“I work in a male-dominated field. Girly weaknesses are mocked. Mercilessly.”
“Then you work with asshole men. It’s not like you have Star Wars sheets or anything that actually deserves mockery.” He paused, realizing he’d almost missed the opening she’d given him to think about anything but needing to stay warm. “So. Hacker girl.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Think you can still put those skills to use, or have you forgotten everything?”
She missed a beat, then gave a cautious smile. “I can get into anything. Why? Do you need me to break into the Super Duper Star Wars Fan Club and change the website to list you as President, CEO, and Head Jedi?”
“Jedi Master.” He blinked. “Do you still do that at—” He caught himself, realizing she hadn’t told him where. He’d just taken it upon himself to find out. “Where did you work?”
“Langdon & Walker. And I’d be a sorry developer if I didn’t stay one step ahead of the black-hat hackers, so yes, I can do that. It’s a multi-million-dollar firm. You don’t get a job at a place like that without skills.”
No kidding. The woman definitely had skills. He’d thought that even as he’d systematically dismantled her program. It was past time to change the subject.
Too bad his first thought had to be carnal.
“I have this urge,” she said, interrupting his thoughts with an unexpectedly mischievous grin, “to ask what put that look on your face, but I think that would be breaking the terms of our pinkie-swear agreement.”
He hesitated, her sudden shift in demeanor catching him off guard. For a moment he worried she’d figured him out, then realized that wasn’t possible. If she had, she’d be furious. More likely, she wanted to get her mind off her old job, of which he seemed to remind her at every turn. Not so smart, considering what he kept from her, so he relished the change in her tone, even if matching it meant he had to fake it. “Did we pinkie swear?” he asked, forcing his tone to playfully mirror hers. At least, he hoped he pulled it off, because inside, guilt tore at him.
“It’s not too late,” she said. She withdrew her hand from under the blankets and offered her pinkie.
“It might be too late,” he said, unnerved at how easily he fell into this routine with her. “At least on the original terms.”
“A girl gets three minutes one night and wants four the next,” she murmured as he snagged her pinkie with his own.
“Maybe I can handle that.” He dropped his hand, hesitating only a moment before shifting so he could fit his arms around her.
She didn’t hesitate at all.
Maybe it was because the Arctic tundra was warmer than that apartment, and body heat trumped pinkie swears, but having her settle against him felt the kind of right that should have made him run. Or at least backpedal.
She turned to look at him. The move had the added benefit of putting a slight bit of distance between them, but it didn’t change the warmth of those brown eyes or the fact that he’d noticed them.
“What?” he asked, wary.
There was no way he could breathe and not want her again.
But how could he want her knowing he was the reason her life had been ripped apart? Well, him and whoever had pushed her software live, but Grady had dug in with voracity. There wasn’t much he loved more than making all the springs pop out of a piece of code, so to speak. He’d nitpicked the hell out of what she’d done.
“I know I’m breaking every rule by saying this,” she said, her gaze soft and hitched to his. “But I found you amazing, and I’m thinking a one-night thing between people who never want to see each other again is definitely not supposed to be amazing.”
Where was she going with this? And why was he so willing to go there with her? “It was definitely not supposed to be amazing,” he said, his voice so low it bordered on a whisper. “And we’re definitely not going to do it again.” Which did nothing to explain why his lips were an inch from hers.
Because thinking about kissing her was on an entirely different plane than thinking about sex.
Everyone thought about sex.
Not everyone wanted a kiss this much.
“Olivia.” He was supposed to tell her they weren’t going to do this, but instead, he closed the distance a fraction of an inch.
She closed it the rest, her lips barely touching his.
For a split second, he was caught in hell. Delicious hell.
Then a loud crash echoed through the apartment.
They jumped apart, but it was much longer before he looked away from her to see the cat sitting on the counter, staring plaintively. He had no idea what the crash could have been, and he didn’t care. He was a split second from taking her back to bed.
Which would be the worst idea ever.
One that crossed every line they’d drawn and made him the biggest puckered asshole on the planet.
“We can’t do this,” she said. She edged away, which did wonders to break the spell between them.
He’d have to remember not to sit so close to her. With that thought in mind, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held. “Definitely not.” Remembering his computer and the Department of Defense—because who didn’t think about that when sex came up?—he fumbled for distance, only to feel off balance when he found it. “I have a gig this weekend,” he said. “Trying to get into a website.”
“So,” she said slowly, “you’re a hacker. Actively.”
He wasn’t sure if that dazed look in her eyes had more to do with this lingering thing between them or the change of subject. “When called upon, yes. Although I say ‘software breaker’ on my resume. And I need to test-breach a new satellite site for the Department of Defense.” He found his computer on the floor and moved it to the coffee table. He popped open the lid and scooted the machine to her side of the coffee table.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she looked from him to the computer and back again. “The DoD hired you?”
“Do you want to see my clearance?” he asked. He understood her doubt.
She straightened. “Wait a minute. Is this like that Hack the Pentagon thing?”
He’d heard of the government inviting a vetted pool of volunteer hackers to attempt to breach their security, but he wasn’t involved. He was the one they called when they thought a specific system was finally bulletproof. “You tell me. You’re the one going in.”
“I’m serious, Grady.”
He leaned back, this time toward the other end of the sofa. He wished he could claim more distance than that, but it was impossible to do so and stay warm. Although if snow kept piling against the window, it might happen. Igloos were warm, right? “It’s not Hack the Pentagon,” he said. And it wasn’t, even if the idea was similar. “But it is legit. You’re on my ISP, and I’m not asking you to hide that; plus I have a password to get onto this page, which isn’t even public yet. It’s also not classified—just a public informational site.”
She raised a skeptical brow.
He sighed and hoped she wouldn’t begin to associate him with the guy who had cost her her job. “Let me reiterate: It could not be more okay. Do you think I’d ask a near-stranger to leave a trail into a federal government site if it wasn’t legit?”
“Not unless you’re a moron,” she said. “And you don’t strike me as one of those.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly. He turned on his phone’s mobile hotspot for Internet and gestured toward the laptop. He had enough battery for both to last a while, and backup battery packs for when they ran out. Not because he was expecting a storm, but because the fear of losing touch with the world beyond his keyboard had turned him into a prepper, at least in terms of battery life. “So you’re in?”
“Doing your job for you?” she asked, skepticism rampant. “For what reason?”
“Because we’re not having sex again.”
“Much better idea to try to infiltrate the government,” she said, leaving them in odd agreement. “Give m
e a few.”
Sarcasm? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. She’d asked for space, and he needed the excuse to step away, so he stood and gave her the blankets, then went to get the cat a bowl of water. He had a clean litter tray he kept on hand since Mortimer had a habit of wandering in and out at will, so he slid that out of the cabinet where his trash bags and cleaning supplies lived and rattled it so the cat would notice. The gesture earned Grady a disdainful look, which was pretty much the only kind that animal possessed. Before Grady left the glaring creature, he grabbed Olivia’s sock from the spot he’d dropped it and tossed it next to her on the sofa.
She glanced at the sock, then to him. “Thank you.” And then not another word. He tried to peek over her shoulder, but she treated him to a mock glare that would have made Mortimer proud. “At least tell me how much battery you have left.”
“Half,” she said.
“There’s a portable charger if you need it on the bottom shelf of the coffee table.”
“Coffee. Now that would be amazing.”
He stopped just shy of saying he’d take her out for coffee as soon as the weather cleared. Because what the fuck. First random sex had been fantastic sex, then there’d been no escape, and now he was thinking, however inadvertently, about seeing her again? No. A thousand of them.
Fortunately, she seemed to neither read his mind nor require a response, so he grabbed a paperback copy of The Force Awakens from a shelf and planted himself on the opposite end of the sofa from her.
She glanced up, looking from him to his book, then shook her head.
He hid a smile, not that he needed to go through the trouble. She’d already turned her attention back to the computer, so he dug into the book.
A while later, she fell back against the cushions and sighed.
He couldn’t help but notice how striking she was. Or forget the way she’d looked at him in bed. He wasn’t a solution for her life turned upside down—he got that, a thousand times over—but she hadn’t seemed burdened when they were having sex.
Maybe sex had made her forget.
Maybe more sex wouldn’t be so terrible, at least as long as she didn’t know he had anything to do with her job situation.
Yeah, whatever.
Only he actually believed it.
He watched her for a while before asking, “How’s the hacking going? Are you ready to admit defeat?”
When she looked at him, he realized he’d mistaken that sigh for frustration. Instead she wore a huge, adorable grin. “Yes, Grady. I give up.” She handed him the computer.
He stared. The Department of Defense seal was notably missing. In its place, the U.S.S. Enterprise from Star Trek occasionally darted across the screen and back. She’d replaced the static headline with a crawling one that read “Star Wars Sucks”. The Star Trek theme started in the background.
He blinked. Twice.
Olivia was brilliant.
He was fucked.
Chapter Seven
Olivia had never been so close to giddiness. Grady looked absolutely dumbfounded. Utterly shocked.
Possibly awed.
She’d definitely won this one.
A shadowy thought nudged her, reminding her that this was the part where her ex would have sulked. Oh, sure, he’d have told her it was all fine, that he was proud of her for besting him. But his surly facial expression and stiff posture would have made it quite clear he didn’t like being beat by a girl. He may have loved being a power couple, but he wanted to be the most powerful half.
Funny how being dumped gave you all kinds of clarity…
“You kill at hacking,” Grady said, interrupting her thoughts. He actually looked…happy. “Just so you know.”
Irritation crept past the shadow. “I told you I’m not really a hacker.” The words had come out more harshly than she intended, but she only hated two things in the entire world. One was her asshole ex.
The other was the hacker who had gotten her fired.
She was good at her job, and this small victory reminded her of what that jerk had stolen from her.
“Um, okay,” he said, though his dubious tone suggested he didn’t actually agree. “But you put hacker on your profile. And you just broke into the federal government. Trolled brilliantly, I might add—them and me in one shot. I’m not sure why you’re offended.”
She took a deep breath. “Like I told you before, I wrote an incredible program. It was going to be the most flawless of my career. Someone pushed it live before it was ready, and a test hacker got to it. Tore it to bits. That’s why I lost my job. I left the entire company open to security breach, so I do understand where they’re coming from, but I never put the program up. Someone else did.”
Grady looked a bit sickly. “That sucks,” he finally managed to say.
“Yeah, it sucks.” She burrowed into the blankets, no longer amused by the Star Wars stuff. “Which is pretty much the understatement of the century. And now that I think about it, I’m almost certain it was my ex who was responsible. They were talking about staff cuts, and I guess he’d rather have an easy target than risk being one himself. And he was always into discussing work, but he blew me off when I wanted him to help me figure out who could have done it, and why.” He’d blown her off, all right. Breakup sex, only she hadn’t been in on the secret.
“If someone screwed with you, file a complaint.”
“If I had more to go on, I would.”
“Somehow I think you have the skills to follow the electronic trail.”
She sighed. She’d grappled with this idea almost nonstop, but chasing it would put her in an impossible position. “Skills, maybe. But if I go out of bounds, that’s yet another reason for dismissal, and that’s not going to help me get my job back.”
He stared, thoughtful. “Do you have any other prospects?”
“With what references? Langdon & Walker hired me right out of college. Explaining what happened doesn’t change the fact that I opened the firm to malware. The best security fabric in the world can’t stand up to doors left wide open, so to speak, and those kinds of mistakes can cost companies millions. Just ask those retailers who had their customer accounts breached.” She shrugged. “Why would anyone hire me when there are plenty of other prospects with clean recommendations?”
“So why not reinvent yourself?” he asked, watching her intently. “You’d be one hell of a white hat. You already are. And believe me, there’s a demand for outside security checks.”
She frowned. “The person who hacked me was doing it on behalf of the good guys. Don’t think for one second I can bring myself to do that to anyone else. Besides, I didn’t deserve to lose my job. I shouldn’t have to reinvent anything. I kicked ass just fine as original me.”
“While I don’t doubt that,” he said with a faint smile, “I wish you’d consider it.” He settled next to her on the sofa. She’d somewhat prepared herself for an argument, but to her surprise, he let the idea drop. “Mind if I clear off this website before they haul me to prison? I’m pretty sure this isn’t the kind of signature they had in mind.”
She knew most hackers left a signature, and she’d bet his wasn’t pro-Star Trek. “Go ahead,” she said. “If you think you can.”
He did, with systematic, measured keystrokes that made it look easy. He hesitated only a few times as he masterfully backtracked through her steps, restoring the website. She’d seen similar work a thousand times, but for some reason, his movements captivated her to the point that she had no idea how much time had passed until he snapped the lid closed.
At which point he turned to her and gave her a long look.
“What?” she asked, entirely afraid of the answer.
“You’re brilliant. Which is incredibly sexy.”
She wanted to think he was joking, but something in his eyes suggested otherwise. He was full of dry humor and spoke sarcasm like it was his native language, but this time, his words were straightforward, his gaze steady and intent.<
br />
Shivers crawled down her spine. Good shivers.
“Is this the part where you tell me you like me for my brain?” She tried to sound teasing, or maybe skeptical, but all she heard was a nervous squawk.
“Actually,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “your body is damned incredible. I can’t say I didn’t notice that first. But it’s the rest that captivates me.”
“You’re captivated?” What was he saying? That he wanted to see her again?
He took a breath, like he was about to break some godawful kind of news. “The fact that you want to leave makes you the perfect woman.”
Apparently not. “That’s…ironic.”
His smile slipped a notch. “I was awake when you left. I just pretended to be asleep so you’d go away.”
“Um, thank you?” What was this? Him trying to make her feel better, or worse?
“I didn’t want you to go,” he said, softly enough that she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Instinctively, she leaned closer, only to realize she’d invaded his space, to disastrous consequences.
Because she wanted to be there.
“I really wanted to go,” she told him. “Then.”
“What about now?”
“I’ve got three minutes,” she said, hoping the smile she added was playful. “Maybe four.”
His grin melted her. Too bad it wouldn’t work on the snow, because she desperately needed to get out of there.
Almost as much as she needed him.
“Good,” he said. “Because we’re stuck here together. There’s no electricity, and I don’t even own a deck of cards. There’s not a whole hell of a lot to do.”
“Except each other.”
His brow lifted. “Great minds think alike.”
“Actually,” she said weakly, “I was being sarcastic.” Actually, she’d probably broken a sweat over the idea of having sex with him again, but no need to tell him that.
One Sexy Mistake (Chase Brothers) Page 5
