I stalked around my office for the rest of the afternoon, feeling off-kilter. Gabe’s offer was unexpected and unwelcome. It was also, however, a great offer. If Paragon partnered with Dynamica before we launched, we could offer our technology to labs and third-party providers all over the world.

I could curate similar contacts over time, but the partnership would make those avenues immediately accessible. The alliance’s attraction was undeniable. The financial compensation Gabe outlined at the end of our meeting was fair. It seemed like an offer I couldn’t refuse.

The problem was, I had to say no. I didn’t do partnerships.

I’d built Paragon by myself, from the ground up. After I’d quit MIT, I moved to northern California and used some of the money my parents had left me to secure a tiny lab space. Then I used more of it to build my first prototype. At the time, I slept at the lab on a futon. I worked sixteen-hour days, alone, fleshing out the idea for the technology. I’d known then that I would one day be successful, but I’d also known it wouldn’t be easy.

I’d been correct—years of trial and error were ahead of me and Paragon. I’d continued my work with the prototype, but I’d finally reached the point where I needed funding to expand my research. I’d made some friends at MIT, and from time to time, they checked in on me. Some of those friends were wildly successful, some of them had family money, and all of them believed in me. They knew my single-minded determination to make my ideas work. They’d become my first investors, and they were all still with me today. With their initial investment, I’d moved into a larger lab space. I formed Paragon Laboratories, hired more staff, started the FDA approval process, and began the technical trials on my prototype.

My mother had no taste for luxury, but she’d always loved diamonds. She admired their strength, their clarity, and their beauty. I’d named my company Paragon after the perfect diamond of one hundred or more carats. If you included all the microbes, the human body contained over one hundred trillion cells, and I planned to use my technology to help analyze them.

But I’d always been very clear that it was my technology.

I’d gained more investors as I’d grown, but I’d never shared the exact results of my research or the nature of my technology with anyone. Instead of filing for patent protection for the patch, which would have released some of the technology publicly, I protected it as a trade secret. Trade secrets were only secure while they were confidential—so I guarded the information fiercely. Only a core group of employees had knowledge of the most up-to-date specs, and even then, they only knew the portion that directly impacted their day-to-day functions. My investors, and later my board of directors, only had a general sense of what I worked on and how I achieved my results. That was okay with everyone because they believed in me, my commitment to the company and to the research.

I never planned on going public. I never planned on sharing what I’d made with other companies—only customers. I’d always wanted to be in complete control of Paragon’s present and future. As its single parent, I knew no one could love it and care for it like I could.

If I partnered with Dynamica, I would have another person to answer to—Gabriel Betts. If he became unhappy about something I did, he could criticize me as an equal. But that wasn’t what worried me. The idea of trusting him, relying on him, and the possibility that he could fail me worried me the most.

I trusted myself because I knew I would never fail—because all my failures were leading to success, and I would never give up. But I couldn’t put that sort of trust in someone else. Not many people were as driven and single-minded as I’d been.

The sky darkened as the options ran through my head. I had a duty to present Gabe’s offer to the board, and they had a duty to analyze it and advise me about whether to accept it. Their answer would be yes, we should partner with Dynamica and reach international customers more quickly than we’d ever planned. We’d make more money to invest back into our research, and then we’d make more amazing things to help people.

They would say yes, and they would be right. We should partner with Dynamica.

But I kept thinking about Gabe. His easy laugh. Those shoulders. How he’d said I was lovelier than my pictures. I imagined working with him on a regular basis, seeing the twinkle in his eyes, seeing that dimple. Having a reason to call him. Often.

And all I wanted to say was no.

* * *

“What are you doing home?” Hannah asked, stupefied, from across the kitchen.

I coughed and looked at the clock. The fact that I was home from work at six-thirty on a Friday night shouldn’t be remarkable—but it was, and I knew it. I also knew the reason was going to push my sister into a state of ecstatic rapture.

“I have a date.”

She clapped her hands together. “Is it with Gabriel Betts? I knew it. I knew it!”

“Calm yourself. It’s not with Gabriel. It’s with Clive Warren.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Huh? I thought he moved to China.”

“He did, but now he’s back. He’s been hounding me to go to dinner for the past six weeks. So I’m going.”

Hannah poured herself a seltzer and frowned at me. “Since when do you go on dates?”

Since I can’t stop thinking about Gabe Betts. I figured that was a clear sign I needed to get out more. Or at least once. I also wanted to prove to myself that I could have a meal with an attractive, intelligent man without breaking into a cold sweat. I’d failed to do that at my lunch with Gabe. I clearly needed practice with social interaction.

And if I happened to like Clive Warren on a personal level, so much the better. So much the better because that would put another layer between me and Gabe Betts, who seemed to pop into my every alternating thought since I’d met him.

“It’s not really a date—not to me anyway. I want to catch up with him about his latest patent. He’s been texting me twice a week. I figured if I finally had dinner with him, he’d stop.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re just going to get him all excited. Once he gets a taste, he’ll text you every day. He might even start sexting you.”

My nerves started to thrum. “Ugh, don’t make me nervous—you know I don’t even know what that word means!”

My sister’s face softened. She knew that between the two of us, she was the worldly and sophisticated one with the boyfriends and the trendy clothes, and I was the bookworm with neither. And that was the way I preferred it. “Aw, don’t be nervous. You’re going to be fine. I only met him once, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He’s not as hot as Gabriel—hey, how did lunch go, anyway?”

I shrugged. “It was fine. He wants us to partner with his company for international distribution.”

Hannah’s eyes glimmered with excitement. “That’d be great, right?”

I shrugged again. “I have to present it to the board. I have a feeling they’re going to say yes.”

“So, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“You suck at lying.” She put her hands on her hips. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

I sighed, deflating. “I just don’t know if I can trust him.”

Hannah nodded as if she understood. She was the person in the world who knew me best, so she probably did. “But you don’t have to trust everything about him. You just have to trust that he’ll perform his side of the contract. He’s probably capable of that, right?”

“Probably.”

“Then it’ll be okay. Plus, maybe he’ll bring his hunky self around the lab every once in a while. That wouldn’t suck!”

I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t doing much for my nerves right now.”

She looked me up and down and sighed. “This probably isn’t going to make your nerves any better, but is that what you’re wearing to dinner?”

I wore a simple white sweater and black skirt, which I had paired with black tights and flats. “Yes.”

“That,” she said, pointing up and down at my outfit, “is the opposite of sexy.”

I crossed my arms against my chest. “That’s fine with me. I wasn’t going for sexy.”

Hannah groaned. “Where is Clive taking you?”

“Some steakhouse.”

She looked incredulous. “Doesn’t he know you don’t eat meat?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t feel it was necessary to burden him with personal information about me.” Hannah groaned again as I looked back at the clock. “I have to go. The driver’s probably already out front with security.”

Hannah stalked back to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. “I’ll be holding a vigil, waiting for you. I have my cell phone, and I have wine. You call me if you need anything.”

I collected my coat and headed for the door. “Got it.”

“Hey,” Hannah called from the island. “Try to have fun. It won’t kill you. I promise!”

“It just might,” I muttered to myself as I went through the door.

* * *

The pretty hostess nodded at me. “Ms. Taylor? Mr. Warren’s already waiting for you at your table.”

I had a vague sense of déjà vu. The fact that this was happening to me twice in one week was nothing short of miraculous. Two different men, two different restaurants. It was an all-time personal record for me.

I spotted Clive, resplendent in a dark suit, before he saw me. He looked handsome and meticulously groomed, his dark hair gelled carefully, his tortoiseshell glasses immaculate. He even had a dark purple cloth in his pocket, which seemed a bit prissy, but what the hell did I know?

“Lauren!” He jumped to his feet and hugged me warmly. “So glad you could make it.”

He held my chair out, and I sat down stiffly. The steakhouse was very opulent, with red velvet banquettes, heavy draperies, and ornate chandeliers. I felt underdressed, but there was little I could do about it.

I forced myself to smile at him. “This is very…nice.” I actually found the restaurant ostentatious and distasteful, but I kept that to myself. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He smiled, and I relaxed a little. “Oh please, let’s be honest—I’ve been making a fool out of myself, begging you to have dinner with me.”

Clive had been on Paragon’s board for a full year, and I’d gotten to know him reasonably well during that time. We’d parted on good terms when he relocated to China to oversee his company’s operations. Since he’d been back, he’d been busy with the patent he was developing for his own company, Warren Technologies. Clive’s company developed software and other high technology for use across a wide swath of industries, including healthcare.

Clive waited patiently while the waiter filled out wineglasses. “How is Paragon these days?”

My smile was genuine. “Very well, thank you. We’re still in clinical trials, but we’re also in the early stages of strategizing our introduction to the market.”

Clive pulled his glasses down and gazed at me over them, looking impressed. “Wow. I guess ‘very well’ is an understatement, then.”

I happily took a sip of wine. “I’m thrilled, as you can imagine.” The fact that my prototype was finally working was an amazing achievement.

“Well, cheers to your success.” Clive raised his glass to mine. “May it continue.”

I toasted him and took another small sip of wine. Although I enjoyed the warmth as it spread through me, I vowed not to drink much more. Wine plus my giddiness over the week’s achievements could result in too much relaxation. Based on the way Clive’s eyes kept wandering over me, I figured being relaxed wasn’t the most prudent course of action for the evening.

Still, I needed to be polite. “How was China?”

“It was a whirlwind. Have you ever been?”

“Never.”

His gaze lingered on me, making me feel exposed in spite of my long-sleeved sweater. “I might be going back for business soon. Perhaps you can accompany me.”

I sat there, feeling slightly flabbergasted. Was Clive Warren asking me on a date to China?

“So, what should we order?” Clive looked over the menu. “The foie gras with pancetta wrapping is amazing. The kimchi-glazed pork belly is also outstanding, as is the bone marrow.”

I was about to interrupt his proposed meal choices when a large hand squeezed my shoulder.

“The lady doesn’t eat meat, Clive. You probably should have asked.” Gabe Betts towered over our table, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt open at the throat. He looked down at me with a grin, his brown eyes twinkling, his dimple showing. “Shouldn’t you be at the office?”

I stared at him, mesmerized by his handsome face and square jaw. I squirmed underneath his grasp, but it wasn’t a bad squirm. Was I uncomfortable? Hell yes…but not in a bad way.

“I. Um,” I started hopelessly.

“Gabriel. Nice to see you. And even though she’s usually still working at this hour, Lauren kindly agreed to take time out of her busy schedule to have dinner with me,” Clive said pointedly.

“So you’re having dinner, huh?” Gabe completely ignored Clive, his eyes never leaving my face. “I didn’t know you liked to go to dinner.”

“I don’t.” I looked up to see Clive’s face fall. “I mean—I do. I just don’t usually have time.”

“Good to know,” Gabe said, finally releasing me. His smile faded and a muscle in his jaw jumped as he glanced at Clive. “Nice to see you two. Enjoy your evening.” He didn’t sound as though he meant it, and I worried for a moment that he was mad at me. And then I wondered why I cared.

He stalked away, and Clive rolled his eyes. “What an ass.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised. “He’s not a nice person? I thought you two were in the same group.”

“What group is that?” Clive was back to reading the menu again, but he looked skeptical. He was probably annoyed I wouldn’t eat pork belly wrapped in bacon.

Feeling shaky, I took another sip of wine. “The Silicon Valley tech-CEO billionaire boys’ club.” My skin burned where Gabe had touched me. I wanted to turn around and search the restaurant for him, but I knew that was rude.

Clive laughed. “I’m not in any club like that. I don’t have the time or the interest.” He looked up from his menu, his eyes raking over me again. “What about you? What are you interested in?”

I clutched my wineglass as if it were a life preserver. Clive’s question seemed loaded and inappropriate. I wasn’t attracted to him in the slightest. He was nice-looking and successful, but he did nothing for me. Did he think I’d said yes to dinner because I was interested in him?

It only then occurred to me—that was exactly what normal people did.

“I’m actually interested in your latest patent,” I said bluntly.

He laughed a little and sat back. “I figured as much.”

The waiter came over, and we ordered. Thank goodness there were scallops on the menu and we were that much closer to being done. I didn’t know if Gabe was still in the restaurant, but I felt like someone was watching me. I just wanted to go home, eager to put an end to the evening as soon as possible.

“My latest patent is something you should be interested in, actually.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ve been working on a deliverable system that might dovetail nicely with Paragon’s work.” He went into a detailed, technical description of his new invention.

I nodded at all the appropriate places, but my mind wandered as I picked at my dinner. Where was Gabe? Was he here on a date? Was he here with his girlfriend?

“What I’m interested in,” Clive was saying, “is partnering with Paragon once your technology goes live. If you’re interested in talking about it in more detail, I can have my team put together a proposal.”

I didn’t want to be rude, but the technology he’d described wouldn’t be a good fit with Paragon, and I wasn’t interested. “Paragon’s not really in a position to take on partnership deals right now.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?” Clive sounded defensive.

I took a deep breath. “We’re not ready to come to market yet. When we do, it’s going to take some time testing the waters before we’re ready to commit to long-term contracts with partners. We’re not ready for that sort of commitment.”

He put down his fork. “Then why were you having lunch with Gabriel Betts earlier this week? Weren’t you talking about partnering with Dynamica?”

It was my turn to put down my fork. “How did you know about that?”

Clive shrugged. “I might not be in the Silicon Valley CEO billionaire boys’ club, but people still talk.”

“Gabe and I had lunch.”

Clive sniffed. “Oh, so it’s Gabe now?”

I stiffened, trying to keep my anger in check. “We talked about business, yes, but I didn’t make any agreements with him.”

Clive pulled down his glasses again, and I decided he was not even remotely attractive. “But will you?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

He leaned across the table and over his pork bellies, or whatever they were. “I think you at least owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you an answer or anything else, because it’s none of your business. And I don’t appreciate the turn this conversation’s taking.” I didn’t like being pushed. Clive had no right to interrogate me. It was unacceptable. I took out my wallet and put two hundred dollar bills on the table. “I’m ready to say good night now.”

“Lauren, wait—” Clive said, but I was already up and halfway across the room, securing my pocketbook against me.

I waited impatiently while the hostess collected my coat. I didn’t want to give Clive the chance to get to me. His aggressiveness had taken me by surprise and had left me feeling slightly sick. I felt as if I might cry, which was a foreign and utterly repugnant sensation.

“Do you need a ride?”

I whirled to find Gabe standing at the door with his own coat on, ready to go.

“I have my driver, thanks.” The hostess handed me my coat, and I nodded at her silently.

Clive rounded the corner then. His face fell when he saw Gabe standing near me. “Lauren, they just poured us some more wine. Please, come join me.” He sounded as though he were pleading.

I shook my head. “I need to go. I’m exhausted.” I suddenly realized how true that was. This was why I didn’t go out much. The world wanted all sorts of things from me, but I could only give it my technology, on my own terms. All the maneuverings and fancy restaurants were just too much.

“Just for a minute—” Clive started, but Gabe stepped forward.

“The lady said she’s tired. She’s going home now.” Gabe towered over Clive, and I watched as the smaller man took a step back.

“I believe Lauren’s capable of speaking for herself.” Clive’s face was pinched as he regarded Gabe. Even though he was a technology nerd, Clive Warren was still a self-made billionaire, a successful entrepreneur in his own right. He was probably not used to being intimidated and literally talked down to.

I sighed. I really wanted to extricate myself from their pissing contest, and I could still feel the tears threatening. “I have been speaking for myself. You’re just not listening. Good night, gentlemen.” I headed out toward the valet, hoping my driver and my security detail would appear as soon as possible. I needed to get out of there. I tapped my foot while I waited, inwardly berating myself for accepting Clive’s invitation.

“Lauren.” Gabe came out of the restaurant. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” In the night air, I willed myself to calm down. “I just really want to go home.” My voice sounded small.

Concern marred his handsome face. “Let me take you.”

I sighed. “Even if you drive me, my driver will just follow us. It would be redundant, not to mention a waste of gas.”

“I have an electric car.” Gabe’s grin finally crept back. “So although it may be redundant for me to drive you home with your driver following behind us, it won’t be a waste of gas.”

I surprised myself by laughing and relaxed a little. Maybe this was giving in, but it felt good. “Okay. But I really do want to go straight home.”

“Of course.”

The valet brought my car first. I leaned in and explained to my driver and security detail that Gabe was driving me home, and they were to follow. Gabe’s car came next. “Such an awesome ride,” exclaimed the young valet as he hopped out of the driver’s seat and tossed the keys to Gabe. “Please let me park it for you again!”

“Deal.” Gabe smiled at him and tipped him generously. Then he opened the car door for me—it swung up and opened as if it were a wing—and I got down into the fancy, electric whatever-it-was.

Gabe slid in beside me and I turned to him. “What type of car is this?”

“A Porsche 918 Spyder. Well, it’s based on a 918 Spyder. I had it custom-made. The regular ones don’t come with doors like that.”

I looked at him skeptically as he revved the engine and pulled onto the road. “And it’s electric?”

“It’s a hybrid. I try to run it solely on electricity, though. So you needn’t worry about the gas waste.”

I sighed. “You can stop making fun of me now.”

He kept his eyes on the road but smiled. “Are you having a rough night? Clive looked like he might cry back there.”

“He didn’t like what I had to say.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“Funny, he said the same thing about you.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “I’m not surprised. Why were you having dinner with him, anyway? You could have been having dinner with me. And I wouldn’t have even mentioned the pork bellies.”

I shook my head and couldn’t help it—I laughed again.

“Oh, so now pork bellies are funny? You’ve skipped out of work before ten, you went on a date, and now you’re laughing at the poor pork bellies. You’ve gone rogue, Lauren.”

My laughter subsided, and I shook my head. “I wanted to talk to Clive about his latest patent, to see if it would be something worth acquiring. It wasn’t. And he didn’t want to hear that I wasn’t interested. He didn’t seem to take it well.”

“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to hear that either.” We were quiet for a minute as Gabe drove through the hills to my home, following my directions. “Are you going to tell me no, by the way? I can take it. Unlike Clive Warren, I’m a man.”

You certainly are. I then realized I had gone rogue. Ugh. “I have to present your offer to my board. It’s worth taking to them, in any event. We’ll go from there.”

He nodded, still watching the road. “Fair enough.”

“What were you doing there tonight, anyway? Did I take you away from your date?” I was glad the car was dark because I could feel my cheeks burning.

He glanced over at me. “No. I was alone, having dinner at the bar. Typical bachelor CEO Friday night kind of thing.”

“Oh.” It was all I could think of to say. Relief flooded me when he pulled into my long driveway and my car pulled in next to us. Timmy hopped out of the passenger seat and surveyed the premises.

Gabe glanced at him. “You have security with you?”

“When I go out, yes. The board thought it was a good idea.”

“Your board has an excellent reputation for a reason. I approve.” He turned back to me. “So, tomorrow’s Saturday. I’m assuming you’re working?”

“Of course.”

“So am I. But as tomorrow night is Saturday night, and Saturday night is a night when people often venture out to get dinner, I was wondering if you’d like to do that too? With me?”

“You know I don’t do dinner.”

“Well, if you can make time for dinner with Clive Warren, you can make time for dinner with me. Plus, you said you liked going to dinner.”

“I was just trying to be polite.”

“Perfect. I’m asking you to dinner, you’re trying to be polite—it’s officially a date. I’ll pick you up at eight.” He got out of the car and opened my unusual door for me, his eyes twinkling in the dim light spilling from my house. “That should give you time to put in a solid ten hours at the office, enough to assuage your impending guilt.”

He took my hand and helped me out from the car. We stood together in the dim light spilling from my house. “Good night, Lauren. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

I shook my head and stifled a smile. “Okay.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” He grinned, and I caught a flash of dimple as he headed back to the driver’s side. “You’ll give me a big head.”

I couldn’t suppress my smile. “Good night.”

He smiled at me once more, then disappeared, reversing his beast of an electric car and speeding off into the night.

“Ms. Taylor?” Timmy called. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” I called back.

The truth, however, was a little more complicated than that.