Go for Love
a novella
Laura Chapman
Copyright © 2019 by Laura Chapman
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Cover by Laura Chapman
A previous version of this story appeared in the limited release anthology “Love in Charge” during Fall 2019. The version has been updated with additional content.
Created with Vellum
Contents
About ‘Go for Love’
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Also by Laura Chapman
About the Author
About ‘Go for Love’
Tech start-up darling Sarah Burton is branching out with a new company aimed at connecting adventurous professionals with overseas companies—like grown-up study abroad. When a glitch threatens her launch, only one person can help.
Beck Spencer swore he’d never give his ex-girlfriend another chance to break his heart. But with his own business in need of cash, and the big money she's offering, he can’t say no. To taking her on as a client or falling for her all over again.
Despite their attempts to keep it professional, the spark between Sarah and Beck reignites hotter than ever. Is this their second chance at true love? Or will the differences that drove them apart keep them from being together?
Go for Love is a standalone romantic comedy series about strong women looking for adventure and finding surprise romance around the world and the men who join them along the way. This novella is the prequel.
Chapter One
Spending a few days without the Internet wouldn’t kill Sarah Burton. But it just might bury her career six feet under. She could practically read the tombstone.
Here lies the career of Sarah Burton. Co-founder of thriving tech start-up LinkDigital, millionaire by twenty-five, and a Forbes magazine darling—all thrown away on a vanity project.
That was probably too many words for an epitaph. Plus, considering how much of her own money she had tied up in this new company, Sarah would be too broke to spring for a slab of marble big enough for all those words.
To be fair, this project wasn’t a passing whim. She’d spent years building Global Office—GO for short. It was her biggest business risk and her greatest dream.
She only wished it hadn’t become such a nightmare.
When the network had crashed overnight—again—taking the entire GO server with it, Sarah had pinched herself to make sure it was really happening and not a bad dream.
It was just the latest in a string of issues to plague her and this new venture.
The problems had started when an adult film company had already trademarked her first proposed business name. Then, halfway through development, a competitor launched a nearly identical model to the one she’d planned.
The biggest disaster—the one that really could’ve ended it all—happened a month earlier. One of her main investors had a change of heart, leaving Sarah to invest more of her own personal savings or risk shuttering the whole deal before it even launched.
One of those issues on its own was a bit of bad luck. Put together, it seemed like a curse. If she’d been superstitious, she would have pulled the plug.
Crouching down to get a better look at the pile of wires—and the woman pulling them out of the battered brick wall with total abandon—Sarah braced herself for the worst.
“Give it to me straight.”
Maisie Spencer, the IT employee she’d borrowed from her functioning company, LinkDigital, lifted her head. “It’s not good, boss.”
Sarah would have guessed as much.
“What’s the damage?”
“Server is fried. By the looks of this, it was only a matter of time before it did. Do you back up?”
Of course Sarah backed up. You didn’t become the Chief Product Officer of a thriving tech company without knowing to do something as basic as regularly backing up a server.
Gritting her teeth, Sarah nodded. “Every night.”
“Off-site?”
“By cloud.”
“Glad to hear it.” Nodding in approval, Maisie tugged at a few more wires. Sarah grimaced as another fell to the wayside. “Once you’re back online, you’ll be fine.”
“And how long will that be?”
“Depends.”
If Sarah ground her teeth any harder, she’d end up with TMJ—or at least a pounding headache.
“What does it depend on?”
“How long you want to be operational.”
Sarah’s left eye twitched. “Let’s say I want to be running forever.”
“Nothing runs forever. Not without maintenance.”
“Of course.” She breathed in deeply through her nose, counted to ten, and then released it with control that would’ve earned her a gold star in yoga class. “The website launches in a week. What do we have to do to be fully operational by then and to stay that way for the foreseeable future?”
“So you want a long-term fix, not a bridge.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “That’s right.”
Maisie sat upright. “Right now, you’re working with an old system. Like I said, I’m surprised it didn’t crap out sooner.”
“You mean the network itself or the entire infrastructure?”
“The infrastructure.”
Well, crap. If the infrastructure in the office was to blame—the servers, the wiring, pretty much everything but the kitchen sink—it was no wonder the whole system had given out.
While working in a Gilded Age warehouse had its charm, it also came with antiquated wiring. It was probably the biggest issue most businesses operating in Lincoln’s renovated Haymarket District faced. She’d known they were on borrowed time.
She’d just hoped that time would last a bit longer.
Right now, there was no point bemoaning her past decisions. She needed a plan. A good one to dig her—and her career—out of the ground.
“Where do we start?” Sarah asked.
“The good news is, I’ve put in another patch of sorts to get you back online for now. But who knows how long that will last? A couple days. Weeks.”
A couple of hours?
“So the bad news is . . .”
“You need to rewire. Now.”
A discomforting mix of anxiety and the excitement that came from going into problem-solving mode coursed through Sarah. “We’ll need to bring in building maintenance to take down the last bits of drywall and ceiling tiles, which I’m less concerned about.”
Her team could work without drywall for a while.
Maisie arched an eyebrow. “You’ll need someone to, you know, actually do the rewiring.”
Of course, she did. It was the most important next step. It was also the next step she didn’t have worked out in her head. Short of borrowing more employee labor from LinkDigital —which seemed like an abuse of company resources—she was at a loss on how to get the job done. And done right.
“And,” Maisie added, “they should probably work after hours to cause as little disru
ption to your day-to-day operations as possible.”
Which sounded both expensive and absolutely necessary. Especially if she wanted to stay on track for launch.
“You’ve been more than helpful,” Sarah said. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in some after-hours bonus—”
Maisie shook her head before Sarah could finish. “It’s not that I’m not glad to help—I am. But this goes beyond my expertise. You should probably call in someone from the Internet service provider.”
That would—in all likelihood—blow her timetable. They’d be at the mercy of a company already scheduled out for weeks for anything but minor fixes. Waiting wasn’t an option.
It might be a little sketchy to ask for a workaround, but Sarah had no other choice.
“Any chance you know of an independent contractor with an opening?”
“Actually . . . ” Maisie tilted her head thoughtfully. “I know a guy. He does contract work for one of the bigger companies in town. During the day.”
“And he might be willing to put in some extra time on the side?”
“He might.”
For the first time that day, Sarah’s hopes rose, and the tension eased. “Can we bring him in? Today?”
“Maybe.” Now Maisie wasn’t meeting her gaze.
Running out of patience—yet not wanting to snap at the woman who had already done so much to help—Sarah took another deep breath in and out.
“What’s the problem?”
“It’s not a problem. At least it doesn’t have to be.”
“I’m sensing a but.”
“He just might not be your first choice.”
Sarah opened her mouth, about to say any choice was fine as long as it got the job done on time, within budget, and without breaking any laws. Then the pieces began to fall together.
“You mean . . .”
“Beck is the best there is at this kind of work.” Maisie’s lip curved up in a half-grin, even as Sarah’s stomach tumbled at the name. “I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother. He could do this in his sleep.”
He’d also probably drive Sarah to drink in the process.
They’d dated after college. Set up by mutual friends, their chemistry had been immediate and intense. But within a few months, it had grown too hot. After a final, explosive fight about something she couldn’t remember, she’d told him to lose her number. For once, he’d listened.
Hiring Beck to do this project was less than ideal. On any other day, Sarah would have ignored the suggestion. Still, Maisie was right. Beck could make quick and solid work of this.
Desperate times . . .
“Okay,” Sarah said. “Let’s bring him in.”
She hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
Chapter Two
Beck Spencer knew trouble when he saw it. And this office—and the woman running it—spelled big trouble.
The last time he’d seen Sarah Burton, she’d been two seconds away from tossing a cocktail in his face. Her ice-blue eyes had burned with rage over something he’d said. Of what, he couldn’t recall, but he’d probably baited her. He’d almost definitely baited her. In his own twisted way, he liked it when she snapped. When she shed that veil of control she kept in place in almost every situation. Oh, he admired her fortitude, her discipline. He also liked knowing he could get around it. That was the only time he felt like they were on even ground.
The woman waiting for him when the elevator door slid open was fully in control—of her emotions and her empire. She was every inch the executive. An executive in a T-shirt and jeans, but in command all the same.
Even though he’d never admit it—especially not to her—he liked this look too. A lot. More than the guy hired to rebuild her company’s network should.
Clearing his throat, Beck shook the hand she offered. Her grip was firm, confident. Yes, she was in command. And, yes, she could crush him if he gave her the chance. Again.
He kept up the shake longer than he should have while he tried to figure out what to say. For the life of him, he couldn’t come up with an appropriate greeting. “I’ve thought about you” seemed inappropriate at best and creepy at worst. Yet “hello” or a grunt wouldn’t do either. Rebuilding the complex system of broadband connections was easier than figuring out what to say. It was all the more reason he was better at doing his job than being a boyfriend.
“I hear you need some work done,” he said, at last, releasing her hand.
“You heard correctly.” She took a step back either by intent or instinct. Increasing the space between them was smart. She always had been the most brilliant person in the room.
Not to mention the most stubborn and infuriating. He’d be wise to follow her lead.
Tucking his hands in his denim pockets, he leaned back on his heels.
“My sister gave me a quick rundown of what we’re dealing with. How about you show me?”
With a curt nod, she swiveled around and strode down the hall. He ambled along a few steps behind, half-listening as she repeated everything he’d already heard from Maisie. It would save them time if he interjected, but he let her carry on. They could both probably use a few extra minutes—and a brisk walk—to ease the tension.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the tension wasn’t all awkwardness and annoyance. He’d caught the hint of a flush darkening her cheeks the moment before she’d turned away.
When she paused at a gaping hole in the wall, he dropped to his haunches to take a better look. Maisie wasn’t usually one to exaggerate, but she’d all but compared the current system to a patchwork quilt made out of dishrags.
Pulling the flashlight from his utility belt, he shined it into the void. He craned his neck and winced. Even the untrained eye could tell this stretch of cable had seen better days. There were gobs of electrical tape and a decade’s worth of splitters. It was hard to tell what was fiber and what was electrical. A crashed server was a minor issue. They were lucky the server hadn’t overheated and set the whole building on fire.
Behind him, Sarah lowered herself to the ground to peer over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know it’s bad. Just tell me how we fix it.”
A faint whiff of lavender filled his senses. He knew the name of the flower because she’d told him long ago. For a second, he let his eyes close and his mind wander to what it had been like to hold her in his arms. His finger nudged an electrical wire, and he flinched from a slight shock.
Eyes wide open now, he’d seen enough. He flipped off the flashlight and drew back slowly, careful not to touch her.
“Want the fastest fix or the best?”
Her brow wrinkled. “The best.”
“You could let things progress their natural course. And in a couple of weeks—maybe a month or two on the outside—you can collect the insurance money after the whole place burns down.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he smirked.
“You’re joking.”
“I’d never joke about money.” He eased up back to his feet and offered her a hand. Ignoring it, she stood on her own. “You could probably get enough from the settlement to buy a summer home in the Keys.”
If her death glare was any indication, she didn’t appreciate the joke.
“Or not.” He released a whistle and tucked his hands back into his pockets. “I guess you’d rather go for a rebuild.”
“If that’s the one that doesn’t involve burning my business to the ground, then I’d say you’re on the right track.”
No humor. She clearly wanted to keep this strictly professional. Fine by him.
Pulling out a pack of cinnamon gum, he offered her a piece. She silently declined, and he popped a piece in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“Maisie was right. We need to start from the ground up.” He stared at the wall because it was easier than meeting those bewitching pale blue eyes that betrayed nothing. “Are you okay with taking down the drywall?”
“Completely. It was alre
ady up when we moved in. I’m not married to it.”
“Your landlords don’t mind?” He turned in time to catch a small grin curve her full lips.
“As of last year, I own the building.”
Of course, she did.
Pretending not to be impressed, he ran through the long list of fixes that would need to be made to give her a reliable network. Short of burying fiber in the ground—which had been done two years before—he’d have to start over. That wouldn’t take as much time as it sounded. Not like building a new house. It would still take him about a week if everything went as planned.
It wouldn’t be cheap. The parts alone would cost a pretty penny.
Sarah took the news in stride. She gave a short nod and asked, “When can we start?”
“If we go through your Internet provider, it’ll probably take at least two weeks to get something scheduled.”
She shook her head, giving him pause. These days, she was wearing her dark brown hair cropped so it fell just below her jawline. The movement of her head sent it waving, drawing more attention to her long, slender neck. He remembered how she’d sighed when his lips had brushed against the sweet spot just below her ear.
His stomach clenched. Maybe he wasn’t as good at keeping it professional as he thought.
“I can request to be your tech, which might . . .” he trailed off because she was shaking her head again.
“We need to make this happen now. I realize we’d have to go around the usual way of things.”
“And break the protocol for contractors.”
She nodded. “You could do the work after hours. We’d be discreet. And,” a slow grin spread across those full lips, “I’m prepared to make it worth your while.”
It wouldn’t be the first job he’d taken off the books, but it would be the biggest. If the cable companies found out, they might take him off their preferred contractor list. But if the price was right, he’d risk it.
Go for Love Page 1
