by Kait Nolan
MBOND: ? How do you figure?
Ronnie pursed her lips and shook her head. I expected an email much earlier in the day.
MBOND: Sorry. Busy day at the office.
How could Ronnie argue with that? She hadn’t even glanced at her personal email until nearly five. Work dominated her world. Wasn’t that also true of the ideal man she’d created for herself?
She shifted the lap table onto the cushions beside her, curling her legs. She might as well get in a comfortable position for the chat. Her gray-striped cat appeared from nowhere, jumping onto the arm of the couch. She stroked his soft ears. The tone of her phone drew her attention away. Major meowed his displeasure.
MBOND: How’s UR night?
Apparently, they were moving past her irritation at the lack of a prompt and punctual response to her new account. Quiet. Yours?
MBOND: Looking forward to catching up with U
A smile tugged Ronnie’s lips. This virtual boyfriend program was working perfectly. He must have read her elaborate backstory about how they met on a recent business trip to Amsterdam because he sounded exactly as she imagined. Was it wrong to enjoy conversing with him when no one was around to see it?
RONNIE: How is work?
Major head-butted her phone as he walked across her lap to cuddle beside her. Her fingers trailed down his back.
MBOND: Crazy. Being out of office 4 week is murder.
RONNIE: Agreed. Too many proposals to review.
MBOND: I have a proposal 4 U.
Ronnie’s eyebrows arched toward her hairline. Conversation with a complete stranger via an electronic device was okay, but virtual flirting seemed like something only a pervert would enjoy.
The silence between them must have been too much for her boyfriend. Her phone sounded its sweet tone—assigned to identify her new love interest. The pulse in her neck vibrated, and her throat constricted. Was she seriously nervous to read a text from some guy she made up to keep her mother happy?
MBOND: Double the contract
What in the world was he talking about?
RONNIE: ???
The only contract she could think of at the moment involved her monthly payments to Virtual Match. Did he expect her to pay him something too? Didn’t they pay their employees? Her mind whirled enough to make her dizzy by the time her phone chimed.
MBOND: Emails and texts. Maybe even Twitter.
RONNIE: I can’t check my phone every minute.
MBOND: I C I M more invested than U
An inglorious snort escaped, earning a nasty look from the cat.
“Sorry, Major.” Ronnie rubbed the spot behind his ear. A rumbling purr rewarded her.
RONNIE: Who’s footing the bill?
Major elongated his neck, enjoying her ministrations on his chin. The gap between texts stretched. Dating faux pas already? Was it any wonder she didn’t crave a relationship with a flesh-and-blood man?
MBOND: You’ll be begging for more later
The contract required a minimum of twenty interactions per day. Did that include her responses? If so, he might be finished playing attentive boyfriend for the night.
RONNIE: I’m not the type to beg.
MBOND: I M
Nothing could squelch the smile stretching her face.
This virtual relationship might have more benefits than she’d imagined.
~*~
On the other end of the conversation, Marcus drummed his fingertips on the marble countertop in front of him. Behind him, an empty dining space echoed. He ate alone every evening, so what use did he have for dining room furniture?
The woman of his dreams was connected to him via his phone. She wasn’t ignoring him. His heart raced like he’d sprinted the stairs. Talking to her was everything he had hoped. Aside from being beautiful, she was smart and dedicated. Not the type of woman who cared about a man’s status because she worked hard at her own career.
Lightheadedness forced him to lean against his kitchen cabinets. They had a real conversation. She seemed to like their banter. He read the conversation again, making certain it was real.
His dream girl chatted with him like they were old friends. Of course, she had no idea he was on this end of the conversation. If she did, she’d walk away.
He dropkicked the negative thought out of his mind. In time, he would reveal his true identity. When he was sure she wouldn’t laugh in his face or run screaming in the opposite direction.
The glory of technology. Who would have guessed an app could help him win a girl’s heart?
Chapter Three
Ronnie tossed her laptop bag onto the chair in one corner of the suite’s main room. Her wheeled pilot case followed her into the adjoining bedroom. After kicking her loafers into the bottom of the closet, she settled into her temporary lodgings. Suitcase open on the folding rack: check. Toiletry bag hung beside the sink: check. Nightshirt folded neatly beside the pillow: check.
She stretched her arms overhead and twisted from side to side. A symphony of pops loosened her back. Dallas wasn’t a long enough flight to merit business class seating. Those narrow economy seats killed the back and butt. A few toe raises increased the blood flow. Her groan was half pain, half pleasure.
From the other room, she heard the sweet tone of Michael’s text. He knew her arrival time and wasn’t about to miss a scheduled chat. Not after the lackadaisical timing of their first conversation last week. Had they really been chatting for a week? He knew about her family and she learned about his older brothers, nieces and nephews. Every message made her feel like she’d known him for much longer.
But she didn’t truly know him at all. He was a fictional character. Her racing pulse at the thought of reading his message needed a stern reminder. This was nothing more than a business arrangement.
The second tone set her body in motion. A rumble in her stomach reminded her it was past dinnertime. That turkey wrap and chips served on the plane had reached the end of its rope.
She set her laptop bag beside the chair, pulling her phone from the exterior pocket. Slumping onto the lumpy seat relieved the pressure to her feet. Ah, yes. A few taps, and the message popped on-screen.
MBOND: How’s Dallas?
Ronnie glanced around the room. She could have been almost anywhere in the world. Except the lithograph of a cowboy and his horse hanging above the small table narrowed the locale to the American West or Texas.
RONNIE: The airport’s sprawling. The traffic is not as bad as LA. That’s what I’ve seen so far.
MBOND: First trip there?
A shake of the head he couldn’t see answered that ridiculous question. It was a regular stop. She’d been here three times in the past year. But he didn’t know that.
RONNIE: Hardly. Regular clients of our firm.
MBOND: Not a sales meeting. 20 questions?
Ronnie relaxed into the chair, curling her legs up before rubbing her thumb along her aching arches.
RONNIE: Maybe after I get some dinner.
MBOND: Supper in the south
She laughed. Virtual Match had assigned her account to the right person. The guy’s quirky sense of humor suited the relationship she envisioned.
RONNIE: My stomach doesn’t care what they call it, just so it’s filling.
MBOND: I M impatiently waiting 2 continue R talk
Ronnie caught the sappy look on her face reflected in the TV. Good thing this guy wasn’t for real. He might be able to convince her getting involved with a man wasn’t all bad news.
Back in the bedroom, she glared at her shoes. Her feet balked at being stuffed back into those instruments of torture. In fact, she didn’t feel like seeking out a restaurant. Plopping onto the bed, she grabbed the room service menu from the drawer in the nightstand. She hadn’t used her per diem food budget. It could absorb the exorbitant eat-in fee.
“Twenty-five dollars for a grilled chicken salad.” As if anyone could hear her grumbling about the insanity of that. Forget anything to drink.
Even a bottle of water was seven dollars. A vending machine down the hall had to be cheaper.
After ordering the meal, she slipped her navy slacks off and hung them by their hems in the closet. She emptied her suitcase onto appropriate hangers and slipped into exercise capris and a loose-fitting t-shirt. Now she could continue her boyfriend chat in relative comfort.
As she curled into the chair, she missed her cat. He would survive without her. Her neighbor kept his food and water bowls filled. Still, not having him curled into the back of her knees amplified her solitude.
RONNIE: Next question, please.
MBOND: Shortest dinner ever
RONNIE: Waiting for room service.
MBOND: Company buys dinner who cares about cost
Ronnie cupped her smart phone on her lap, smiling at the screen. She pictured the sculpted features from her pretend boyfriend’s portfolio. His luscious lips grinned, and he waggled well-shaped eyebrows at her.
MBOND: What did they buy you?
RONNIE: Grilled chicken salad.
MBOND: $50?
Ronnie shook her head. The lack of hair movement reminded her to pull the combs out of her French twist. She tossed her head, luxuriating in the caress of auburn waves across her shoulders.
RONNIE: Guess again.
MBOND: Lower or higher?
RONNIE: Are you using silly questions to limit out on texts?
She grappled for the remote control on the nearby table. A click of the red button and the screen blared to life. She muted the sound, not really caring what was showing. Television programs had been her companions since she was a teenager. The light flashing on the walls soothed her.
Michael hadn’t responded to her last text. Did he think she was serious? Maybe he was counting the messages. She frowned at her computer bag. Should she check her email to see if he’d sent her something?
MBOND: My texts to U R numberless
Ronnie pulled her feet beneath her. Who needed the TV when they had Michael Bond to keep them company?
~*~
The suitcase bucked as it rolled out of the elevator on the seventh floor. Ronnie flinched when it jabbed her in the calf. Without thinking, she settled it back onto two wheels. Home was in sight at the end of the hall.
Home. As much as she loved traveling, she enjoyed the warmth of having her own place more. It had been a long time coming. Her mother’s need to follow men hadn’t supplied them with much stability. Hotel rooms certainly didn’t offer it.
Keys jangled when she transferred them from palm to fingers. After the deadbolt slid into place, she turned the door handle. Weak beams of light cast from the nightlight at the end of the hallway competed with the soft glow from the microwave hood in the kitchen.
“I’m home, Major.”
Of course the cat didn’t rush to greet her like a dog would. Most likely he was curled up somewhere and would glare at her when she found him. He tolerated Jenny, the neighbor who made sure he had food and water and a clean box. Ronnie would need to be punished for leaving him yet again. Why didn’t the cat adjust? She traveled almost as often as she was home.
At the end of the hallway, she toed open the door to her bedroom. A bump from her balled fist turned the switch, and light from the two floor lamps illumined the room. In the center of her bed, the striped cat lay, feet curled under his chest, amber eyes glaring at her.
“Hey buddy. Did you miss me?”
She plopped the bag onto her bed, earning a long blink from the cat. In the silence, the zipper squawked like a pack of hungry crows. She heaped clothes for the washing machine into a pile at the foot of the bed, chatting at the cat. By the time she finished unpacking, he had turned his back toward her and was faking sleep. Or maybe he really could drop off with the mattress bouncing from her movements.
Her phone trilled. Michael. Her heart leapt against her breastbone. No matter how her back screamed for a stretch or her butt felt numb from the long flight, her lips curled upward. She rolled the suitcase into her deep closet and kicked her shoes off before picking up her phone and heading toward the living area. A quick glance at the screen revealed his message: Make it home OK?
Ronnie pulled open the refrigerator door, a hollow in her midsection crying for food. She lifted a carton of yogurt and set it on the countertop.
RONNIE: Yes. Cat not speaking to me.
She opened the cabinet, retrieving a crystal glass. While she pressed it against the water dispenser, her phone chimed.
MBOND: I’m sure he missed U I know I did.
How could he miss her? They texted just as often while she had been in Dallas as they did when she’d been home in Oakland. Probably just trying to make her feel better about Major’s obnoxious behavior.
RONNIE: He likes to punish me for leaving him. He’ll get over it.
MBOND: Looking forward to a quiet weekend?
Ronnie drained the glass and refilled it. Nabbing a spoon from the drawer, she pushed her meal onto the bar. A nudge of her foot moved the stool away. She settled onto the padded seat, sighing as blood rushed to the bottoms of her feet.
RONNIE: Quiet? I picked up a ton of work on the trip.
MBOND: All work & no play
Ronnie tore the lid off the yogurt and stirred the custardy concoction.
RONNIE: Makes me invaluable to my employer
MBOND: Not how the saying goes
She spooned yogurt onto her tongue, cleaning the utensil of every drop of goodness. If she didn’t work, what would she do over the weekend? Something niggled at the back of her mind. While she was checking her calendar, the phone vibrated and chimed.
MBOND: Tell me you aren’t going to work all weekend
RONNIE: I’m not going to work all weekend.
She smiled as she pushed the send button. Not that the event on her calendar held more appeal than work. With one small exception: she would spend time with Angeline.
MBOND: Did U say that to appease me?
RONNIE: No. I’m meeting my sister for lunch and shopping tomorrow.
MBOND: Sounds painful. Better than working all day.
A laugh nearly dislodged the next mouthful of yogurt. Ronnie steeled herself, swallowing the food and more water.
RONNIE: You know how I feel about shopping, huh?
MBOND: I know how I feel about shopping. *Gag face emoticon*
Most men expected women to love shopping. Ronnie always got flak from her mom and sister because she’d never been the type to stroll endlessly from store to store at the mall. Make a list. Go directly to the stores you need. Make the purchase. Get out of the mall and into the sunshine.
RONNIE: It will be good to chat with my sister.
MBOND: She’s the youngest, right?
RONNIE: Yes
Ronnie finished the yogurt, answering a few questions about Angeline’s job and husband. They had only been back from their honeymoon for a few days. It was a little surprising that Angeline was choosing to spend time with her sister. The pull of spending all the money from wedding gifts was probably too strong to resist.
MBOND: Shopping for anything special?
RONNIE: Stuff for her house, I guess. She mentioned gift cards.
MBOND: The infamous wedding haul. Reason most women marry right?
Ronnie snorted. She knew plenty of girls in college who were anxious to get all the gifts and set up housekeeping. Not enough gift cards in the free world to convince her to tie herself to some man.
RONNIE: Not me.
MBOND: Why then?
Was he seriously asking her why she would get married?
~*~
“Idiot.”
He couldn’t believe the land mine topic had interrupted their banter. Did he want her to dump him? Marriage was hardly a subject for discussion after less than two weeks of dating. Are texts and emails even considered dating?
Would she respond? He stared at the washing machine in the cubby rather than watch the screen of his tablet. The washer shivered as the mach
ine entered the spin cycle. The twinkle of his messenger app saved him.
VSHAY: No plans to get married
What did that mean? His heart pole-vaulted into his throat. At least she wasn’t shutting him out after his introduction of the forbidden subject.
MBOND: Because you haven’t met the right guy
VSHAY: The right guy doesn’t exist.
His thrumming heart plunged to his feet. What turned her off marriage? Or maybe he was wrong to think women wanted to settle into a permanent relationship. He certainly did. But thinking about that seemed ridiculous when your date for Friday night consisted of texting the girl of your dreams. And she thought you were a steamy-looking guy named Bond. Time to lighten the mood.
MBOND: *feeling crushed* Maybe
During the interminable pause after his text, he guzzled the rest of his Arnie Palmer and tossed the empty can in the recycle bin. He wanted to be the right guy for her. But what did a guy like him have to offer a polished saleswoman? She was smart, beautiful, and apparently not looking for love. Then why did she sign up for Virtual Match?
His tablet chimed.
VSHAY: Maybe I should say I’m not looking.
How could he change that? Did he want to change that if she never saw the real him? He snorted. As if he had anything she would be interested in anyway. He typed his reply: I hear that’s when you find him
VSHAY: Doubtful.
The answer he dreaded. She was out of his league and not interested in meeting anyone. After erasing three messages, he finally settled on: Major talking to you yet?
It was past time to change the subject. This one was just too depressing.
Chapter Four
Saturday morning, Ronnie showered and dressed in designer jeans and layered a silky cami with a lightweight moss green sweater. Twisting the sides of her hair, she secured the upper portion with a tortoiseshell claw. Electricity snapped as the silky waves fell to her bra strap. Such a nuisance to wear it down. Angeline swore she wore it up to look unapproachable. Who needed that armor with Michael Bond in the wings?
Angeline’s joy for life made the tiresome chore of shopping bearable. Today, they were furnishing the newlyweds’ love nest. Even though her sister lived in Santa Clara, she often drove to San Francisco for the “high end shops.” Foregoing traffic woes, Ronnie took the BART train into downtown. Rather than working, she used the time to chat with Michael.
