Rules of Engagement. Carla Cassidy
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She didn’t miss the fact that he’d managed to deflect the conversation from anything personal back to the business at hand. “Then I guess we need to start with some information. When Emily Winters contacted me she was rather vague about the specifics.”
“She would have been vague on the phone,” he replied. “The program has been kept under the tightest of security.”
“It can’t be that tight if somebody got in,” she replied wryly.
He was obviously not amused by her observation. He shot her a dirty look and sat down in his chair behind his desk. “I started work on Utopia a little over two years ago. My idea was to come up with a financial program that would streamline cross-functional business processes, eliminate islands of automation and seamlessly integrate enterprise-wide and mission-critical data in real time.”
“I thought that was already what Wintersoft, Inc. was offering its clients.” She crossed her legs, aware that for the first time his features held an expression other than vague displeasure.
“It was—it is—but Utopia does it all more quickly and efficiently.”
As he told her about the features of the beta software program he’d been working on, his features came alive, making him impossibly handsome, making her remember a time when his face had lit up with life just for her. He got up from the desk, pacing as he spoke.
“If time is of the essence, then I guess we should get to work,” she said when he’d finished.
There were a million questions she wanted to ask him and none of them had to do with the program he’d been working on. She wanted to know if he still buttered his toast with the precision of a surgeon. She wondered if his favorite color was still blue, if he was still driven by demons she’d never quite understood.
She wanted to know if he had found happiness. If he had a loving wife and maybe a little boy or girl waiting for him at home.
More than anything, she wondered if he ever thought of her and those wonderful, crazy, intense days and nights they had spent together.
She had a feeling the answer was no. She’d always figured that for Nate she had been like a new computer game, and when he realized he couldn’t program her he’d closed the file and had never opened it again.
“I just want you to know up front, I’m not accustomed to working with anyone. I’m not used to sharing my space.” For the first time since she had arrived, his gaze locked with hers. Emanating from his green eyes was a coolness that blew through her like a wintry wind.
She forced a carefree grin. “Then get used to it, sweetheart, because I’m going to be in your space and in your face until we get this problem solved.”
She stood, straightened her sweater and plopped down in the biggest, most comfortable chair at the desk, the one he had just vacated.
Chapter Two
He couldn’t stand her. At that moment he couldn’t think of what on earth had possessed him years ago to believe himself in love with her.
As she wiggled into his leather chair, he wondered if she’d worn the blue sweater on purpose, if she’d remembered that he’d once told her his favorite color was blue.
The sweater was one of those fuzzy things and looked as if it would be soft to the touch. He also couldn’t help but notice that the sweater emphasized the thrust of her full breasts.
The more he thought about it, the more he was sure she’d worn the sweater on purpose, just to irritate him.
“You’re in my chair,” he said crisply.
“Does it matter? There are two chairs and two computers.” She looked up at him innocently.
“Yes, it does matter. I need to be on my own computer. There are things on it I need to work on that you won’t be able to access, things that have nothing to do with the Utopia program.”
“Oh, okay.” She got out of his chair and sat in the one next to his.
Again settled in his own chair, he couldn’t help but smell her. It was the same way she’d smelled years ago—a blend like sunshine and citrus, fresh and clean and just a bit tangy.
He remembered watching her one morning as she spritzed herself with the scent, amazed to see her spray the perfume not only in the hollow of her throat and behind her ears, but also behind her knees. She’d explained to him that fragrance always drifts upward, thus the spray behind the knees.
“Are we going to work or are you just going to sit there with a half smile on your face?” she asked.
He slammed back to the present. If there’d been a half smile on his face, it disappeared into a frown of irritation.
He was being punished. He wasn’t sure why, or what he had done to spit at the Fates, but they were obviously angry with him. That’s why they had sent Kat back into his life.
“We’re going to work,” he snapped. He opened his top drawer, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.
“You signed all the confidentiality agreements?” he asked.
She nodded. “They’ve been signed, sealed and delivered.”
“This is your password to gain entry into the program. Memorize it and, whatever you do, don’t share it with anyone else.”
“Oh rats, I had planned to meet some Boston boy babe tonight and whisper my password into his ear.”
“I don’t find you amusing in the least.” He slammed his drawer shut.
“Ah, then I guess it’s good that I find myself amusing enough for both of us.” The smile on her face disappeared and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a bubbleheaded bimbo, Nate. I know the importance of keeping a password secure.”
A flush worked itself up his neck. She was right. He’d been condescending. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Your gracious apology is accepted,” she replied. She looked at the password, a combination of numbers and symbols, then handed it back to him and turned on the monitor in front of her. “Now, what I need to do is take some time to familiarize myself with the system before I take a look at your program.”
He nodded and focused his attention on his own monitor. He could certainly occupy his time while she became acquainted with the particular software they used.
For a few minutes there was silence. If not for the tantalizing scent of her, he could almost forget she sat next to him.
Almost.
He found himself casting surreptitious glances her way, comparing the way she looked now to the way she had looked five years ago when he’d been so besotted with her. Five years ago they had both been twenty-six years old. She’d changed little in the passing years.
Her hair was still