That Sexy Stranger Read online

  Manop walks by on his way from the break room to his workstation and says hi. He sends money to his elderly grandmother in Bangkok, which earns him extra sweetheart points in my book.

  “Working on Bug Sixty-Seven?” he asks, offering an open bag of sour gummy worms. Told ya he was a sweetheart.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Eighty. I’m almost done. How was San Mateo?”

  “It was okay.” I clamp down on a green gummy worm’s head and pull until it snaps off. “Why?”

  “I heard there may be a lateral move available. To transfer there, I mean.”

  “You want to?”

  He tilts his head back and forth. “Not sure.”

  “The traffic sucks, and the cost of living’s horrendous.”

  “I know, but it’s closer to home.”

  I swallow the gummy. “You might like it, but you should talk to Tim. I think it’s going to be up to him and Joe Choi.” Joe’s out in San Mateo. He’s picky, but nice, and I respect the hell out of the man. Besides—not that it matters to Manop—Joe’s a hottie. I’ve seen more than one female worker at the West Coast office gazing longingly at him. Sadly, he seems a hundred percent oblivious…or maybe just doesn’t care.

  Manop nods. “But other than that, it’s good there?”

  “Yeah. The teams out there are fantastic. And the weather’s nice.”

  “Can’t be worse than here. It’s so cold in Virginia.”

  Poor guy. Other than summertime, it’s always colder here than in Bangkok. Not that the Bay Area is hot, exactly, but it doesn’t have winters like Virginia.

  “So this is where you work. Nice.”

  I stiffen at the familiar voice. Unforgettable, actually—not because I find it hot, sexy, sensual, and clit-tingling, oh no—but because I can never, ever forget the horrible humiliation from two nights ago.

  And if I cling to that, I should be able to ignore the warm flush spreading through my chest and face. Or at least blame it on rampant mortification.

  Swiveling my chair, I face Luke. He’s in dark charcoal slacks and a blue dress shirt that turns his eyes wintry. The top two buttons are undone, and there’s no tie. Definitely not a job interview outfit.

  But it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing. He’s hot. I finally accept the fact. If I can admit Joe’s hot, I can do the same for Luke, because I’m honest and fair like that.

  Still, it doesn’t mean anything. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Told you I’d stop by.”

  “To return my badge.” I point at the lanyard hanging around my neck in case he forgot. “Besides, David’s not here.”

  “I swung by to see Alexandra.”

  He knows her, too? “Did you see her?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Great! So you can go now.”

  Dismissing him, I turn to my workstation. But my coworkers are looking over. It’s not every day I get a visitor. Actually…none of us get visitors during work hours. Even the gentlemanly Manop isn’t moving…until I pointedly clear my throat. Then he starts a bit and walks off toward his desk. Good man.

  Sadly, Luke’s more obtuse. He stays, as immobile as a boulder.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure what business we have with each other,” I say, my gaze firmly on the monitor. I think I’m almost done with this bug. Compile, test, then voilà, I can move on to the next item on my list.

  “Your employee badge isn’t the only thing you dropped.”

  Yeah, right. I’ve said my piece, and I’m not engaging anymore. Engaging is encouraging.

  If I treat him like he’s invisible, he’ll get the hint. Owen from eighth grade certainly did…after about two months. Let’s hope Luke is more astute than a thirteen-year-old boy in the throes of hormonal flux.

  Across the floor, the elevator dings and someone says, “Hi, Tim.”

  “There was this,” Luke says.

  Something hot pink and about four inches long falls on my desk, almost hitting my mouse. I jump to my feet, then stare at the object with my jaw unhinged. Its tip is pointed without being sharp, and the bulbous bubble shaft portion is substantial enough without being scary.

  Once my brain registers what the item is, my face heats until the tips of my ears are burning. I launch myself at it, wrapping my hand around it, but it’s too big to hide. And all my desk drawers are locked. Crap!

  “Hey, Sammi,” calls Tim. “I need to talk to you about the sandbox migration this weekend.” His voice is getting closer.

  Oh my God! In sheer panic, I let go and fall on it with my torso as though it’s a grenade. It’s a pretty undignified position—an inverse L on my desk—but when your choices are a gunshot to the head or choking down a mouthful of swine filth, you really don’t have much of an option.

  My boss comes around the corner. “Hey, Tim,” I mumble, my left cheek on the desk. “Go ahead.”

  “Um…are you okay?” he asks, then notices Luke. “Hi.”

  “Hi. Luke Madison.”

  “Oh. I heard.” They shake hands. “Let me know if you have any questions in the next four weeks.”

  Questions? Next four weeks?

  Tim turns to me. “Anyway, about the migration…”

  “Yeah?”

  He frowns. “Can you sit straight and pull up the migration doc on your computer?”

  “I actually can’t. I, uh, tweaked something in my back.”

  Tim looks at me dubiously, and I cringe inwardly at my crappy lie. What twenty-two-year-old throws her back out in an office? If it weren’t for Luke’s distracting presence, I would’ve come up with a more convincing story. No—if Luke hadn’t shown up, none of this would’ve happened because there wouldn’t be a freakin’ anal plug on my desk. So this is all on him.

  Luke is watching me, his lips twitching. Then he smiles at Tim. “It’s really my fault. I startled her, and…” He grins innocently with a small shrug. How can he manage that? It’s so unfair.

  “Oh.”

  Luke lifts me up and back into my chair, his hands much stronger than I expected, and at the same time sits on the anal plug so fast I doubt anybody notices what’s underneath his butt. “Man, I’m tired after the tour. Don’t mind me,” he says.

  Exhaling shakily, I turn to my computer…although I don’t trust Luke to not get up and embarrass the shit out of me because I finally understand he isn’t merely Darth Vader. He’s a freakin’ Sith Lord.

  Tim starts talking, and I do my best to pay attention because my boss hates repeating himself. But it isn’t easy with Luke right next to me, his thigh only half an inch from my mouse pad.

  Then and there, I make a vow.

  I’m going to murder the bastard, if it’s the last thing I do. I don’t even have to hurry. I have four weeks.

  Chapter Seven

  After Tim’s finished, he goes to another developer to talk about some new features. Luke gives me a small smile. “That went well.”

  As well as sudden erectile dysfunction in the middle of sex…

  Remember to ignore him.

  I pull out my desk drawer key and unlock the entire cabinet. Then I shove Luke more roughly than necessary. As he shifts, the offending pink plug falls to the floor. I snatch it and toss it into my laptop bag in the bottom drawer. I leave the top two drawers unlocked just in case. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

  I’ll just jump out the window.

  “When’s your lunch break?” he asks.

  When you’re not around. I click my mouse a few times, pulling up the master list of updates to be made. The spec’s fairly thorough, but then, Tim himself oversaw it.

  “Lunch?” Luke prompts again.

  “I don’t eat lunch,” I say, barely looking at him because he’s distracting. And it isn’t because he’s good-looking. It’s something else I haven’t quite figured out yet. I’m sure it’ll come to me soon enough, especially when I’m not actively thinking about it. I usually get my best inspirations when I’m about to fall a
sleep. Or running. “I work straight through.” That’s a lie, unless we’re having a major update and I’m short on time.

  He looks amused. “Okay.” Then he gets up and leaves.

  I let out a soft breath. Finally! I was afraid he’d stick around. On the other hand, why would he when he’s already achieved the goal of humiliating me for a second time?

  My face is still warm as I repair one bug after another. The debugging process is more rewarding if you imagine they’re big critters you have to blow up. Sort of like the monsters from Starship Troopers. That was a masterpiece of foul critters. Evil should be ugly and screechy and make lots of annoying noises.

  Why couldn’t ThAssIMWa be a giant spider alien from Jupiter, with lots of hair and eight hundred red, beady eyes for me to stab? Evil should look the part.

  Pushing him out of my mind, I focus on getting caught up because I have lots of stuff to finish, although Tim doesn’t give us tons of work if we’re traveling to the West Coast office. Unlike some assholes I know, he’s a big believer in managing his people in such a way that they don’t burn out. It’s one of the many reasons the app dev people love working for him.

  Then there’s the fact that he never berates or belittles anyone. His criticisms are all valid, and only delivered when needed. He uses his lethally sharp tongue simply to make jokes, which we all find hilarious because they’re never aimed at anybody who can’t handle it. And he praises his team members profusely and publicly for every milestone achieved. I’m sure it’s a big mystery to HR, who can’t fathom how he can be so cutting at times but still loved by everyone on his team.

  Half an hour before lunch, I text my friends.

  –Sammi: Wanna eat in about 30?

  –Michelle: Can’t. Meeting.

  –Jan: Got a date with Matt.

  I can’t help but feel my lips twitch with amusement and happiness for my best friend. Jan’s totally cock-whipped for Matt, which is okay because he’s legit crazy about her too. But I’m not going to miss this chance to rib her a little.

  –Sammi: Girl, it hasn’t even been five hours since you last saw him.

  She spent the night at his place.

  –Jan: Yeah, but we have diversity training tonight, remember?

  I scoff.

  –Sammi: Which we’re doing tonight because he has to work late.

  –Jan: Hello? Two birds? One stone?

  –Sammi: That’s a dumb saying. Better to kill two bugs with one stone.

  –Michelle: Is Tim abusing you?

  She knows the app dev team’s been working on bug fixes.

  –Sammi: Don’t be so HR.

  Which is sort of unfair of me to say, because Michelle actually does work in HR and can’t help herself. She has to be HR, even though I bet she secretly wants to be in app dev. Too bad she can’t code.

  Michelle sends me an eye-roll emoji.

  –Sammi: Well, hey. Don’t worry about me, oh Abandoners of Friends in Hunger. I’ll be fine.

  –Michelle: LOL.

  –Jan: If and when you’re really hungry, I’ll bring you food, haha.

  –Sammi: You mean your and Matt’s leftovers? Thanks, but I’ll fend for myself. Tonight’s still Thai?

  –Michelle: Yeah. I’ll text you what I want after lunch.

  –Jan: Ditto.

  –Sammi: Cool.

  I grab my purse and go to the downstairs cafeteria for a quick bite. Contrary to my texts, I don’t really mind eating alone. It gives me some quiet time. Well. As quiet as I can manage.

  Our cafeteria is just as nice as the break rooms, although nothing here is free. It’s operated by a third-party vendor with a contract. But the place is clean, airy, and sizable enough, with plenty of tables and two long counters that have charging stations.

  The food is basic—sandwiches, soups, and salads—but tasty, and the service is fast and efficient. Plus, the coffee and tea selection is excellent. I occasionally splurge on one of their fancier concoctions because they’re reasonably priced.

  Taking a seat at a counter, I start wolfing down my grilled cheese sandwich and chips, washing them down with an iced caramel mocha. As I systematically destroy my lunch, I review the rest of the items on my list. I’ll have to leave by five to make our dinner, so I’ll probably need to do an extra hour of work at home. Not too bad.

  I check my email, but I don’t see the new marketing PowerPoint. I text Erin.

  –Sammi: Heard from Tim that I’m supposed to get a marketing PowerPoint on the new features for the next major rollout. When can I expect it?

  –Erin: Hi. Before three, I hope? I’m waiting on David.

  At the mention of my unrequited love, I sigh. I hate it that he’s so far away…and free. What if somebody’s already snatched him up?

  On the other hand, Michelle said that any immediate relationship was going to be a rebound… And as annoying as it is to admit, she’s usually right about this sort of thing. More than me, anyway.

  –Erin: He’s flying in tonight. Red eye.

  I know about the red eye and the flight number, but she doesn’t know I know. Of course, most people don’t know I have such details about David, only Jan and Michelle. Stalking isn’t stalking if you do it too openly.

  I switch to my Instagram and Facebook apps to check what David’s been up to. Bet he’s been moping around without me to cheer him up. As wise as Michelle is about relationships, I can’t help but wonder if David’s beyond stuff like rebounds. I mean…it’s David. He’s named after a dude who killed some fugly giant with a pebble. That’s got to be a sign, right?

  So let’s see… Since last night, he’s posted a crazy cat GIF, a meme making fun of politics in D.C., a picture of himself and some woma—

  What the hell?

  My pulse spikes as I stare at the photo, and I feel like there’s steam hissing out of my ears. How dare she! What she did is akin to some asshole stealing my parking spot when I’ve been patiently waiting with my blinker on. Or cutting in line at a grocery store before a massive blizzard. Didn’t anybody teach her anything?

  I glare at the photo. I don’t know who she is, and he didn’t tag her. It couldn’t have been business; she’s in a casual one-piece red dress that fits her like cling wrap. I can even see the faint outline of her nipples. Damn it. Is it a hooker he got for his rebound?

  Do people even post pictures of their hookers on social media?

  Yes, I decide bitterly. What does David have to hide? He’s officially single. Even his Facebook relationship status says so.

  I zoom in on her. It’s appalling of me to notice, but she’s pretty, with cornflower-blue eyes and platinum hair. And her breasts are at least a C, unlike mine, which are squarely an A. I could maybe manage a B if I stuff the cups with a little tissue paper. Argh.

  I inhale deeply. All is not lost. There are things in my favor. For one, she’s a rebound girl, which means he’s going to dump her soon enough. (Michelle better be right.) And although I can’t see for sure—she’s facing the camera—I probably have a better ass. Finally, she’s wearing red. David’s favorite is black. He said so four years ago at UVA when we first met.

  “Black looks chic on you.”

  I almost swooned. “Really?”

  “Yup. And it’s my favorite color too.”

  See? True love. Well, almost if it weren’t for TWIMWa—That Woman In My Way, a.k.a. David’s ex, who was his girlfriend back then. She was sticking to him like a particularly unattractive piece of chewed bubblegum to a beautiful Manolo when we had that conversation.

  I dig my teeth into my upper lip. I’m not one of those people who are indecisive about what they want. When you grow up with three older brothers who give you zero breaks for being a girl, you realize you can’t take your time about things.

  For example, if I took more than a second to decide if I wanted the last meatball in the serving bowl, it was gone, snatched up by Nathan, Rob or Stan. And just thinking that I wanted something wasn’t enough. I had to be
the first to make the move, pierce the prize with my fork, and shove it into my mouth before anybody else.

  And I’ve always lived my life that way—decide what I want, then go for it with everything I’ve got. No deviations from the path I set. And so far, it’s worked pretty well for me.

  Graduate from UVA with honors? Check.

  Become an app developer? Check.

  Get a job at Sweet Darlings Inc.? Check.

  Now I want David, and it isn’t working out the way I planned. It’s infuriating because I was so careful to do all my research to ensure perfect compatibility. All I needed to do was wait for him to be single. This rebound business never even entered my mind. The damned woman in red wasn’t a factor.

  Regardless, I have to figure out when he’s going to be receptive. Otherwise I can’t be ready to make my move. When he’s finally free of his ex’s influence, I want him to lift his head and see me. And then instantly fall in love.

  A fairytale beginning to us.

  Somebody sits down next to me, but I don’t pay much attention as I take another giant bite out of my sandwich. I have bigger fish to fry, like how David and I should start our fairytale life. It’s entirely possible for me to swing by the marketing department on a daily basis. After all, I have the perfect excuse: the PowerPoint presentation. David’s too sweet not to take some time to chat if I ask him some intelligent questions about it. I’ve even volunteered to write the functional and technical specs for the features he wants…even though I’d rather clean every toilet in the Sweet Darlings headquarters. The specs are boring, and require tons of ongoing updates and reviews.

  But if the unpleasant task means more time with David…hey. True love requires some sacrifice. Rapunzel gave up on professional hair salons. Cinderella had to live with mice, albeit cute ones. Snow White had to eat a poisoned apple.

  The least I can do is write some func and tech specs. Once David and I are together, I can gracefully hand the task off to one of the interns. We have lots of those, all of them eager to please.

  “Why are you checking out a girl?”

  I instantly choke. And it’s not pretty, because my mouth’s full of food.

  I’m going to kill Luke. But first things first. I can’t kill him if I’m dead.