by Carol Caiton
How many damned women was the system going to match him with like this? It wasn't as though he was an easy man to satisfy. He was rich as Croesus, demanding as hell, and accustomed to having his own way. It was beyond him to understand how the linking system could have paired him up once already with a status-2 blue, never mind twice.
The phone on the other end was answered after the first ring. "This is Holly. What can I do for you Simon?"
Courteous and prompt. He liked Holly. She had a natural talent with computers that had been wasted on her job as a receptionist. Recognizing that talent, it had been Michael who suggested she might be the person to fill his shoes after he married Rachel. He'd then spent several weeks teaching her the ropes. Afterward, however, he hadn't been so certain of his replacement and had expressed some hesitancy to his initial endorsement.
They were all aware of the fact that Holly had no formal education or job experience with regard to programming. She held a college degree in a different field altogether which was cause enough for hesitation. But Michael's reservations were based on the fact that Holly had no personal stake in the company. As someone with direct access to the pulsing heartbeat of RUSH, she had no deep-seated reason to preserve the integrity of the system and that made her a wild card.
From another standpoint though, he didn't feel the same reservation with regard to the attorneys they'd interviewed to replace Mason. Unable to put his finger on anything more specific, he chalked it up to handing over the reins of something that had been his personal domain. But he'd recommended a probationary period of ninety days, as though Holly was a new employee instead of a transfer.
To date, Simon felt she'd proven herself. She was able to keep up with the daily demands of running the show, and those demands were constant and varied. It was now the general consensus that moving her into Michael's position had been a good decision. Like Michael, she all but breathed whatever gibberish language it was that computer junkies thrived on. She'd learned her way around his programs, knew how to decipher the chicken-scratch in the manuals he'd left behind, and equally as important, she was active in the system. That's what RUSH was about—filling as many employment positions as possible with women who wanted to participate. Holly was exactly the type of woman RUSH needed. There were too many who worked here but remained dormant in the system, never activating their files.
"Holly, if you have a minute, would you come to my office?"
"Yes. I'll be right there."
No hesitation. Eager to please. He liked that too. She was a pretty woman, her short dark hair framing a gamin face with big brown eyes. And if the system ever linked him with her, he was pretty sure they'd enjoy one another.
When she knocked on his doorjamb and walked into his office, he consoled himself with the fact that she was flat-chested. He was a breast man. Most men he knew were. But that significantly lowered his chances of linking with her.
"Close the door, will you?" he said.
She paused, probably because this was the first time he'd requested privacy while meeting with her. It wasn't unknown for his various partners to make occasional requests that crossed the line into questionable practices. He was sure the others had already tested her.
But what he was about to ask not only violated company policy, it could revoke her membership and get her fired. She'd be escorted off property, jobless, and without a reference if she agreed to his proposal and was found out.
He, too, would be penalized. Severely. More than a mere six percent of his holdings. And his file would be rendered inactive for half a year. But he had a cushion. He owned the company. Or at least he owned an equal share of it.
"Something showed up on my monitor and I'd like you to take a look at it," he said.
Curious now, she crossed his office, her gauzy skirt swishing gracefully against her legs. Regardless of the size of her breasts, she kept herself well and was pleasing to look at.
When she rounded his desk, he pushed slightly to the side to make room for her. Then he watched her eyes widen with surprise when she spotted the blue icon. Her eyes flew to his.
"Blue, status-2," he said unnecessarily, confirming what she'd seen for herself. "Have a seat."
He gestured toward the pair of chairs in front of his desk and rolled his own back into place.
"I've never actually seen one of those," she told him.
He gave a wry smile. "I wish I could say the same. Unfortunately, this is my second."
Again, her eyes widened. But it wasn't because of the icon this time. She, along with a few thousand other people, knew of his previous blue link to Nina Millering—now Nina Vale. The entire population of RUSH was aware of it and its subsequent failure. No, this time her eyes widened with surprise because he'd initiated a discussion of a personal nature. But he'd done so deliberately and was waiting to see how she'd react.
Eyes on his, he had no doubt her mind was racing to determine the best response. He was somewhat surprised though when she didn't circle around the issue or try to pretend ignorance. She held his gaze steadily and said, "Yes, I know."
The anger he felt over losing that gamble still simmered inside. The blow to his ego was only one of the resulting wounds of that failure. Compounding it was the loss of someone he'd considered a good friend and the enmity he now felt toward Ethan. He woke up each morning with both of those defeats ready to prey on his mind. And if he managed to avoid thinking about them, he was soon reminded of both—every day—when innumerable curious glances followed him wherever he went. Still, Holly's open response made this easier, and that was another point in her favor.
"Are you aware of the details?" he asked.
She hesitated, but she didn't prevaricate. "I know that you received a blue link notification because of an error I made by initiating Nina Millering's file." She gestured toward his monitor. "You accepted it, but she was given an unspecified amount of time to respond to it on her end, again, because of my error. Then she moved off property and into Ethan's house. And when she did respond, she declined, only to turn up in yet another blue link with Ethan. That's the technical version."
"There's another?"
"Uh . . . yes."
Simon frowned. "Enlighten me. —Please."
She paused. "You won't like it."
"Holly, I don't like the first version. Now tell me the second one and don't dress it up."
"All right. The facts are the same. One woman with a high-ranking blue link to both you and Ethan. It's the aftermath that's different—the way some of the women here at RUSH view you now."
"Clarify that."
"Don't take my explanation personally. It's an explanation, nothing more."
"I'm listening."
She drew a breath. "You're a good-looking man, Simon. Good-looking and wealthy. The word making the rounds is that you may be on the lookout for another woman who's ready to share those good looks and wealth. Several women have changed or activated their files to accept nothing less than a blue link now."
He nodded without comment. He already knew about the subsequent applications for blue. What he hadn't realized was that those women were aiming for him as the recipient.
"I know for a fact that we've had an explosion of blue applications," she went on. "I was curious after all the speculation, so I went into the system and checked. But most of the applications were actually made before your link didn't work out."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, once word got around that the system could be used as a matchmaking tool, we had our first influx of applications. Then, after you became available again, eight more blue applications were submitted. There were more than that in the first wave, so those women simply wanted a highly compatible mate, not necessarily you. But the second wave . . . ." She gave a small shrug.
Leaning back in his chair, he gave her a measuring look. He was fully aware of the number of women who had applied for blue links, both before and after Nina chose Ethan over him. But the fact that Holly McGa
rvey was assuaging her curiosity by tapping into the linking system bothered him. Michael had installed a safeguard designed to keep track of any programming changes she made. It ran in the background as RUSH's version of Big Brother, but she had the ability to nose around any time she wanted and none of them would know it unless she chose to tell them.
"So," he said, "in your estimation, there are eight women who would like access to my bank account."
She grinned. "Don't forget the good looks."
"I'd prefer to forget all of it. You aren't by chance one of those eight, are you?"
Her smile widened. "No."
Her response seemed genuine. "Glad to hear it. But I'd like to know if you're able to access the names of the women who applied for all those blue links."
It only took a second before her smile faded. She stared at him and he could almost see the working of her brain behind the look in her eyes. Her gaze shot to his monitor, then back to his. Smart lady.
"That's right," he said into the silence. "That's the reason I called you in here."
She didn't answer.
"I want her name, and I want the printout from her folder. But I don't want to accept the link in order to get it. In fact, there are several things I want."
He sat forward in his chair and stared into her eyes. "Once I know who she is, I want her file, and mine, to go inactive. I want to take my time with this one." He nodded toward his monitor. "It'll have to appear as though I've declined the icon so the time restriction doesn't expire while I decide what I want to do. And I don't want the psych department alerted. She'll just be left thinking the system hasn't linked her with anyone yet. Is that possible?"
Holly hesitated.
"I only asked if it was possible. Just tell me if it's possible."
She gave a slight jerky nod. "Yes, it's possible. Except for the printout. And I wouldn't want to deactivate both files," she added. "Stumbling into the linking program can be explained, and deactivating her file can look like an error. But more than that . . . . It wouldn't look like a stumble anymore, so your file would have to stay active."
He nodded. "Would the icon disappear from my monitor? And if so, would you be able to send it back to me when I'm ready for it?"
She drew a breath. Of course he was going to ask, and she knew it. It would place her in a vulnerable position if she agreed and he wondered what the chances were that Michael would see through her so-called stumble. Simon didn't know enough about computers and programming to make a call on that one, so he'd have to rely on her judgment.
"I could leave it where it is," she said. "But the stumble would look more authentic if it disappears. Then later on, yes, I'd be able to send it back."
"Okay," he said. "You know what I'm going to ask, but I want you to understand that you don't have to agree. There won't be any backlash. But if you do this and those stumbles aren't smoothed over well enough to cover your tracks, your job will be in jeopardy."
Another jerky nod.
"All right then. I'd like you to consider it. I only have forty-eight hours before I have to accept or decline the icon, so I'll need your answer before then."
She pulled herself up and looked directly into his eyes. "I don't need forty-eight hours. I'll take care of it."
Her ready compliance surprised him. "You don't want to think about it first? You do realize Michael's going to look at whatever you do."
"Yes, I know that. I think I can make it look legitimate by making a couple of mistakes. Then it will look like I've made another when I go back and try to correct the first one."
He started at her for a minute. "You don't have to prove anything, Holly."
She gave him a self-deprecating smile that told him she didn't agree. "I'll try to get back to you by the end of the day," she said. Then she got to her feet and turned away.
Simon watched her walk toward the door just as he'd watched her approach, his eyes following the sway of her skirt. He wasn't much of an ass man, but he'd do whatever he could to help hers stay out of trouble if it came to that.
* * *
Back in her own office, Holly McGarvey closed the door and leaned back against the raised panels.
Simon's call hadn't come as a surprise even if the reason for it had. Since moving into Michael's office and taking on his responsibilities, she'd worked closely with each of the partners at one time or another. Except for Mason. Apparently the legal department needed no programming adjustments. But there were always new developments cropping up elsewhere. RUSH, Inc. was a young company in a constant state of growth. The various department heads often asked for programming changes, particularly when those department heads transferred and someone else moved into their positions. Everyone wanted things done a little differently. One supervisor even sketched out a form based on the reports he submitted at the weekly meetings.
Michael had spent weeks showing her the way around his baby and had made himself available by phone after that. She'd been fascinated—no, enthralled was the better word—by the sheer genius of his mind. God, she hoped she found a man with a mind like that when she was ready to settle down. She was twenty-eight and if she wanted to have kids, she wouldn't be able to wait much longer.
But she had a niche to carve for herself. It was a man's world, especially here at RUSH, and everything she knew about computers she'd pretty much taught herself. She'd taken one programming course and a CAD course during her senior year at college, but a couple of computer classes, especially one in computer aided design, didn't qualify her for the calling she'd discovered too late. Her degree was in physical education, which, as it turned out, wasn't what she wanted. So moving into Michael's position had been an incredible opportunity. No way was she going to give that up by applying for a blue link. Besides, any perfect mate RUSH paired her with wouldn't be a genuine match anyway. No, she was on top of the world right now. Life didn't get any better than this. Which was why her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she leaned against the door, preparing for what she'd agreed to do.
For the second time in just half an hour she'd put everything on the line. A second time. Because her female ego demanded it. Simon may have said she had nothing to prove, but down inside was a different story. She had a lot to prove and she knew it. She knew it and struggled to knock the chip off her own shoulder every day of her life. She suspected her membership application to RUSH had only barely passed approval, even though she'd been careful to lie in every place where she thought it would hide her aggressive nature.
She was not submissive. She wasn't even particularly feminine. So she tried to cover that up by wearing makeup and gauzy clothing. She had to be careful when she spoke, think before she reacted, and she made every effort to please her male link whenever she had an encounter.
But outside RUSH, she let it rip. She didn't take crap from anyone, which didn't align with the softer, amenable women here. The men at RUSH weren't looking for aggressive dynamos. They wanted to wear the pants and set the rules and they valued compliant, deferential types. Definitely not her.
Pushing away from the door, she walked over to her desk and collapsed into her chair. She let out a little whoosh of breath and sighed. Aggressive and dynamic she might be, but nothing could have prepared her for today. Nothing. The hair on the back of her neck had lifted and sent chills down her arms the moment she realized what it was Simon wanted. Not that she couldn't do what he asked. Maneuvering through the system captivated her. She spent all day every day delving into the heart of RUSH, learning and absorbing and constantly being wowed by Michael's brilliance. It even annoyed her when five o'clock rolled around and she had to go home. Heck, it annoyed her when she had to stop and eat. Work had become play and she now knew her way around the inner workings of RUSH better than anyone suspected.
But Simon wasn't the first person to approach her with a shady request today. Just twenty minutes earlier, Malcolm had walked into her office asking the very same questions. He'd closed her door, pinned her with
his ice-blue gaze, and had used practically the exact same wording. Because just like Simon, RUSH's CEO had been the recipient of a blue link notification and he didn't want to take any chances either.
CHAPTER 4
Jessica turned onto the path toward the administrative building and collided right into the girl with corkscrew curls and very large breasts who had come into Urns & Leaves earlier that morning.
"My fault! My fault!" the other girl sputtered, curls bouncing as she strove to regain her balance and steady Jessica at the same time. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "—Oh, hi! You're the new girl at the coffee bar, aren't you? I'm Libby Pye." She held out her hand. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself this morning. I'm not usually awake until I've had my morning coffee. Twice."
Everyone Jessica had met so far had been friendly and welcoming. "Chocolate espresso?" she asked, shaking the other girl's hand.
Libby grinned. "That's really good. You must have waited on a hundred people since I was in."
"I'm Jessica. Jessica Breckenridge."
"So you're related to Hannah. Well of course you are. The resemblance is hard to miss. Sisters?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Well let me tell you right now, there's nothing at all wrong with Hannah's blouse."
Hannah's blouse? Not quite knowing what to say, Jessica waited for her to explain.
"It's not as though Hannah's six feet tall, you know. She's full-busted, and when you reach up high for something, it's not unusual for a button to slip, you know? Even two sometimes."
Libby looked directly down at Jessica's breasts and nodded. "You've probably had the same thing happen to you too."
At a complete loss for words this time, Jessica could only look back at the other girl. For all her interaction with various cultures, she hadn't spent much time with people outside the circle of her father's high-powered business associates. She wasn't accustomed to American informality. Slang often eluded her, clichés confused her, and this young woman's casual frankness sent heat rushing into her face. She wanted to take a step back. She wanted to reach up and cover her chest.
