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after they broke up. It had taken some time to get comfortable with stepping out of her shell, but sheā€™d faked it until she made it. Her personal mission statement had become live first, think later, and never say ā€œif only.ā€

The night before had been the perfect addition to her memories. Sexy guy who just happened to be an idol of hers, tons of fun, and wowā€¦some sizzling mental souvenirs. The only regret she hadā€”and she didnā€™t usually do regretsā€”was that she hadnā€™t been more up front about who she was. Sheā€™d assumed he knew, but maybe she should have made sure.

She smoothed out the polo shirt with her company logo on it, grabbed her exhibitorā€™s badge for the trade show and her purse, and left her hotel room behind her. Time to see more of Vegas, even if a lot of her view would be from the confines of a trade show booth.

It was her first time in the city of lights and though she was there for business, she was going to take every free chance she could to at least see the part of the strip their hotel and the convention center were on. When sheā€™d wandered the shops the day before at Caesarā€™s Palace, sheā€™d spotted the perfect place for breakfast. Now it could also provide a few more minutes for her to drift in the memories of last night. She and Jared had had undeniable chemistry on stage, and he was bandwidth-choking hot.

Her body flushed at the memories. Sheā€™d probably never do something like that again, which was all the more reason to relish the images seared in her mind.

The cafe looked like most sheā€™d seen in her lifeā€”treats under glass, the smell of coffee in the air, and eclectic furniture. But it was nestled in the middle of a hotel and that made it awesome as far as she was concerned.

ā€œMichaela.ā€ The staccato word cut through all the noise, like Styrofoam on Styrofoam. She hated her real name, and she only knew one person who refused to call her anything else. He insisted it was professional. Playtimeā€™s over. Bossmanā€™s in town.

She pasted on a smile and turned toward Hayden. He was attractive and as clean cut as sheā€™d ever seen a person. Close-cropped, dark blond hair, broad shoulders, and doing a decent job of hiding he was almost forty. And his suit ensured heā€™d blend in with all the retail store owners they were about to mingle withā€”beige, pressed, and plain.

He was the senior vice president of the team she worked for. She couldnā€™t imagine wanting to climb that high on the corporate ladder. Boring. His father owned NetSafe Systems, a company built on creating everything digital one could imagine for retail stores. Websites, shopping carts, point of sale software. Their group offered ethical hacks to companies with website security concerns.

Her job specificallyā€”and the best job ever, in her opinionā€”was to try from every angle possible to break into a companyā€™s website or network, and then tell them how to keep people like her from doing it again.

Which was the only reason she was okay with being reminded regularly to put on a polite face for the public. This was her dream job, and NSS was one of the two top firms in the country. Jaredā€™s was the other. Okay, so it wasnā€™t his company, but stillā€¦ Heat shimmered through her as more memories and fantasies teased her.

She would have liked a few more minutes alone with her thoughts, but she couldnā€™t completely brush off her boss. Especially on a business trip. She grabbed her food and crossed the short distance to the table heā€™d secured.

ā€œI hope you werenā€™t too bored last night,ā€ he asked as he toed out a spare chair for her.

She dropped into the wooden seat. Sometimes it felt like he asked too many questions, but most of the time she was pretty sure he was just making small talk. Not that the details of her night before mattered in the grand scope of work. She hadnā€™t missed anything, and she was awake and alert this morning. Besides, the question reminded her things had ended much better than sheā€™d expected. ā€œI kept myself occupied.ā€

More memories flashed through her head. Jaredā€™s hands on her legs, roughly shoving her skirt up. Heat flooded her skin and she tucked the pleasant thoughts aside before she could fall into them.

 ā€œGlad to hear it.ā€

He riffled through the laptop bag resting next to his leg and pulled out a magazine. A whisper of relief flitted through her. Small talk was fine most days, but this morning she had other things on her mind.

All her other thoughts evaporated when she saw his reading material. Staring back at her from the cover were Jared and his two friends from the bar, the headline proclaiming them the corporate dream team that was Skriddie Bust Media.

She couldnā€™t pull her attention from the photo. The three had made their company a name. Vivian Graf was director of operations, Tate Foster was director of sales, and Jared Tippins rounded out the trio as director of technology. Her cheeks warmed, and a pleasant tingle crept through her. Sheā€™d really hooked up with him.

ā€œHey.ā€ Hayden had set down the magazine and was staring at her. ā€œEarth to Michaela. Did you just check out?ā€

ā€œIā€™m good.ā€ She swallowed, not able to push away the distracting fantasies tripping through her thoughts.

Sheā€™d heard stories in collegeā€”and afterā€”of the legend that was Jared. A decade ago, heā€™d been her ageā€”twenty three, when heā€™d built one of the biggest, baddest-ass security systems corporate America had ever seen. Heā€™d been some kind of genius savant back in his day, before heā€™d traded it all for a suit and an impressive title.

Hayden looked between her and the picture, and his eyebrows rose. ā€œIā€™ll do you a favor right now, not as your boss, but as a friend. Heā€™s not your type, Michaela. Trust me. He likes his women with a digital voice and a square shell.ā€

A cloud drifted across the vivid images painted across her thoughts. There was that. According to Hayden, Jared was the industryā€™s version of a monkā€”more interested in machines than dating. In fact, those were frequently the exact words Hayden used to describe him. Except, that didnā€™t mesh with the man sheā€™d met the night before. ā€œYouā€™re exaggerating.ā€

He set the magazine down and locked a steady gaze on her. ā€œIt doesnā€™t matter if I am or not. Iā€™ll remind you once because Iā€™d hate to see you destroy your career before it even startsā€”keep your distance from these guys.ā€

She had a list of things that irritated Hayden, but she hadnā€™t ever expected to have to add ā€œDonā€™t sleep with Jared Tippinsā€ to it. She tried to be subtle about inhaling deeply. It didnā€™t get rid of the memories, but it did mute her bodyā€™s reaction. She wouldnā€™t blurt out sheā€™d already crossed that line, but couldnā€™t hide all of her irritation at his professional advice. ā€œIā€™m pretty sure my contract doesnā€™t delve into who I can and canā€™t talk to.ā€

ā€œDoes conflict of interest mean anything to you?ā€

Oh. That. Hayden had made it clear what he thought of corporate espionage, or any violation, real or perceived, of the non-disclosure agreement all employees signed. In fact, heā€™d spelled it out for her during the later stages of her interview. After heā€™d fired the guy whoā€™d made hacking the Skriddie systems network a part of her technology test even though the interviewer told her she was still on NSS systems.

Hayden had reiterated his, and the companyā€™s, zero tolerance policy about the ethics of spying on the competition. Heā€™d also driven home that Skriddie would probably demand her head when they found out sheā€™d committed such a serious transgression as breaching their security just to get a job, unless he smoothed things over first.

She turned her attention to her breakfast, keeping her tone casual. ā€œYou want a dictionary definition of each word?ā€

ā€œYou kill me sometimes, you know? Slay me dead.ā€ He pointed at the magazine cover. ā€œLook, Iā€™m not trying to be a wet blanket. This is standard stuff.ā€ Concern edged his kind tone. ā€œThey were furious when I told them what you did, and steering clear of them is going to make your life less stressful. I just want you to avoid any unpleasant situations.ā€

She frowned at the reminder she might have pissed off someone at Skriddie and gave her full attention to her food. Six months, and sheā€™d almost managed to put the entire thing out of her mind. Hoped the situation might just evaporate. Talk about a buzzkill. ā€œI get it. Thanks.ā€

ā€œAre you ready for the panel this morning?ā€

Good. A neutral topic. Dull as hell, but neutral. ā€œIā€™m set.ā€ She redirected her thoughts to work-related subjects. ā€œI pulled anything that could be considered interestingā€”sorry, proprietaryā€”from the slides.ā€

An unpleasant thought joined Haydenā€™s warning. If Jared had known who she was last night, would he have had a different reaction to her? What if he was still angry about what sheā€™d done?

Professional people didnā€™t hold grudges like that, right? He was way too mature to do something like resent her just because sheā€™d found a teeny, tinyā€¦okay, fairly significant hole in their security when she wasnā€™t even supposed to be on their network. Besides, at least sheā€™d found it before someone else. And Hayden had made sure they knew about it. There should be some forgiveness for that, right?

Still, conflict of interest. Not that it was Haydenā€™sā€”or anyone elseā€™sā€”business who she did or didnā€™t sleep with.

Images and sensations teased back in response to her mental question. Jaredā€™s breath on her skin, his teeth digging into her shoulder, his hands gripping her hips. No regrets. She just had to keep it quiet.

Chapter Five

Jaredā€™s sneakers thwapped against the rubber of the treadmill, the sound filling the hotel gym with a rhythmic pulse. The beat echoed in his skull and with images of the night before. Heā€™d had enough impulsiveness to last him the next year, but it had been worth it.

The sensations from the bar still teased him. Her heady scent, the rainbow of sounds sheā€™d made, and the carefree attitude always dancing behind her eyes.

ā€œEver stop to wonder why youā€™re the only person in here at seven a.m.?ā€ Tateā€™s jab shattered Jaredā€™s rambling thoughts.

ā€œNope. Never even considered it.ā€ He couldnā€™t help the tiny smile that slipped out. He owed Tate a thank you for ditching him the night before. Or maybe ā€œgiving him some roomā€ was a more appropriate way to put it. He continued runningā€”no reason to interrupt his daily routineā€”but did set the speed slower so he could talk and jog at the same time.

ā€œOf course not.ā€ Tate used a nearby wall for support and took a long swallow from his oversized coffee. ā€œThen youā€™d have to admit your routine is boring and predictable.ā€

ā€œPredictable and consistent,ā€ Jared corrected him. ā€œUnlike, oh, say, abandoning your buddy in a bar after you suggested we drink all night.ā€

Tate snorted. ā€œRight. Because youā€™re so torn up about that.ā€

Jared couldnā€™t suppress his grin. The expression had to be a dead giveaway about what happened. ā€œIf youā€™d rather have hit up the tables, you should have said so before we left.ā€

ā€œI have to do something to make sure they give me the room again next trip.ā€

Jared doubted that. For as much money as Tate dropped on high-roller tables every time they were in town, he was pretty sure the guy had a lifetimeā€™s worth of comp in the luxury suites. Once upon a time, the way Tate went through his fatherā€™s money had been a sore spot between them. Now that Jared had his own cashā€”even though he still couldnā€™t justify twenty-five hundred dollars a hand for pokerā€”it didnā€™t faze him the same way. ā€œSo really, you should be thanking me.ā€

Tate laughed. ā€œI donā€™t think so. And for the record, if Iā€™d known youā€™d get that kind of response, Iā€™d have gone up there myself. Next time, youā€™re forcing me onto stage and playing wingman.ā€

ā€œIā€™ve never stopped you in the past.ā€

ā€œWhatever. Speaking of your velvet-voiced siren, did she spill anything good? It would serve Hayden right after the bullshit heā€™s already pulling today. I ran into him in the lobby, and he spent fifteen minutes trying to get me to slip

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