Virtually Perfect. Samantha Hunter
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herself, and wrote carefully.
“Rider, you’re right, this has been special. And if we meet, it might all just evaporate in a big cloud of disappointment. Here we can say, do, be anything we want. We get to be larger than life, but in real life we would probably just bore each other senseless. Or worse.”
“I don’t think so, Nilla. And what if we didn’t? But so what if we did? What’s to lose?”
“I don’t know, Rider. I don’t want to lose this. I enjoy what I’ve had. You. Here.”
“Nilla, this is not real—we’re just two strangers sitting in front of a computer every night, having to face being alone when the screen clicks off. I want to know you. I want you to know me, for real.”
Raine felt a dark cloud of frustration descend around her as she read his next words.
“We have to meet, or I’m out. I’m done.”
She gaped, the ultimatum slamming into her like a hard, cold wind.
“I have to think about it, Rider. Please, I have to think. I’ll meet you here tomorrow night and we can talk about it some more, okay?” I kiss you softly, press my lips to yours. Goodbye.
“Wait!… Don’t go…”
She turned the computer off, ruthlessly cutting the connection.
Collapsing on the soft cushions, she groaned in frustration—this night was just not going well. She had always looked forward to these times with Rider. Meeting him had made her typically quiet evenings exciting.
Though physically it was difficult to be so consistently aroused by someone who could never be there to actually help you release those passions, for her it had been wonderful just to be able to feel them—to walk around basking in the glow of it, to dream of it at night, and to be blissfully unafraid of the pain or disappointment that inevitably followed when you dared those things in real life.
Though she didn’t feel so great at the moment. It was distressing to realize that this wonderful interlude she had discovered and enjoyed was coming to an end. He wanted more, and she did not believe there could be more. She would not be meeting Rider the next evening, for talk or anything else. He would not stop pushing her, and she knew she would not hold out against him in the long run. And that would be an awful mistake.
She knew exactly what she had to do to get some distance on this situation, to grab control of it and put it behind her. First, she could never meet with him again, obviously. Next, she had to write about it. She had experienced Internet romance, right? She had faced the tough decision, and she had made it. Now it was time to share what she had learned with her readers. Only then could she move on and forget all this. Hauling herself upright, she grabbed her laptop again. She opened a blank word-processing page and went to work.
2
“WELL, THIS ISN’T a bad start, but we need more.”
Raine resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and stared at Duane, her managing editor, straight in the eye. She liked him, though grudgingly at times such as now.
“I need to add in the research, get some outside interviews. That should round it off. This is just the first draft, obviously.”
Duane nodded and set the draft of the article she had been up nearly all night writing on the desk between them. She could’ve had his job if she had wanted it, but she liked being a writer. Duane was a good manager, and oddly, he seemed to enjoy it.
He was twenty-eight, almost four years younger than her, fresh out of graduate school, and on the job for a year. He was cute in a frat-boy kind of way, with shaggy dark brown hair and bright-blue eyes. Half the women in the building were gaga for him. Raine just couldn’t work up that kind of enthusiasm, though she had come to respect him as an editor.
He had one of those low-key, soft-spoken, intensely focused personalities that could be deceptive at first. But when the chips were down, or when he wanted things to go his way, he would wield his will like a sword. So far, he’d kept the ship on course, and skillfully managed a diverse group of writers at the magazine. But at the moment, Raine wasn’t in the mood to be managed.
“C’mon, Raine. You know as well as I do what you have to do here to make this article pop. The real meat of it is in the move from online to real life. You need to meet him. This is too good to pass up. See it through.”
She just glared, and her voice was stiff and caustic when she spoke. “Is that an order? Just how far would you like me to take this, Duane?”
“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy, or do more than have a cup of coffee with him. But you have already invested all this time in establishing a connection with him, right? And how can you answer the questions that are facing readers if you haven’t really put yourself in their place?” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and she resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze.
“This isn’t a real romance, is it? You have chalked this up as research?”
She closed her eyes and thought of all she had left out of the draft—if only Duane knew the connections she had “established” with Rider. She’d left out most of the intimate material and had written up the experience as a light flirtation, a dalliance. She wasn’t about to expose the reality—or herself—like that for the sake of a column. But deep down, she knew that Duane was right, and just for the moment, she hated him for it.
She nodded. “More or less. But he is a nice person, as far as I know, and you can’t just play with people’s feelings, Duane. He’s not just a lab rat for the article.”
Nodding again, Duane quirked an eyebrow.
“If the safety aspect of it is worrying you, we can help with that. I don’t expect you to go out and meet some creep by yourself.”
“He’s not a creep.” She felt a headache fuzz her thoughts. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, but that’s what we need to know. And what you need to find out.” He picked up the draft and handed it back to her. “You pitched this, you make it work. Meet the guy, then take another stab at it. This could be a killer story, Raine, but you have to see it through.”
“I THINK HE LOOKS LIKE Superman.” Gwen sighed dreamily, watching a man who stared intently at a computer on a desk directly across from them.
Raine snorted and put sugar in her coffee. “That’s Jackson Harris. I think everyone calls him Jack, though. He is the ultimate in computer gurus, from what Duane says. Been here about six months.”
Raine didn’t add that the new guy seemed to have taken a dislike to her on sight, for reasons she couldn’t fathom. He seemed friendly enough with everyone else, but gave her the cold shoulder. The few times they’d crossed paths he hadn’t even returned her hallway acknowledgments. So she’d stopped offering them. She only knew his name because he had been introduced to everyone upon his hiring.
“He’s a computer geek—that would make him a lot more like Clark Kent, right?” Raine didn’t bother holding back on the sarcasm.
Gwen stuck out her tongue. “Kent was Superman—and those dark glasses he always wore were so sexy. Anyway—that guy would look great in a tight blue bodysuit. How the heck did I miss him? This place is hiring one buff guy after another, first Duane, now Jack. I love working here.”
“Please. Spare me.”
Gwen just shrugged and continued to watch Jack work. “So what’s the news on Jerry?”
Raine rolled her eyes and leaned back against the kitchen counter in the employees’ lounge at the end of the hall. The staff often worked late hours, especially on a deadline. Having a full, stocked kitchen available was one of the luxuries that made the company worth working for.
“It was ridiculous. Terrible. He was like a dog in heat—it was crazy,