Hot Chips and Sand 146-150

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

Cliff pushed his plate aside and gestured with his fork. “All right, Victoria Johnston. You don’t want to marry for money. You don’t want to marry for sex. You don’t want to marry just for children. Yet you do want to marry. For what?”

For what indeed? For love?

Yes, love would be her reason to marry. But not love like Ron meant it. Not love that stopped at the bedroom and was forbidden outside the home.

Her life stretched beyond that. No matter the corporate games she had learned to play, no matter how much she masked her feelings, they were there, at home, at work, dating.

Vickie wanted a man to love in the bedroom, yes, and at home. But that was only part of her life. She wanted a man to love at play, and at work, and all the in‑between times, too. “I want to marry someone I can spend my entire life with. A friend.”

“Well, I’d want it all. I would marry someone who was not only my friend, but someone I loved, too.”

Someone I loved. That resonated so strongly when he said it. She wondered if this man was the right one, the one she could love forever.

But was she the right woman for him?

Her voice sounded a little strange when she finally spoke, but she kept her words emotionless. “Well, of course. Everybody wants to have the perfect mate. But not many of us find perfection.”

“No, that’s not it.” He put his fork down and leaned forward, intent. “Perfection isn’t what I’m after. I want love, which is a very human emotion, and human means far from perfect. You can’t program love, after all. That would take the wonder, the delight out of it. I’m not looking for Ms. Perfect, or even Ms. Right. I’m looking for someone who’s as human as I am, but who’s willing to make mistakes and try again. And someone who…would try to love me in return, and keep trying, for the rest of our lives.”

She looked up, nearly drowning in the depths of his eyes. I love you, she wanted to say. But what if she did? Was he really asking for her commitment? Or was he just making conversation? How could he ask for a commitment like that from her without making his own commitment?

If he wanted her to put herself on the line like that, why didn’t he show her, somehow, how he felt about her?

Will he treat me like Ron?

She played it safe. “I think we all look for people to love us.” Trite. She looked away.

He sighed and sat back. “That’s true. But I guess it’s easier to take than to give.”

She winced. “No question about that.”

They sat, silent, until the hall clock struck a rather jarring ring. Vickie looked up.

“Is it really one in the morning?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’d better be getting home. I promised you I’d have that tracker module written, and, to be honest, I haven’t even started it yet!” She jumped up, dumped her dishes in the dishwasher and raced to the door.

Cliff didn’t catch up to her until she got to her car. “Vickie.”

She turned, her breath catching in her throat. Hoping for a kiss.

He stood there for a long moment, seeming at war with him self. Finally he shook his head. “Be careful.” He opened her door and waited until she was inside to click it shut. Then he stood back and watched as she pulled away. He was still watching when she drove out of sight.

* * * * *

The phone rang again. The man opened one eye and blearily took in the time. Two o’clock, as in a.m. He picked up the receiver, grunting as his muscles stretched.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

The man grunted again. “What’s the matter?”

“I just got word from our primary contact. The subject is getting antsy, and wants us to move in the new protection grid as soon as possible.”

It was not good news. “Are we ready?”

“No.”

“Can we delay, then?”

“Not with the project almost complete. I’m sure the subject is aware of that. His timing is too perfect.”

The man rolled onto his back and ran one hand through rumpled hair. “Could we sabotage the project, then, to set it back?”

There was a long silence at the other end, and the man knew. “You still haven’t told her.”

“No.”

“You’ll have to.”

“In time. Now is not the right time.”

“Why not?”

There was a short silence from the other man. “She is beginning to trust me. When I’m sure of her reaction, then I’ll tell her.”

“I think you’re making a mistake.”

A sigh, sounding empty and alone over the phone. “Maybe. You might be right. But I can’t take the chance.”

The man shook his head to himself as he hung up. Organization was going too slowly, information was not being passed along. About the only thing going on track was the project they did not want to complete.

He sighed, and got up to make some tea and think up some solutions to their problems. He did not get back to sleep that night.

 

 

Hot Chips and Sand 146-150 Draft Comparison

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

 

 

            Cliff pushed his plate aside and gestured with his fork. “All right, Victoria Johnston. You don’t want to marry for money. You don’t want to marry for sex. You don’t want to marry just for children. Yet you do want to marry. For what?”

For what indeed? For love?

Yes, love would be her reason to marry. But not love like Ron meant it. Not love that stopped at the bedroom and was forbidden outside the home.

Her life stretched beyond that.  For noNo matter the corporate games she had learned to play, no matter how much she masked her feelings, they were there, at home, at work, going outdating.

Vickie wanted a man to love in the bedroom, yes, and at home. But that was only part of her life. She wanted a man to love at play, and at work, and all the in‑between times, too.

 

            And for the first time, she thought Cliff might just be that man.

 

            “I think it’s important want to marry someone youI can spend yourmy entire life with.”  Still uncertain, she only said, “Someone to be a. A friend.”

“Well, I’d want it all. I would marry someone who was not only my friend, but someone I loved, too.”

 

            Vickie’s heart cried out.  Someone I loved. That resonated so strongly when he said it. She knew in that moment thatwondered if this man was the right one, the one she wouldcould love forever.[M1] 

But was she the right woman for him?

Her voice sounded a little strange when she finally spoke, but she kept her words emotionless. “Well, of course Cliff. . Everybody wants to have the perfect mate. But not many of us find perfection.”

“No, Vickie.” that’s not it.” He put his fork down and leaned forward, in tent. intent. “Perfection isn’t what I’m after.  LoveI want love, which is a very human emotion, and human means far from perfect. You can’t program love, after all. That would take the wonder, the delight out of it.  No, I’m not looking for Ms. Perfect, or even Ms. Right. I’m looking for someone who’s as human as I am, but who’s willing to make mistakes and try again. And someone who…would try to love me in return, and keep trying, for the rest of our lives.”

She looked up, nearly drowning in the depths of his eyes. I love you, she wanted to say. But what if she did? Was he really asking for her commitment? Or was he just stating his own preference? making conversation? How could he ask for a commitment like that from her without making his own commitment?

If he wanted her to put herself on the line like that, why didn’t he show her, somehow, how he felt about her?

Will he treat me like Ron?

She played it safe. “I think we all look for people to love us.”  ‘How trite, Vickie.’ Trite. She looked away.[M2] 

He sighed, and sat back. “That’s true. But I guess it’s easier to take than to give.”

She winced. “No question about that.”

They sat, silent, until the hall clock struck a rather jarjarring ring ring. . Vickie looked up.

“Is it really one in the morning?”

“I’m afraid so.”

 

            “Gosh, Cliff, [M3] “I’d better be getting home. I promised you I’d have that tracker module written, and, to be honest, I haven’t even started it yet!” She jumped up, dumpingdumped her dishes in the dishwasher and raced to the door.

Cliff didn’t catch up to her until she got to her car. “Vickie.”

She turned, her breath catching in her throat.  Would heHoping for a kiss her?.

He stood there for a long moment, seeming at war with him self. Finally he shook his head. “Be careful.” He opened her door and waited until she was inside to click it shut. Then he stood back and watched as she pulled away. He was still watching when she drove out of sight.

 

‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

 

            * * * * *

The phone rang again. The man opened one eye and blearily took in the time. Two o’clock, as in a.m. He picked up the receiver, grunting as his muscles stretched.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

The man grunted again. “What’s the matter?”

“I just got word from our primary contact. The subject is getting antsy about his protection, and wants us to move in the new protection grid as soon as possible.”

It was not good news. “Are we ready?”

“No.”

“Can we delay, then?”

“Not with the project almost complete. I’m sure the subject is aware of that. His timing is too perfect.”

The man rolled onto his back and ran one hand through rumpled hair. “Could we sabotage the project, then, to set it back?”

There was a long silence at the other end, and the man knew. “You still haven’t told her.”

“No.”

“You’ll have to.”

“In time. Now is not the right time.”

“Why not?”

There was a short silence from the other man. “She is beginning to trust me. When I’m sure of her reaction, then I’ll tell her.”

“I think you’re making a mistake.”

A sigh, sounding empty and alone over the phone. “Maybe. You might be right. But I can’t take the chance.”

The man shook his head to himself as he hung up. Organization was going too slowly, information was not being passed along. About the only thing going on track was the project they did not want to complete.

He sighed, and got up to make some tea and think up some solutions to their problems. He did not get back to sleep that night.

 

---

 [M1]She doesn't have to know she's in love or be completely in love at this point--in fact it's more believable if she still has doubts.

 [M2]The asides sound a little forced to me now.

 [M3]Since editing Beauty Bites, I've been very aware of the number of times I use names unnecessarily in dialogue...

Hot Chips and Sand 141-145

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved
 

Two stories tall in most places, it was one story in some and three in others. A corner tower stood five stories high, crowned by an observatory of some sort. Cliff pointed toward what looked like a garage, but it had at least six doors. At least now she knew where all the different cars came from.

She parked in front of a sweeping set of stairs. They mounted the steps together, taking them slowly. Vickie stood back as Cliff unlocked the solid cedar door. It was massive. He swung it open, silently, and allowed her to cross the sill first.

It was like crossing into a different country, a different time. The cut stone floor was covered with intricately woven carpets, and chandeliers lit the huge front hall and what she could see of the room beyond. A full suit of armor stood in one corner. On the walls hung oil portraits of men and women in clothes from earlier centuries. “My mother’s,” said Cliff, leading Vickie down the hall.

She followed him past several rooms in various styles, finally finding herself in a very modern kitchen. Cliff pulled out a chair at a small breakfast table for four. As she sat, he poured two glasses of milk and set them on the table. He dug a large cake knife from a drawer and a couple plates from a cupboard. Setting them on the table, he went through a door and returned with a large metal cake carrier. With a flourish, he set it in front of her and drew off the top.

The cake revealed was well worth the fanfare. A wedge had already been taken and she saw light, high layers separated by half an inch of frosting. The rich smell of chocolate wafted through the kitchen. Vickie sniffed appreciatively. Cliff cut them each a big wedge, seated himself, and waited.

Sensing he wanted her reaction, she sampled a small, moist corner of the cake. It was delicious, and she said so. “Your Hannah is a culinary genius.”

“Better than the brownies?” he teased.

“I don’t know.” She made a face. “We’ll see how much of this I actually get to eat.”

He laughed. “Actually quite a bit. Hannah made two.”

“Were you really ever a skinny little kid?”

She was just bantering, but he sobered immediately. “It was rather painful.”

He was silent after that, but Vickie found she wanted to know him better. “John said you didn’t take up weight training until after college.”

He stirred and met her gaze squarely. “That’s somewhat misleading. I started college at sixteen, and skipped through a bachelors and masters in three years. Being a bit of a loner, I didn’t have much else to do.”

Vickie’s eyes dropped to study her cake crumbs. “I guess you had some lost time to make up for after that.”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “I had a lot of offers of companionship, once I had increased my body mass by fifty percent. But some of the women who were now offering were those whose rejections had been the cruelest.”

Vickie frowned. She was beginning to see a very different Cliff, one more like herself than she’d ever realized. “Used to be all I had to do was say some thing vaguely intelligent to scare off a prospective date.”

He looked up from his second piece of cake. “You know, I think that’s the first thing you’ve said about yourself that I haven’t had to drag out of you?”

She paused. “I guess you’ve always seemed so…professional and perfect to me. It’s hard to be one’s own bungling self with someone who always does things just right.”

“Oh, I’m far from perfect. I try very hard to do things right, but you’d be amazed at how many screw‑ups I’ve had. It’s just that I always come back and try again, and again, until I do get it right.”

“I knew it. You’re stubborn.”

“I prefer ‘tenacious’.”

They laughed together at that. Cliff served her a second piece of cake, and helped himself to a third. Vickie cut into hers, and chewed slowly, considering. He wanted her to be more open. What could she reveal without revealing her heart? Job? No, he knew about that. School? No, he knew that from the background investigation. Family? She thought about that for a while. Her family seemed nothing like his. Father dead in childhood, mother soon after, probably neither of them understanding the technical streak in their son, perhaps not under standing their bookish son at all.

“You know, Cliff, maybe the reason I don’t talk about myself is there’s nothing much to say. I mean, our family made the Cleavers look like neighborhood trendsetters.”

Cliff’s face lit up. “Ah, a personal anecdote. So yours was the typical American family? Two‑point‑four children? Dog? Station wagon? T.V.?”

“The works. Mom was even stay-at-home, until my brother was in high school. Then she went back to work. I guess that was daring.”

“What did she do?”

Vickie laughed. “Crossing‑guard. She just retired last year. Dad retired three years ago. They go traveling a lot now.”

“That’s how I’d like to do it. Raise the children in a secure, loving home, then send them out into the world and live it up.”

“You’re silly! It takes two decades to raise children. How much living it up do you think you’re going to do at…er…”

Cliff quickly cut her off. “Fifty. I’ll only be fifty.”

“Hey, me too.”

“I know. We were born the same year.”

Vickie made an exasperated noise. “That’s why I don’t tell you anything about myself. I don’t need to. You already know it all.”

“Not everything. You said your family was traditional. Are you?”

“I think it’s important to give kids a safe home, too. And everyone needs love.” She winced mentally at that. “But I think my parents are doing it the right way. You don’t marry your family—you marry each other.”

“So when you’re fifty, you’re going to be painting the town red, too.”

“Either that, or I’ll go back to school. I’ve always been interested in psychology.”

“Why didn’t you go into that before?”

“Well, I had to make a living.” She smiled. “My parents weren’t going to support me forever. And besides, they had my brother to pay for. I guess boys are more expensive than girls, with their cars and everything.” She looked sidelong at him, wondering if he was aware that having six cars was unusual.

Cliff squared his shoulders. “Some boys pay for their own ‘cars and everything’.” He drank milk, then considered her. “Had you ever thought of marrying some rich guy and doing what you want to do now?”

“That doesn’t sound fair. I mean, just because some poor slob has worked his tail off to make some money shouldn’t turn him into marriage meat. For that matter, maybe some guy should ride my coattails to success.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know. I just think a person should put his or her fair share into a marriage. If I marry a rich guy, it shouldn’t be to do what I want, it should be to do what we want.”

“Well, you make enough money now to pull your own weight, and then some. Had you ever thought about taking a trophy husband?”

“You mean marry somebody for their looks?”

“Or because they’re good in bed. Or both.”

“Forget it. What happens if I lose my job? Or he meets someone who makes more than I do? That’s a relationship that spells disaster.”

Cliff shook his head. “You’d be surprised at how many men can’t see that clearly.”

“Not really. To be honest with you, most men I’ve known haven’t been able to see beyond the end of their…sexual organ.”

“Ah‑hah! A misanthrope. You don’t want to marry at all.”

Vickie shook her head vehemently. “Of course I want to marry. If it’s the right person.”

Hot Chips and Sand 141-145 Draft Comparison

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

            She started forward, and was amazed to see the parkway curve into a driveway, and at the end of the drive stood the most beautiful home she had ever seen.

 

            It was twoTwo stories tall in most places, although it was only one story tall in some, and three in others.  OneA corner tower stood five stories high, and was crowned by an observatory of some sort. Cliff indicated[M1]  she should park by the pointed toward what looked like a garage, a cursory examination of which revealed but it had at least six doors.  ‘So that’sAt least now she knew where all the different cars comecame from. ’

 

            The entrance was on a slant, up a set of She parked in front of a sweeping set of stairs. They mounted the steps together, taking them slowly. Vickie stood back as Cliff unlocked the solid cedar door. It was massive. He swung it open, silently, and allowed her to cross the sill first.

It was like crossing into a different country, a different time. The cut stone floor was covered with intricately woven carpets, and chandeliers lit the huge front hall and what she could see of the room beyond. A full suit of armor stood in one corner. On the walls hung oil portraits, several of men and women wearingin clothes from earlier centuries. “My mother’s,” said Cliff, leading her throughVickie down the hall.

 

            VickieShe followed him throughpast several rooms in various styles, stopping finally finding herself in a very modern kitchen. Cliff indicated[M2]  she should sitpulled out a chair at thea small breakfast table.  for four[M3] . As she seated herselfsat, he poured two glasses of milk and set them on the table. He dug out a large cake knife.  from a drawer and a couple plates from a cupboard. Setting those thingsthem on the table, he busied himself a moment, then came backwent through a door and returned with a couple of plates and a large metal cake carrier. He placed the latter reverentlyWith a flourish, he set it in front of her, and, with a flourish, drew off the covertop.

The cake revealed was well worth the fanfare.  LightA wedge had already been taken and she saw light, high layers were separated by half an inch of frosting. The rich smell of chocolate wafted through the kitchen. Vickie sniffed appreciatively. Cliff cut them each a big wedge, seated himself, and waited.

Sensing he wanted her reaction, she sampled a small, moist corner of the cake. It was delicious, and she said so. “Your Hannah is a culinary genius.”

“Better than the brownies?” he teased.

“I don’t know.” She made a face.  “I don’t know.  “We’ll see how much of this I actually get to eat.”

He laughed. “Actually quite a bit. Hannah made two.”

“Were you really ever a skinny little kid?”

She was just bantering, but he sobered immediately. “It was rather painful.”

He was silent after that, but Vickie was terribly curious. found she wanted to know him better[M4] . “John said you didn’t take up weight training until after college,” she prompted..”

He stirred and met her gaze squarely. “That’s somewhat misleading. I started college at sixteen, and skipped through a bachelors and masters in three years. Being a bit unsocial,” he curled his lip here, “of a loner[M5] , I didn’t have much else to do.”

Vickie’s eyes dropped to study her cake crumbs. “I guess you had some lost time to make up for after that.”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “I had a lot of offers of companionship, once I had increased my body mass by fifty percent. But some of the women who were now offering were those whose rejections had been the cruelest.”

Vickie frowned. She was beginning to see a very different Cliff, one more like herself than she’d ever realized.             “Yeah, I know what you mean.  All “Used to be all I had to do was say some thing vaguely intelligent to scare off a prospective date.  It always seemed to me boys were more interested in bodies than minds.”

He looked up from his second piece of cake. “You know, I think that’s the first thing you’ve said about yourself that I haven’t had to drag out of you?”

She paused, thoughtful. . “I guess you’ve always seemed so…professional and perfect to me. It’s hard to be yourone’s own bungling self with someone who always does things just right.”

“Oh, Vickie, I’m far from perfect. I try very hard to do things right, but you’d be amazed at how many screw‑ups I’ve had. It’s just that I always come back and try again, and again, until I do get it right.”

“I knew it. You’re stubborn.”

“I prefer ‘tenacious.’“tenacious’.”

They laughed together at that. Cliff served her a second piece of cake, and helped himself to his fourth. a third. Vickie cut into hers, and chewed slowly, considering. He wanted her to be more open. What could she reveal without revealing her heart? Job? No, he knew about that. School? No, he knew that from the background investigation. Family? She thought about that for a while. Her family seemed nothing like his. Father dead in childhood, mother soon after, probably neither of them understanding the technical streak in their son, perhaps not under standing their bookish son at all.

“You know, Cliff, maybe the reason I don’t talk about myself is there’s nothing much to say. I mean, our family made the Cleavers look like neighborhood trend‑setterstrendsetters.”

Cliff’s face lit up. “Ah, a personal anecdote. So yours was the typical American family? Two‑point‑four children? Dog? Station wagon? T.V.?”

 

            “Oh, the“The works.  Although mom did go back to work afterMom was even stay-at-home, until my brother got intowas in high school. Then she went back to work. I guess that was daring.”

“What did she do?”

Vickie laughed. “Crossing‑guard. She just retired last year. Dad retired three years ago. They go traveling a lot together now.”

 

            “You know, that’s“That’s how I’d like to do it. Raise the children in a secure, loving home, then send them out into the world and live it up.”

“You’re silly! It takes two decades to raise children. How much living it up do you think you’re going to do at…er…”

Cliff quickly cut her off. “Fifty. I’ll only be fifty.”

“Hey, me too.”

“I know. We were born the same year.”

Vickie made an exasperated noise.  ““That’s why I don’t need to tell you anything about myself. I don’t need to. You already know it all.”

“Not everything. You said your family was traditional. Are you?”

 

            “Oh, “I think it’s important to give kids a safe home, too. And everyone needs love.” She winced mentally at that. “But I think my parents are doing it the right way. You don’t marry your family—you marry each other.”

“So when you’re fifty, you’re going to be painting the town red, too.”

“Either that, or I’ll go back to school. I’ve always been interested in psychology.”

“Why didn’t you go into that before?”

“Well, I had to make a living.” She smiled. “My parents weren’t going to support me forever. And besides, they had my brother to pay for. I guess boys are more expensive than girls, with their cars and everything.” She looked sidelong at him, wondering if he was aware that having six cars was unusual.

Cliff squared his shoulders. “Some boys pay for their own ‘cars and everything.” everything’.” He drank milk, then considered her. “Had you ever thought of marrying some rich guy and doing what you want to do now?  Instead of waiting, I mean.”?”

“That doesn’t sound fair. I mean, just because some poor slob has worked his tail off to make some money shouldn’t turn him into marriage meat. For that matter, maybe some guy should ride my coattails to success.”

“Really?”

 

            “Oh, “I don’t know.  I guess I just think a person should put his or her fair share into a marriage. If I marry a rich guy, it shouldn’t be to do what I want, it should be to do what we want.”

“Well, you make enough money now to pull your own weight, and then some. Had you ever thought about taking a trophy husband?”

“You mean marry somebody for their looks?”

“Or because they’re good in bed. Or both.”

“Forget it. What happens if I lose my job? Or he meets someone who makes more than I do? That’s a relationship that spells disaster.”

Cliff shook his head. “You’d be surprised at how many men can’t see that clearly.”

“Not really. To be honest with you, most men I’ve known haven’t been able to see beyond the end of their…sexual organ.”

“Ah‑hah! A misanthrope. You don’t want to marry at all.”

Vickie shook her head vehemently. “Of course I want to marry. If it’s the right person.”[M6] 

 

 

---

 [M1]I found a lot of Cliff indicating in this section.

 [M2]See?

 [M3]So I changed this to a more active description of the kitchen.

 [M4]The reason she is terribly curious about him is because she's falling in love and wants to know him better. There are times when implied meaning is okay but this isnt' one of them.

 [M5]Loner is more socially acceptable :)

 [M6]I'm not sure about this conversation. This is where a beta reader is important, to give feedback with how this comes off--cute or stupid.

Hot Chips and Sand 136-140

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

The waiter zoomed back and slid a loaf of spicy‑smelling bread in front of each of them.

Cliff ate all of his, then sat, eyes wistfully following Vickie’s second slice on its way to her mouth. After a few minutes of puppy‑dog eyes, Vickie swallowed carefully. “Would you like some of mine?”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sur—” She wasn’t really surprised to see the rest of her loaf disappear. “How do you survive on l’haute cuisine when you entertain clients?”

“I don’t.” He washed down the bread with a full glass of water. “I have a cook who raised seven sons. She feeds me after I’ve been out.”

“You’re going to go home and eat after this?”

“No, of course not.” He grinned and pressed his fingers into the crumbs of bread on her plate, then licked his fingers. “There is, however, a chocolate cake in the refrigerator at my house, calling softly to me.”

“Really? Are you sure that’s not my brownie, singing from your stomach?”

“I can see you’re going to be stubborn over this.”

Vickie raised one eyebrow. “I prefer ‘tenacious’.”

“Hmm.” Cliff tapped his empty glass thoughtfully, then picked up the pitcher and poured them both more water. As the ice cracked, not looking at her, he said, “Maybe you’d like to try some.”

“Some what?”

“Chocolate cake. Hannah makes it with semisweet bakers chocolate and cream cheese and fresh eggs and, well, it’s really good.”

“You mean…you’re inviting me to your house?

“Yes.” He looked up then, eyes clear and intent. “No strings attached, of course.”

She shook her head. Impossible. He was impossible, it was impossible.

Cliff smiled ruefully. “I don’t blame you, after the way I behaved the last time.”

“No, that’s not it.” Vickie flushed, feeling slightly guilty. It was the first time he had mentioned it since that day and now he was taking full blame for the incident? Sweet man… “I’d love to come.”

A smile spread clear across his face, clear to his eyes. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For giving me another chance. So, which do you like better, coding or managing?”

Vickie wondered at his sudden shift in topics, but said, “I like them both, I guess. I like working with your people a lot.” Especially your CEO.

That was about all she thought it was professional and proper to say, so she then attempted to shift the focus from herself. “What about you? Which do you like better?”

“I like them both, too, I guess,” he said, mimicking her overly‑bright tone. “Good grief, Vickie, I get more on the real you from John than I do from you. What’s the problem?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you afraid of me?”

That stung her eyes wide. Lucky guess, or was he really that sharp? She fenced a little. “You mean, am I afraid of you, just because you own the company?”

“Let’s not start that again.”

“Well, aside from the fact that my boss thinks you walk on water and that your influence probably could keep me from ever finding another job if I ever crossed you, no, I can’t think of any reason to be afraid of you.” Let’s not mention crushing my heart.

“You forgot your brother.”

The flip rejoinder she’d been about to make stuck in her throat. Fortunately the waiter zoomed in with the pizza. He set the steaming hot pie between them, then whipped out a metal server and dug it under one precut slice.

Cliff smiled at the waiter, waved him off, and served the pizza himself.

As he slid a thick wedge on her plate she found her voice. “What has my brother got to do with it?” She didn’t even bother asking how he knew she had a brother.

“He’s at a rather expensive university, wouldn’t you say?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes, but he’s got a generous scholarship that pays for most of…” She trailed off as realization dawned.

“Provided by the Hawkesclyffe Foundation.” He slid a wedge onto his own plate. “Mmm. Smells great.” He picked it up and bit off half the slice. “Tastes even better.”

Vickie watched him chew, trying to clear her head. “Did you know?” she said finally. “Did you give him the money on purpose, because you somehow knew who I was?” She winced when she realized how self-centered that sounded.

“You mean to hold it over you? Other way around, actually.” He finished the slice. “I screen all scholarship recipients and found out about you.” He took another huge bite. “Although I admit I thought V. Johnston was a brother, until I met you.”

“At the office?”

“No, at the hotel.”

She blushed, remembering it. Then, remembering it, “I didn’t tell you my name then.”

“People at the embassy mentioned a person named Johnston had been kidnapped, and since I would be in town, would I please look out for Mr. Johnston. Apparently I wasn’t the only one confused on that point. Then I saw you, and the matter was cleared up immediately. Definitely female.”

His eyes met and held hers, his mouth crooked up on one side in a very sexy smile, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She looked away. “I’m glad you were there. I don’t think I could have escaped, otherwise.”

“You didn’t seem glad at the time.”

“There were…other factors.” Sexy, high-handed, half-naked factors. “So about that subroutine.”

“You mean the one you sneakily commented?”

“Hardly. The variables were clearly and beautifully named, anyway.” And they were back on safe ground again.

When they were done eating, Cliff put the tab on the company card and they walked together out of the restaurant, hunger, for food at any rate, sated.

Silently, she let him into her sedan. Wondering what she’d find at his home. Whether he’d be professional…or not. The idea of his…not…excited her. And that scared her. As she pulled out, she said, “You know, I didn’t mean it before, about being afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anyone just because they’re in a position of authority. But…well, you’re big, you know. I’d imaging most people would find you…intimidating.”

He laughed. “Not so very long ago, you could have kicked sand in my face at the beach.”

“I can’t picture that.”

“But it’s true. I was a skinny kid. Tall, but gangly. No interest in sports whatsoever. Turn right here.”

Vickie realized they were headed toward the park Cliff had taken her to for their picnic. She wondered if he lived nearby. “In my high school, we had jocks, nerds and freaks. Jocks were brawn without brains, nerds were brains without brawn, and freaks didn’t have either. Somehow, I can’t see you with the broken glasses and a pocket computer.”

“But I was. Nothing interested me except for electronic gismos. Obviously, that did not make me too popular with my peers.”

“It must have delighted your parents.” Vickie’s head spun. Yet another Cliff.

“Dad was already dead by then. Mum just despaired of me ever making it in proper society.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I guess that’s part of the reason I hated sports. Dad was always very athletic, and it just got him killed.”

“Killed? How?”

Cliff gave her a series of directions before continuing. “He was a career serviceman. Well, he volunteered for every extra assignment that came along, which allowed Mum to live in the style to which she was accustomed, and got Dad out of the house. And since Dad kept himself in peak physical condition, he was always chosen for the highest‑paid, and coincidentally most dangerous assignments.” He smiled thinly before going on.

“One day, he volunteered for a peace‑keeping force in the Middle East. He and his commanding officer were taken hostage the day after he got there. Dad died helping the officer escape.”

“He was a hero, then.” The directions had taken her into the park. She stopped, uncertain.

Cliff looked up from his own thoughts, saw her indecision, and smiled. “Go straight. We moved here after that.”

She started forward. The parkway, surprisingly, curved into a long driveway.

And at the end of the drive stood the most beautiful home she had ever seen.