Who Needs Decaf?

“I know.” She glanced down guiltily, remembering the virtual shack in which he’d started his business four years ago and how far he’d already come—how far he’d taken all of them—with his ideas. There had been a time when the tiny company was so informal, it had been more like a club, and while that briefly had been fun, an enjoyable work atmosphere, she was proud of all they’d done to make Hammond Gaming Software the “real” business it was now.

Though she wasn’t yet being paid a third of the salary Brad had said he envisioned for her future, no one else would have hired a woman with her limited experience for a position at this level. With a few notable exceptions, most of Brad’s employees were young, well-trained, eager executives who wouldn’t be able to find their current levels of autonomy elsewhere. The trade-off was that Brad had only recently begun to afford anything close to equitable salaries—luckily, the majority of his young execs didn’t have families to support.

But he’d offered them a piece of his vision, combining their collective business acumen with his software smarts and wide-eyed optimism. He wanted to give them all a shot at the big time, and until a fantasy writer from Colorado with an obscure Web site had filed a lawsuit, Brad’s master plan had seemed to be running smoothly.

She sighed. “What do you want me to do? Just say the word.”

“Make sure Nathan comes to our office Christmas party a week from tomorrow,” he insisted, sitting back in his ergonomic chair. “I want him to get to know us, see we’re good people.”

If only life were that simple. “I can ask him, but I can’t guarantee he’ll attend.”

“Unless he already has plans he can’t or won’t get out of, why wouldn’t he? He writes for a paper, and I’m essentially offering him an opportunity to spend time with HGS personnel and investigate. Why turn that down?”

And if one of their personnel inadvertently said something that got taken out of context on the front page? “Will you at least run the idea by Mark for his legal opinion and…” She trailed off since Brad was already shaking his head.

“I respect your opinion, Sheryl, you know that, and Mark’s, too, but I’ve made up my mind on this.”

“All right.” If she wasn’t going to win this, she might as well lose gracefully. “I’ll go see Nathan again.”

“Make an appointment this time,” Brad advised, blue eyes twinkling. “You’ll probably get further.”

Her cheeks flooded with stinging warmth, and she felt compelled to defend herself. “I had a strategy—”

“We don’t want to look like calculating people with a strategy. We want to look like exactly what we are—open and honest with nothing to hide. Once he realizes that, Nathan Hall is bound to see things from our point of view.”

She recalled Nathan’s vehemence when he’d informed her he wouldn’t retract a word and would continue to write about Hammond for the foreseeable future. See things from their point of view? Well, Christmas was the season of miracles, so she supposed she’d just have to make one.

SHERYL PAUSED in her conversation to Meka just long enough to sip the criminally overpriced movie-concession cola she’d bought. She would’ve ordered popcorn, too, but that would probably require a cosigned loan. Above, the theater lights were still lit, and various pre-movie advertisements flashed across the screen. Tyler was meeting them here, and he still had a few minutes before showtime.

Replacing her cup in its plastic holder, she leaned back in her padded chair, concluding her rundown of today’s meeting with Brad and his newest plan of action for handling Nathan Hall. “I know I’ve said dozens of times that if Brad is going to run his own company, he needs to be more assertive—”

“But you didn’t really mean more assertive with you.” Meka’s smile was knowing.

“Exactly. So am I a big hypocrite?”

“Not so much hypocritical as frustrated by the whole situation,” her friend said, absolving her. “But I have just the thing to take your mind off the so-called Boyfriend of Christmas Past.”

“What’s that?”

“The Boyfriend of Christmas Present.”

“What?” There was no present boyfriend, and Sheryl currently preferred it that way.

“You’ve known me a few years,” Meka said. “Have you ever seen me as happy as I am with Ty?”

“No.” The two lovebirds were cute together, even if their evident love for each other was occasionally nauseating. “But that has nothing to do with me.”

“You’re unhappy. You’ve been so stressed—”

“Brad is paying lawyers money he should be spending on other things.” Darting a quick glance around the theater, she lowered her voice. “Do you realize what could happen to us if, heaven forbid, the case actually goes to court and we lose? Of course I’ve been stressed!”

“But even before that Mathers woman claimed Hammond stole her story, you seemed unhappy. I want to see you happy, Sheryl, and I think the right guy would help with that.”

“Maybe, but the right guy is going to have to wait until a better time.” And Sheryl didn’t just mean the work stuff.

Other people, such as her family, her co-workers and roommates, had often taken center stage in her life. Boyfriends who, though not all as emotionally draining as Brad had been, cut into what little time she might have had for herself.

“I figured you’d say that,” Meka said. “Which is why I’ve decided not to take no for an answer.”

Sheryl laughed. “What, you’ve decided to find me the right guy against my will?” When her roommate bit her lower lip and said nothing, Sheryl scowled. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Not making eye contact, Meka sipped her own five-dollar soda and stalled.

Warning, warning. Red alert. “Tameka!”

“Look, it’s nothing big, just that Ty isn’t coming straight from work, he’s coming from a squash match with a co-worker…. And he’s bringing the co-worker with him.”

“You set me up on a blind date? You set me up on a blind date and didn’t tell me!” Ouch, Sheryl thought, rubbing one hand against her ear. When had she turned into such a shrill soprano?

“Don’t think of it as a date so much as four people who all wanted to see this movie. Coincidentally at the same time and location.”

“I can’t believe this. I should leave right now on sheer principle.”

“With Ty and Jonathan already on their way? Besides, I know how much you like the lead actor. You’re not going anywhere after you’ve already bought your ticket.”

Sheryl drummed her fingers on the purple plastic armrest between her and her supposed best friend. “I suppose you or Tyler told the guy—what’s his name?”

“Jonathan Spencer. He’s an accountant at the firm with Ty.”

“So you guys have briefed Jonathan on me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Yet you didn’t bother to mention any of this to your own roommate,” Sheryl grumbled.

“If it makes you less mad at me, we made you sound terrific. I wanted to date you by the time we finished describing you.”

Sheryl laughed grudgingly. “As long as neither of you described me as having a ‘good personality.”’

“Never!” Meka grinned, obviously knowing she was safely away from the edge of the thin ice. “We told him the truth, that you’re sarcastic and opinionated on a good day, and downright unbearable if you haven’t had enough coffee.”

Grabbing her purse, Sheryl rummaged for something small to throw at her friend. Although bigger would work, too.

“Relax,” Meka said, “we told him you had great legs and an impressive job. Men secretly yearn for powerful women. And we’ve still got time before the guys get here for me to fill you in on Jonathan’s vital statistics.”

“Well, okay then. But you’re never going to blind-side me like this again, right?”

“I won’t need to, now that you know The Plan.”