Virtually Perfect. Samantha Hunter
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at Gwen, who was unabashedly checking out his butt as he walked into the office. As Raine passed by him to get to the other side of the desk, she couldn’t help but notice that he smelled great, like sand and sea.
She looked up, and locked glances with him, then tilted her head a bit, narrowing her eyes and studying him intently. She froze on the spot. Something itched at the back of her mind but she couldn’t reach it. Something familiar. His eyes cooled and took on an unfriendly edge that made him look decidedly un–Clark Kent like. He cleared his throat.
“Excuse me.”
She raised a dismissive eyebrow and slid past, following Gwen out the door.
“God, isn’t he hot?” Gwen gave a dramatic little demonstration of being weak in the knees as she walked down the hallway.
Raine blinked. “Jack? I guess. Though there was something about him… I think I have seen him somewhere, but I’m not sure.”
“Well, it’s a small town. You may have seen him around before and just not thought about it.”
“Yeah, maybe. There was something about his eyes. I just can’t figure out why he seemed vaguely familiar.”
“Oh well, you’ll remember. Anyway, okay, back to Rider— I think you should meet him, just for kicks.”
Raine rubbed her temples. “Gwen, I think I am getting too old to do things just for kicks.”
“You’re thirty-two, not eighty. Not that being eighty should stop you, you know, if you were. Just imagine, if he is even half of how you described him online in the flesh—so to speak.”
Raine could imagine. Imagination wasn’t the problem; reality was the problem. It never lived up. But still, what if it did? How could she ever know if it was worth the risk? She heaved a sigh and looked back down the hall toward Duane’s office. Even if she didn’t want to meet Rider, she felt outvoted by people who wanted her to do it. But what did she want?
“I need to get back to work. I guess I have some major revisions to do on this article.”
“Okay, well, but think more about meeting him, anyway—it could be the chance of a lifetime.”
JACK SWORE PROFUSELY at the computer as he tapped keys and compared what he was seeing on Raine Covington’s computer to what he was checking on his laptop. Something just wouldn’t take and he couldn’t figure out why. He changed the setting on the firewall—the device that kept the network safe—for this particular computer, and it would click off again the minute it rebooted. That just shouldn’t be happening.
He was going to have to take a deeper look to find out what the bug was. It would take some time and digging. Usually this was the part of his job as Network Security Administrator that he liked best—prying open the mysteries of the wires, swimming down into the information flows, right into the nervous system of the machine, and figuring it out. He could get lost in there for hours, forget to eat, and not care.
But now he felt the pressure of time. The last thing he wanted was to spend more time in Raine Covington’s office, so he would have to come in during the evening or on the weekend. It galled him how she had looked at him as if he were a bug on a microscope slide, and then dismissed him like one, too. It even bothered him that it galled him—everything about her was annoying.
He’d remembered her right away when he had seen her name on the employee list. She, apparently, did not recognize him. That was really not a surprise, but it was what rankled most, in spite of himself. Some things you carried with you, whether you liked it or not.
She’d barely noticed he was alive when they were in high school together, though he shouldn’t take that too personally—that was how she was with everyone. He’d thought she was the most beautiful girl in school, but her personality was far from attractive.
Living in a mansion in an exclusive neighborhood in the Connecticut countryside outside Essex, she rarely socialized with anyone at the school, and in fact, looked miserable most of the time. She obviously detested coming to school with the common folk. It hadn’t been a slum, for God’s sake—Eaton Marsh was a well-respected private school.
He had first noticed her in their sophomore year. He had watched her, considered talking to her, practiced what he would say—had a mad crush on her. She was beautiful then; she was drop-dead gorgeous now. But she had the same imperious attitude—that had not changed.
His parents weren’t anywhere near as wealthy as hers. They worked hard maintaining a small bed-and-breakfast in Essex, and it was a life they enjoyed. He had been raised in a home that was open to visitors nine months out of every year, and he’d loved it. His parents were warm, friendly people who’d encouraged him to interact with the visitors at the inn, who were often treated more like family than guests. Through those experiences, he had developed confidence and social skills that many young people lacked. None of it was enough to deal with the likes of Raine Covington, though.
But it was a small world, and now here they were again, and still, when she looked at him, she just saw through him as if he wasn’t even there. At least he didn’t have a crush on her anymore. Though he did feel a little rush of heat when she brushed past him—she was incredibly soft, and smelled like heaven. Flowers and citrus. He closed his eyes and shook his head. She may be a snob, but she was a gorgeous one.
“Is there a problem?”
He snapped his head up, eyes wide-open at her voice. She stood directly in front of the desk, watching him closely.
“A small one. I’ll look into it later.”
“From the way you were sitting there shaking your head, it looked like a lost cause.”
He stared at her then, and he felt something pull deep down inside his stomach. Emotions crowded in, confusing him. How could he still want her after all these years? Because he wasn’t blind, that’s why. God, she was hot.
Idiot. He didn’t want her—he didn’t even know her. It was Nilla, his phantom online lover who had his head, and his hormones, all worked up. Raine just happened to be there, a warm body for him to focus all his frustration on. Nothing more.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“So it is serious? I have a lot of work on that computer—I can’t afford for it to die on me. It’s been acting up lately, so if you could see that whatever is wrong is fixed, that would help.”
“It won’t die on you,” he said. “Just a minor security problem that has nothing to do with everyday functioning. We’ll figure it out another time, but I will have to get back into your computer.”
Her lips pursed, and he realized how much those delicate, arching eyebrows contributed to her expressions. At the moment telling him she was inconvenienced and displeased.
“I have an article due soon, I can’t afford to have these problems keep coming up, and I will be working long hours in here—”
He cut her off, his voice cold. “Don’t worry, I won’t interrupt your very important work, Ms. Covington.”
She couldn’t miss the sarcasm, and she felt heat stain her cheeks. He was angry, and she had no idea why he should be. Maybe he was just having a bad day, or was generally rude. Maybe that’s why they kept him in the basement, she thought with a little sneer. She wasn’t sure she cared, but right now she wanted him out of her office.
“Fine. Thank you. That’s all then.” She dismissed him curtly with those few words and went to move around her desk, when she ran into him again, directly on the spot she had bumped into him the first time. She made a mental note to move her desk over so she could widen that space.
Now he narrowed his eyes, pinning her with a glare. “If you want to be formal, Mr. Harris is acceptable, and if you want to be friendly—although I can’t imagine it—then it’s Jack. Jack Harris. But don’t talk to me like I’m one of the servants of the manor, Ms. Covington.”