Page 27 of The Texan's Secrets

“In our case, I was anonymous,” he reminded her. “Plenty of people start out that way.”

“Theythinkthey are. For example, you set up your profile from here, right? Or from home? And you provided a photo. Based on that alone, bad actors could do facial recognition, access your geolocation information and take it from there.”

“k!smet is not a bad actor.”

It was ironic that Emilia would allude to other people’s nefarious actions, since he now knew she’d been involved with HitMeUp’s attempted sabotage of k!smet.

“I know. But from what I saw, the Surprise Me! function was—” She seemed to stop herself mid-thought.

“Was what?” he prompted, curious to gather helpful data for Misha.

“You’re right.” She took a hearty drink while Nico’s phone pinged to announce the food order’s arrival. “It’s nothing but a fun feature to shake things up.”

Four

At home later that night, Emilia worked her way back into the Surprise Me! code, considering the possibilities of AI and deep social media dives to the online dating world.

She heard the front door close and knew Paris had arrived home from work. She backed out of the app, carefully erasing her tracks, and headed downstairs, both nervous and excited to share some girl talk.

“Hey, Emie.” Paris dropped her shoulder bag on a chair in the front foyer.

“Good shift?”

“It was long. The cash didn’t balance, and we had to hunt down the error. Why do people even use cash these days?”

“Anonymity.”

Paris kicked off her high-heeled shoes and hung her jacket on a hook. “They make an online reservation, use a map app to find us, post pictures of their dinner on social media then use cash to maintain their privacy?”

Emilia smiled at the irony. “In that case, I really don’t know.”

“How was your night? Are you thirsty?”

“Sure. I’d go for soda and lime.” After two glasses of wine with Nick, Emilia knew she should hydrate.

“Splash of vodka or anything?” Paris went for the liquor cabinet.

“Not for me.” Emilia retrieved a lime and the bottle of soda water from the fridge.

They filled two tall glasses over ice with Paris adding a slug of vodka to hers.

“Catch any bad guys tonight?” Paris asked as she flopped down on the sofa and curled her feet beneath her.

The kitchen and living area was an open rectangle with windows overlooking a small backyard, dark now except for the porch light of the house up the bank behind them. Their furniture was comfortably soft with magazines and books strewn around on the tabletops. Paris loved to wander around barefoot, so a huge, patterned rug covered the hardwood floor.

Emilia settled into an armchair. “Not tonight.”

“Too bad.”

“I thwart them more than catch them. And I get paid by the hour not the bounty.”

Paris smiled. “As you should. I’ve decided we should eliminate tips.”

“Oh?”

“It’s an archaic system. Pay everyone a good wage, I say. Charge the prices you need to charge.”

“Did something happen tonight?”

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