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As he works, he talks over the sound of the dryer. "You mentioned a speech. What's it for?"
"An empathetic approach on artificial intelligence," I tell him. "It's a personal project. I've been working on it for some time, and I managed to secure a small conference room to discuss the ideas."
"When is it?" he asks.
Is this casual curiosity, or does he plan to attend?
"Tomorrow, seven PM."
He nods.
Soon, it's time for him to reassemble the computer. I make us some coffee, placing it on a different table so I don't tempt fate.
"Moment of truth," he says, switching on the laptop. "There's some screen tearing. That doesn't look good. I'll recover what I can." He plugs an external hard drive into the laptop.
I bite my lip, standing behind him, my hands flexing as I take in the woodsy scent of him. I resist the silly urge to put my hand on his shoulder. But is it silly? We're strangers, yet I feel a certain connection to him.
The screen shows a file transfer for a few moments—then it abruptly cuts out.
"Shit," Luke mutters. "Sorry, Sera. Shall we look at what we saved?" He grabs his own laptop from the other side of the table, then plugs in the hard drive. "Looks like a Word file...Excerpts."
"Wait—"
He double clicks it, staring. What possessed me to save these quotes on this laptop? Oh, that's right, I never dreamed that a handsome silver fox would be poring over them.
The quote is from a steamy novel I recently read.
In her regular life, she was confident and self-assured. She was a kick-ass bitch. But in the bedroom, she wanted him to take control. She wanted him to own her. She wanted him to bend her over and take her wildly, recklessly?—
I grab the hard drive and yank it from the computer.
"I-I need to go," I stutter. "I have to get to work."
"Wait," he says, as I rush for the hallway.
I stop, but I don't turn. My cheeks burning with mortification.
"Your hotel—your room number. I meant what I said about the laptop."
"I'm at the Westgate," I say. "Room one hundred and fifty-four." I flee as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Chapter Two
Luke
The game is all about obsession. Obsession is how a man goes from nothing to billions. Obsession, hyper focus, the ability to hone in on a problem and attack it with singular and borderline insane determination...
That's what got me to where I am. Now, though, it's not my tech empire that has me obsessed. Sera, my Sparkplug, the woman who instantly captivated me in that café, looking like she was made for me with her beauty, laser focus, and charming personality. Brown hair in a messy bun, a pencil tucked behind her ear, biting her lip as she leaned close to her laptop. When she stood to grab another coffee, her tight black pants hugging her curves had my mouth going dry. When she cussed out that man, I had to laugh at her spunk, at her spark... hence the nickname, which fits perfectly. After she left my room, I spent the night pondering that quote she'd saved, my body throbbing with desire.
She wants a man to take control in the bedroom? Sign me up.
I search for 'empathetic AI Sera,' and get the details of her speech. All day, despite needing to work on my project, she'sconstantly on my mind. I keep returning to that moment as she ran from the room, flustered, a flush on her cheeks. I should've chased her, spun her around, and buried my hands in her magnificent hips, pulling her close enough to feel how hard she was making me, hearing her gasp of surprise and pleasure.
I should have slipped my hands under her shirt, caressed her curves, and made her understand the essence of that quote she saved, given her the pleasure she so craves. Does she have a boyfriend? Was she saving that quote for him? Is somebody else obsessing over my Sparkplug?
I know I need to relax. If I heard someone else talking like this about a woman they'd just met, I'd think they'd gone insane. And perhaps I have. The crazy part about going crazy is I don't give a damn.
Finally, it's time for her speech. I walk through the busy conference to the small room she's booked. As the door swings open, she walks right into me.