Conor whistled as he got ready for his date. But it wasn’t a date, he kept telling himself. He just wished it were. For the first time in forever, he had met a woman that set both his mind and his body on fire. Emily Williams was intelligent and driven, and there was something about her he couldn’t shake.

He picked up the papers he had requested. They gave him a brief history of her background. Twenty-nine years old, she was one of two children, her and an older brother named Brian. Her father had run his own business, but both parents had been killed in a car wreck when she was still in high school. She was close to her paternal grandmother, who lived in an assisted living center. Her elder brother was quite a bit older, married with a family. They didn’t appear to be that close. No sign of a boyfriend, or girlfriend for that matter. She didn’t have any pets. She seemed to be a workaholic and was very committed to changing the face of the gaming world. She gave a fair bit of time and her personal money to local charities. Very private, didn’t post her picture on her blog and didn’t attend the usual gaming conventions. The more he read, the more questions he had. He wanted to get to know Emily Williams.

* * *

He stood waiting at the plaza for ten minutes, wishing he had gotten her cell phone number. Had she stood him up? Was she trying to make a fool of him? No, that couldn’t be it as she needed the check. Was there another coffee shop near here? He hated being late. It was a sign of a disorganized mind and something he absolutely abhorred was disorganization. His parents used to tease him when he was younger over his fixation with everything having a place. His mind worked like that, too. If a business situation became too complicated or awkward, he was able to put it into a separate compartment and deal with it later. And as for personal relationships, he mostly just avoided those so he wouldn’t have to make a place for them.

He paced back and forth, wondering how long he should wait. Maybe she had decided not to come after all.

“Mr. Dunne, I am so sorry. I hate being late. I just got caught at the office and didn’t realize the time and…” Emily looked at him. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but it’s fine. I only arrived a few minutes ago.” Why did he go and say that? It wasn’t true. “Shall we?”

He held the door open for her. She brushed against him, her scent wafting in the breeze.

She asked him what he would like and insisted on paying as her apology for being late. He was taken aback by the gesture, as any woman he had ever taken out expected him to pay. He insisted on carrying the tray, though, and she seemed as if she would argue with him but then gave in. He had been brought up to respect women as equals but to always be a gentleman.

“I am so sorry I was late.”

“So you said, repeatedly. Please forget about it. These things happen. I hope you got whatever it was sorted out.”

She glanced at him and something in her look told him it wasn’t sorted and was more of an issue than she was letting on. He wanted to tell her she could confide in him, but he couldn’t. They didn’t know one another. She seemed on edge, too, looking around her as if trying to spot someone she knew. Surely she wasn’t that uncomfortable because of his presence. He was not Sunny Studios—that was simply one of the many businesses he owned.

“Were you happy with the way last night went?” he asked.

“Yes, very. We raised a lot of money, and your donation certainly helped.”

“Why did you call it the DC Williams Foundation? Did you name it after your father?” he asked, handing her the milk.

“Oh, thanks. Yes. My pop used to say we should never forget the local community. It was easier in those days of, course. Dad ran a store. He knew most of the neighborhood. Mom helped him by knowing which families were in the deepest need. So every Christmas those families got a visit from Secret Santa. A parcel of holiday food, presents for the children and such. He never gave cash. I guess he thought giving actual things was safer. Money can be used for drugs or alcohol.” She took a breath. “I like to think the foundation can carry on some of his work. If we can educate people while they enjoy themselves, it’s a win. The plan is to donate a percentage of profits to charities helping abused women and children. Dad would have approved, I hope and Nana, his mom, likes the idea. She was involved in the Civil Rights movement in the 1960’s. She is committed to achieving equal rights for women, has been her whole life. Dad was very proud of her. I’d like to think he’d be proud of me too.”

“He sounds like a nice man.”

Her face opened, the look of love and longing taking his breath away.

“He was. He and my mom were special people.”

He wanted to take her hand and offer his condolences but then he would have to admit to spying on her. Something he doubted she would take kindly to.

“So what do your parents do?” she asked.

“A bit of this and that.”

She cocked her head as if waiting for more information. She didn’t say anything. The silence lingered until he felt compelled to answer further.

“Dad died some time ago.” What? Why did he admit to that? He never talked to anyone about his dad. “I don’t see much of my mam.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t want to talk about his parents. Nobody needed to know his mother was a drunk, not to mention anything about his dad. His thoughts flew back to John Baker. He had said something about his father being a gentleman. That was a word he would never use to describe his dad.

“So why did you want to meet this morning?” she asked, not looking at him but toying with her cup.

He smiled at her, liking the way her cheeks pinked. “Are you always this direct?”

“I don’t mean to be, but I have a mountain of work to get through and…oh, my goodness. Sorry, that sounded so rude. I just…”

“Don’t worry. I understand. I was hoping you could give me a little bit of insight into your new products? How are your games going to be different to those on the market? And still be…”

“Successful?” Her eyebrow arched as she finished his sentence for him.

“Well, yes, I guess that is what I was meaning to ask.”

“We have done plenty of market research. A significant number of gamers play the games for the challenge. The competitiveness. To be the best.”

“So what do you need in the best ever game?” he asked, finding he genuinely wanted to know. He also wanted to keep her talking. He didn’t want her to go back to work.

Emily laughed. He wanted to make her laugh again and again. He threw his hands up, saying, “I don’t care how much you laugh at me. I honestly have never, ever, played a video game. It just wasn’t my thing.”

“But you love movies, right?”

“You can’t compare the two.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. To some gamers, the storyline is incredibly important, just like a movie. You need a good script. You need fantastic graphics. They have to be the hippest, the coolest on the market.”

“So can’t you copy the best game out there and just strip out the bits you don’t like or agree with?” He was winding her up, but watched as she fell for the bait.

“Are you serious? What would you say if someone suggested they strip out the racist parts of Gone with the Wind and re-filmed it? Or what about Star Wars without the fighting and the war?”

“Emily, I was teasing.”

“Oh. Sorry,” she said.

He watched her cheeks redden again and immediately felt guilty. This was important to her and he was teasing. That wasn’t fair or gentlemanly behavior.

“So it’s not just about the graphics being the coolest or the best storyline, is it? Because I guess they would be the easy bits to do. Right? You can hire graphic artists and we aren’t far from the best scriptwriters known to man. So what else is there?”

“That’s the special ingredient, the secret sauce.”

“Like the KFC original recipe?” he asked, smiling, trying to restrain himself from reaching for her hand. Her skin looked so soft, it was almost too much to resist the temptation to touch her. So he sat on his hands.

“Yes, exactly that. The game has to have something the others don’t have. Like a certain spell sequence if it was based on witches and sorcery, or a new skill or a different type of society with its own rules. And the characters have to be realistic, even within a fantasy realm. I mean, who would go out fighting an eight-headed beast in her best bra and underwear? It just wouldn’t happen.”

He couldn’t help it as he burst out laughing.

“What? Oh, right. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. That’s normally the bit I reserve for Carrie and the girls. Well, this was nice but I really should get going. You know—”

“Emily, please relax. It’s fine. I’m a grown man. I’m not afraid of the word ‘bra’. And actually, I agree with you. I prefer to fight multi-headed aliens wearing full body armor.” He smiled, hoping to show her he was joking.

She smiled, her eyes dancing. “You’re so different than what I thought you would be like.”

“I’m guessing you had me pegged as someone with a subscription to Playboy and similar magazines.”

She looked embarrassed.

“Did I have the plastic wife, too? And what about the chest medallion? Oh, I forgot, I left it at home this morning. It didn’t go with my suit.”

She laughed with genuine amusement, her eyes lighting up her whole face.

“Okay, I deserved that. Yes, I guess I had you pegged like that. But then I’m sure you heard I was a man hater.”

It was his turn to squirm. Her words echoed those of his lawyer too closely.

“I see I was right.” She sipped her coffee before checking her cell.

“Are you waiting for someone to call?”

“What? Oh, no, sorry. I just…well I have been getting messages. The urge to check is hard to resist.”

“Nice messages or those you mentioned last night?”

“Last night?” The guarded look was back. Something was definitely spooking this woman. He wanted to know what. After all, maybe he could help. But he would have to tread carefully. She was so independent, she was likely to take any offers of help as a sign he was being patronizing.

“During your talk you said something about being threatened.”

Obviously uncomfortable, she fidgeted. She was being threatened.

“A few horrible comments on the internet. You know the type. I guess everyone gets them if they do a Kickstarter or some other form of public funding. Look, this was nice but I really should get back to work.”

She was running away. He wanted to say she had nothing to fear from him, but he couldn’t.

“Can I come with you?”

“Pardon?”

“I would love to see what you’re working on. I’ll sign a non-disclosure or anything you want me to sign. I am really interested in your ideas and would love to see them in action, so to speak. What do you say?”

Please say yes, he found himself begging silently. It had been so long since a woman interested him on so many levels. He could listen to her talk all day. She was so interesting. And she was incredibly attractive—he couldn’t take his eyes off her red hair as she met his eyes.

* * *

“Um…” What could she say? She didn’t want to seem rude and it would be great to show him successful games don’t have to demean women. But he worked for the competition. Or rather, he owned the competition. He had access to funds she could only dream about. So that’s why he wanted to have coffee so badly. He thought he could access insider secrets, capitalize on her years of research and then produce a good video game.

“Maybe another time?” she hedged. “I promised Carrie, the girl who you met last night, I would work with her on something this afternoon.”

“Okay. That’s cool. I’ll hold you to another coffee date.”

Date? He had used the word date. She should be repulsed but she wasn’t. What was she thinking? She couldn’t date her enemy no matter how charming he appeared to be.

“It was very nice to speak to you in person. I can’t promise anything at the moment.”

She hadn’t asked him to promise anything. What if he had seen her attraction and he thought she was playing hard to get? She opened her mouth to speak but he got there first.

“But I will go through the catalogue of games offered by Sunny Studios.”

“You will?” She didn’t know how her voice sounded so calm when she was so surprised. “That’s great. I am very passionate about this and I think it’s best for the generations to come. We have to turn things around now.”

He smiled at her as he held the door open. Was he being sincere? He seemed to be genuinely interested in learning about her video games instead of trying to find out how he could profit from them. Was she guilty of misjudging him? She almost wished she had said yes to his coming to the office, but it was best to play it cool. Guys like Conor Dunne didn’t hear no very often. She was sure of it.