She stared out the window on the way home, thinking optimistic, sexy thoughts.
On Sunday evening, Lauren received an unexpected delivery from Eli’s, an upscale gourmet food store on the Upper East Side. It arrived in a small cooler with a shoulder strap, which was completely odd. After she verified that the delivery was actually for her (from one Mike Beacon) and tipped the delivery man, she unzipped her gift.
Pickles and chocolate ice cream.
She groaned, and then laughed. The text she sent him was only a few words long. “Thanks? Awfully sure of yourself, though.”
“My stats are excellent. I bat 1000.”
“We’ll see,” is all she replied. Many couples took a year or more to get pregnant. And when Lauren tried to picture herself a year from now in a relationship with Mike, it wasn’t easy to do. When they were together before, she’d been a planner—she’d allowed herself to picture the future. Then he’d blown up their life together, and for two years every thought of him caused her almost physical pain.
So picturing the future again? It could wait. She did however sample the ice cream he’d sent. It was excellent.
When she woke up on Monday morning, her Katt Phone was glowing red around the edges, indicating an urgent message. Someone is showing us an offer on the router division, Nate had texted. Need you in Manhattan today.
The text gave her an honest-to-god shiver of excitement. Forty minutes later she was skidding toward the security turnstiles in the lobby of the office building. She passed her ID over the laser eye and heard the satisfying beep which indicated she was still employed by one the coolest companies on the planet.
Given her month-long absence, her desk on the thirty-seventh floor wasn’t as big a disaster as she’d expected. Her little team had done a good job keeping the place running smoothly while she was pinch-hitting in Brooklyn. At eight A.M. a phalanx of investment bankers arrived to brief Nate on the offer they were receiving.
“Lauren,” Nate said, breezing in just before the meeting began. “I want you to sit in today.”
“All right?” she said, a little surprised by this demand. She usually ran his office from outside the closed-door meetings.
“I know we haven’t gotten around to talking about what jobs you might pursue after graduation. But I have some ideas. And sitting in today fits with one of them.”
She grabbed a notepad and stood immediately and followed him into the conference room.
“Everyone signs a nondisclosure agreement,” a banker said at first, handing over a form for her to sign.
Since Lauren was part of Nate’s inner circle, she’d signed dozens of these already, promising not to reveal the terms of various potential transactions.
The meeting lasted two hours as the bankers described the terms by which a company called iBits desired to acquire Nate’s router business. It wasn’t an ordinary purchase though. iBits wanted contracts for a ten-year relationship between the division and Kattenberger Technologies whereby Nate would continue to license his software to the company.
Lauren tried to guess which of his tech executives he’d need to meet with later today, and she scribbled pages of notes while the bankers delivered their specs.
After they left, Nate’s chief technology officer ran off to arrange for various engineers to attend a one o’clock meeting where they discussed the technical aspects of the relationship, while Lauren asked one of her minions to order sushi for her and Nate so they wouldn’t starve to death while they scrambled to assemble all the specialists required to analyze the offer.
“It’s a lot of money,” Nate said when they were alone in the conference room. He kicked his sneakers onto the polished table and leaned back in his chair.
“True,” Lauren hedged. “But I can think of a dozen problems already.”
He looked up in surprise, because she didn’t usually volunteer that sort of opinion on a business matter. “Me, too! Let’s hear yours. Sit.”
There was a certain giddiness she felt when some new development at work made them all scramble around, trying to make the most of it. It fizzed in her veins as she sat on one of Nate’s couches. She’d been wondering how it might be possible to transition from office manager to something more. That’s why she’d worked so hard to get a degree, right?
As she leaned forward to tell Nate what she thought of the iBits offer, moving up in his organization suddenly seemed possible. “The ongoing contract they need will prevent you from working with any of their competitors in certain lines of business.”
“Right?” he said, tucking his hands behind his head. “That bothers me. A lot. What else?”
They exchanged notes right through lunch, until Nate had to depart for another meeting.
“I hope you didn’t have plans tonight, because we’re going to be sorting through this for hours,” he said.
“No problem,” she said quickly.
“And I’m going to send Becca to Detroit with the team. I need you here on the iBits deal.”
“Oh,” she said, startled. This was finally it—a return to normal. She’d been waiting for this moment for five weeks. “So Becca is feeling better?” Lauren should be jumping up and down right now. So why wasn’t she?
Because the team would start the third round tomorrow night, and she wouldn’t be there to see it.
“She’s . . . okay,” Nate said slowly. “She wants to get back to work. So I asked Hugh to send an intern with her, because she still tires easily.”
“Good idea,” Lauren said, having no idea if it really was. She was too busy scrutinizing Nate’s face for more clues about the Becca situation. As usual, he revealed nothing. Working for the world’s most stoic human wasn’t easy.
Then she forgot all about Becca because Nate said, “There’s a job I need from you—something a little different. I need a dossier on iBits.”
“Sure,” she said immediately. “Although . . . you have a team of I-bankers who can give you chapter and verse on that company. Do you really want me to duplicate their efforts?”
“Yeah, I do. They’ll give me all the numbers. But I want you to figure out how things really are at iBits. I don’t know this company at all. Are their employees happy? What do people say about them? Do your special Lauren thing and tell me all the dirt you can find. They want a ten-year contract, so I need to know if these are people I’d look forward to working with, or people I’d rather strangle. Nobody knows me as well as you do, right?”
“Okay. I get it,” she said. A dozen ideas bloomed in her mind at once. What did iBits sound like on social media? When people left the firm, where did they go? What was their maternity leave policy?
That last question was a little gift from her subconscious. She pushed the thought away. “I’m on it,” she told her boss.
• • •
The next night Lauren was still in the office at ten P.M.
Earlier she’d turned in her full report on iBits to Nate. Then she’d taken a break to go to the gym and pick up some dinner for herself and her boss. The two of them had tuned in to watch the Bruisers defeat Detroit in the first game of the Conference Finals series.
Now they were sitting on opposite sofas in his office, empty Diet Coke cans strewn about. They’d spent two very long days getting their heads around iBits and its offer. This morning, Nate’s friend Alex had called with her own offer, too.
“Alex won’t pay as much,” he grunted now, his hands behind his head. “But her offer doesn’t require a ten-year contract.”
“. . . Which you wouldn’t mind giving Alex anyway because you already know her company,” Lauren pointed out.
“Right.” Nate laughed. “I don’t know which offer I’m going to end up taking. Thanks for all your help this week.”
“My pleasure.”
He turned to look at her. “We need to talk about the future.”
&n
bsp; Lauren felt herself fading. “It’s ten o’clock, Nate. It’s already the future.”
He grinned. “You know what I mean. Your graduation is next month. You’re going to get job offers. If you haven’t already.”
She made a noncommittal noise. She’d been approached by recruiters for several companies. But leaving Kattenberger Technologies wasn’t on Lauren’s to-do list. If she was going to become a new mother, she wanted to do that while employed by someone who would make certain accommodations to keep her. A girl couldn’t tell her brand-new employer that she was completely unwilling to travel.
It wasn’t time yet to explain this to Nate, though.
“This company paid a big chunk of my college tuition,” she said instead. “I have a huge incentive to stay here unless I want to pay it back.”
He shrugged as if thirty-thousand dollars was of little consequence. “That’s what signing bonuses are for. I don’t know what they’re offering you, but don’t say yes to anything until you let me counter, okay?”
“Okay.” No problem.
“I know you’ll need a new position,” he went on. “You didn’t just put yourself through college to manage my office forever. I have a few ideas for you.”
“You do?” It hadn’t occurred to her that Nate would brainstorm her career path for her.
“Sure. This whole scramble with iBits makes me realize how badly I need an ear to the ground in Silicon Valley. New York has its benefits, but I need someone who can gather intel in California.”
Lauren sat up straighter on the sofa. “How would that work, exactly?”
“I have an office there already, but it’s only techies.” He took off his reading glasses and stowed them in a shirt pocket. “I’d just expand it a little. You’d be my California manager, and you’d meet with whoever we were thinking of doing business with. I know the idea is a little . . . loose at the moment. But this is only going to become more important now that the venture capital market has picked up.”
“I see,” Lauren said slowly, her mind whirling. California? She really wasn’t looking to move out of state.
“You’d need a title. Maybe vice president of special projects.”
Vice president. She could be a VP in Nate’s company? Really?
Nate rubbed his eyes. “You’re right—it’s late. Can we pick up this discussion later this week?”
“Sure.” But she’d be picturing the words vice president on her business card until then.
“Just keep me in the loop. Don’t let any of those recruiters bat their eyelashes at you.”
Laughing, she gathered her papers together. “Good night, Nate.”
“Night.”
TWENTY-THREE
Mike: Hi there.
Lauren: Hi yourself.
Mike: I looked for you on the jet to Motor City.
Lauren: I wasn’t on the jet.
Mike: Eventually I figured that out.
Lauren: Good. A goalie needs sharp eyes.
Mike: I looked for you at yoga and at lunch. And by the rooftop pool. Then I flexed my muscles at the sweet young thing at the front desk and tried to pry your room number out of her.
Lauren: And it didn’t work?
Mike: Sure it did. But she said you weren’t staying here.
Lauren: She was just blowing you off.
Mike: Really? You’re here?
Lauren: No. Just pulling your chain. :)
Mike: So why are you not here? We need to work on our project together. :)
Lauren: I’m working on Nate’s project.
Mike: ?!?!?!?!?
Lauren: Let me clarify—it’s a different kind of project.
Mike: What kind?
Lauren: Something came up at KTech, and Nate needs me here this week. Can’t say what, though. Not being coy. I signed an NDA.
Mike: You must be very important.
Lauren: The importantest. Ask anyone.
Mike: If you were here, I’d remove all your clothes and make you tell me all the secrets.
Lauren: If I was there, I’d probably let you. You’re very persuasive.
Lauren: Crap. I shouldn’t joke like this on the Katt Phone. I WOULDN’T REALLY TELL. KIDDING, BOSS.
Mike: You think he has all your texts scanned for potential espionage?
Lauren: No idea if the bots we always joke about are real. But either way, I’m one of the most dedicated, hardworking employees of the world’s best company; it’s important the bots don’t get the wrong idea. :)
Mike: You are very persuasive, too. I wonder if my texts are also scanned. I probably shouldn’t text you what I’ve been thinking about.
Lauren: Right.
Mike: The bots might like a thrill, though. I’m lying in my hotel bed, wishing you were here with me. I feel like nibbling on your thighs a little. For an appetizer. Then I want to dine on the main course. Slowly.
Lauren: Wowzers. I hope the bots are taking a night off.
Mike: Oh, relax. Innuendo won’t summon the bots. That probably requires dirty words. IE I want to lick your pussy until you’re dripping for me. Then I want you to ride my cock until I explode inside you.
Mike’s Katt Phone rang in his hand, and he swiped to answer it. “Hello there, hot stuff. Is your phone burning up in your hand?”
“You’re going to get me fired,” Lauren said into his ear, and the breathy sound of her voice made him harder than he already was.
“No, I’m not. Sexting is the great American pastime. Hang on a sec.” He shifted in the bed. “There. Now my right hand is free in case you have anything you want to say to me.”
“I do.”
“Yeah?”
“Nice save in the third period last night.”
He groaned. “You tease me.”
“I’d like to,” she said, her voice low and serious.
They shared a moment of companionable silence before he asked, “So. Do you feel any different?”
He felt her huff of laughter as if she were right there with him. “No! It’s only been three days. I know you’re a super stud, but there’s no way to know yet.”
“How long do we have to wait?” He shifted his hips again just to feel the silky cotton sheets slide against his erection.
“I’ll start thinking about it in two weeks. Or, if you keep nagging me, I’ll think about it every minute between now and then.”
“And that’s not good?”
“It’s fine as long as I don’t need to use my brain for anything else. Like top secret business negotiations.”
“I see. Sure wish you were here right now. I’d make you forget about everything.”
“I have no doubt that’s true.”
“When can I see you again?”
“That’s not an easy question, is it? You’re back in town when?”
“Thursday. But I don’t have a game until Saturday. So—have dinner with me Thursday or Friday?”
“Sure. Let’s say Friday because Nate and I will probably be done burning the midnight oil by then.”
“Is that good for the baby?”
Lauren snorted. “You’re hysterical. If there is one, it’s the size of a grape seed right now.”
“There is one.”
“Mike! You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” he pressed, grinning into the phone. God, there was nothing better than lying here in the dark, Lauren in his ear. Unless it was Lauren naked in his arms. That would be better, come to think of it.
“I’ll have dinner with you under one condition.”
“Here it comes,” he teased. “Tell me what I have to do to take you out for dinner, oh, great one.”
“No talk of babies. It’s just an ordinary date.”
“All right,” he said easily. “I thought you were
going to ask me to do something difficult. Like slay a dragon.”
“I should have asked you to shut out Detroit tomorrow.”
“I’m going to do that anyway.”
“You are a cocky bastard.”
“But I’m your cocky bastard.”
• • •
As it happened, he did shut out Detroit. The team flew home with 2–0 on the series so far, and a two-game home ice advantage coming their way.
“Detroit Crumbles under the Pressure” the sports pages had all screamed.
It felt pretty damn good, too. The Bruisers had already exceeded the media’s expectations. And Lauren told him that season ticket sales were already up for next year, so Nate was feeling great.
The only bad news was that Coach Worthington called a working dinner for Friday night. One of his old friends used to work with several key Detroit players, so Coach had the man in for a long strategy session and video viewing.
He had to cancel his first date with Lauren in two years. “Sunday?” he begged. “Swear to god I’ll call in sick if they schedule anything else.”
“Don’t call in sick, you’ll give Silas a heart attack,” she teased. “Sunday is fine. As long as you win tomorrow night.”
They didn’t, though. Game three was beset by bad luck and some bad calls from the ref. They lost it in overtime, 2–1.
Luckily, Lauren was willing to dine with him anyway.
“Dad?” Elsa asked, coming down the stairs as he straightened up the living room that night.
“Yeah?” Mike gathered some old issues of Sports Illustrated into a stack and straightened the corners.
“Are you cleaning up the house or something?”
Busted. “A little. Sure.”
“Why?”
“It’s gotten a little sloppy since the play-offs started.” Hans had found someone reliable to come in to clean once a week, but she wasn’t due for three more days. “And . . .” Truth time. “Lauren is coming over for a minute before we step out to get some dinner.” He stood up and faced his daughter. “You want to join us?”
Elsa wrinkled her nose the same way she used to do when Shelly served brussels sprouts. “No.”