her questions, but once they sank in, his reaction was to burst out laughing.
“Touché, Vivian. I expect I deserved that.”
“I expect you did,” she said flatly, then turned and left the room.
As Wes watched the door close behind her, he realized this was the first time in days that he’d laughed about anything. Strange, he thought, that a brainy employee had been the one to put a smile on his face.
Shaking his head with wry disbelief, he turned his chair back to the desk and reached for a stack of reports.
* * *
By the time Vivian returned to her work cubicle, she felt certain that steam was shooting from her ears. Before today, she’d never allowed herself to think of Wes Robinson as anything other than her boss. She’d kept herself immune to his dark good looks. A rather easy task, given the fact that he was so far out of her league, she needed a telescope to see him. But their meeting this morning had definitely given her a full view of the man. And what she’d seen she certainly disliked.
“Hey, Viv, ready for lunch?”
Pressing fingertips to the middle of her puckered forehead, she looked over her shoulder to see George Townsend standing at the entrance of her work cubicle. In his early fifties, he was a tall, burly man with red hair and a thick beard to match. Other than a set of elderly parents who lived more than a thousand miles away, he had no family. Instead, he seemed content to let his work be his family. Most everyone in the developmental department considered George a social recluse. Except Vivian.
During the years they’d worked together, she’d grown close to George. Now she considered him as much of a brother as she did a coworker. And she was thankful for their friendship. In her opinion, the man was not only a computer genius but also a kind human being. He didn’t care about her appearance. Nor was he interested in the size of her apartment or bank account.
“Is it that time already? I’m not really hungry yet.” Actually, the way she felt at the moment, she didn’t think she’d be able to stomach any kind of food for the remainder of the day. Thoughts of Wes Robinson’s smart-mouthed remarks were still making her blood boil.
“It’s nearly twelve,” he said with a frown, then added temptingly, “and I brought enough dewberry cobbler for the both of us, too.”
Sighing, she put down her pencil and rose to her feet. For George’s sake, she’d do her best to have lunch and try to appear normal.
“Okay,” she told him. “Let me log out and we’ll go.”
Once she left her desk, the two of them walked through the work area until they reached a fair-sized break room equipped with a row of cabinets, refrigerator, microwave, hot plate and coffee machine.
Even though it was lunchtime, only a handful of people were sitting at the long utility tables. Since Robinson Tech was located in downtown Austin, most of the employees who worked in Vivian’s department went out to lunch. There were several good eating places within walking distance and they all strived to give quick service to the workers on a limited time schedule. But usually Vivian chose to bring her own lunch and remain in the building.
“Looks like most of your friends are out today,” George said as the two of them took seats across from each other. “Guess they don’t mind walking in the cold.”
Vivian didn’t mind the cold, either. But she did mind sitting at a table with a group of giggling women with little more on their minds than the latest hairdo, a nail salon or a man.
“The wind was very cold this morning,” she agreed. “I was already here at the building before the heater in my car ever got warm.”
As she’d readied herself for work this morning, she’d also dressed more warmly in dark gray slacks and dress boots. The gray cardigan she’d pulled over her white shirt had looked perfectly appropriate to her, but now, as she glanced down at herself, she was doubting her fashion choices.
Damn Wes Robinson! What did he know about women and sex and romance, anyway?
Probably a whole lot more than you do, Vivian. It’s been weeks since you’ve been on a date, and that evening turned out to be as exciting as watching a caterpillar slowly climb a blade of green grass.
“Well, Mr. Robinson’s office must have been plenty warm,” George commented between bites of sandwich. “You looked pretty hot when you got back to your desk.”
Vivian shot her friend an annoyed look. “You noticed?”
He smiled. “I just happened to look up. Did anything go wrong with the meeting?”
She let out a heavy breath. “I just don’t agree with some of the man’s ideas, that’s all. And frankly, I’ll be glad when the introduction of My Perfect Match is over and done with. I’m a computer developer, George. I don’t work in advertising.”
“But you are going to do the TV spot in the morning, aren’t you?”
The smirk on her face revealed exactly how she felt about being on a national television show that pulled in millions of viewers each morning. “I have no choice. Wes—I mean, Mr. Robinson—wants me to explain how the app works.”
“Well, it is your brainchild,” George reasoned.
Reaching across the table, she gave his hand a friendly pat. “I could’ve never created the app without your help, George. You’re the wizard here. As far as I’m concerned, you can explain how the thing works far better than I.”
He chuckled. “Only the technical parts. All those questions and what they’re supposed to do for the person answering them—well, that’s more your line.”
Vivian had stood in line for nearly ten minutes this morning at Garcia’s Deli just to get one of Mr. Garcia’s delicious pork sandwiches called the Cuban Cigar, but now each bite she took seemed to stick at the top of her throat.
Shaking her head, she said, “Not really. Those questions were compiled by a set of psychologists who are experts in human relationships. But I do believe in them. And you should, too, George. Otherwise, our little brainchild will be a bust.”
And after the way she’d defended the new app to her cynical boss, seeing it fall flat would just about kill her.
He shrugged one thick shoulder. “I’m not worried. We’ve developed some stinkers before and survived. Not everything we create is going to be a huge success.”
No. In this age of fast-moving technology, it was hard to predict what the public would spend its hard-earned money on. Yet Vivian knew first-hand that being lonely was a painful thing. Her many failures at finding true love were the main reason she’d come up with My Perfect Match. At the age of twenty-eight, she would be silly to consider herself an old maid, yet she was growing tired of playing the dating game and falling short of having any sort of meaningful relationship to show for it. Her own frustration led her to believe there were plenty of lonely people out there who’d be willing to give the app a try.
“That’s true. But I’ve really stuck my neck on the chopping block for this project. More than anything, I want it to be a huge success. That’s why I can’t falter in the interview tomorrow.”
George’s
