Page 1

Chapter One

Sera

"No, no, no," I yell, leaping to my feet as coffee cascades over my laptop, a spark and fizzle foreshadowing disaster. The tail end of my speech remains unsaved, not to mention the code I was reviewing.

Dammit, Sera, what sort of tech girl doesn't back up her work?

Before my coffee catastrophe, I was attempting to focus on my speech for tomorrow and the code my boss needed me to review. We're providing the backend for NeuroDrive, a revolutionary self-driving car product—kind of a big deal. Yet, a silver fox kept staring at me, making me forget all about my responsibilities.

The Consumer Electronics Show is in full swing, with CEOs, tech bros, and tech enthusiasts all congregating to stake their claim on the digital world. During the flight, I even fantasized about meeting a techy guy with spice in his heart and intensity in his eyes. Add some silver-fox energy to the mix, and I'm completely intrigued.

There he was, watching me with a smirk on his lips. Over six feet, wearing a casual shirt with sleeves rolled up, his silver hair catching the light. Were his blue eyes actually sparkling, or did I seriously need to chill?

I was going to do it. I was going to risk a smile. Other women might not find this significant, but for me, it was monumental. Social anxiety is real. Books and computers are infinitely simpler to interact with than people and their perplexing behaviors. Here I was at twenty-four, work-focused, unapologetically nerdy, and ready to make my mark on the tech world. I could do this.

Looking up, I caught his eye, a smile touching my lips. That captivating smirk never left his face. Is this what flirting felt like?

My body lit up, tingling, goosebumps covering my skin like I was the heroines in the romance novels I like to devour. And fine, by romance, I meant smut. No shame. They're the perfect reprieve between long stints in the coding dungeons. I had just decided to wait before smiling at him again when some jerk barged past my table, knocking over my coffee.

"Hey, douchebag," I screech, snapping back to reality, not caring that half the café is staring.

The man pushes the door open, fleeing the scene of the crime. I catch a glimpse of his face—thin smile and dark hooded eyes—but he's wearing a hood... indoors.

"Unplug it."

I turn to find the silver fox standing over me, his finger firmly pressed on the power button.

Flustered, I quickly do as he says.

"Get some paper towels. We need to soak up as much liquid as possible."

"Uh, okay."

"Come on, Sparkplug." Did this stranger just give me a nickname? "Every second counts."

As if in a dream—one from a favorite book—I quickly dash to the counter and grab paper towels. When he takes them from me, our hands touch, causing heat to radiate up my arm. Cue the sparks.

"Sparkplug?" I mutter dumbly.

He laughs gruffly. "It seemed to me like you were going to rip that guy's head off." Holding the laptop up so the liquid drains onto the table, he dabs at it. "We might save this, but we'll need to take it apart and let it dry for at least forty-eight hours. Each individual component needs to be aired."

"Forty-eight... I need the files. Today!"

He narrows his eyes.

"I know, I know," I snap. "I should've backed it up. Don't get all judgmental on me." I squint at him. "What's with the stare?"

His smirk shifts, becoming amused, his blue eyes narrowing with interest. "I'm just considering how skilled I am, choosing the perfect nickname without even knowing your real name."

"Sera. And yours?"

"Luke."

"Well, nice to meet you, Luke," I say. "I'm shocked I didn't back it up. I normally do it at the end of every session. That guy is a jerk."

"We might salvage some files," Luke says. "Once I've drained the liquid here, I'll take it to my room. I've got some hardware tools there."

"Are you sure that's okay? I'm more of a software girl."

"Sure, don't mention it."

"Is this an act of generosity?"

He looks deep into my eyes. "This could be a method to get you into my room."

Woah, I didn't expect him to be so direct. Cue more tingles; cue more fantasies. A vision flashes across my mind—my fingernails buried in his sculpted shoulders, his hand sliding up my leg, our bodies grinding, hot, sweating, flushed with passion.

I fumble miserably, failing to produce a flirty reply. Instead, I make a dorky face and a weird ahh noise, which he seems to find endearing as he chuckles quietly.

"Don't worry. I'm not a complete animal. Let's go."

He picks up the laptop and leads me from the café, then across the street to the Venetian hotel. We rush into the elevator together. When it rises to the top floor and he guides me to the presidential suite, I raise an eyebrow.

He nudges me playfully. I don't want him to break the contact. I want him to slide his arm around me and pull me close. "Don't judge me for being a bigshot."

"Who are you?"

"Just a Good Samaritan. Come on, Sera. We can't waste any time."

We step into his enormous suite with views of the Strip and the yellow landscape of Nevada beyond. He places the laptop down, rushes into his bedroom, and returns with a leather satchel of computer tools. He puts on magnifying glasses and immediately focuses as he takes the laptop apart, handling the small tools in his giant hands, his skill making him somehow even more attractive.

He's flirty, hot, handsome, tall, mature, and techy... Come on, fate, talk about tempting me.

"There's going to be a risk of losing the files if I try to recover them early," he says.

I sit opposite him, sliding my hands up and down my legs. I'm wearing tight-fitting black pants. His wolfish blues shoot to my hands, a flash of lust crossing his eyes, his nostrils flaring like any second he's going to forget the laptop and leap on me.

"It's my work laptop, but I have to take the risk. I need to know if I have to rework the end of my speech and the code for my boss. God, my boss is going to be furious ."

"Not if you bring him a new laptop, a better one."

I tilt my head at him. "How would that work?"

"Easily, Sparkplug. You tell me your hotel and room number, and I'll have one sent right up."

"You don't have to do?—"

"It's not up for debate. Either I save this laptop or I get you a new one. Now, let me focus."

"You're very bossy," I quip.

"That comes naturally to a boss."

"I get the sense I should know who you are."

Another tempting smirk. "Perhaps it's a welcome change to have anonymity..."

"What's your surname?"

"Please, Sera, let me be a man of mystery a little while longer."

He gets back to work, concentrating, his huge hands handling the tiny tools with surprising dexterity. Soon, he arranges all the pieces on the table.

"We're going to have to use a hairdryer on the lowest setting for these components," he says, shaking his head. "It's not normally recommended, but if you need quick results..."

"I do."

"Then let's get to it."

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.