Her buzzer sounded, making her jump.

“Miss Williams there’s a gentleman here by the name of Conor Dunne. He said you were expecting him.”

“Yes, Dan, thank you. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Emily didn’t even glance in the mirror as she grabbed her coat and purse. She didn’t know where they would go but she had to get away from the building and the photos.

“Thanks, Dan,” she said to the doorman, not wanting to acknowledge the speculative look on his face. She never had gentleman callers to the apartment. Conor stood there looking even better than he had that morning. He had changed into jeans and a sweater and, even though it was casual, he looked like a model walking off a shoot.

“You okay?”

“Yes, fine. Thank you.” Why was he being so kind? “I thought we might go out for an early dinner - it being too late for lunch. Anywhere in particular you want to go?”

“I don’t mind. I’m starving, so I was sort of hoping you would know a good place to eat.”

She suggested they have sushi nearby and headed toward one of her favorite restaurants, making small talk as they walked. Luckily they had one open table, and it happened to be at the back of the room, away from the crowds at the front of the restaurant.

“Judging by the queue for takeout, the food in here must be good,” he said as they took their seats. He had held her chair for her, which she found charming.

“It’s great. I can’t believe you live near here and haven’t tried it yet.”

“I don’t spend much time in the city.”

“Prefer to hang out in your mansion, do you?” Emily clapped her hand over her mouth as the words tumbled out. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“No, it was funny. Do you think I hang out with the stars? Well, I suppose I do have Brad on speed dial although things are a bit awkward since he broke up with Ang. Don’t you find it difficult when friends break up? I mean, trying to keep friendly with both sides and stay out of the mud-slinging.”

At first she had stared at him, open mouthed, but then she realized he was teasing her as his eyes twinkled.

“Oh, you. I guess I deserved that.”

“Sorry, but it’s fun winding you up. And I like hearing you laugh.”

She smiled, suddenly feeling very thankful she had taken him up on his offer.

“Thanks for coming by. This is nice,” she said after they had both given their orders to the server.

“Nice? Oh, the wounds you inflict.” He pantomimed holding his heart, making her giggle again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“In Ireland, when a girl tells you you’re nice, that’s a death sentence. It means she sees you as a friend or like her brother.”

“Sorry. I meant to say you were kind.”

“Great, so now I am nice and kind. You will have me signing into a home for geriatrics soon.”

“What do you want me to say? You look like a model?”

His eyes gleamed. “That would be good. For starters.”

“Listen, ‘Mr. I am so full of myself right now’…”

“Oh no, rewind. I don’t like the path you’re heading down. I’ll settle for nice and kind.”

They exchanged smiles. She put her hand on the table and he covered it with his.

“Emily, I don’t want to ruin anything, but why did you sound so upset on the phone? For a minute, you sounded really scared.”

She looked down at their intertwined hands, his fingers gently rubbing her skin, giving her butterflies. She gazed back at him, seeing the concern in his eyes and decided to take a risk.

“I had a rather unpleasant morning.”

“I hope you mean at the office and not during our coffee,” he said, smiling at her. But despite his teasing, his eyes still held concern.

“No, it was after I came home. I found an envelope waiting for me just inside my door with photos from last night in it.”

The arrival of their meals interrupted her. The server set the plates in front of them, topped up their water and then excused herself, telling them to call her should they need anything. Emily watched as he picked up his chopsticks, looking at them before staring at her.

“Don’t they have chopsticks in Ireland?”

“They do, but they don’t have that many sushi bars. I don’t think I want to try eating with them today. Can’t go any better than it has in the past. You’ll laugh at me. I might as well have ordered spaghetti and meatballs.”

Her puzzlement must have shown on her face as he smiled again. Why did his smile make her stomach turn cartwheels? And his accent, never mind his looks. Were all Irish men this gorgeous?

“Sorry, another Irish thing. You shouldn’t have spaghetti on a first date. Nobody looks attractive sucking a big strand of pasta into their mouth.”

Oh, she begged to differ. She imagined he would look gorgeous regardless of what he was doing. She had to stop thinking about him that way.

“You okay? You look as if you’re debating between having a tooth pulled without anesthetic or attending a twenty-four hour screening of Little House on the Prairie.”

She burst out laughing. “What’s wrong with Little House?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Can you imagine Nellie Olson for twenty-four hours? I’d rather have my tooth pulled.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

They exchanged a sweet smile and then he took her hand in his again.

“Emily, about the photos. I know you’re not keen on having your photo taken, but you couldn’t possibly look bad enough in them to scare yourself.” When she didn’t laugh his tone turned serious. “What was wrong with the photos?”

“Some of them were fine. There were a couple of Carrie and some other people. They were normal…”

“But?”

“The ones of me all had my face missing. Whomever sent them cut out my face first.”

She stared at the table, not wanting to let him see her tears. She willed them not to fall. It was embarrassing enough without looking like a defenseless woman.

“What? Who would do that?” His angry tone warmed her. He was annoyed, but not with her. It was comforting to see that someone cared. She didn’t feel quite so alone.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you phone the cops?”

“Yes. They came over and I showed them the photos and also the online threats, but they said there was nothing they could do.”

He looked furious now, but was still holding her hand. “Does your building have cameras? Didn’t they check them? Surely there is something they could do? Want me to talk to them for you?”

She couldn’t keep up with his questions. His desire to look out for her was sweet, but she was a big girl.

“Yes, it has cameras. They weren’t working but are being fixed now. No, there is nothing more they can do apart from tell me to keep a low profile for a while and, no, I don’t need you to speak to anyone. I can look after myself.”

He gave her a long look, but she couldn’t work out what he was thinking.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest you couldn’t. I just hate cowards like this,” he said.

She took her hand away to take a sip of water. She rather liked the fact that he seemed genuinely concerned, even though it had annoyed her. He was trying to fix things. But that was what men did, wasn’t it? Her brother Brian did it, her father had done it. A brief memory of her mom getting angry at her father’s attempt to fix a light bulb while they had been waiting for an ambulance for her nana came to mind. He’d said later, he couldn’t bear just standing around looking at her nana struggling to breath. He had to do something useful in order to cope.

“Emily, I’m really sorry this happened to you. Maybe the police are right and you should take a step back, have a lower profile.”

She glared at him, but he didn’t stop talking.

“What I mean is, I know what you’re doing is a good thing but maybe let the heat die down a bit. Your recent coverage of various games has infuriated a lot of people. Maybe you need to balance it out a bit.”

“What do you mean?” Her tone was cooled, but he ignored it.

“Well, I’m guessing there are some games you like to play. You being a gamer and everything.”

“Yes, of course. There are some fantastic games out there. I could spend the weekend playing Quest Embattlement games. But I don’t have time anymore.” She couldn’t see what that had to do with anything.

“So why not write a bit about them?”

“Why would I do that? They don’t portray women in a sexualized manner and the violence is there because it’s a shooting game, not just for gratuitous violence.”

“Exactly.”

She gave him a blank stare. She didn’t have a clue what he was thinking.

He continued. “So why not tell your followers about those games? To be honest, reading your blog, you could get the impression you hate all games, gamers and the entire industry.”

He paused as if waiting for her to say something. But she was lost for words. She had never thought anyone would interpret her actions like he had. But the way he said it, it sounded reasonable.

“I’m not suggesting you start singing the praises of Sunny Studios. But I do think you should give a more balanced view. Your opinion will carry more weight if you praise the positives as much as you denounce the negatives. Now some—not me—but some people would call you a ranting feminist who needs to vent.” He took a breath before continuing. “I’m not condoning that viewpoint, I’m just trying to say, maybe you’re feeding into it a little too much.”

She pushed her meal away. She actually did talk about the good parts of games she reviewed, but he had just bought the worst gaming production company ever and he was telling her she needed to pull her horns in.

“I know you’re mad at me. I can see it in your face. I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just giving you an outsider’s opinion,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She put her hands in her lap. “But you’re not an outsider, are you? You have a vested interest in making the games your company makes more socially acceptable. It always comes down to the bottom line with you people, doesn’t it?”

His face became an unreadable mask. “And what’s ‘you people’ supposed to mean?”

“I read about you, Mr. Dunne. You buy failing companies and either rip them apart and sell them off or you turn them into global superstars.”

His eyes turned into the color of rain clouds. She was a little worried she had gone too far.

“I use my business knowledge to get the best return possible. Nobody gets hurt in the process. I don’t screw people over.”

She was having trouble reconciling Conor Dunne, the CEO of Sunny Studios, and this man she was beginning to like sitting in front of her. But the facts remained. “Don’t you? Funny how you turn up at the foundation dance last night, I got these photos today just after we have coffee and then you call me. To console me.”

He sat back in his chair before he spoke, his cold tone cutting right through her.

“Now, listen here, Miss Marple. I got an invitation to the fundraiser. I had coffee with you because I wanted to get to know you better.”

She pushed her food around her plate with the chopsticks. She really didn’t know much about him—personally—after all. Only that he’d bought the worst gaming company in the industry.

“I asked you out because I was genuinely worried about you. But you can’t believe that, can you? In your warped view of the world, any man who shows the slightest interest in gaming is some sort of pervert. We’re not allowed to have feelings or, heavens above, care for people. I don’t know what sort of people you hung around with growing up, but you have a mixed-up view of the world, Ms. Williams.”

He took a deep breath, but she still didn’t get a chance to speak. “I was just trying to point out that rather than having a holier than thou, ‘I am Miss Perfect on a crusade to save the gaming world from itself’ view of the industry, that you could achieve much more if you gave a more balanced view. I’m not telling you to lie or to manipulate people, but to tell your audience what you told me. Tell them about the games you enjoy playing and why. Maybe, just maybe, they might try playing those same games and see you know what you’re talking about and are not some old bag who doesn’t know her graphics from the back of a cereal packet.”

He turned to ask the waitress for the bill. She asked him if there was something wrong with the food. Emily listened to him reassure her that everything was wonderful, but they just needed to get to their next appointment. He sounded so reasonable speaking to the waitress that Emily couldn’t believe it was the same person talking as had given her a lecture only minutes before. But then she deserved the lecture, didn’t she? She had practically accused him of stalking her.

Oh, what was she doing? He had been trying to be kind, to help her, and she’d thrown everything in his face. Why? Because he’d been right. She hated admitting she was wrong, especially when it came to business stuff. But he was only saying the same things she had said when they first set up the blog. That it should be more even-sided, not a one-woman rant against the whole industry.

She stared at him, wondering how to apologize. Saying sorry didn’t seem enough, but it would be a good start. He sat glowering at the table waiting for the check. He wouldn’t even look at her. She gulped, feeling rather out of her depth.

“Mr. Dunne—Conor, I’m sorry.”

He raised his eyes to her level, but his face remained an unreadable mask.

“I don’t know why I took out my anger and frustration on you. I don’t really think you sent the photos. I never would have gone out to eat with you if I believed that. They shook me up and I guess I overreacted. I am truly sorry.”

“You are?”

“Yes, I am. I’m not sure how I can make it up to you.”

“You said you were sorry. Let’s leave it at that.” His tone was slightly less frosty than before, but it was obvious he was still angry.