bottles of expensive champagne to float a battleship.
“Ella deserves the very best. I’ve told her she can have anything she wants and I’m going to make sure she gets it.” His features grew soft. “When you really love a woman, Wes, you want to give her the world. When the time comes, you’ll understand that part of it, too.”
Wes could understand his brother wanting to give his fiancée the best of everything. From what he understood, Ella was raised by a single mom in a household with very little money. To make matters worse, her younger brother had cerebral palsy and needed extra care. What did surprise Wes was the amount of love and affection he saw on Ben’s face each time he spoke of his fiancée. Wes had never imagined his brother capable of such tender feelings. But somehow Ella had managed to bring out the gentle side of the tiger.
“I’m glad you want to make Ella happy. She does deserve it. But as for me, I’m content to let you be the married twin. I’m staying single.”
“Never say never, brother,” Ben warned. “When you stand up at the wedding as my best man, the love bug just might bite you.”
“I’ll be sure and wear plenty of bug spray underneath my tux,” Wes replied.
Chuckling, Ben started toward the door. “I’m off to lunch. Good luck on tomorrow’s remote. If I’m not in a meeting at that hour, I’ll try to drop by and watch you in action.”
“I’ll do my best not to let the company down.”
With his hand on the doorknob, Ben paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. “That’s one thing I never worry about.”
Wes might have lost the COO position to his twin, but he could never blame Ben for Gerald’s decision. No matter the rivalry between the two of them, he and Ben had the special bond of love that most twins shared. As far as Wes was concerned, their bond might get a bit frazzled at times, but it would never be broken.
“Thanks, Ben.”
Once his brother disappeared through the door, Wes left his desk and grabbed a heavy jacket from a small closet. Outside his office, he paused at his secretary’s desk. At eighty years old, Adelle should have been gray and prune-faced. Instead, her red, perfectly coifed hair was merely threaded with gray and her smooth skin could have been a poster for the Fortune Youth Serum. Wes figured most women Adelle’s age had given up working long ago. But Adelle showed very little sign of slowing down, much less heading for a rocking chair. Each day after work, she walked a mile, then stopped at her favorite bar for a gin and tonic.
At the moment, she was peering at him over the top of pink-framed reading glasses.
“I’m going down the street for lunch,” he informed her. “Is there anything on my agenda before one thirty?”
She glanced at a spiral-bound notepad lying on the left side of the desk, and Wes inwardly shook his head. The woman worked for one of the most technically advanced computer companies in the world, but she chose to use paper and pencil. Wes overlooked Adelle’s archaic work preferences, mainly because he liked her and couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. And as a secretary, she was priceless. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t care if she used a chisel and stone. All that mattered to him was that she always kept his office running smoothly.
“No. Nothing until two,” she declared. “And that meeting is with Mort. I’ve cut you thirty minutes for him. Is that enough time?”
Mort Conley was a member of the same developmental team that included Vivian Blair. The young guy was a guru at creating computer commands, but he lacked the creative imagination to create an innovate product on his own, like Vivian had with My Perfect Match. Still, Wes respected his enthusiasm and had agreed to look at a new app design related to sports fans.
“Should be plenty,” he answered. “And I’ll be back before two.”
Wes started to move away from the secretary’s desk, but she stopped him with another question.
“What did you do to Ms. Blair? She stalked out of your office like she wanted to murder somebody.”
It wasn’t unusual for Adelle to speak her mind with Wes. After all, she’d been his secretary for many years, and over that time they’d grown close. Still, it surprised him that she’d taken that much notice of Vivian Blair.
“I didn’t do anything to her. I simply told her to be prepared for the TV segment in the morning.”
Clearly unconvinced, the woman smirked at him. “Before today I’ve never seen as much as a frown on Vivian’s face. You must have said something mean—or threatened her in some way. What were you thinking? She’s one of the brightest workers on the developmental team! Along with that, she’s a sweet little soul who wouldn’t swat a bee even if it was stinging her.”
Vivian had hardly come off as a sweet little soul this morning when he’d voiced his personal feelings about her computer-generated idea of dating, Wes thought. To Adelle he said, “I wasn’t aware you knew Vivian so well.”
His secretary let out an unladylike snort. “You don’t have to have supper with a person every night to know her. Women have instincts about other women and plenty of other things. You ought to understand that, Mr. Robinson.”
Considering the vast difference in their ages, it seemed ridiculous for Adelle to call him “Mr. Robinson,” a fact he’d pointed out to her many times before. But she insisted that calling him Wes wouldn’t appear professional, so he’d given up trying to change her.
“Ah, yes. Women and their instincts,” he said drily. “They’re always right. I’m sure your late husband never argued with you.”
“Rudy always respected my opinion, God rest his soul. That’s why we celebrated fifty-five years of marriage before he passed on. You need to remember to respect Vivian’s opinion—whether you agree with it or not.”
Wes stared at her. “Have you been pressing your ear against the door of my office?”
“I hardly need to,” she retorted, then turned her attention back to the work on her desk.
As Wes made his way out of the Robinson Tech office building, he mentally shook his head. This morning, he’d heard all he wanted to hear about women and dating and love. Yet as he passed the area where Vivian Blair worked, he found himself wondering if she was still miffed at him. And wondering, too, if she ever went out to lunch with a man, or a romantic dinner in the evening.
While heading down the sidewalk to his favorite bar and grill, Wes very nearly smiled at that last notion. He couldn’t imagine Vivian Blair finding her perfect match in a dimly lit café with violin music playing sweetly in the background and soft candlelight flickering in her hazel eyes. No, she’d be looking for her perfect man in a stuffy computer lab.
* * *
The next morning before she left her apartment, Vivian gave her image one last glance in the mirror. Last night she’d agonized for hours over what to wear for the television segment. When Wes had suggested she not look so studious, her first instinct had been to go out and find a dress that showed plenty of cleavage and lots of leg, a pair of fishnet stockings and platform heels. If he wanted a ditzy bimbo to represent Robinson Tech, then she’d give him one. But in the end, she had too much pride to make such a fool of herself. She didn’t need to show Wes she
