by Jo Leigh
“Is that a good ‘damn you’ or a—” He laughed and caught her hand when she tried to smack him. Then he kissed each of her fingertips.
Sam knew she should say something. But there was so much new data flashing in her brain that she couldn’t gather her wits.
“Sometimes you’ll come with me to a gala,” he said, “and sometimes I’ll go with you to a con. We’ll still both work too much, but maybe not as much as we have been.”
“And here I just learned how to be a grown-up.” She kissed his lower lip, then took it between her teeth and gave it a gentle tug. But then she let him go, her eyes widening. “Wait. Did you say you love me?”
He smiled. “Sweetheart, remember when I asked if work was all you loved? It wasn’t rhetorical. Of course I love you. Very much. I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know that in the beginning I’ll need to travel more than I’d like to, but I can start taking a more supervisory approach to our acquisitions. I also happen to know that I’ll be able to make my home base Boston. I’d keep this place so we could visit and because we both love the city. We could stretch out our obligations bit by bit. Maybe hire a personal assistant or two? Have date nights, play ‘House of the Dead’ until I can just win one damn game. And be together at the end of the day.”
Sam’s heart was beating so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. It was all she could do to say, “I’m overwhelmed. You did all this, turning down the promotion, arranging this vivid illustration of your point, for me?”
He shook his head in the kindest way. “I’m good at what I do. I’ll get where I want to go. It’ll be so much easier when I have a partner at home. But there’s still one thing I’m not sure of.”
“What’s that?”
“If you love me back.”
She knocked him over in her eagerness to kiss him. “Of course I love you,” she said between kisses. “And this plan. This ‘carpe diem’ life you’re talking about, I want that. I want to have more than my work. I just never had a better offer.”
“Then I’m yours. For as long as you’ll have me.”
“Oh, my God. This is the best thing that’s ever happened in the history of ever.”
He laughed, but she was completely serious. “Tomorrow you should go to the con as a superhero.”
He looked at her as his brows rose. “A superhero? Which one?”
The only one that mattered. “Matthew Wilkinson.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A DANGEROUSLY SEXY AFFAIR by Stefanie London.
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A Dangerously Sexy Affair
by Stefanie London
1
QUINN DELLINGER SHUFFLED closer to a potted plant and tried to pull down the hem of her dress without making it look as if she was adjusting her panties. Except pulling the dress down meant giving up any hope of a modest neckline. One wrong move could land her in wardrobe-malfunction territory, and her plans for the evening didn’t include having a “nip slip” in public.
“You know, dendrophilia is kind of frowned upon.” Her friend, Alana Peterson, laughed and linked her arm through Quinn’s, pulling her away from the plant. “Or are you trying to take your wallflower status to the next level?”
“I’m trying not to show everyone what I had for lunch.” Quinn pursed her lips. “This dress is obscene.”
Away from the security of the curling leaves and fronds of the potted plant, Quinn was exposed to the room. Banners displaying the annual Bright Star Technology Innovation conference logo hung from the ceiling. Posters advertising the sponsors dotted the walls, and large LCD screens flashed photos from the preceding three days’ worth of conference activities. But everyone in the room seemed to be more interested in talking and drinking.
“Don’t be such a prude.” Alana flipped her blond hair over one shoulder. “Besides, you were the one who said you wanted to get over your issues with sex. Part of that is to become comfortable with your body.”
“And becoming comfortable with my body involves showing as much of it as possible?”
“Not necessarily. But you said you want to get back in the game, and that means you need a partner.” Alana winked. “That dress looks hot. No guy in their right mind would refuse you.”
“I feel like a human sausage.”
“It’s body con,” Alana said as if it was common knowledge. “It’s meant to be tight.”
“I’d prefer a little less con.” She rolled her eyes.
“You have an amazing body.” Alana looked at her, the admiration on her face genuine and warm. “It’s such a shame that you hide it all the time.”
Quinn sighed. Trying to explain her complicated relationship with her body to someone who could be a Victoria’s Secret model would be pointless. There wasn’t anything wrong with the way she looked, not at all. But her gangly limbs, ghost-white skin and piercings weren’t exactly magazine-worthy.
She hid behind pink hair dye and quirky clothes. And her “resting bitch face” may have repelled men on more than one occasion. Male attention wasn’t something Quinn was ever at ease with...not when that attention could lead to humiliation.
“Besides, who says sex and networking can’t go hand in hand? You might find an orgasm and a new job. There are some big players here—game-design studios, a few software-development companies. I’m pretty sure I saw a guy from Microsoft,” Alana continued. “You’re wasting your talents at that security company, and your boss has no idea what you’re capable of.”
She frowned. “You’re right. I should have been given that promotion.”
“Instead they went with someone external, who doesn’t have any of your business knowledge.” Alana’s eyes flashed as she shook her head. “What a load of bullshit.”
“Tell me about it.” Quinn sighed.
Her annoyance toward Alana’s pushiness—and by extension, the dress—melted away. While Alana’s methods might be questionable, she’d always done her utmost to bring Quinn out of her shell.
And she was the only one Quinn could talk to about her issues with sex and her decision to conquer them. She wasn’t
ready to date—that required a level of trust far beyond her capacity—but she could reclaim her sexuality.
All she had to do was find the right guy.
“You should quit,” Alana said, laying a hand on her arm and pulling her out of her thoughts. “They don’t know how talented you are.”
Quinn chewed on the inside of her cheek. Quitting sounded so simple when Alana said it in that airy way of hers, but that would mean going through the interview process again...and if there was one thing she sucked at, it was interviews. And even if she got a new job, she’d have to start working with a different team and go through that epic awkwardness of being the “new girl” all over again.
It wasn’t only that. She liked working at Cobalt & Dane. She admired her manager and appreciated all that they achieved as a company. She didn’t intend to quit—she simply had to prove they’d made a mistake by not promoting her. Being part of the technology security division at Cobalt & Dane Security was her dream, and after three years working as an IT support officer, she knew that she wanted more out of her career. That she was capable of more.
“I’m getting that job,” Quinn said through gritted teeth. “The new guy is a temporary hurdle.”
Alana raised a brow. “A temporary hurdle?”
“Yep. I’m going to make it my mission to prove to my boss that I’m exactly the person he needs.”
“You’ve already proven it, but they haven’t been paying attention.” Alana frowned, her blue eyes narrowing.
“Ease up, Mama Bear. I’m happy to show them what I’m made of.”
The two girls stood to the side of the room and watched the crowd. It was an eclectic mix of people: men in suits and others in jeans, old and young, a wonderful melting pot of nationalities and cultures.
But almost all men.
As a self-professed tech-head and an avid gamer, Quinn was used to being a minority. She and Alana had bonded immediately in high school because they were often the only two girls in their IT class. They’d both gone on to study technology at college and had entered the industry still feeling as if they didn’t quite belong.
Alana had taken it on the chin and ended up using her model looks to get ahead. She figured if men were going to objectify her then she’d use it to her advantage. Quinn, on the other hand, was the typical introvert. She worked better with small groups, had a few close friends she held dear and kept everyone else at arm’s length.
“If you keep pulling on that dress, you’re going to ruin the hem,” Alana admonished. “I’ll make you pay for it.”
“And I’ll challenge you to ‘Mortal Kombat,’ winner takes all,” Quinn pointed out.
“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for that twice.” Alana’s glossy lips lifted into a rueful smile. “Talk about an embarrassing defeat.”
“Less than twenty seconds, if my memory serves me correctly.”
“I still maintain you cheated.”
Quinn laughed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The room buzzed around them, music mixing with conversation and the sound of laughter. Waiters wove through the crowds carrying silver trays filled with champagne, wine and beer. Quinn hadn’t been to a cocktail party before, and she was surprised that they weren’t actually serving cocktails. Not that she really gravitated to drinks with little umbrellas in them, but still...
“Do you actually know anyone here?” Quinn asked, accepting a glass of red wine from a passing waiter. She sipped and tried not to cringe at the taste; this was so not her style.
“Only the guy who got us added to the list. I recognize a few people. That guy—” Alana pointed to an older man in a gray suit “—he’s the CEO of Strikevision. I’m pretty sure I saw one of the guys from Popstar Games here, as well.”
Quinn nodded. She wasn’t impressed by celebrities or reality TV stars, but put the man responsible for “Saints Row” in front of her and she’d fangirl like a sixteen-year-old at a Justin Bieber concert.
“So why are you here? I don’t buy that it’s just to be my winglady.”
“I’m working on a story,” Alana admitted.
“You lured me here under false pretenses?” Quinn tugged at the hem of her dress again. “And you make me wear this hideously uncomfortable thing. Not cool at all.”
“It’s for a good cause. I got a sneak peek at Third Planet Studios’ plans for the next Galactic Warrior game. It’s the same old bullshit again—strong men saving weak little damsels in distress. I’ve been trying to get an interview with one of the designers to ask why they never have any female protagonists in their games.”
“Let me guess, he doesn’t want to have a bar of your feminist outrage.” Quinn shook her head. “And you want to hang them out to dry.”
“It’s my job.”
Alana ran one of the most prominent gaming news sites on the internet. She’d made a small fortune creating a space for female gamers to convene without judgment or objectification. Despite being called every horrible name under the sun—not to mention constantly battling vitriolic misogyny on every social media platform—Alana was determined to change the gaming industry. Quinn often contributed game reviews and blog posts in her spare time, happy to do anything to support her friend’s business since the issue was close to her heart, too.
“When I have a daughter, I want her to be able to play video games that empower her.” Alana stared out into the crowd, her face set into a mask of determination. “I don’t want her to be treated like a second-class citizen when she goes to a gaming convention.”
“Amen, sister.”
Alana paused, sipping on her champagne. “Is it so bad that I wanted you here for moral support?”
“You could have told me. Besides, I’m not going to be much help. You know you’re the outgoing, pretty one, and I’m the quiet, smart one.” She tried to keep a straight face but it was near impossible. If they weren’t at a professional event, Alana would have socked her in the arm.
“Aside from the fact that we’re both smart, it makes me sad that you undervalue yourself.”
“Please don’t get all Dr. Phil on me,” she groaned. “I wore the goddamn dress. You don’t get any other freebies tonight.”
“I repeat—that dress makes you look hot. I hope you get some.” Alana winked. “Sex is natural and healthy. You deserve to feel good about it again.”
“It’s not that easy.” She swirled her wineglass slowly and watched as the red wine clung to the edges. “What if I can’t find a guy who’s attracted to me?”
“Then the world is full of fucking morons and we may as well give up hope.”
“I love it when you swear. It’s like a Care Bear giving someone the finger.”
Alana’s laughter stopped short as her eyes locked onto someone across the room. Target acquired.
“Aha! A Third Planet designer. I’m going to charm him into talking to me.” She squeezed Quinn’s shoulder. “Then I’m going to take him down.”
Alana walked away, and Quinn stifled a laugh as several men almost gave themselves whiplash trying to keep their eyes on her. She could hardly blame them; Alana was perfect.
All. The. Damn. Time.
At one point it had intimidated Quinn; now it only baffled her. Maybe her friend wasn’t human...
Quinn backed up until something brushed against her leg, making her jump. The tree.
“It’s you and me, old friend,” she said, positive she looked like a nutcase for talking to a plant. “Want to get drunk?”
* * *
AIDEN ODELL EXCUSED himself from a conversation that was quickly heading south. Tinder hookups weren’t something he cared about. Frankly, he didn’t need an app to help him in that area of his life.
Besides, tonight was all about work. Tomorrow would be his first official day at Cob
alt & Dane Security and he’d already been assigned a case. The head of Third Planet Studios—an up-and-coming game design company—was about to launch a new project, which up until recently had been kept quiet. But someone was leaking details.
He’d called in a favor to get access to the cocktail party in the hopes of picking up information. And he’d also booked a room at the hotel in case he needed to work into the night.
This was Aiden’s chance to show people what he was made of. Not only that, his best friend—the Dane in Cobalt & Dane—had been asking him to join his team for a year. It would be a turning point for Aiden, a fresh start. He’d be able to work at a place where his expertise was valued. No more handouts because of who his father was; no more free passes or special treatment.
And he was determined to hit the ground running. Success would be his, no matter what. Even if it meant giving up part of his weekend to do optional recon.
However, he’d picked up nothing but flimsy rumors all night. Definitely nothing that hinted at who was involved. Now, several hours later, he was tired of banal conversation and dead ends. The king-size bed in his hotel room called to him. It was late and he should get a good night’s sleep.
Aiden shrugged off the temptation. The only lead he had was a leggy blonde by the name of Alana Peterson, who apparently had some kind of grudge against the company. But his attempt to engage her in conversation had resulted in his being turned down flatter than a pancake.
A flash of color caught his attention. A woman stood next to a potted plant, her lithe figure encased in a little black dress that was hot enough to melt brain cells. But it was her hair that captivated him. It tumbled down to her waist, dark brown at the top and hot-pink through the lengths. She had a nose piercing and five earrings in one ear. He couldn’t help but linger; she was sex on a stick.
Plus, he’d seen her talking to Alana Peterson earlier. Were they friends? Or simply two women gravitating toward one another in a sea of men?
