Page 26 of Edge of Secrets

Bruce stared at me for a second, then started to laugh. “You’ll do,” he said. “You’re perfect for this wacko place.”

“Thank you for sharing your opinion,” Duncan said. “That’ll be all. Get lost, Bruce.”

Bruce choked off his laughter. “Uh, yeah. I’ll just let you guys, uh, work your stuff out, then. Bye.”

He left the room, still snorting with muffled laughter. The door clicked shut.

The luxurious conference room was so quiet. Faraway city sounds came into focus, floating up from the street. I stared out at the darkening cityscape, tongue-tied and intensely nervous to be alone with him. Bruce seemed like a good guy, and his enthusiasm was heartening, but I was afraid Duncan was going to be a problem. I simply didn’t have the kind of self-confidence it took to ignore his disapproval, as Bruce had suggested. That took brash nerve, and I was coming up short on that quality with Snake Eyes circling me. I needed all of my brash nerve just to walk out my apartment door every morning. I didn’t have any left to spare for wrangling sexy, difficult men. For God’s sake, I could barely bring myself to talk to the guy.

Well, whatever. If this didn’t work out, I would be no worse off than before.

Time to go home, heat up something from the freezer, write some epic poetry about goblins, demons, and holy quests. There were worse night jobs. I’d knew, having done a lot of them already.

I cleared my throat. “Well. I have a whole lot of writing to do, so I’ll just, um, be on my?—”

“Don’t go yet. We need to talk.”

My heart thumped. “We do? About what?”

“I’m sorry I was rude,” he said, his tone gruff. “My brother was driving me nuts.”

The apology took me completely by surprise. “I could see that,” I offered tentatively.

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“That’s true. You definitely shouldn’t have,” I agreed swiftly.

A smile came and went on his face, so quickly, I wondered if I’d imagined it. “The whole situation just makes me so goddamn nervous,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “What situation is that?”

He shrugged. “This project. This game. I design security software, and specialized data-sorting and analysis programs. I’m extremely good at that. I understand what they’re good for, how to make them stand out, who to market them to, what they’re willing to pay. Then Bruce bounces in with his big, shiny idea. I couldn’t talk him out of it, and God knows where he would’ve gone for the money if I’d refused.”

He stopped and turned to look out the window, shaking his head.

I took the opportunity to study his gorgeous profile. The slanting sunlight and shadows in the dim room accentuated the harsh angles and planes of his face. I wished I could draw like Vivi. He’d be an amazing subject.

“And now?” I prompted.

“I don’t know shit about video games. So I don’t like the situation I find myself in. At a total disadvantage.” His voice was clipped. “This is not my scene, you understand? I am not the playful, lighthearted type. I like to have my facts in a row. No surprises. Minimized uncertainty.”

“Strip steak sandwich,” I said softly. “And apple crumb pie with vanilla ice cream. Forget the fudge brownie.”

He shrugged. “I guess it’s probably the same phenomenon.”

I perched on the edge of the table, clasping my hands. “Well, consider this,” I said. “The soup changes every single day, and you’ve bravely tried a new one every time.”

“Yeah, but I’ve already ascertained that they’re all pretty good. That’s a minimal risk which has already been assessed and factored in beforehand.” He took a step closer to me. “I didn’t come to the Sunset Grill for lunch today.”

“I know. We missed you.” My voice felt breathless at his proximity. “There was a very nice curried chickpea stew that you could’ve tried.”

One step closer and I could smell his aftershave. His face was in shadow now, backlit by the glow of the buildings outside. He had a gorgeous silhouette.

“I don’t actually hate your ideas,” he said. “Not at all. I’m sorry I was such a pain in the ass. I just automatically contradict everything my brother says. It’s a programmed reflex, and it has nothing to do with you, or your abilities.”

“Thanks for telling me,” I said. “I get that. And he shouldn’t tease you. Any man who runs his own business knows about taking risks. What’s Bruce risking? He’s using your business as a springboard. You’re the one putting everything on the line.”

In the startled silence that followed, I was embarrassed by my own vehemence. After all, the weird Burke family dynamics were none of my damn business.

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