by Kait Nolan
The musical chime assigned to Veronica sang through the air. His muscles sagged. He gripped the phone and strode toward his bedroom. Time to savor day’s end, his favorite part of their routine.
VSHAY: Presentation nearly done.
He flopped onto his bed, rolling over and stacking three pillows together. The springs on his mattress twanged when he sat upright.
MBOND: Time for bed?
The image that painted in his mind made his breath wheeze through constricted lungs.
VSHAY: I need sleep for sure.
MBOND: Relaxed?
VSHAY: Not quite. I need some of your famous jokes.
His heart flailed against his chest. She thought he was funny?
MBOND: I’d prefer sexy talk
VSHAY: You’re such a man.
A man who was crazy about her. But he knew better than to say that.
MBOND: Guilty. You’ll have to blame my parents.
He closed his eyes, picturing her lounging on her bed. Blood pulsed in his ears and rushed to parts south of his waistline.
VSHAY: Blaming the parents. That’s an old trick.
MBOND: Old dog. Old tricks.
VSHAY: How old are you?
Was it strange they had talked about family and career and she didn’t even know his age? He shook the thought away.
MBOND: UR age.
VSHAY: Did you just call me old?
MBOND: Didn’t mean 2.
His lips twitched into a smile. Women and their age phobias.
VSHAY: Are you smirking?
MBOND: U got a hidden camera here?
He glanced around the spacious bedroom suite, walls mostly bare. It could use a woman’s touch, so his sister-in-law said. He was trying to get a woman to touch it. More heat flushed through him.
VSHAY: No. Men are predictable.
Predictable? Let’s see if she could predict this one.
MBOND: I think I want to meet your family.
Silence stretched. He pulled off his clothes and shrugged into loose shorts. A flash of white in the corner of his eye had him turning back to the mirror. Just his chest. Not bad since he did pushups when he didn’t make it to the gym. Pale, though. Summer was nearly over and he didn’t have the tan to prove it.
VSHAY: You’re not obligated to do that.
Reminding him of the contractual relationship again. Now who was being predictable?
MBOND: It would help U
VSHAY: Maybe. But this is supposed to be a virtual thing.
His heartbeat thumped in his ears. He took a long, slow breath. Time to go for broke.
She would never guess where this conversation was headed.
~*~
Ronnie stared at her phone. He wanted to meet her family? She paced down the hallway and flopped onto her bed. What was happening? Things were spinning out of control.
MBOND: Time to get real I think
Her heart pounded on her breastbone, a prisoner trying to break free.
RONNIE: Not part of the contract
MBOND: Is this still about that?
What else would it be about? She signed up for a service, and he had been providing her with a virtual boyfriend. Now he wanted to complicate things?
RONNIE: Why wouldn’t it be?
MBOND: I thought we were becoming friends
Friends? Is that what they were? The way her blood boiled during their good night chats made her think it was something else. Love? Like her sister suggested? Ronnie shook her head. It wasn’t anything that serious. It was an innocent flirtation with a complete stranger. How could she even think it might be love?
RONNIE: Not part of the package.
MBOND: Things happen
Ronnie bounced to her feet. Did she want things to happen with Michael? Fluttering in her stomach said one thing while the constricting of her throat said another. Maybe being friends wouldn’t be too bad.
RONNIE: I don’t want my family to get their hopes up.
MBOND: What about me?
What about him? The gyrations in her stomach increased. Did he have the same giddy feeling when he texted her? And what if he did? She couldn’t seriously be considering a real relationship with a stranger. Someone she had paid to pay attention to her. To make her life easier.
When he broke their unstated rule, she knew things had definitely changed.
MBOND: I hope to meet U. F2F.
Ronnie tossed her phone into the chair, startling Major out of a sound sleep. His hostile stare didn’t faze her. She had bigger problems.
She clenched her hands into fists to keep her fingers from responding favorably to Michael’s request. Her heart bounced like a toddler on a trampoline.
She wanted to meet him. She wanted this to be real. What happened to her protective veneer? When did she decide caring about a man wasn’t a stupid mistake?
Worse, she didn’t even know this guy. Sure, they sent texts and emails. He gave her cat something special. Laughter had become her second language in the past three weeks. But he was still a man. And she couldn’t trust a man. Ever.
The dark memories lunged from the locked room in her mind. Old Spice smothered her. Clammy fingers grappled her innocent flesh. Breath reeking of chewed tobacco raked over her neck. The whispered threat, “If not you, maybe your pretty little sister.”
Pulsing blood pounded the crown of her head. Her ears popped. She floundered with the chains used to keep those scenes from replaying in her nightmares. Trusting a man—especially a stranger—would return her to Hell. The explosion of past horrors bursting through her memory proved it.
Tears coursed down her cheeks. When had she started crying?
She swiped the back of her hand over her face. Hadn’t she decided to leave all this in the past?
She stamped her foot. Her life had been fine. She had handled her mother’s incessant nagging. Why had she thought Virtual Match would help her? It dredged up the pain, stirring mud in the puddle of her forbidden past.
Whatever she thought she felt for Michael, it wasn’t worth the risk. Hadn’t her mind and heart screamed “danger” those first few times they flirted? She knew better than to second-guess her instincts.
Ronnie snatched the phone off the chair, earning a throaty growl from her cat. Michael’s last message blared at her: I hope to meet U. F2F.
Did she answer him outright? How about just putting it back on the level where it belonged?
RONNIE: I’m going to sleep. Good night.
An unhealthy burn, stomach acid climbing up her parched throat, reminded Ronnie why she avoided intimate relationships in the past. Feeling out of control brought a gagging taste at the back of her throat. Around her, the room spun, overwhelming her with disorientation.
Fun while it lasted.
Her sister had been so wrong to assume they were on the same “I’m in love” level. It didn’t matter that her mother kept asking to meet this guy. Or that her brother thought it was “about time” she started putting the past behind her.
None of them knew anything. Only Ronnie knew what was best for Ronnie. In this case, she needed to let this man go. In fact, if she couldn’t get Virtual Match to assign a different person to her account, she’d have to cancel it. This attraction had gone too far. An unknown person pretended to be some guy she’d imagined, and now he wanted to meet. Her stomach ached.
“What? Are you twelve?” she muttered, pulling up the website for the company at the bane of her existence.
At the login screen, she typed her email address and password.
NO ACCOUNT ASSOCIATED WITH THAT EMAIL ADDRESS, it replied.
Ronnie slowly retyped her information, scanning it for errors before hitting the “Enter” button. The same error message flashed on the screen. What in the land of Giants’ baseball?
A few clicks and she had the original email from the company on screen. Yes, that was the correct email address and password. She followed the link to their help page, and completed the contact form.
Good night, Veronica. The message from Michael sent a shiver down her spine while ratcheting her heart into rock-and-roll overdrive.
An unacceptable response to be sure. Would tomorrow to be soon enough to protect her heart?
“Goodbye, whoever you are.”
Chapter Eight
Ronnie didn’t have time for this tripe before work. Thank goodness for Bluetooth connectivity in her car. Otherwise, she would still be standing in her apartment on hold with Virtual Match’s customer service department, which would have made her tardy to the office—an unacceptable black mark on her perfect attendance record.
Her short fingernails drummed the leather-wrapped steering wheel. The power of her glare made the red traffic light glow. Change already. The love song serenading over the speaker compelled her to sigh. Ridiculous.
“Thank you for calling Virtual Match Customer Service. This is Nancy. How may I help you today?”
Finally. “There’s a problem with my account.” A big one.
“Of course, miss. Could I have your name and zip code?”
Ronnie supplied the information, pulling forward with the flow of traffic.
“Miss Shay, my records show that your account was closed within 24 hours.”
“That’s not possible.” She tapped the brakes when the car in front of her turned, not bothering to signal, of course.
“Was your credit card billed? It shouldn’t have been.” Nancy sounded concerned.
“I don’t know.”
“Then what is the problem, Miss?”
“I’ve been texting one of your employees for three weeks. My account can’t possibly be closed.”
Nancy spouted off Ronnie’s email address. “Is there another address you might have used for this account?”
“No. That’s the right one.”
A pause. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how anyone here could have been texting you. Your account was closed before it could be assigned to one of our service providers.”
Service provider? Is that what they were calling the people pretending to be boyfriends to lonely women?
“Is there someone else I could speak to? A supervisor, perhaps?”
“Of course, Miss Shay, but I don’t know how they could help you any further. Unless you were billed for the service you cancelled.”
When Ronnie clenched the steering wheel, her fingernails dug into her palms. Back to this again?
“Who has been texting me? I’ve had emails and even a gift delivered.” She blinked at the thought of the adorable cat bag. “It has to be someone from your company.”
A pause. “Maybe you have a secret admirer.”
A chill that had nothing to do with excitement slithered up Ronnie’s spine. She didn’t want a secret admirer. She had signed up for an invisible boyfriend and that’s what she thought she had. What on earth happened to her account? If it truly was closed, who was texting her in the name of Michael Bond?
“Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
Anything else? The woman hadn’t helped her with a thing. She opened her mouth to blast the girl. But why? Obviously, something unexplained was happening.
“I’ll check to see if I was billed.” Her flat tone didn’t match the palpitations behind her ears.
“We’ll be happy to reverse those charges,” Nancy said. “Be sure to call back—or use the contact form on our website. Thank you for calling Virtual Match. Have a great day.”
The phone disconnected. A great day? How could she have a great day when someone was stalking her?
But how did they get the information she entered on the website?
Ronnie flicked her blinker on, slowing to turn into the parking structure.
A virtual boyfriend was supposed to reduce her stress. Not create a host of new issues.
Why so surprised? It was too good to last.
Chapter Nine
Ronnie yanked the cuff of her navy blazer, curling her fingernails into the satin-lined sleeve. The table hid her clenched hands from view. She must be crazy, agreeing to meet a stalker.
A quick scan reassured her. The quaint coffee shop where she imbibed caffeinated calories while working on reports over the free WiFi was packed with customers. She would be safe but this place would be tainted. She’d never find peace here again. This strange man had ruined it.
Over the melody of human voices placing orders and compressed steam frothing milk, the tinkling of the door’s bell rang ominously. Was that him? She clutched her cell phone and grazed its screen with her thumb. She’d arrived early. The digital numbers announced the agreed-upon meeting time.
Her table lurched as a body stumbled into it. She glanced toward the bulldozer. The nerd from the sixth floor stood there, smoothing a masculine hand down a purple and gray striped tie.
Her frazzled head buzzed at his attire. Something was off. She shook the thought away.
“Excuse me.” As usual, the deep voice tickled along her man-radar, incongruous coming from a klutzy geek.
“It’s fine.” Ronnie expected him to turn away. Instead, he shuffled his over-sized feet. The hand not touching his tie reached up to shove his black-rimmed glasses further up his nose.
Ronnie shifted away from him. The iron legs supporting her squealed. “I’m waiting for someone.” Was there a polite way to tell him to get lost?
“I know.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks.
Slacks and tie weren’t his normal work uniform, were they? She rode in the elevator with him every day, but she had never really paid much attention to his wardrobe.
He pulled out the chair opposite her, tripping over the table leg and sitting hard in the counter-height seat. Hands pressed flat against the table top turned white at his fingertips.
“Thank you for meeting me.”
“Meeting you?” Ronnie’s mind spun. The nerd was her stalker? At least it isn’t Todd Dexter. Her stomach churned at the thought.
But the sort-of-cute nerd? The knot of tension in her belly loosened. He was about as scary as an overgrown puppy.
Which is what girls thought about Ted Bundy, too.
“I – I wanted to ask you out.” He stumbled over every word.
Ronnie’s knotted fingers slipped onto the table.
“You’re the one who’s been texting and emailing me?” She gripped her phone.
He nodded. A lock of brown hair sprung away from the others, falling in a curve over one of his eyebrows. Whiskers shadowed his jawline, even though it was hardly lunchtime. Good bone structure. It was a face she could get used to staring at.
She shook herself. Not in this lifetime am I dating a stalker. “How did you get my information?”
He glanced up at her. The lenses of his glasses magnified the gray flecks in his dark blue eyes, making them appear oversized. When their eyes met, he jerked his gaze back to the table.
“I hacked Virtual Match.”
“You hacked Virtual Match?”
“It’s a start-up company. They had a few security measures in place, but since I had your username.” He pushed his glasses up again. “It really didn’t take much effort.”
The rumble of his voice soothed her ears. The words he spoke? Not so much.
“How did you get my username?”
A red flush seeped from beneath his collar and spread up his neck until it reached the slicked-back hair on his forehead. On him, a blush wasn’t a bad thing.
“I saw the welcome email on your phone.” The diminished volume of his voice kept the words from immediately registering. When they did, Ronnie drew her eyebrows together.
Most mornings they rode the elevator together. On the day she received her confirmation from Virtual Match, she’d checked her email on her phone. He’d been standing behind her.
“That was private.” She sputtered and wrapped her hands around her coffee cup to keep from clenc
hing them into fists.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It seemed like the perfect opportunity to get to know you.”
“By stealing my information?”
“I only accessed the date profile. I didn’t look at any of the other personal information. I swear.”
“But—” Her eyes widened and her stomach turned over. “Everything was a lie.”
He shook his head, gaze snapping up to meet hers. “Not the way I feel. Not the things I said.”
Ronnie stared at him. He ducked his head, pulled his glasses off, and rubbed his eyes with the meat of his hands. This was no Ted Bundy. What if he was crying? Ronnie’s throat tightened.
He lifted his head. Those eyes. Sunshine glinting off the bay couldn’t make a lovelier shade of blue. She inhaled, air knifing the back of her throat.
The indigo of denim eyes pleaded for understanding. Without the glasses blocking his features, his face was well-defined, handsome even. The corners of his pinkish lips twitched. Rather than arching, his eyebrows closely followed the shape of his eyes.
“You went along with everything I made up about you.” That was the heart of her accusation? How about I thought you really cared about me?
A shrug lifted broad shoulders toward ears that hugged his skull. Ronnie let her eyes wander down his arms and chest. The pale gray shirt clung to him just enough to hint at muscular definition. He might play with computers by day, but at some point he focused on his physical fitness.
“I wanted to meet you.” The gravelly voice again. Her toes curled inside her shoes.
“You see me every day.”
He stared at her. All sorts of emotions sprinted through his expressive eyes. “Do you even know my name?”
Ronnie opened her mouth to say, “Michael Bond.” She clamped her teeth together.
In fact, she didn’t know his real name. They shared an elevator, worked in the same building and exchanged polite greetings at least once every day of the week, but that meant nothing. Her heart thought it felt things for him she vowed to never feel.
But in reality, she didn’t even know his name.
~*~
“Marcus Jordan.” With her so close, his voice became gruffer. He wanted to take her hand. He pressed his fingers harder into the tabletop.
