LITMIR.BIZ

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      He sighed.

      “You even take it to bed, don’t you?”

      I’m going to lose this battle.

      “You. Are. Dating. Your. Computer.”

      “Peggy, for chrissakes, did Mom put you up to this?” Hal cracked his neck, in hope of easing some tension. How the hell has my company sprung an information leak?

      “No. Although yesterday, the last thing she said to me on the phone was, ‘Oy, veh—I’m a cliché!’” Peggy shook her head. “As a poet, that’s her worst nightmare, you know. To be a cliché. But there’s no denying she wants grandchildren.”

      “So get on with it, Pegs.” Hal ignored her for his computer screen. Has someone hacked in?

      “Oh, no. I’ve told you—it’s not my fate to procreate.”

      “Is that what you said to Mom?” We’ve locked down the firewalls and secured all the servers. It can’t be the e-mail system. We monitor that 24-7.

      Peggy nodded. “You know things have more impact with Mom if they rhyme.”

      Hal rolled his eyes. “Oy veh—ridiculous. She’s not even Jewish.”

      “The rhyme, Hal. Her version of reason.”

      “Well, here’s my version of reason—go away. I’m trying to work.” He brushed the hair from his eyes a second time. It flopped back again immediately.

      “Hal, have you looked into a mirror lately? You resemble a serial killer. When was the last time you got a haircut? And that shirt—has it been wadded up in a trash bag?”

      “Dryer,” he mumbled, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his PC.

      Peggy did her best to loom over him, but she didn’t cast much of a shadow. “Hal. Hal, if you don’t pay attention to me this minute, I will pull out all the cords from the back of this computer. I’ll count to three.”

      Hal didn’t register the words until she got to “three” and actually laid hands on his Precious. “Step away from the computer, Peg.”

      “Pay attention.”

      “I’m warning you. Remember that time I stuffed you into the hideaway sofa? I promise you that’s nothing compared to what I’ll do if you pull one cord.”

      “Good. You’re paying attention,” Peg said with satisfaction.

      “What?”

      “Mom and I have found the perfect place for you. And by the way, Ryan agrees.”

      Ryan Cabela was his attorney and good friend. He sat on the board of Hal’s software company. “Ryan? What’s Ryan got to do with you and Mom?” Can Ryan be the leak? Hal pushed the thought away. No. He’s your best friend.

      “Just that we’re all in agreement. You need a new image, Hal. When the company goes public, you’re going to have to deal with people. And you can’t look or act the way you do now.”

      Hal stared at her. “What’s wrong with me? Jeez, I’ll get a haircut. There’s a barber down the street.”

      “Hal, honey, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you need a bit more than a haircut. You need a whole new image and a handler. You need media training, too.”

      “A handler? Oh, thanks very much, Peg!” Hal erupted from his chair and surged around the desk. He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at her. “I handle myself just fine. I’ll go see a barber, even shave off the face fuzz.” He fingered the itchy growth on his chin.

      Peg shook her head. “Hal. Listen to me. You look only slightly better than Saddam when he came out of his hidey-hole—”

      Hal’s jaw dropped. “That is not true.”

      “Maybe a slight exaggeration, but not by much.”

      “Would you like to check me for lice? Rat droppings?”

      “Eeeuuww.” Peggy wrinkled her nose. “Calm down, Hal. I’m just trying to tell you that you need a major overhaul in the grooming, fashion and conversational departments. You’ve got to woo the media now. And we wouldn’t mind you wooing some women, either.”

      “What’s wrong with my conversation?”

      “You need to speak in sentences, in English, not C++. And normal people don’t call their computers ‘My Precious.’”

      “It’s a joke,” Hal explained with heavy patience.

      “It’s weird.”

      Hal sighed. “Fine. Whatever. But I don’t see why you’re so concerned about the media.”

      Ryan, his attorney and the neighboring office tenant, stuck his head through the door. “There is a definite need to be concerned, Hal. Sorry to eavesdrop, but it’s about time we had this talk. Peg and I are performing an image intervention here.” He took a bite of the ham sandwich in his right hand and pushed up his glasses with the left.

      Hal folded his arms and glared at Ryan. “Begging your pardon, sir, I hadn’t realized you were chief counsel for GQ.”

      “What I look like doesn’t matter,” Ryan said. “What you look like does. You are the CEO of Underwood Technologies. If you resemble a caveman, people will assume U.T. is run by an unstable loon. We want them to buy stock, not wonder about your mental health.”

      Hal threw up his hands. “They’re buying part of the company, not part of me! And my mental health is just fine.”

      “You are the face of the company, Hal. The face and the voice—and the future. It’s time for a new image, my man.”

      IT’S TIME for a new image, my man. The words reverberated in Hal’s head as he glared at the business card in his hand. He’d finally chased off Peg and Ryan after promising to call the number on the card. What crap. Hadn’t he started his own company so that he could avoid such things as dress codes, brownnosing and Corporate Career Ken dolls?

      Finesse, said the card. Shannon Shane, Image Consultant and Media Trainer. No doubt she’d try to dress him in khaki pants and a navy blazer, the Connecticut State Uniform. She’d try to dye his hair blond and cap his teeth. She’d chase him with a pair of penny loafers—but she’d never get him into them.

      Hal wiggled his toes in his ancient running shoes with the frayed, grungy laces. No freakin’ penny loafers, by God. He glared at the card again before picking up the phone and dialing.

      “Finesse, Shannon Shane speaking.”

      Shannon. The only females he’d ever known named Shannon had been gorgeous and stuck-up. Like Heathers and Tiffanys.

      “Hello?”

      Hal cleared his throat. “Uh, hi. I’m, uh. Well, I wanted to make an appointment.”

      “Okay, I’d be happy to do that. Will you tell me your name?”

      God, the unknown Shannon’s voice was sexy. Throaty and a bit raw. “Uh, name. Right. I’m Hal. Underwood.”

      “Great, Hal. I think I heard that you might get in touch. You were referred by…?”

      “My—uh, sister.” Could I sound more lame? Yup. “And my mother.” Worse and worse. “Oh, and my attorney.” Perfect.

      A faint tremor of laughter sifted through her voice. “Sounds like they ganged up on you.”

      “Yeah, pretty much.”

      “And you don’t appreciate it.”

      “No. Not really.”

      “What do they— What do you think the issue is?”

      He

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