Hardware

by Sara Brookes

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  Hardware

  by Sara Brookes

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  Erotica/Romance

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  Atlantic Bridge

  www.atlanticbridge.net

  Copyright ©2010 by Sara Brookes

  First published in 2010

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  About the Author:

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  Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2010, Sara Brookes. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the authors.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

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  Blurb

  Women aren't supposed to be geeks. They aren't supposed to fix computer networks with expert ease either, but tell that to Allison—the resident computer guru in the small town of Gatlin Falls, Virginia.

  Enthralled by watching her work so effortlessly, Patrick agrees to accompany Allison for a night at the movies so he can learn more about her. Even though he's a perfect gentleman who prides himself on knowing exactly what a woman wants—and when she wants it—he can't keep away from her. One scorching kiss in a dark theater changes everything.

  Allison quickly learns Patrick's definition of hardware is vastly different than her own and she allows him guide her on a path where she discovers new heights of passion she's never imagined before. Taken by the calm she feels when she is around him, she is pulled into a world where there is comfort in wearing a pair of cuffs and sanctuary in accepting a collar.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Dedication

  To my one and only, who has the courage to chase after her dreams—you are a daily inspiration even at such a young age. May you never, ever read your Momma's books.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Chapter One

  Surrounded by the rich and alluring aroma of freshly brewed coffee, Allison stood five people deep in the line at the coffeehouse. The hands on her watch displayed the fact it was nearly seven o'clock. She wasn't late—yet—but if the barista kept up his snail's pace some serious ass-kissing would need to happen if she actually made it to work.

  Being late wouldn't get her in trouble, especially if she brought her boss one of those cranberry scones in the front of the pastry case, but she was rarely ever late. She was normally a go-with-the-flow type, but standing in line for this long definitely put a huge wrinkle in her day. The coffee here certainly made it worth the hassle, and despite the inconvenience, it was also worth the wait.

  The coffeehouse had recently gone through an ownership change. Luckily, this was her favorite and wasn't bothered by the few wrinkles in desperate need of ironing out. She knew Nick Conners, the new proprietor of Perfect Shot, would still be cycling through new hires as he tried to find employees who were far more reliable than the previous crew. She'd nearly given up on the place a few months ago when she'd come in one morning to find the store completely out of inventory. No coffee early in the morning led to more than a few disgruntled customers—herself included.

  Nick had only been the owner for two weeks and so far, things appeared to be moving along smoothly. Except this morning, of course.

  Currently, there was a man with wavy hair behind the register staring blankly at the machine in front of him. His confused expression gave away the fact he was one of the newest employees here. The logo shirt for the store he wore was ill-fitting and had the telling creases of being new. It was as if he'd pulled one quickly from a stack and didn't care what size it was or how new it was either.

  Of course, how it did or didn't fit was only a matter of opinion.

  To her, the tightness of the shirt fit his defined arms and chest well enough that she realized, late for work or not, she really didn't mind the wait in line. It certainly gave her something interesting to look at while the time ticked away.

  To the customer in front of her who kept sighing in exasperation, the view obviously wasn't as attractive. The frustrated man tugged on his windbreaker as he stepped out of line and the small bell over the door chimed softly as he exited the store.

  All the better for me.

  Her gaze fell back on the man behind the counter and she couldn't contain a soft giggle as his lips moved slightly in a string of obscenities. She glanced at the customers in front of her to see if they noticed as well, but they seemed too annoyed and inconvenienced to pay much attention to anything else.

  The employee behind the counter brushed back the deep chestnut colored hair that had fallen across his eyes and she was suddenly overcome with the desire to shove her fingers through it just to see if it was as thick as it looked. A quick glance at her watch showed that ten minutes had passed and pulled out her BlackBerry. The keys clacked under the tips of her fingers as she tapped out an apologetic email to her boss.

  Never one to be far from his own means of communication, Stephen immediately replied with a confirmation and even a request for a few pastries. Working with other technology geeks certainly had its advantages—the latest and greatest gadget was always close at hand.

  As the plan in her mind solidified further, she gave a bright smile to the customer behind her and stepped from the line. She ignored the curious stares of the other customers and knew that before long, they'd appreciate what she was about to do.

  The sky blue apron was soft in her hands as she pulled it off the wall after tucking her oversized messenger bag under the counter to keep it out of the way. The thin strings wrapped her waist twice and she thought about how the new colors chosen to represent the business were comforting and soothing. Something most people looked for as they relaxed with a cup of their favorite java. Of course, the blue and brown color combination was all the rage right now if the colors at the kitchen store she'd been at last week were any indication.

  She gathered her hair into a high ponytail and perched one hand on the divider beside the to-go cups. The cashier was still lost in his quiet tirade and hadn't noticed she stood there. The flummoxed man jumped when she lightly tapped on his elbow. The laughter in her chest made her settle a light hand on the counter as she turned to grin at the first customer in line. It was going to be work in order to deter some of their annoyance of being made to wait
around, but it couldn't hurt to give it a shot. Customer Service 101 was one of the first things you were taught when you dealt with the general public.

  “What can I get for you?”

  The relieved customer quickly fired off his coffee order and she clicked open a blue marker lying on the counter beside the register. As the order was scribbled on the side of the cardboard cup, she nodded and smiled at the next customer in line.

  “And for you, ma'am?” She listened attentively and took note of the neatly folded newspaper in the woman's hand. One thing the years of barista duty in college had taught her, the customers who remained in the coffeehouse always enjoyed the homey touch of the reusable mugs over the cardboard version. Her hand automatically reached for one of the ceramic cups.

  As the milk steamed, she squirted various syrups in each cup and noticed the befuddled man still stared at her with an expression of utter amazement. If he kept this up, no matter how handsome he was, they weren't going to get a whole lot accomplished.

  “Are you going to stare at me or charge him for his macchiato with an extra shot?” Her voice was purposefully cheerful, both for the frustrated customers and the barista. Something about his confused expression had made her decide to step in and offer a hand. Besides, the years she'd spent working in the coffeehouse to pay for her tuition to Pacific Tech helped everyone out.

  The barista blinked his gorgeously deep blue eyes a few more times. “I'd be more than happy to if the computer would actually do something other than just beep at me.”

  So that was the problem. She, of all people, knew how temperamental computers could be because she worked with them on a daily basis. Unlike most people, she thrived on the eccentricities of temperamental machinery and always had since childhood.

  Faced with the loss of technology, there was only one option. She turned to the line of customers as a steaming hot coffee was placed on the counter. “That'll be three fifty—cash only.”

  They worked smoothly together for the next half hour and only offended a few customers with the request for cash only. Most people who frequented this type of upscale coffeehouse would happily pay whatever they could as long as they got their fancy coffee in an equally fancy cup. The method of payment wasn't important and was a testament to the fact the world ran on caffeine.

  As Allison set the last cup of coffee—a small decaf of the special house blend for the sweet old woman still in her nightdress—on the counter, she wiped her hands on the now dirty apron. It was time to get down to the business at hand—fixing the register. Her mouth salivated at the prospect as her hands itched to work on some piece of broken mechanical equipment.

  There was a reason she was a computer specialist. It was easy to sort through the pieces of the puzzle and put them delicately back into place—it was more than just a hobby. Her boss always joked that she loved her job more than anyone else.

  “Want to move out of the way and give me chance to look it over?” She pointed to the equipment he leaned against and nodded in thanks as he moved out of the way.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked in expectation.

  The frustration in his voice had vanished. Evidently, her little plan to help had worked. To know she'd helped out would put a bright spot on her day.

  “Doppio, please,” she said absently as she tapped on a few keys to see if it would garner a response from the piece of machinery. While the strong drink wouldn't help her fix the equipment, it was what she'd initially come for and when coffee was involved, she rarely lost her focus.

  There was a slight hesitation before he depressed the button on top of the espresso machine to make the double she'd just requested. “You know, that's nearly lethal.”

  A piece of her wispy blonde bangs fell into her eyes as she studied the keyboard. “Habit really. Started when I was a senior in college to get me through the all-nighters and I'm addicted now, so it's too late to stop. You know, you should really have your boss look into updating the system he uses. I wouldn't even give my grandmother this antique. It's a good five years behind the curve.” She tapped her fingers impatiently against the equipment while it rebooted. “Slugs move at a faster pace than this.”

  “Here you go, one double espresso.” He pointed to the pitch-black liquid in the demitasse cup and smiled. “I'm not responsible for the damage done to your stomach when you drink that.”

  Despite the smell of the bold coffee, the blank screen on the small monitor unsettled her. Some sort of welcome screen should have popped up by now. The fact it was still as black as her coffee didn't bode well for the status of the system. Sometimes there was screwed and then just outright fucked. She saw this as the unfortunate latter.

  “Sorry to tell you, but this thing is dead.” The espresso was steaming hot and strong. She sighed in appreciation. Perfect Shot had the best coffee and this cup certainly didn't disappoint. “I have to say, you may not have a knack for computers, but you pull a mean doppio.”

  “Glad to know I can do something right.” The tone of his voice was snide and made her frown.

  “Where's your help?”

  “Just me this morning. For right now, at least. I told Nick I could handle it for an hour or two, but of course, I didn't expect the register to crap out on me.”

  She shrugged. “Computers are finicky beasts. Especially when they're as old as this one is. I know your boss is trying to get his feet under him with just buying this place, but he really should think about fixing this first. Considering the way this one is acting up, the sooner the better,” she added with a quick glance at the register. “This one is about a useful as a paperweight.”

  “Brother,” he clarified when she gave him a confused look. “Nick's my older brother, not my boss. Patrick Conners, at your service.”

  She leaned a hip against the counter as he started to clean the equipment now that the morning rush of customers had abated. The revelation about the relation to Nick certainly explained a lot. The similarities between the two brothers were evident now that she wasn't rushed for time. Their builds were similar, as was their height, which was a few inches more than her five foot seven. However, she didn't recall Nick's hair as dark or glossy as Patrick's, but she certainly remembered his eyes a lighter blue than what had just looked at her.

  As he worked, she could also see those eyes looked shadowed as if he hadn't slept well for a few days. That look was all too familiar to her. Each time she'd gotten lost on a gaming bender, that smudged darkness had greeted her in the mirror the next morning. While she could usually go a few days with little to no sleep, he didn't strike her as the gamer type. If fact, he looked like the clean cut, all-American type who routinely ridiculed her all through school because she hung out with the members of the math club instead of getting drunk after the Friday night football game.

  Definitely some kind of athlete, she thought. Due to her two older brother's obsession with sports, it was obvious Patrick wasn't tall enough for football or built sufficiently for anything more physical. What seemed to be even more curious were the brief flashes of ink under the hem of the blue logo shirt as he moved around the kitchen area.

  While Nick's brother was certainly attractive with his neat haircut, clean-shaven jaw and overall air of normalness, she could tell he was exactly the type of guy who wouldn't give her the time of day—at least under normal circumstances. Men with his looks wanted a woman on their arm as a showpiece because they believed it would enhance their attraction somehow.

  Men never gave her a second glance and she frowned as the last of her espresso left a bitter taste in her mouth. She'd spent too many years with her nose buried in computers. A social life hadn't been her top priority and it showed as men routinely went for everything she was not.

  She didn't regret her decision now, ten years after school, and situations like this reminded her why so much hard work had been invested in order to get to where she was today. Not only could the Conners brothers find the help they needed with their
grand re-opening, she could help them down the line too. Damn, those stupid business classes that had been required for graduation came in handy after all.

  She pulled a business card from her back pocket and handed it to Patrick. “Tell Nick to give me a call and I'll see what I can do to give him a break on some new computer equipment.”

  Patrick tapped the edge of the card as he read off the information printed on it. “Allison Stuart, Information Specialist with Bullseye Technologies. So what are you—my fairy godmother?”

  Her fingers hooked through the belt loop on her jeans. “Your brother has a good thing here, lots of loyal customers in place—including me. Besides, I'm lazy and I don't want to have to go across town just for a good cup of espresso if this place folds.”

  “Java Joint is just around the corner.”

  “You're kidding, right?” She tried her best not to be offended by the idea. Yes, the small town had more than its fair share of coffeehouses, but none of them compared to Perfect Shot. “Have you had their coffee? I'd be better off licking the inside of an engine on a Harley.”

  His snort was loud enough to turn a few customers’ heads. “So your reasons are entirely selfish then?”

  “Absolutely.” As she pulled the apron over her head, it caught in her hair and pulled out the tie she'd used earlier to secure it. During the fight with the two fabrics, her watch chimed the hour. It was a signal that she was now officially late for work. She liked her job and didn't like to push her limits. “Think you can handle this by yourself now? I really need to get to work.”

  A rush of wind blew past her as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She caught a glimpse of a short girl that appeared to be barely out of her teens who rattled off apologies about being late. Patrick's help had evidently arrived with much flourish.

  Just as she bent to retrieve the bag from under the pastry case, she remembered Stephen's request for a few pastries. A customer now, she move around the counter and pulled out her wallet.