She has 30 days to turn her enemy into her boyfriend...
“<3 your enemy” just took a completely ridiculous turn.
Introverted computer engineer Charlie Forrester has coded an algorithm for love, a nearly flawless matchmaking program. But then she’s challenged to prove its accuracy–on herself. With her dream job on the line, Charlie has thirty days to forge a romantic relationship with her “perfect” match...her ex-friend and now-nemesis, Daniel Shawn. Since her dating experience is expressed in binary, she’ll need more than flirting lessons and a wardrobe overhaul to pull it off.
After falling victim to the same online matchmaking con he was investigating, reporter Daniel Shawn’s professional reputation went up in flames. Now he suspects someone has rebooted the scam, and he’s determined to expose the fraud and rebuild his career. Unfortunately, his efforts to get back in the game get sidetracked by Charlie and her adorable geekitude, even though she seems to know a little too much about digital dating for Daniel’s comfort.
And when fake romance crosses into real chemistry, Charlie’s formula for love might just be the perfect formula for disaster...
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by E.J. Russell. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Select Contemporary is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Robin Haseltine and Theresa M. Cole
Cover design by Louisa Maggio
Cover art from iStock
ISBN 978-1-63375-375-4
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition September 2015
For Hana, Ross, and Nick, because they’re only occasionally embarrassed by their mother.
Chapter One
Geekronym: UI
Translation: User interface
Definition: The system by which people (users) interact with a machine (computer hardware or software).
The hotel ballroom doors whooshed closed behind Charlie Forrester, muffling the sound of wedding guests hooting at the groomsmen dancing to “Too Sexy for My Shirt.” The lobby was mercifully empty, and she leaned against the wall, the silence easing her skittering nerves.
Weddings. Just shoot me now. This was the fourth one she’d sneaked out of in two months.
When she’d launched a limited field study based on her algorithm predicting relationship success, she’d never expected to get so hands-on with the subjects. But the women who made up her user group refused to let her handle her tasks remotely, and she’d gotten sucked into this never-ending social vortex.
In the largest of cosmic jokes, they depended on her, the woman who hadn’t had a date since she was an undergraduate, the woman whose success rate with men was in the negative range, for relationship advice.
Well, not her, precisely. Her data. She wasn’t their friend or even their advisor. She was more like on-site tech support, facilitating romances for the unfortunately large circle of her roommate’s friends.
Who then invited her to their resultant weddings.
Lord. Give her a computer any day. She was so not cut out for this people crap.
The music swelled again as the ballroom doors opened, and her roommate Lindsay emerged.
“Charlie? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just needed a minute. Do you realize six different users asked me to add new men to the data pool?”
Lindsay wrinkled her nose. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that. It makes them sound like substance abusers.”
Well, in the wrong hands, a relationship could qualify as a controlled substance, altering the consciousness and ruining the lives of even the most gentle and inoffensive, Lindsay being a case in point.
“Sorry. But they should know by now that I can’t add any random guy just because they think he’s hot.” If that was all that mattered to them, they didn’t need her data at all. “I have to research the men. Harvest their online data. Run them through the evaluation algorithm before I’ll add them to the matrix. Otherwise…” Charlie broke off as a smile twitched Lindsay’s lips. “What?”
“For someone who complains so much about the Love Program, you spend an awful lot of time taking care of these women.”
Charlie cringed. “Please, Lin. It’s not the ‘love’ anything. It’s Studies in Predictive Mating Behaviors Predicated on Social Media and Online Interaction.”
“Mmm-hmmmm.” Lindsay’s eyes twinkled. “When’s the last time anybody but you called it that?”
That would be never, no matter how many times she protested the embarrassing nickname. “Look, I may not be crazy about my role as their digital date enabler, but I can’t let anything bad happen to them because I didn’t do my job. Besides, did you see those guys? I don’t have to pull their data to know they’re all Stage Ones.”
“Why is that bad?”
“All the users—sorry, the women—are Stage Twos and above. They want at least short-term monogamy, not a Stage One one-night stand.” Charlie pushed her curls off her forehead, searching for the right way to explain herself. “There’s a responsibility that comes with this kind of information. That’s one of the reasons I’ll never let this go any further than a field study. If it were packaged, commercialized, I couldn’t trust that…that…”
Lindsay patted her shoulder. “That it would be used for good, not evil?”
She grinned. “Exactly. But Lin…” She linked her arm with Lindsay’s and led her to a sofa in a nearby alcove. “I developed the algorithm and the data collection protocols to prove it could be done. But the field study? I did that for you.”
“Me? But I never asked you for that.”
“I know, but please, please, please let me add you to the user group. There are enough men in the matrix now that I know I could find you someone better than—”
Lindsay pulled away and wrapped her arms across her stomach. “Please, Charlie. I know you mean well, but I’m not ready.”
“Lin—”
“No.” She stood up. “We’d better go back in. It must be nearly time for Audrey to toss the bouquet, and she’ll miss you if you’re not there.”
Despite the determined set to Lindsay’s jaw, Charlie knew she’d rather chew broken glass than go back into that ballroom. After all, this ought to have been her wedding day, too, if her ex-fiancé hadn’t been such an idiotic jerk.
“She’s a Stage Four at the tail end of her wedding reception. The only person she really sees right now is her husband.” Charlie stood up and brushed at the wrinkles in her skirt. “What do you say we head home?”
Lindsay’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Can we? Oh, but shouldn’t we wait for Gideon?”
Charlie hadn’t seen their other roommate since the cake cutting. “He’ll leave when he’s ready. The waiters are really cute, and you know Gideon can never resist a man in a tuxedo shirt. Come on.” Charlie urged Lindsay through the lobby. “We’ll watch Kill Bill and you’ll feel better.”
Lindsay’s smile brightened and her eyes lost their haunted look. “Volume 2?”
“Absolutely.” And every time Uma sai
d Bill, Charlie would substitute Will, Lindsay’s bonehead of an ex-fiancé. Good times all around.
Once out of the hotel and in the warm June air, Charlie could breathe easily again. “So should we—”
“Would you mind waiting for just a minute?” Lindsay pointed across the street at the scatter of umbrella-topped tables on the sidewalk in front of Alameria, where a man lifted a hand in greeting. “I see someone I know.”
Charlie squinted, shading her eyes against the westering sun. “Isn’t that the Stage Two from your office?”
“He does have a name, you know. It’s Philip. I should go say hello, or he’ll think I’m being rude.”
Charlie moved away from the lobby doors to stand against the hotel facade, out of the way of foot traffic. “No problem. Take your time.”
“Why not come meet him? He’s a nice guy. You might like him if you got to know him.”
“I’ve got his data, Lin. He’s an unattached Stage Two with a better than 60 percent chance of connecting with one of the women in the group. I know more about him than he knows about himself.” She rummaged in her bag for her cell. “You go ahead. I’ll order us some take-out Thai for the movie.”
As Lindsay crossed the street, Charlie woke her phone. But before she could bring up the restaurant website, a red warning flashed on the screen and her stomach tumbled to her toes.
Anthony Global Solutions had lifted its hiring freeze.
Oh, lord. Not now. Please not now.
All Charlie had wanted since she was eight years old was to work for AGS, the high-tech equivalent of the Peace Corps. Their mission statement—practical, integrated application of science and technology, aimed at lasting improvement in people’s lives—had molded her entire life. That’s why she’d registered with IT Staffing West, the temp agency that was the only gateway to AGS employment.
Now, when the position she’d been waiting for had finally shown up in her job opportunities queue, her account manager was in no position to present Charlie as the perfect candidate. Instead, she was currently throwing her bouquet, about to leave for a month-long honeymoon.
Panic propelled her to the street corner. Lindsay still stood outside Alameria, talking with Philip and a dark-haired man in a blue dress shirt, who had his back toward Charlie. While she waited for the light to change, the man turned slightly toward her roommate.
The familiar angle of his jaw shot a tingle up Charlie’s spine, displacing the AGS alarm.
Steady, steady. She backed away from the curb, fingers clenching the strap of her bag. No need to panic. Lots of guys had that square-jawed thing going on. It didn’t have to be…him.
Lindsay caught Charlie’s glance. She said something to the men and nodded in her direction. The new guy pivoted.
Cheekbone. Nose. Profile.
Lord.
Daniel Shawn.
She whirled, ready to duck back into the hotel, but a clump of Stage One men from the wedding boiled out of the doors and blocked the sidewalk. She glanced around for a quick escape route.
No, not quick. Immediate. Because Daniel Shawn could be looking at her right this very nanosecond.
Charlie shielded her face behind her purse and bolted down the block.
Chapter Two
Geekronym: IDPS
Translation: Intrusion detection and prevention systems
Definition: A software application and/or device that monitors and logs possible malicious network incidents and policy violations.
“You know, Dan, you’re different since you got back.”
Daniel Shawn cocked an eyebrow at his friend Philip as the waiter set a basket of warm pita bread on their table. “I hope so. Twenty-eight is different than eighteen.”
“I don’t mean age, dude. Your cool was legend back in the day, but now…” Philip shrugged. “It’s like you checked your charm at the airport and they lost the bag.”
“Nice one, Phil.” He snagged a triangle of pita and loaded it with hummus from the mezze platter. “Maybe you should be the reporter instead of me.”
“You know”—Philip leaned forward, both hands clasped around the base of his Dos Equis bottle—“I couldn’t figure why Daniel the Destroyer would land back in Portland, seeing as you couldn’t wait to split after graduation.”
“Nobody’s called me ‘Destroyer’ since high school.”
Philip snorted. “Maybe not to your face. Bet your victims call you a lot worse. Hey.” His eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re undercover. On the trail of another internet scam.”
“Been at the Tom Clancy books again?”
“Don’t bullshit me. Why else would a hotshot like you bury yourself at a third-rate online rag like Hard Tech Weekly? It’s not like Huffington Post and the NYT gave you a pass.” Daniel’s jaw clenched in a frozen grin and Philip’s eyes widened. Then he winced and took a slug of his beer. “Fuck. Guess they did. I didn’t mean…wow. Sorry.”
Yeah, total kick in the balls, that one. HTW, with its stodgy, conservative reputation, was the only publication that would touch him. But they’d had conditions. He’d had to swear on The Chicago Manual of Style that he wouldn’t write anything with even a whiff of controversy.
Sure, it meant a paycheck, which after nearly a year of attempting to live down his spectacular career crash-and-burn, was welcome—bordering on essential.
But, Christ, it was boring.
“Don’t sweat it, Phil. It’s all good.”
“Really? Didn’t mean to stick my foot in it. Jesus. What a moron,” Philip muttered, still pink around the ears, and tucked into the baba ghannouj.
“Not a problem.”
Because he’d been the moron. Stupid enough to believe his own hype. Hell, he was Daniel-fucking-Shawn, the man who could spot online fraud within two clicks of a mouse. Turns out, when faced with a gorgeous woman armed with the right lies, he was just as stupid as any other guy who wanted to believe in true love.
So yeah. Lesson learned.
The sun dipped below the edge of their table’s umbrella, shining full in Daniel’s eyes. A woman stopped next to Philip and spoke out of the glare.
“Philip, hi. What a surprise. It’s so nice to see you.”
Daniel leaned sideways until Philip’s shadow allowed him to see her shiny blond hair, the same color as his ex’s. His shoulders tensed, but he ordered himself to stand down. Just because she’s blond doesn’t mean she’s an evil minion.
But he couldn’t help it. He still mistrusted any woman who approached out of the blue. Coincidental meetings were implausible. Random chat was suspect. Yeah, his moratorium on small talk made him a huge hit at bars and cocktail parties.
Not that he’d been to a party for over a year. Not since the one that was supposed to be his triumph—the one where he planned to announce that he’d taken down Franklin Argonne’s bogus matchmaking racket and recovered all the losses his targets had suffered. Instead, he’d had his ass handed to him, personally and professionally, by the woman who was supposed to be his girlfriend.
Although his life had crumbled around him, he’d been more ashamed of being fooled than he was heartbroken. Maybe he was incapable of feeling anything more than that. Maybe his legendary cool had finally frozen his heart, locking every emotion except anger in a cage of ice.
Philip scooted his chair back in a screech of metal against concrete and stood up, knocking the table with his thigh. “Hey. How you doing? Lin, this is Daniel Shawn. Old friend from high school. Dan, Lindsay Henning, our administrative assistant.”
Lindsay hesitated, a crease folding between her eyebrows, before she held out her hand. Daniel stood and took it. She didn’t back away from his single firm shake, but that worry wrinkle didn’t disappear.
No doubt about it. She recognized his name and it alarmed her. Now why would that be?
“What are you doing downtown tonight, Lin? Want to join us for dinner?” Philip slid the third chair out in invitation. “Dan’s just back in town, and he could use a new friend or two. I don’t think anyone he used to know still speaks to him except me.”
She colored, dropping her gaze to her folded hands. “One of our friends got married this afternoon. My roommate and I were just leaving the reception.” She nodded toward the corner behind Daniel’s shoulder.
He turned, but he didn’t see anyone who matched Lindsay’s style. Only a few strolling couples and one woman in a shapeless navy dress who scurried down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. She held a giant purse up to her shoulder, masking her profile, but not her cap of auburn curls.
Daniel frowned, déjà vu raising goose bumps on his skin. That hair. He took a half step forward, something urging him to follow.
“Dan? Something wrong?”
“It’s…” He rubbed his chest, easing a sudden hollowness. He almost had it, almost remembered. Almost. But he couldn’t grab it, and it was gone along with the woman who vanished around the corner.
…
Charlie sagged against the wall of a brewpub, her breath still galloping in her chest.
Lord. Daniel Shawn, her erstwhile best friend from grade school. Ever since he’d hit puberty two years and a grade ahead of her, every one of their encounters had been a total disaster. Why him? Why here? Why now, for heaven’s sake? Wasn’t the AGS issue enough of a nightmare?
“Charles.” Gideon marched down the sidewalk toward her. “You might have told me you were leaving. Chasing you down the street is—”
“Gideon.” She cleared her throat, hugging her squishy shoulder bag to her chest. “It’s Daniel.”
“Daniel?” He blinked, his brown eyes magnified by his hipster vanity glasses. “Dickhead Daniel? Here?”
She nodded. “Outside Alameria. With the Stage Two from Lindsay’s office.”
“Oh my God. I must and shall see the creature who looms so large in the Charlie Forrester mythos.” He turned, but she grabbed his arm.
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