everything necessary to get it.â
He smiled to himself. It felt good to say that, to know that when it came to a business acquisition, money was no longer an object. There was a time not so long ago that heâd struggled to make ends meet. Heâd just founded NightRyder, and though hip and trendy New Yorkers visited the site to learn all the latest on movies, music, and entertainment, the Internet was still young. Every penny heâd saved, most of it earmarked for his last year at NYU, had gone into the design. Four years later, when NightRyder had become the most popular Internet site nationwide in the 20- to 30-year-old demographic, the advertisers started coming and Camâs life as an Internet entrepreneur began.
âDonât you think youâre carrying this mystery man thing a little too far?â Jeff asked. âYouâre making too much money to keep your face out of the public eye forever. And youâre the Ryder in NightRyder, Cam. You should be there when we make our offer and Charlotte Danforth accepts.â
Cam chuckled. âSheâs not going to accept.â
âWhat? But she has to. Weâve done our research. Daddy Danforth is just about ready to cut her off, if he hasnât already. Her creditors are hounding her. And sheâs spending more and more time partying with her high society friends than running her magazine. The time is right.â
âSheâs not going to accept,â Cam insisted. âAttitudes is her baby. Besides, weâre only going to offer her half what we think the magazine is worth.â
âBut I thought we decidedââ
âI know what we decided. But I changed my mind. I need some more information before we make a solid offer.â
âCam, itâs a privately held publication. I donât think sheâs going to open up the books and let us browse before we talk money.â
âI know. But we can afford to wait her out, until sheâs a little more desperate. And while we do that, maybe we can get some inside information.â
Jeff nodded. âI suppose that wouldnât be a bad idea. Charlotte Danforth has hired and fired enough people. We could always find a disgruntled employee who might want to talk.â
âThen do it,â he said. âAnd call me after your meeting with Danforth. I want a full report.â
Jeff nodded, then started across the street. Cameron watched as he walked in the front entrance of the ornate cast-iron building, one of the many that lined the streets in this section of Soho. Then he turned and shoved his hands in his pockets, warming them in the chilly evening air.
His fingers toyed with a wad of paper in his pocket and he pulled it out, only to find the crumpled sheet the beautiful girl had used on his shirt, the scribblings on it now blurred by the coffee. Part of the paper was still completely legibleâthe Attitudes logo across the bottom and the name on the top.
âFrom the desk of Nina Forrester,â he murmured. âNina.â The name seemed to suit her, light, airy, a name that sounded like a peal of laughter or a twinkle in the eye. âSo thatâs her name.â
It took a few moments for the importance of his discovery to sink in. Nina Forrester worked at Attitudes! And he was looking for someone on the inside, someone to give him insight into the mercurial Charlotte Danforth and the state of her business affairs. His mind instantly began to form a strategy.
Why not go back inside and join her? He could engage her in conversation, bring up the subject of work. Most women loved to talk about their work, especially to a man who appeared interested in what she had to say. But the thought of manipulating her for his own purposes rankled.
Though rising to the top of the Internet world had taken immense technical knowledge, staying on top required a fair bit of ruthlessness. Still, heâd never deliberately deceived anyone to get what he wanted. Wasnât that what he was considering now? He held the paper up to read the rest of the scribbling in the waning light of day, wondering what sheâd been working on.
âLooking for Mr. Right Now?â he read, confusion wrinkling his brow. âAttractive, fun-loving, energetic SWF, 25, seeks adventurous Adonis, 25-35, for wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons.â
Cameron reread the words again, simply to assure himself that heâd read them right the first time. âAdventurous Adonis? Wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons?â
Usually, he was an excellent judge of character, able to detect hidden agendas and ulterior motives in a single glance. But if Nina Forrester had written this ad, then heâd been completely fooled by her innocent smile. A woman who enjoyed wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons would probably have no qualms about dumping her coffee on a single guy sitting in a coffee shop. Maybe heâd been too hasty in his earlier impression. Perhaps she might be able to help him get inside Attitudes magazine.
Cameron started back down the street toward the subway stop, carefully folding the paper as he walked. Heâd never really thought of himself as an Adonisâfar from it. Up until he made his first million, he was just a computer geek, the kid with the thick glasses and the pocketful of pens, the president of the computer club and the chess club, a guy girls did their best to ignore.
Funny how a little power and money seemed to change him in othersâ eyes. It always took him unawares, for inside, there was still a tiny bit of the geek left. Heâd simply gotten a few years older, so that grown-up muscle now covered his once bony body. An uptown haircut and designer clothing had completed the transformation in his outward appearance. Maybe money did make the man.
He turned and stared back at the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. Though his curiosity was piqued, he wasnât about to go back inside. He knew her name, where she worked, and where she played. He could find her if he needed to.
âBetter to wait,â he murmured with a chuckle. âAfter all, no self-respecting Adonis would be seen with a huge coffee stain on his chest.â
2
âHURRY UP! Staff meeting in the conference room. Charlotte wants everyone there.â
Nina looked up at Lizbeth from the reference books spread across her desk. Sheâd been caught up in finding out the name of the original designer of platform shoes and had lost all track of time. Before that, sheâd been immersed in an idle contemplation of the mystery man sheâd spilled coffee on last night. She still couldnât put him out of her mind, going over every stupid mistake sheâd made.
Why hadnât she offered to send his shirt to the cleaner or pay for a new shirt? Why hadnât she given him her phone number or at least introduced herself? Nina had lived in Manhattan for seven years, since her college days at Columbia, and sheâd never met a man quite as handsome as the man sheâd affectionately dubbed âCoffee Man.â
A more appropriate name would come to her, but Nina was already certain that this man would occupy her fantasies for a long time to come. Besides being incredibly handsome, he was funny and smart and confident, though how she knew all these things she wasnât sure. What she did know was that if she ever saw him again she wasnât going to let him get away a second time.
âNina?â
