Dream Date with the Millionaire. Melissa Mcclone
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ordered.
“Already on it,” Christopher, a rock-star caliber software engineer, said.
Bryce nodded his approval. “We need a snapshot of the database right now.”
“I’ll do it,” someone said from across the room.
“Let’s patch the hole, people. Compromised data?” he asked Grant, his number two employee.
Compromised data—the stealing or copying of customers’ personal information—would be a PR nightmare. Even if credit card account numbers hadn’t been captured, there was the issue of privacy. Online dating may have become an accepted way to find love, but some people would be embarrassed to have their anonymous use of the Web site become public knowledge.
Grant rubbed his hand over his face. “We don’t know yet.”
“Okay.” Bryce projected calm. “Then let’s find out.”
He wanted to jump into the trenches and dig his fingers in. Bryce was a techie at heart, but he was also the boss. Sometimes the two didn’t mesh well together. Today he would make sure things worked. He couldn’t afford for them not to.
“Should we shut down the site?” Grant asked.
Bryce shook his head. “Not unless we have to.”
“Don’t want to lose the revenue?”
The money didn’t matter to Bryce right now. This was personal. “I don’t want to tip off the hackers. Not if we can nail them.”
“It’s a mess in here,” someone murmured from a few desks away.
Bryce imagined himself as one of the Jane Austen heroes Sanfrandani liked to read about, ready to clean up the mess and save the day. Yeah, right.
He sat at an empty desk, one being set up for a new hire, and logged on to the system to double-check the database. Bryce wanted to see that personal information—everything from names and passwords to credit card numbers—was encrypted. The data was. “How strong is the encryption?”
“Strong enough to keep a 100,000-computer botnet busy for years,” a security specialist answered.
Good news. But Bryce was still going to have to call their lawyer as soon as he had a better handle on things. It was going to be a long day. And most likely an even longer night.
Talk about a long day.
Dani stretched her arms above her head. She needed a nap but would settle for more caffeine. She’d spent her afternoon working on search engine optimization aka SEO. Increasing traffic to the site was a big part of her marketing job. The more hits, the more clicks. And that meant more money—advertising revenue. But turning visitors into repeat users was important, too, and sometimes harder to do. Especially when the site lacked the type of content it needed to draw people back. Content she’d found on Blinddatebrides.com. Content she now had to create for Hookamate.com.
Too bad she was more interested in checking her e-mail every five minutes to see if Bigbrother had replied. She’d never been like this before, waiting for some strange guy to e-mail her, disappointed when he hadn’t.
Pathetic.
That was what she was.
And distracted ever since she’d checked out Bigbrother’s profile. Talk about making a big mistake with a single click.
He lived in San Francisco and was cute in a geeky sort of way. In his picture, he wore a San Francisco Giants baseball cap pulled low on his brow. Dark hair stuck out from the sides. He was dressed casually in a Boston Red Sox shirt and a pair of faded jeans. The photo wasn’t a close-up, but she caught a hint of a smile on his face. He almost looked…shy. She liked that.
A beep sounded. Dani checked her e-mail again.
Jackpot.
Bigbrother had replied. Anticipation unleashed the butterflies in her stomach. She couldn’t wait to see what he’d written. She opened the message.
To: “Sanfrandani” <[email protected]>
From: “Bigbrother” <[email protected]>
Subject: Colonel Brandon
You’re searching for a dull old guy who wears a
uniform?
The oh-so-romantic-loves-unconditionally Colonel was near perfect in her mind, but she could see how some might see him as a dull old guy. Especially a man who, based on his attire in his profile picture, preferred baseball to Jane Austen. Dani laughed.
“Care to share the joke?” James asked.
She turned in her chair. Her boss stood at the entrance to her cubicle.
Her cheeks warmed, but then she realized she had nothing to be embarrassed about. James was the one who wanted her checking out the site. “It’s an e-mail from someone on Blinddatebrides.com.”
James’s eyes narrowed. “A male someone?”
She nodded. “Just doing my job.”
“A good job at that.” He beamed. “So when are you going out with him?”
“I’m not,” Dani said with a twinge of regret. Bigbrother was the only one of the men who had contacted her that she wanted to meet.
“Too many other fish to fry?”
Oh, boy. He had that all wrong. “Uh…no.”
“So he must be a loser, then. How many other guys have you met from bdb?” James never called their local competitor by their full name. He seemed to have it in for them, but she didn’t know why and was too afraid to ask.
“None,” she admitted.
He gave her the once-over. “It can’t be from a lack of offers. None of them meet your standards?”
“Nothing like that.” She peered over the cubicle walls to see if anyone was around or listening. “I can’t accept any dates,” she whispered.
“Why not?” he asked. “And why are you whispering?”
“Because of the…you know.”
“I don’t know.”
She lowered her voice more. “The spying.”
James sighed. “It’s called market research, Danica. Every company does it, so please get over your aversion to your job responsibilities.”
Checking out a competitor was one thing, but market research had never made her feel so tacky or dirty, as if she were doing something she wouldn’t want her mother to know about. In fact she hadn’t told her mother about it. Or her sisters. The only people who knew besides James were Marissa and Grace. Dani wanted to keep it that way.
“I need to know everything about bdb,” he continued. “That includes their clients.”
The expectant look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. “You’re not suggesting I—”
“Go out with them,” he said at the same time. “Meet whoever contacts you. Dates are the perfect opportunity to check out whether bdb customer expectations are being met or not. You can put together a profile of their users for me, too.”
Her shoulders slumped.
When James had told her she would have to get her hands dirty with all facets of Internet marketing she had no idea this was what he meant.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “I won’t lead guys on.”
James grinned. “They won’t mind. Any guy would be thrilled to date a woman like you. Trust me.”
Her boss was the last person she trusted, but she knew what he meant. Most men never saw past her curves to her personality. Or even the color of her eyes. But