Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Passwords. I have to change mine every six weeks at work. No one pisses off IT.”
“True. I write mine in my desk planner.”
“Under, though, on the back side, right?” He eyes me with concern.
“Under…” I trail off. “Where no one can see it? Oh hell, no. God, I’m dumb.” I slap the side of my head. “It’s my work account. All I do on that computer is work stuff, so I never thought to protect my password like that. What did I care if someone logged into my computer? We share everything. Everything is a team project.”
Chapter Ten
CAL
She sounds so betrayed.
“Who am I taking out?”
“I wish.” She laughs humorlessly. “It’s my own stupidity that got me into this mess.”
“Tell me.” It’s not a request.
“Fine.” She slumps back against the striped cushions. “I developed a good marketing idea for an important client, but when we met about it, a coworker presented it as her own. I went to my manager afterward and said that I could show her from the timestamps on the documents that I’d created it, but she accused me of lying. The presentation that I created showed my coworker as the person who started the document complete with timestamps.”
“So she accessed your computer and changed the metadata on the document.”
“Must have.”
“Does your company have CCTV cameras inside?”
“I don’t know. Is that common?”
“Yes. Almost all corps do as a matter of safety.”
“Is that what you higher-ups call spying?”
“Yes, but in this case, it might be to your benefit. If you can show that she was at your unit, it would prove your case. They can match that with a login timestamp on your computer.” Or I’ll ruin the woman. Either way, Harlow’s coming out on top. “Let’s eat. All this talking is making me hungry.”
Harlow allows me to pull her to her feet. I gently steer her toward the door.
“Mindy hates me. And she’s smart. There’s nothing worse than a smart hater,” she says as I grab her keys off the table.
“How about pasta for lunch?” Get a few carbs in her and then make her lie down for a nap afterward. She’s had a tough day.
“You’re still not off the hook. You haven’t answered half my questions.”
“Ask away.”
She grills me over lunch, and I answer everything from my portfolio that is in the ten figures to my parents living abroad due to my mom’s unfortunate need for constant medications.
“No girlfriends? I don’t believe you.” Skepticism is all over her face.
“I’ve never been interested until you. I have my friends, my family, and my business. It was fulfilling enough.”
“You were never going to have kids?”
“I’ve been racing to build my business since I took over for my dad. We were on the verge of losing everything due to my mom’s pill addiction. Children and marriage were something I thought I’d do sometime in the far future.”
“I’m not saying I’m not awesome, but it seems weird that suddenly all of that is changing because of me. We don’t even know each other. The exchange of personal details is supposed to come before the falling in—whatever you call it.”
“The falling in love?” She’s afraid to say it, but I’m not. “Why does that have to be the order. Why can’t the order be bells ringing when we see each other, instant connection, and then exchange of all the boring details?”
“Isn’t it the details that’s the important part?” She pushes her plate away.
“The details keep the romance going, but it’s instant chemistry that brings them together in the first place.” I signal for the waiter. Time for dessert. “One of each,” I tell him.
“Why are you ordering all of the dessert menu?”
“Because I don’t want you to have to choose.”
She shakes her head. “This is like when a bride brings her new husband breakfast in bed during the honeymoon period. She’s treating him, but he thinks that’s the kind of treatment he’s going to get the whole marriage.”
I cross my hand over my chest and say, “I promise to order the entire dessert menu every time we go out from now on.”
She opens her mouth and then snaps it shut.
“What? You can say it. You can say anything,” I urge.
“I already know the answer. I was going to say ‘What happens when we break up?’ but I knew your response would be ‘We’re not breaking up.’”
I crinkle my eyes. “That’s right.”
“We aren’t even dating. That’s a prerequisite for breaking up.”
“We’ve had two meals together in a week. From all I’ve read, that’s more dating than most modern couples do in a year. Eat up.” The desserts are delivered.
She takes a bite of each one and decides the lemon is the best. We get that one boxed up and head out.
She stops on the sidewalk and stares at the sky for a moment. “You know they held the meeting on Friday at ten because they’re all retired or don’t have real jobs.”