LITMIR.BIZ

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don’t care about a look,” he said for what felt like the billionth time. “I need the woman to feel right, and these girls just don’t.” And with that he stomped out the door. He didn’t stop until he’d pushed through the doors of the elegant glass foyer, but as the office was on the thirty-seventh floor, he ended up standing in the hallway near the elevator bank.

      He toyed with the idea of just leaving the building. He could be at his favorite comic-book store in twenty minutes. Except, of course, he was an adult today. He had a company and—more important—twenty employees who needed him to make Winning Guinevere into a multimillion-dollar success. Their jobs and his life savings depended on it.

      Eight years ago, he’d been fresh out of college with a computer-science degree and a hunger to make it rich. He had a cool game written, and he and his best friend, Paul, had marketed the heck out of it and sold a zillion copies. Quirky Games, Inc. was born. But that was eight years ago. Since then, they’d launched one game after another to only middling success. Winning Guinevere was their last hope, and Ken was pouring everything he had into it. Which meant he had to find the right Guinevere. Without her, he might as well declare bankruptcy now.

      He took a deep breath and tried to think. Maybe there was a compromise somewhere. He ran through different scenarios in his mind, but every one just made him sigh. Everything hinged on the woman. He couldn’t compromise there. It would compromise everything.

      He was on the verge of muttering curse words in Klingon when the elevator doors dinged. He didn’t look out of curiosity—his eyes were just focused in that direction. But since his eyes were aimed at the elevator door, he could hardly fail to notice when she walked out. Normal height, nice curves and thick dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He caught a flash of flawless skin, high cheekbones and enticing legs that had enough muscle to be strong and enough softness to be sexy. She wore a dress of muted blue and a sweater that covered her curves but didn’t hide them.

      And none of that made him leap off the wall until he heard her chuckle. Low, throaty and so damn sexy, he felt his jaw drop in shock. It seemed to fill the air and vibrate in his soul. Sexy and warm. Chocolate-chip-cookie warm.

      Oh my God, had he just found his queen?

      He pulled himself together—a lot harder to do than it should have been—and scrambled for a way to introduce himself. Meanwhile, she turned out of the elevator alcove and headed down the hall toward him. Her eyes were trained on her cell phone. That was apparently what had made her laugh because a second later, she did it again.

      Wow. He felt this one in his spine, and every part of him leaped to follow her. The words were out of his mouth before he could think twice.

      “Excuse me, miss…” he began, but then his voice trailed away. What could he say to this woman?

      She looked up, her eyes going wide as she realized she’d been so focused on her phone that she hadn’t seen him there. “Oh!” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I should look where I’m going, huh?” She immediately folded up her phone.

      “No, no. My fault. I…uh…” He tried his best smile, his mind scrambling. The problem was that as smart as he was—and frankly, he was considered very smart—he’d never been very good at communicating with girls. He wanted to be suave and ended up just looking like a tongue-tied geek. Which was exactly what he was. “I was just admiring your phone.”

      She blinked and looked down at the cell in her hand. Ken noted with dismay that it wasn’t a cool phone. It wasn’t even a smartphone, which made it a virtual dinosaur.

      “This phone?” she asked.

      “Um, no. Actually I was just looking for a way to talk to you.”

      She smiled. “Bad luck then, choosing to talk about my phone. I’m just grateful it can handle text messages.”

      He stared at her, lost in her face. Flawless skin was right: like the smoothest latte ever, only with a dusting of gold. She seemed to be of Polynesian descent, which made her look exotic. But what really caught him were her meltingly chocolate-brown eyes. And, best of all, each of her cheeks sported a dimple.

      She was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

      Meanwhile, she put away her big clunker of a phone while he grabbed for something more to say. “So you must not be one of those ultra-plugged-in people. Internet, social media, a zillion apps just to get coffee?”

      She shook her head, but didn’t laugh. In truth, she seemed almost shy the way she ducked her head. But her eyes sparkled when she spoke. “Not me. Whenever I check my email, I get junk or more things to do from my boss.”

      He gave a mock shudder. “Hate that.” Even though he was technically the boss, every time he opened his email he ended up with ten more things on his to-do list. Meanwhile, he tried to cover his ultra-slick phone with his elbow. She noticed of course, and gestured to where it was hanging like a lead weight on his belt.

      “You seem kinda plugged in, though.”

      “Um, yeah. You never know when the urge to get a triple mocha latte will hit.”

      She lifted her chin, her eyes dropping to a sexy half mast as she murmured a long, appreciative, “Yummmm.”

      His blood went straight south. Not only did she sound sexy, but suddenly her expression sparked all sorts of dark things in his imagination. Meanwhile, she had straightened and was looking down the hall. Hell, he was about to lose her, so he scrambled for another way to keep her with him for just a moment longer.

      “Um, really, I was just looking for a way to talk to you.” Lord, was there ever a more lame way to approach a girl? Especially since he now realized he’d already said that.

      “Talk to me?” she echoed. Then she flushed slightly and smiled back at him. “I mean, hello. Nice to meet you.”

      He held out his hand, but out of habit, he wiped it first on his pants. He’d spent so much of his adolescence with sweaty, gross hands that it was just an automatic gesture. Then he cursed himself for being an idiot. He was in a suit, for God’s sake. And now she was wondering what had been on his hands when it had been nothing!

      Mentally he sighed and tried even harder to be charming. He grabbed her hand and shook it too hard. “My name is Ken. Ken Johnson.”

      “I’m Ali,” she said, as she glanced beyond his left shoulder. “And, um, I have a meeting…”

      “Oh, right!” He stepped aside, his thoughts whirling. Could she possibly be going into the agency? Was God smiling on him? Could she maybe be a model?

      She stepped past him, and he tried not to look like a creepy stalker. But that was harder than it seemed given that he was loitering in the hallway for no reason at all. Then it didn’t matter because, yes, she pushed through the doorway of the agency.

      She was a model and she was hired!

      He stumbled after her, nearly tripping over himself in his excitement. He made it through the doors right on her heels. She turned at his noisy entrance, her eyes going wide and her lips parting on a sweet gasp of surprise. In the background, Elisa came forward, talking to the newcomer.

      “There you are! I’m so sorry—”

      “Don’t apologize, Miss…” What was her name? All he could remember was Elisa. “Look, Elisa, this girl right here, I want her.” Belatedly he realized he couldn’t afford to pay exorbitant rates, and he ought to be negotiating. “I mean, assuming she’s a reasonable price.”

      Both women gaped at him. It took him a moment to realize that Elisa had been talking to the newcomer, not him. Meanwhile, Elisa recovered first, her skin flushing a dark red. “Oh, no, Mr. Johnson. I’m sorry. She’s not for sale.”

      He ground his teeth together. Damn it, she was already booked. He turned to the model, trying not to appear desperate. But he was desperate! “How long until you’re available? Are there breaks? A weekend or two?

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