months.” The triumph in her mother’s voice was unmistakable.
Lorelei shook her head. Bernice Anderson’s daughter, with her unibrow and fondness for doughnuts, would never be the poster child for any dating site. One more person stood between Lorelei and her coffee order. Please be quick, please be quick.
“I’m not desperate.”
“Querida, you’re also not getting any younger. Thirty is only a couple years away, and you know what they say about women over thirty. They are statistically more likely to get murdered than married.”
The man in front of her was debating the merits of a decaf mocha over a soy latte with the cashier.
“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve got to go. It’s my turn to order.”
“Promise me you’ll go online and check out the men.”
“I promise. Bye, Mama. Te quiero.” Lorelei pressed end call before her mother threatened to come and visit and find a man for her personally. She’d promised to look. Didn’t mean she had to go out with any of them.
While waiting for the barista to prepare her vanilla latte, she glanced around the café. Three regulars she spotted right away and returned their nods of recognition. A huge, hairy guy in his early thirties filled the corner of the café. Their eyes met and she blinked at the intensity of his dark gaze. The other man at the table with him was of similar age but smaller, and trying to hide a bald spot with a comb-over of light-blond hair.
Lorelei peeked at her watch; she had eight minutes to make it to her office. Fortunately, for her at least, her need to flee Buffalo had coincided with an Event Director vacancy in the San Francisco office of the Happy Day charity. If she hadn’t been one of the top event planners for the charity, she was sure she’d have been fired rather than transferred after her last relationship blackened her name. Thankfully, the scandal seemed to have remained back east and she could continue to help raise money for sick children to enjoy a dream day. Now if only the weather would warm up, she could begin to enjoy her new start in California.
Picking up her drink with a smile for the barista, she settled the straps of her handbag on her shoulder and strode toward the door. The ditherer, who had been in the lineup in front of her, turned and walked straight into her. Lorelei’s coffee fell to the floor with a sickening splat.
“Oh sorry, miss.” He stared at the growing brown puddle, stepping back before it soiled his suede shoes. He slid toward the door, as though trying to distance himself from the disaster.
Lorelei counted backward from one hundred in Spanish. Great, now she’d have to either line up again and be late for work or settle for the crappy coffee at the office.
The guy with the beard and intense eyes from the corner table appeared at her elbow. He reached behind her and grabbed another cup, complete with lid, off the counter. When Lorelei turned to her, the friendly barista gave her a thumbs-up. “I made an extra, by accident,” she said.
“Enjoy your day,” the tall man said as he handed her the coffee. His voice was deep and silky, and she forced her gaze from the liquid chocolate eyes that smiled into hers. Giving herself a mental shake, she glanced at her watch again. Damn, now she was late.
She stepped around the spilled coffee as a mop-wielding man arrived on the scene.
“Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. The man who had knocked her drink from her hand stood in the doorway as if trying to decide which way to go.
Maybe her mother had the right idea. At least with Internet dating she could hopefully filter out some of the weirdoes.
…
Liam stood at the front of the packed conference room, knowing there were just as many people listening via conference call. All eyes were focused on him, the only sound a faint static from the telephone line. He rarely called all his staff together, as most programmers hated meetings as much as he did. But it was vital that rumors be kept to a minimum and the only way to do that was to make sure everyone had the same information and from an accurate source.
“I want to reassure you all that I am still in full control of the company. When I founded IWC Security, it was just David and me. Now we have over three hundred employees in six countries. I built this company. And it will be an encryption-free day on the Darknet before I let someone else take over. However, for the next two months I will be working on an important project away from the office. When it’s done, I’ll be back. In the meantime, I’m delegating the day-to-day management of the company to the Chief Operating Officer, Cal Johnson. David Winston, as Director of Technical Operations, will remain your go-to guy for programming issues. Are there any questions?”
“Does this means we won’t be getting emails from you at four in the morning telling us to fix a vulnerability only you could have found? Can I finally sleep through the night?” someone at the back of the room joked.
“I wouldn’t count on it. I’ll still be hands-on with client systems.” His reply was met with a few groans and some nervous laughter. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his staff, but the core technical work was likely the only thing to keep him sane in the next couple of weeks.
He answered a few more questions about general office management, then called the meeting to a close. As the staff filed out, David sauntered over to him.
“Let’s get down to the important questions. Am I going to have to eat my sister’s cooking?” David made a gagging motion and clutched his stomach.
Liam had eaten a dinner Helen had prepared once. It wasn’t something he’d willingly do a second time. “I’m giving up the commute to the office and the endless meetings, not my personal chef.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of meetings, I’ve got two more before I’m done for the day. I’ll see you at home.” He strode from the room and back toward his corner office.
…
Three hours later, Liam unlocked the door to his apartment and hung his raincoat on the stand. Kicking off his wet shoes, he grabbed a handful of peanut M&M’s from the bowl on the entryway table before heading into the kitchen. David was already perched on a barstool, chatting with Jason, the cook.