Welcome to the www.blinddatebrides.com member profile of: Sanfrandani (AKA Danica Bennett)

My Ideal Partner… Probably doesn’t exist outside the covers of my Jane Austen collection. I’m independent. I don’t want a guy to be the centre of my world, and I’m not sure I want to be any part of his. Getting my career back on track is my number one priority.

My Details… | You’ll match if you…
Age: twenty-six | Are between 24 and 35
I live: in San Francisco | Don’t leave your heart here
Marital status: single | Are single and want to stay that way
Occupation: sales (don’t ask) | Are employed

Read the rest of Sanfrandani’s profile here www.blinddatebrides.com

www.blinddatebrides.com is running 25 chat rooms, 248 private IM conferences, and 15472 members are online. Chat with your dating prospects now!

Private IM chat between Kangagirl, Sanfrandani and Englishcrumpet:

Kangagirl: What were you thinking? This profile doesn’t sound anything like the Dani we know and love.

Sanfrandani: That’s okay. I’m not exactly surfing for dates.

Englishcrumpet: But we found our Mr Rights. It’s your turn now.

Sanfrandani: I’m not looking for Mr Right.

Kangagirl: But he may be looking for you!

Englishcrumpet: We can help you modify your profile.

Kangagirl: Yes! A few changes and you’ll have more dates than you know what to do with.

Sanfrandani: Thanks so much, but there isn’t a lot of room in my life for dating. My new job isn’t exactly what I thought it would be, and that’s… complicating things. But I found you two here, so joining blinddatebrides.com has been worth every penny!

DREAM DATE WITH THE MILLIONAIRE

BY

MELISSA McCLONE

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Jennie Adams and Fiona Harper,

my blinddatebrides.com cohorts and new chat buddies

Special thanks to:

Markus Frind with plentyoffish.com,

Virginia Kantra and Gary Yngve

CHAPTER ONE

Blinddatebrides.com is running thirteen chat rooms, fifty-six private IM conferences, and 7828 members are online. Chat with your dating prospects now!

Private IM conference #25 (3 participants)…

Englishcrumpet: Who would have thought I’d meet the man of my dreams at an online dating site? I still can’t believe it!

DANICA BENNETT blew out a puff of air. She couldn’t believe it either.

Alone in her neatly organized cubicle in the otherwise cluttered and messy San Francisco office of Hookamate.com, she reread the purple words written in a funky font on her computer screen. Englishcrumpet, aka Grace Marlowe from London, deserved to be happy. Dani sincerely hoped her friend would find happiness and wedded bliss with her new husband, Noah. Especially with a baby on the way.

But Dani wasn’t so sure living happily ever after was possible. She glanced at the photograph of her family—her mother, her three younger sisters and herself. Winning the lottery seemed more likely. Though she’d never say those words to her newly wed friend. Dani typed, the letters appearing in green—the color of money. Too bad her life couldn’t be as rich and bold as her computer font.

Sanfrandani: It is pretty amazing.

Grace had only known Noah a short time before marrying the bestselling thriller author and then found out she was pregnant.

More words, rust-brown in a plain but strong font, appeared on screen. Kangagirl, their friend Marissa Warren, from Australia.

Kangagirl: Amazing, yes, but not that rare. Apparently one in eight people meet their spouses online.

Dani almost laughed. Marissa sounded like a commercial for online dating. Or like a happy bride. Which she would be in a few months. She’d fallen in love with her temporary boss, not someone she met on Blinddatebrides.com like Grace. Though it wasn’t for Marissa’s lack of trying to meet a guy online.

Sanfrandani: Well, it’s a good thing for me. Or

I’d be out of another job.

Even this crappy job, she thought to herself and stabbed her fork at her lunch, a limp chicken Caesar salad leftover from last night’s dinner.

Englishcrumpet: What do you mean?

Kangagirl: You’ve lost me.

The two messages popped up on Dani’s screen at almost the same moment.

Oh, no. She dropped her fork. Distracted by her friends’ happiness and her own bleak prospects, she’d revealed more than she intended. The three of them had grown so close over the past six months she’d almost let her secret slip out.

Time for damage control.

Sanfrandani: Nothing. I’m just so glad you guys joined Blinddatebrides.com. I don’t know how I would have survived these months without your support and friendship.

But typing the words gave Dani a funny feeling in her stomach. What kind of friend was she? Keeping the truth about what she was doing at Blinddatebrides.com from Marissa and Grace.

Englishcrumpet: You’ve been through a lot, Dani. Losing your dream job and getting used to your new one. Things will turn around. Just watch.

Kangagirl: And then, when you least expect it, you’re going to meet him. That one special man.

Dani hoped not.

Snores drifted from the engineers’ cubicle a few feet away. Someone must have pulled an all-nighter.

She needed to get her career back on track first. She’d spent the last six months trying to find another job with no success. Distractions, especially men, weren’t allowed right now.

Kangagirl: The only question is…how do we make it happen?

We. Unexpected tears stung Dani’s eyes. She ran her fingertips over the bracelet—silver with crystal beads—Marissa had sent her after a trip to Hong Kong. These women, even though they’d never met in person, truly cared about her.

Sanfrandani: Please. No one needs to make anything happen. I’m doing fine. No worries.

Englishcrumpet: We’re not really worrying. We just want to help. You joined this site for a reason, Dani.

But not the same reason as Marissa and Grace.

Guilt welled up inside Dani.

It was time to come clean. To stop lying.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard with light ning speed, in case nerves and fear got the best of her. Or her boss showed up.

Sanfrandani: I didn’t join Blinddatebrides.com to meet men.

Kangagirl: Then why did you join?

Sanfrandani: Because

The cursor blinked, waiting for her to finish. Dani swallowed hard. Her online friendship with Marissa and Grace was the only thing in her life going well these days. Did she want to risk that?

But what kind of relationship did they have, really, if she couldn’t be honest?

Dani took a deep breath and typed.

Sanfrandani: I was forced to.

She stared at the screen, her heart racing, her hands sweating.

Englishcrumpet: Did someone sign you up like my daughter did with me?

Oh, dear. Dani snuck another look around the office before returning her trembling hands to the keyboard.

Sanfrandani: No, I signed up myself.

Kangagirl:???

Dani felt sick, but the truth had to be said. Er, typed.

Sanfrandani: I’m a spy.

“There’s something you should see.”

Bryce Delaney heard his assistant’s voice, but didn’t glance up from his computer monitor and the database query he was writing. He didn’t have to.

Joelle Chang would be standing two feet from the edge of his walnut-stained desk holding a manila file folder with a pen—blue ink only so she could tell the difference on photocopies—tucked behind her ear. Despite her college-girl long hair and trendy clothes, forty-one-year-old Joelle was dedicated, thorough and one-hundred-percent predictable. Exactly the way he liked things. And people. “I pay you enough to see for me.”

“You said you wanted to be kept in the loop about possible security issues.”

Security. A top priority at his Web site Blinddatebrides.com. Bryce looked up. “Possible or probable?”

Joelle’s almond-shaped eyes grew dark. “Two red flags.”

Damn. He didn’t need this on top of the other problems they’d been dealing with. Scammers, spammers, hackers, marrieds, the list went on.

“It might not mean anything,” she added.

In the last year, there had been a handful of false alarms. “But it could mean we have a troublemaker on board.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d dealt with escorts, cheats, thieves and liars. Had charges brought against them when possible, too.

Bryce wasn’t about to let anyone take advantage of his customers. Too many people pretended to be something they weren’t, both in real life and online. He had experience with that. His sister, too. But she was more trusting than him. That was why he’d started a dating—make that a relationship—Web site: to protect good people like Caitlin.

“What do you have?” he asked.

Joelle handed him a file. “This particular client has been a member of the site for over six months. Everything about her looks good, including her background check.”

“Her?”

“Yes,” Joelle answered. “None of the e-mail filters have picked up anything to suggest she’s an escort.”

Those were usually easy to detect since they asked for money in almost every e-mail.

“But the chat filter picked up something so we did a little investigating,” Joelle said. “The subject spends hours logged on to the site each day, but she has not accepted a date yet, even though her profile has been marked highly compatible with several men.”

Bryce had worked with a psychologist to create an algorithm to match clients based on their interests, backgrounds and personalities. Chats, based on compatibility, were also arranged with groups of well-matched people, too, since many people preferred group interactions to one-on-one. Some clients, though, preferred to peruse the profiles themselves and pick matches that way.

He opened the file and studied the photo of a woman. The messy blond hair piled on top of her head and secured with a—was that a red bandana?—caught his eye first. Not the most appealing hairstyle. The picture itself was far from flattering. She wasn’t smiling or looking at the camera. Shadows obscured what he could see of her face, though she looked flushed unless her skin was always red like that. Her profile stated blue eyes, but he couldn’t distinguish the color, really anything about her. “She’s been matched?”

“Yes. The compatibility program has matched her with seventeen clients so far. Five of those contacted her. Others must have seen something they liked in her profile because they e-mailed her, too. She replied back to each one, but that was it. No additional correspondence. No chat invites. Nothing.”

“At least she’s following the guidelines about replying to others even if you’re not interested in them.”

“Yes.”

He read more in the file. Turning down potential dates wasn’t unusual. Bryce remembered one shy female client in particular, but others in the past had misrepresented themselves. Better to err on the side of caution. “You’ve taken the usual steps?”

Joelle nodded. “Customer service called to discuss her experience so far. She asked as many questions as they did, and they were on the phone for two hours.”

“Two hours?”

Another nod. “I called her myself after that. She came across as highly intelligent and very friendly, but remember that identity thief? Never assume anyone who is nice is also harmless.”

“That’s for sure.” Bryce flipped through the pages in the file. He noticed a familiar zip code. She lived here in San Francisco. Many of the scammers he’d dealt with lived overseas. But this was on his home turf. He could follow the prosecution to the end if she were guilty. “Where does she go on the site?”

“Chat rooms, particularly the Ladies Lounge, and private IM conferences. She spends most of her time exploring the Web site. Not client profiles, but the content itself.”

Most people, whether they wanted to date or not, liked checking out the profiles of people in their area. On some Internet relationship sites that earned revenue through advertising; anyone could register and search profiles for free. Not on Blinddatebrides.com. Only paying members, who’d filled out a detailed questionnaire and agreed to a background check if they lived in the United States, were allowed to search the database, read profiles and contact members.

Joelle continued. “She’s online during normal work hours as well as late at night. Two different IP addresses have been linked to her account name, depending on the time of day.”

Nothing unusual about that. “Work and home.”

“Seems likely, but I don’t know many employers who would encourage their employees to spend that much time each day at a dating site while at work.”

“Unless the boss doesn’t know.” Bryce skimmed the rest of the pages and saw one of the red flags. She’d said she was a spy during a chat. “Or she has an employer who wants her checking us out.”

The online dating world was cutthroat. The competition stole from each other regularly, but pretending to want to meet dates went against the terms of service users agreed to when they joined Blinddatebrides.com. But she hadn’t mentioned anything about her job prior to her saying she was a spy.

“What does she do for a living?” Bryce asked.

“She listed sales as her occupation,” Joelle said.

“That’s too vague, given the list of options she could have chosen.”

“Red flag number three?” Joelle asked.

Bryce nodded. He prided himself on making his Web site a safe and secure place to meet and fall in love. His sister had had her heart broken, as well as her bank account drained, thanks to the “love” she’d found on a competitor’s site. The guy had turned out to be the exact opposite of what he’d claimed to be. No one was going to pull a stunt like that on Bryce’s site, during his watch. “I’ll get right on it.”

Joelle smiled. “I almost feel sorry for her.”

“Why is that?” he asked.

“Because, once you get started, you don’t stop.”

He shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

“Remember, it’s just a job.” She pulled the pen from behind her ear. “Grant is e-mailing you a file with additional information you might need.”

“Thanks.” As she left the office and closed the door behind her, Bryce stared at the picture in the folder. He glanced at the user name. “Who are you, Sanfrandani? And what are you doing on my site?”

At three o’clock, Dani sat at the rectangular table that functioned as the “conference room” as well as the “break room” with her five coworkers at the fledgling Internet dating site Hookamate.com. Pacing back and forth across the floor of the converted warehouse was their boss, James Richardson.

James wore ripped-at-the-knee jeans and a black T-shirt. He had long, straggly blond hair. He spoke fast and loud, as if fueled by caffeine and junk food. He reminded her of a stereotypical computer science graduate student in desperate need of a balanced meal, sunshine and a girlfriend, but his first two Internet ventures had made him tons of money. He’d sold them, and now wanted to replicate that success with a new online dating site.

Succeed at any cost, Dani had finally figured out.

During her interview, James had seemed more captivated with her double-D bra cup sized breasts than the qualifications on her résumé. Yet he’d surprised her by asking detailed questions about her schooling and work experience. He’d known exactly what he wanted in a marketing person.

She had the skills so she’d made the most of what nature had given her, just as her mother had taught her to do, and secured the job. Which meant she only had herself to blame for where she found herself today. She wanted to bang her head on the table for her stupidity.

“The good news is we had an increase in traffic thanks to Danica’s marketing efforts.” James winked at her. No one at the company except him knew she was undercover, so to speak, spying on the local competition, Blinddatebrides.com. “Unfortunately the traffic exceeded our capacity so we’ve been having to add machines. But that’s not a bad problem. Traffic will drive our advertising revenue. That means more money for us. Anyone have other ideas to generate more users?”

No one said anything.

“Rethinking our branding might help,” she suggested. “Taglines, image, ads, name.”

James clenched his jaw. “Our Web site name rocks.”

“Totally.”

“Yeah.”

Dani listened to the men in the room support their boss who they held in almost cult leader esteem. The only other woman at the table, Shelley, the office manager, shook her head and mouthed the word sorry to Dani.

The responses didn’t deter her. She had to do something. Say something.

“Look at Blinddatebrides.com.” The name of the fastest-growing competitor brought groans from the three engineers at the table, but Dani kept going. “When people hear Blinddatebrides.com, they can’t help but think about brides. That word connotes weddings, which makes people think relationships, marriage, permanence. That’s appealing to users.”

“Only if you want to end up with a ball and chain,” a Ruby on Rails developer named Andrew murmured.

Dani ignored him. “Granted, your…I mean our…site’s name does have ‘mate’, but ‘hook’ makes people think of…”

“What?” James asked.

“One-night stands,” a PHP programmer, who probably hadn’t showered let alone had a date in a month, said.

People—okay, guys—laughed.

“Yeah, sex,” the interface hacker offered. “Sex appeals to a lot of people, too.”

The two men gave each other high fives.

Dani sighed. “I worry the name brings about images of hookups, not serious relationships.”

No one spoke.

“There’s such a thing as a niche market,” Andrew said. “Hookups can be our niche.”

She stared at all the nodding heads. Male heads. No wonder women had a hard time finding good men to date these days. Not that she was interested in anything to do with dating.

“I appreciate you bringing this up, Danica,” James said finally. “I’ll have to think about what you said.”

Which meant he would never mention it again. That was how things worked around here. James’s way or the highway. He’d given her a choice—join Blinddatebrides.com or quit. She needed the paycheck so did as he’d requested. Up until that point, she’d really liked the challenges of being in on the ground floor of a start-up again. Now she hated getting up in the morning.

“Anything else?” he asked.

No one said a word. No one ever did. Except her. She didn’t know why she bothered.

“Get to work, people.” James clapped his hands together. “We don’t want anyone to be lonely tonight. They need to hook a mate!”

Dani trudged back to her cubicle, frustrated and tired. She’d stayed up late last night sending out another batch of résumés. Speaking of which, she’d better check her e-mail in case someone had replied. She clicked on her in-box. There, at the top, was a new message, but not from a potential employer. This was one was from bigbrother@blinddatebrides. com with the subject header “I read your profile.”

Oh, no. She squeezed her eyes shut. Another guy who wanted to get to know her.

Her stomach churned. She hated this. Sure, she could just hit “delete”—that was par for the course on many dating sites—but Blinddatebrides.com was different. The site touted itself as a community where politeness and manners mattered. Users were requested to reply, even if the intent was to give someone a brush-off. Still, the thought of telling another guy she wasn’t interested in getting to know him better made her feel physically ill.

But what else could she do?

Leading a guy on when she was on the site under false pretenses ranked right up there with corporate spying in her book. She massaged her forehead to stop a full-on headache from erupting. Okay, one rejection wasn’t going to send some guy scampering back to his mommy in tears, but…

Why did this keep happening?

Dani had taken steps to ensure it wouldn’t. What sense of honor she had left had made her fill out the profile questionnaire truthfully so she understood when the compatibility program deemed her a match with someone. But Dani had hedged against the computer algorithms by uploading the most unattractive photo of herself she could find. She looked downright ugly. While other women uploaded more than one picture to their profile page, she hadn’t.

She’d also downplayed her interests to make herself sound…well…about as exciting as a slug inching across a driveway at dawn. She’d listed the library as her favorite place to spend a Saturday night and a collection of Jane Austen novels as her must-have item if stranded on a desert island.

No man should want to date her.

Maybe this one didn’t. Maybe he was one of those guys, the players, who only wanted to have sex. If that were the case, she wouldn’t mind telling him to get lost.

Dani opened her eyes and read the entire e-mail.

To: “Sanfrandani” <sanfrandani@blinddatebrides.com>

From: “Bigbrother” <bigbrother@blinddatebrides.com>

Subject: I read your profile Who are you searching for? Mr. Darcy? Or Mr.

Knightley?

-bb

Dani reread the message. Twice.

Okay, she was impressed this guy knew the names of two Jane Austen heroes, but who did he take her for? Intelligent, impulsive Lizzy or smug, interfering Emma?

Still, his message intrigued Dani. She typed a reply and hit “send.” With a satisfied smile on her face, she leaned back in her chair. And almost fell over backward.

Uh-oh. What had she done?

She shouldn’t have replied. Dani grimaced. She wasn’t supposed to engage Bigbrother in more e-mails. She was supposed to tell him she wasn’t interested. To. Go. Away. Politely, of course.

Only she hadn’t wanted to do that.

Not when his e-mail had been unlike any of the others she’d received. He’d obviously read her profile and asked his question based on what she’d written. Not on her photo or bra size. Maybe he was genuinely interested.

Or maybe he was ugly.

Her eyes locked on the link to his profile that would transport her to a page all about him, a page with his picture.

Curiosity trickled down the length of her arm to her fingertip, hovering above the laptop’s trackpad. She wanted to know more about Bigbrother. Read what he’d written about himself. See what he looked like.

Temptation flared. She moved the cursor to the link. All she had to do was click, but she couldn’t.

The less Dani knew about Bigbrother, the better.

She wasn’t looking to meet a guy. She didn’t want to meet a guy. Especially one from Blinddatebrides.com.

Not under these circumstances.

Ignoring the twinge of regret, she closed his e-mail.

Goodbye, Bigbrother.

CHAPTER TWO

AS BRYCE sipped his coffee, hoping the caffeine would get him through the rest of the day, he stared at the four hundred unread e-mails in his in-box. No way could he get through all of them in the next fifteen minutes, but there was one reply he hoped to find.

He skimmed the list of senders and found the name he was looking for…

Sanfrandani.

That didn’t take long.

He couldn’t curb his suspicions and wanted to see what she had to say. Which would it be? A polite brush-off or a straight-to-the-point-please-don’t-contact-me-again? Curious, he opened the message.

To: “Bigbrother” <bigbrother@blinddatebrides.com>

From: “Sanfrandani” <sanfrandani@blinddatebrides.com>

Subject: RE: I read your profile

Desperately seeking…Colonel Brandon.

-sfd

Bryce frowned and reread the e-mail. He called Joelle into his office. “Who is Colonel Brandon?”

“Didn’t he kill Miss Scarlet in the library with the—”

“No. That’s a game. This one is in a book. Jane Austen.”

Joelle stared blankly at him.

“Come on,” he said. “You have to know this.”

She raised a finely arched brow. “Because I’m female?”

“Because…” Oh, hell, she had him there. “Yeah.”

“I majored in Economics, not English Lit.”

Bryce had majored in Computer Science. He pressed his lips together, still staring at the screen. “Wasn’t there a movie?”

“Not that I saw. Not with a Colonel Brandon. Colin Firth, now… Yum.”

“Spare me.”

Joelle shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to Google this Colonel guy, then. Or call your sister.”

Caitlin.

Thinking of his younger sister brought a smile to Bryce’s face. Of course, Caitlin would know the answer. She was a font of movie trivia, especially chick flicks, but a call to her would lead to a lengthy discussion about wedding preparations. Bryce was happy she’d found the love she’d been hoping for on Blinddatebrides.com. Keeping her safe had been his main reason for creating the Web site, but he didn’t have time to discuss whether champagne-pink or midnight-blue would be the better choice for bridesmaids’ dresses. And he didn’t want her probing him about whether he’d found a date for her upcoming engagement party yet.

His search query resulted in 336,000 documents. The Colonel was a character in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, but the descriptions Bryce read didn’t make sense. One article called the Colonel “sad and reserved.” Another said he was a “dull older man.”

Nothing, however, explained why Sanfrandani was desperately seeking the Colonel. She was twenty-six, according to her profile—too young for such an old, boring guy. Unless she was a gold-digger.

Bryce stared at Sanfrandani’s picture. Even though he couldn’t make out any of her facial features, she seemed to have a graceful neck. And that red bandana was starting to grow on him. Still, a woman after a rich husband would have uploaded a better photograph.

But why had she responded to him so mysteriously, almost playfully, instead of telling him to get lost? She’d brushed off the other guys who had contacted her. Was she leading Bryce on? Or not?

He was annoyed. Intrigued.

Attracted.

Not attracted, he corrected. This was an investigation, not a flirtation.

Bryce needed more information so he could figure out where she was coming from and what kind of game she was playing. Then he would know what to do. As he hit “reply”, he heard a commotion outside.

He hastily typed a response. He would have rather taken his time, but that wasn’t an option right now.

“Look at this,” someone yelled outside his office. “Am I really seeing this?”

A low hum buzzed.

Not a good kind of noise either.

Bryce hit “send” with a twinge of regret, but he needed to find out what was going on out there.

“SQL injection.”

The words stopped him cold.

“No way.”

“It can’t be.”

He understood the disbelief in the voices. The denial.

“It is.”

Damn. Bryce bolted to the door. Someone had entered an executable code disguised as data into the site. No doubt trying to steal credit card and other personal information from the database.

Outside his office, the noise level increased exponentially, his team springing into action like an Emergency Room staff with multiple casualties coming in. Except these injuries weren’t as easily diagnosed, and the damage unknown.

“Run forensics on the logs,” Bryce ordered.

“Already on it,” Christopher, a rock-star caliber software engineer, said.

Bryce nodded his approval. “We need a snapshot of the database right now.”

“I’ll do it,” someone said from across the room.

“Let’s patch the hole, people. Compromised data?” he asked Grant, his number two employee.

Compromised data—the stealing or copying of customers’ personal information—would be a PR nightmare. Even if credit card account numbers hadn’t been captured, there was the issue of privacy. Online dating may have become an accepted way to find love, but some people would be embarrassed to have their anonymous use of the Web site become public knowledge.

Grant rubbed his hand over his face. “We don’t know yet.”

“Okay.” Bryce projected calm. “Then let’s find out.”

He wanted to jump into the trenches and dig his fingers in. Bryce was a techie at heart, but he was also the boss. Sometimes the two didn’t mesh well together. Today he would make sure things worked. He couldn’t afford for them not to.

“Should we shut down the site?” Grant asked.

Bryce shook his head. “Not unless we have to.”

“Don’t want to lose the revenue?”

The money didn’t matter to Bryce right now. This was personal. “I don’t want to tip off the hackers. Not if we can nail them.”

“It’s a mess in here,” someone murmured from a few desks away.

Bryce imagined himself as one of the Jane Austen heroes Sanfrandani liked to read about, ready to clean up the mess and save the day. Yeah, right.

He sat at an empty desk, one being set up for a new hire, and logged on to the system to double-check the database. Bryce wanted to see that personal information—everything from names and passwords to credit card numbers—was encrypted. The data was. “How strong is the encryption?”

“Strong enough to keep a 100,000-computer botnet busy for years,” a security specialist answered.

Good news. But Bryce was still going to have to call their lawyer as soon as he had a better handle on things. It was going to be a long day. And most likely an even longer night.

Talk about a long day.

Dani stretched her arms above her head. She needed a nap but would settle for more caffeine. She’d spent her afternoon working on search engine optimization aka SEO. Increasing traffic to the site was a big part of her marketing job. The more hits, the more clicks. And that meant more money—advertising revenue. But turning visitors into repeat users was important, too, and sometimes harder to do. Especially when the site lacked the type of content it needed to draw people back. Content she’d found on Blinddatebrides.com. Content she now had to create for Hookamate.com.

Too bad she was more interested in checking her e-mail every five minutes to see if Bigbrother had replied. She’d never been like this before, waiting for some strange guy to e-mail her, disappointed when he hadn’t.

Pathetic.

That was what she was.

And distracted ever since she’d checked out Bigbrother’s profile. Talk about making a big mistake with a single click.

He lived in San Francisco and was cute in a geeky sort of way. In his picture, he wore a San Francisco Giants baseball cap pulled low on his brow. Dark hair stuck out from the sides. He was dressed casually in a Boston Red Sox shirt and a pair of faded jeans. The photo wasn’t a close-up, but she caught a hint of a smile on his face. He almost looked…shy. She liked that.

A beep sounded. Dani checked her e-mail again.

Jackpot.

Bigbrother had replied. Anticipation unleashed the butterflies in her stomach. She couldn’t wait to see what he’d written. She opened the message.

To: “Sanfrandani” <sanfrandani@blinddatebrides.com>

From: “Bigbrother” <bigbrother@blinddatebrides.com>

Subject: Colonel Brandon

You’re searching for a dull old guy who wears a

uniform?

The oh-so-romantic-loves-unconditionally Colonel was near perfect in her mind, but she could see how some might see him as a dull old guy. Especially a man who, based on his attire in his profile picture, preferred baseball to Jane Austen. Dani laughed.

“Care to share the joke?” James asked.

She turned in her chair. Her boss stood at the entrance to her cubicle.

Her cheeks warmed, but then she realized she had nothing to be embarrassed about. James was the one who wanted her checking out the site. “It’s an e-mail from someone on Blinddatebrides.com.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “A male someone?”

She nodded. “Just doing my job.”

“A good job at that.” He beamed. “So when are you going out with him?”

“I’m not,” Dani said with a twinge of regret. Bigbrother was the only one of the men who had contacted her that she wanted to meet.

“Too many other fish to fry?”

Oh, boy. He had that all wrong. “Uh…no.”

“So he must be a loser, then. How many other guys have you met from bdb?” James never called their local competitor by their full name. He seemed to have it in for them, but she didn’t know why and was too afraid to ask.

“None,” she admitted.

He gave her the once-over. “It can’t be from a lack of offers. None of them meet your standards?”

“Nothing like that.” She peered over the cubicle walls to see if anyone was around or listening. “I can’t accept any dates,” she whispered.

“Why not?” he asked. “And why are you whispering?”

“Because of the…you know.”

“I don’t know.”

She lowered her voice more. “The spying.”

James sighed. “It’s called market research, Danica. Every company does it, so please get over your aversion to your job responsibilities.”

Checking out a competitor was one thing, but market research had never made her feel so tacky or dirty, as if she were doing something she wouldn’t want her mother to know about. In fact she hadn’t told her mother about it. Or her sisters. The only people who knew besides James were Marissa and Grace. Dani wanted to keep it that way.

“I need to know everything about bdb,” he continued. “That includes their clients.”

The expectant look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. “You’re not suggesting I—”

“Go out with them,” he said at the same time. “Meet whoever contacts you. Dates are the perfect opportunity to check out whether bdb customer expectations are being met or not. You can put together a profile of their users for me, too.”

Her shoulders slumped.

When James had told her she would have to get her hands dirty with all facets of Internet marketing she had no idea this was what he meant.

“I can’t do this,” she said. “I won’t lead guys on.”

James grinned. “They won’t mind. Any guy would be thrilled to date a woman like you. Trust me.”

Her boss was the last person she trusted, but she knew what he meant. Most men never saw past her curves to her personality. Or even the color of her eyes. But this felt… “It’s still wrong.”

“What’s the big deal, Danica?” James sounded irritated, as if she’d told him the Web site needed to be patched again to work on Internet Explorer 6. “Meet them for coffee. Cupcakes. Conversation. You don’t have to sleep with them unless you want to.”

Dani’s stomach roiled. “This is a—”

“Start with the guy who made you laugh,” he interrupted.

Excitement shot through her. Okay, she liked the idea of meeting Bigbrother, especially with her boss giving her permission, but that wouldn’t be fair. “I really don’t think—”

“It’s not your call.” James read the e-mail on her screen. “Bigbrother, huh? I wonder what’s big about him.”

She cringed. The guy did not look like a player. Far from it. She was worried she might hurt him.

“Hit ‘reply’,” James ordered.

Dani didn’t. She couldn’t.

A part of her wanted to quit. Right now. But, with her student loans and family obligations, she couldn’t afford to be without a decent paycheck. That was the one thing she had to say about her boss—he paid well.

James reached around and hit “reply”. “Tell him you want to meet him for coffee.”

“But I don’t want to meet him for coffee. I have no idea who he is. I know absolutely nothing about him.”

Nothing except he intrigued her. The way he’d approached her. His brief e-mail. His quick reply. His picture.

“If you don’t ask him out,” James said with a steely glint in his eyes, “I will.”

Dani gulped. She knew he would follow through on the threat. “I’ll do it myself.”

James didn’t move. A muscle flicked at his jaw.

“I can reply right now,” she added.

Dani started typing an invite to coffee, aware and annoyed that James was peering over her shoulder.

“Make sure you tell him the meeting is your treat,” he said. “That can make a difference to some guys.”

Darn James anyway. Her exchanges with Bigbrother had been fun and flirty, but her boss was ruining it. “Do I get to expense it?”

James tossed a twenty on her desk. “No expense form needed.”

Dani hit the “send” button, lobbing the ball back over the net to Bigbrother’s side of the court. The next move was up to him. She was torn over how she wanted him to respond. She hoped he ignored her request or said no because she didn’t want to mislead him, but a part—a large part—wanted him to agree to meet her.

Just then another e-mail from Blinddatebrides.com appeared in her in-box. Maybe she’d lucked out and the system had kicked her reply for some reason. And then she saw the sender’s name. Gymguy. Oh, no. Not another one. She shook her head.

“Woo-hoo,” James said. “Looks like you’re Miss Popular. Want some help replying to Gymguy?”

Dani sighed. “I know what to do.”

Unfortunately.

“Thanks, Danica,” James said, backing out of the cubicle, much to her relief. “I won’t forget all that you’re doing for the site.”

She stared at the twenty. Neither would she.

“How’s it going?” Joelle entered Bryce’s office carrying a pizza box with a paper bag sitting on top.

The scents of oregano and freshly baked crust made his stomach growl. He glanced at the clock. Eight o’clock? He’d lost track of time, but wasn’t surprised with everything going on.

“Trying to stay a step ahead of the scammers isn’t easy. They may have found a hole, but they couldn’t crack the encrypted format.” That unfortunately wouldn’t stop them from trying to steal information again. Every time Bryce’s engineers changed something, the hackers would modify their programs to try and get around the new security. It didn’t help matters that they used stolen credit cards to register and pay for membership. If only he could run background checks on everyone who wanted to join, not just U.S. citizens. That would crack down on foreign scammers. “Talk about a cat and mouse game. It’s never ending.”

“Just remember to eat,” Joelle said.

“The team—”

“I ordered enough food for everyone.”

Always thinking. Always one step ahead. Sometimes Bryce thought Joelle could read his mind. “Thanks.”

She opened the bag and pulled out a Styrofoam box and packets of Parmesan cheese and chili peppers. “Start with the salad, please.”

He grabbed a slice of sausage and mushroom pizza from the box and bit into it. “You’re sounding a lot like my mother.”

“You think?” Joelle’s mouth quirked. “Well, then, as soon as you fix this problem, why don’t you reward yourself by seeing if those matchmaking algorithms you developed can find you a few dates?”

An image of Sanfrandani with her red bandana around her head popped into his mind. Bryce nearly choked. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “You’ve been talking to my mother. Those words are straight out of her playbook.”

Joelle’s cheeks reddened. After six months of his mother’s lectures about his dating more, he’d finally told her no more. She’d stopped. Now he knew why. She was trying to have Joelle take up the cause.

“You have a profile set up,” Joelle said. “You should keep it public all the time, not just when you’re investigating clients or trying to flush out scammers.”

“I’ll tell you what I told my mother,” Bryce explained. “I spend all my time working on Blinddatebrides.com. It’s a win-win situation. Others find love. I make a whole bunch of money. I can’t handle a relationship of my own right now.”

He thought about his e-mail exchange with Sanfrandani. That was the closest he’d come to flirting in…weeks. Or was it months?

“Can’t or won’t?” Joelle challenged.

“You know I can fire you.”

She tilted her chin. “Yes, but you’d never be able to replace me.”

True. One of the most successful online dating Web sites was a one-man show, but Bryce needed help. Joelle handled everything from finances to human resources. She didn’t mind answering the phones, either. Her title of Business Manager was far too bland for all she did. Business Goddess would be a more apt description. He couldn’t run Blinddatebrides.com without her. He knew it, and so did she. “Are you this hard on Connor?”

“Harder,” she admitted. “But my husband knew what he was getting into when he married me. You, however, had no idea when you hired me.”

“No regrets.” Bryce winked. “At least none yet.”

She smiled. “You have to admit, it would be excellent PR if you married someone you met at your own site. Just look at the interest in your sister’s engagement.”

“Stop. Now.”

“Okay. I’ll stop. Only because I know you have more important things to do right now, but tomorrow—”

“Out.”

“I’m going.” With a grin, Joelle walked out of his office.

As Bryce waited to hear from one of the engineers, he ate dinner. He’d forgotten everything that didn’t involve the SQL injection, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about one thing. One person really. Sanfrandani. Had she replied yet? He hoped so.

Checking his in-box, Bryce found a message from her. The corners of his mouth curved. The thrill of the catch, he told himself, and opened the e-mail.

To: “Bigbrother” <bigbrother@blinddatebrides.com>

From: “Sanfrandani” <sanfrandani@blinddatebrides.com>

Subject: RE: Colonel Brandon

Wrong on all counts except the uniform. Could go

either way there. The Colonel was always there for

Marianne. That’s what makes him a true hero.

But I won’t hold it against you if you meet me for

coffee tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. Crossroads

on Delancey. My treat.

-sfd

So she was…assertive. Interesting. And she’d picked a great place to meet—a café that hired people who had hit rock bottom and were trying to turn their lives around. But he was wary.

Why would she make a date with him when she’d rejected everyone else?

It obviously wasn’t his knowledge of Austen. He looked again at the screen. Wrong on all counts.

So…was Sanfrandani a spy? A scammer? Worse?

He pulled up her profile on the Web site and ran a compatibility match with his questionnaire. The program deemed them highly compatible, possible soul mates. That surprised him.

He stared at her picture. The lighting was a little better than on the print version he had, but not by much.

Bryce didn’t like being caught off guard, but it had happened more than once today. Flushing out the scammers who probably used hacked computers to do their dirty work with the SQL injection was near impossible, but catching Sanfrandani might actually be…fun.

What did she want?

Only one way to find out.

Coffee tomorrow morning. My treat.

Bryce smiled. He was looking forward to it.

* * *

Remember, Dani. Proposals made after one cup of coffee are rare. Have fun!

Marissa’s instant message delivered while Dani had slept brought a needed smile to her face. She’d been a bundle of nerves ever since Bigbrother accepted her invitation to coffee.

Stop thinking about that. Him.

Don’t think of the meeting as a date. Consider

it market research.

Grace’s instant message echoed what James had said. Good advice Dani intended to follow. She wasn’t going to let Bigbrother’s profile picture or information blind her to her purpose. Okay, so she’d really liked what he’d written about the importance of family. But she knew from experience most guys would say anything to get what they wanted. Bigbrother was probably misrepresenting himself at least a little.

She winced. And she was misrepresenting herself a lot.

Face it, getting to know Bigbrother wasn’t possible under these circumstances. Thinking about him as anything other than market research would be a mistake. Downright wrong. He was not a potential date. He couldn’t be.

And neither could she be one for him.

Dani liked what she’d seen about Bigbrother. He looked like a nice guy, the type who might be a little shy and easily hurt.

She would not be responsible for leading him on.

Time to scare him off.

She walked into her closet.

Fortunately, most guys never looked past the surface. All she had to do was keep the packaging relatively unattractive and her breasts covered, and he’d lose interest.

Her hand wavered over the fitted jeans and sharp jackets hanging on the rod and settled instead on an ex-boyfriend’s pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie from her college days. She braided her blond hair into a single plait and tied a bandana around her head. She didn’t put on any makeup, but stuck on a pair of sunglasses.

She squinted at the results in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the closet door. Perfect.

Perfectly awful. She grimaced.

Dani took the bus to an area locally referred to as SoMa, south of Market, filled with loft warehouses, galleries and restaurants. As she walked toward South Beach and the café, a place known for giving second chances—something she desperately wanted herself—her breath hung on the air. Mornings in San Francisco were usually cold and foggy, no matter what the time of year.

As she stepped inside the café, warm air blasted her. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the loftlike open space and made her mouth water. A good thing. She planned on spending every cent of James’s money this morning.

Hearing the din of the other customers, Dani glanced around. She’d stared at Bigbrother’s picture enough last night she should be able to recognize him, but none of the people sitting on the couches and chairs looked familiar. Maybe she’d beat him here. Or maybe her darkened sunglasses kept her from seeing clearly. She moved toward an empty table.

“Sanfrandani?” a male voice asked.

Dani turned. A man, sitting at a table back against the wall near the bookstore portion of the café, was staring at her. She took a closer look, resisting the urge to push her sunglasses up above her forehead.

Thick dark lashes framed clear, warm eyes. Brown, maybe black, hair carelessly styled, as if he’d run his fingers through it, not a comb, fell past his collar in the back. His hair hadn’t looked like this in his picture or maybe the cap had hid it. Either way, his hair changed his looks completely. But she wasn’t complaining. In fact, Dani wouldn’t mind running her fingers through his hair. “Big… brother?”

He nodded.

Heaven help her. The contrast between his dark hair and lighter complexion and eyes was, in a word, stunning. Talk about a picture not doing someone justice. His photo made him look cute, but didn’t show his true appearance at all.

Was he hiding something, like her?

Dani was willing to take that chance.

As she walked toward him, he stood. Wowsa. He was tall, over six feet. Fit, trim, perfect. Men who looked like him only existed in magazines or the movies or her dreams. Yet she was having coffee with him. Her pulse quickened.

Pull yourself together.

Dani extended her arm. His large warm hand engulfed hers, his shake solid. She cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you.”

He pulled a chair out for her. Good manners. “Thanks for suggesting this.”

She wanted to thank his parents for having him and James for forcing her to ask Bigbrother out. Intelligent, handsome, polite. A blind date couldn’t get much better than this. Or him.

Dani took the seat he offered. “You’re welcome.”

He sat across from her. Their gazes met.

Her heart bumped.

Oh, boy. She crossed her legs, tilted her head and gave him her best buy-me-a-drink smile.

He looked faintly startled.

Why…?

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.” She leaned forward just a little.

“It’s an old photo,” he admitted. “Good thing I had no trouble recognizing you from your picture.”

Dani frowned. “My…”

And then she realized. That picture. No wonder he looked taken aback.

Bigbrother was totally hot.

And she looked totally…not.

CHAPTER THREE

BRYCE watched Sanfrandani tug surreptitiously on the waistband of her baggy sweats and bit back a smile. Nice hips. But the clothes… She looked like a kid who’d dressed with her eyes closed or a coed slumming in her boyfriend’s clothes.

Obviously she didn’t care what kind of impression she made on him.

He could find her confidence attractive.

Or insulting.

“What will you have?” she asked, standing in line to order.

“Two shots Americano.”

She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head to read the menu. “Breakfast?”

“No, thanks.”

She turned her head. “Sure?”

He stared into her sparkling blue eyes and suddenly wasn’t sure about anything. Where had those beauties come from? “I’m not hungry.”

She stepped up to the counter to order. “A two shot Americano, a white mocha and one lemon-poppy seed waffle.”

Bryce pulled out his wallet as the barista, a young man with pierced ears and a tattoo on his forearm, pulled the shots.

Sanfrandani handed the bright-eyed girl behind the counter a twenty. “My treat, remember.”

Confident, he thought again. And it was attractive.

“You pay,” he said. “I’ll carry.”

A beat passed. And another. “Fine with me.”

As she put her change into her wallet, Bryce gave her the once-over. Okay, all was not lost. He could see raw material there, hidden under the bulky sweats. With those pretty baby blues and full lips most women would pay big bucks to have, Sanfrandani wasn’t so bad.

She raised an eyebrow. “See something you like after all?”

Bryce broke into a reluctant grin. “I’ll stick to coffee.”

“Suit yourself.”

He picked up their drinks from the counter, followed her past a leather couch to their table against the wall.

Sitting across from him, she took a sip of her white mocha and licked foam off her upper lip. “Just what I needed.”

A strand of blond hair had fallen out of her braid and threatened to slip into her drink. Without thinking, he reached forward and tucked it behind her ear. Her hair was smooth, her cheek warm.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Bryce sat back, feeling foolish. “Your hair…it was about to fall into your whipped cream.”

“Oh.” She flushed. “The curse of long hair, I guess.”

“Is that why you wear the bandana?” he asked.

She touched the cloth, as if to remind herself she was still wearing it. The simple gesture reminded him of Caitlin, when she was little and wore a tiara every day.

“I thought you might be some kind of cowgirl or something.”

“Ha-ha. Actually…” she leaned her elbows on the table, cradling her drink in both hands “…I used to work in a stable.”

Bryce studied her oval nails with their pretty pink polish. She didn’t work in a stable now. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s not that exciting.” She smiled and took another sip from her mug. “My mother works on a farm in central California. I mucked stables there and at a couple of ranches to earn money. I used bandanas to keep my hair out of the way. They also work well as sweat rags and, if you wet them, neck coolers when it’s hot outside.”

His family had horses—Caitlin wanted to start riding competitively again. He knew what the work involved and was impressed. “That’s a hard way to earn money.”

“Yes, but it was worth it. Not only did I get stronger cleaning stalls, but I got to exercise the horses when their owners couldn’t.” The words almost tumbled from her mouth with excitement. Her face became animated, but she seemed to catch herself and calm down. She raised her cup. “So now you know where my attachment to bandanas comes from.”

“A worthy attachment, I’d say.” His respect for her grew. He recalled her picture. The shadows. Her red face. Something clicked for him. “The photograph in your profile. Was it taken while you worked at one of the stables?”

She nodded. “I still help out at the farm when I visit my mom. One of my sisters took the picture with her cell phone as a joke.”

Definitely a horse-lover. No one else would offer to help out with that job. But that didn’t explain her using the unflattering picture.

“Why did you use that photo on your profile?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I wanted to make sure men were more interested in who I was as a person rather than my appearance.”

“That makes sense.” So maybe she was on the up-and-up. Caitlin had done the same with her profile picture. “Have you found any guys who passed the test?”

“You’re here.”

In spite of his suspicions, he liked her. “I am.”

A café employee placed a plate and syrup in front of her. “One lemon-poppy waffle.”

Bryce liked that she wasn’t one of those women who lived off salads, rice cakes, nuts and seeds in order to stay a size zero. He also liked her self-confidence. “I’m glad I’m here.”

She spread butter on the waffle. “The bandana didn’t scare you off.”

“It would take more than a bandana to scare me,” he admitted. “Do you wear it every day?”

“No.” She poured syrup on her waffle. “But bandanas come in real handy on those days I’m rushing out the door.”

“Were you rushing this morning?”

She stared down her nose at him. “What do you think?”

That no woman would go to such lengths to look less attractive than she really was. “You were either in a rush or prefer comfort over…”

“Style,” she offered.

He smiled. “You said it, not me.”

The tension seemed to evaporate from around her mouth. “I do like to be comfortable, but I may have taken being comfy to the extreme this morning. Next time I’ll take a little more time getting ready.”

“Next time, huh?” He watched her take a bite of the waffle. A drop of syrup hung on the corner of her lips. Damn, she had a sexy mouth. “So do you do this a lot?”

She wiped the syrup off with a napkin. “Go out for coffee and have breakfast?”

“Online dating.”

“Oh, no.” She stared at her plate, then raised her gaze to his. “You’re my… This is my first time.”

Bryce looked for a sign she might be lying. But she was making eye contact. Her voice pitch hadn’t changed. She wasn’t fidgeting or blinking. Then again, she might just be a good actress.

He picked up his coffee. “What do you think?”

“Well, so far so good,” she said. “The mocha is delicious, the food tasty. Ask me again when we’re finished, and I’ll tell you how the company was.”

Bryce might not trust her, but she was bright and had a sense of humor. He was enjoying this. Her. He sure hoped Sanfrandani wasn’t guilty of anything. “I will.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Do you rush getting ready in the morning or take your time?”

He sipped his drink. Strong and hot, the way he liked his coffee. “I’m a guy. Once we’re out of high school, it’s pretty much shower and go.”

“Mm.” She looked him over, taking her time but keeping her opinion to herself. “Well, at least no one could accuse you of being metro.”

“Thank you.” The amusement in her eyes brought a smile to his face. “I think.”

“So I’m a newbie at this online dating thing. What about you?” she asked. “Have you gone on a lot of dates with people you met through Blinddatebrides.com?”

“Not a lot, much to the chagrin of my mother and sister.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Both of them think it’s time I settle down.”

Dani raised her mug. “Do you think it’s time to settle down?”

“No.” Bryce found her easy to talk to. Strange, considering his reasons for wanting to meet her. “But my opinion doesn’t matter much where my mother is concerned. She has been lecturing me about being over thirty and single. She wants grandchildren to spoil. My sister, who is a member of the site, has jumped on my mother’s bandwagon and sends me links to the profiles of women she thinks I should contact.”

“Your younger sister, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Your user name is Bigbrother.”

He nodded. “Caitlin picked the name for me.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“She’s a sweet girl. Woman,” he corrected. “Sometimes I forget she’s all grown up.”

“And how does she feel about that?”

“She thinks I’m overprotective. Overbearing and a bully, too.”

Sanfrandani’s smile lit up her face. “The two of you are close.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yeah, but Caitlin drove me crazy when we were kids. Following me everywhere. I wanted to trade her in for a brother, but I couldn’t help but watch out for her back then, too.”

“That sounds so familiar. I watched out for my three little sisters, even though there were days I wanted to kill them. But I knew if I did that it would destroy my mother so I controlled myself.”

He grinned. “I’m sure three younger sisters were much worse than one.”

“Especially trying to get ready for school with only one bathroom for the four of us.”

“Catfights?”

“Every day.” She laughed. “How about with your sister?”

“She’s one of my best friends, even though I still watch out for her.”

“Lucky girl.”

“She might disagree about that.” Though Caitlin’s luck had changed for the better. Contentment settled in the center of Bryce’s chest. “She recently got engaged to a man she met on Blinddatebrides.com.”

“That’s exciting news.”

“Very.” He smiled, thinking about Caitlin, all bubbly and glowing, showing off her diamond engagement ring. She’d thanked him for creating the Web site where she’d met her fiancé. That moment had made all his work, the sleepless nights and constant fires needing dousing, worth it. “My sister and her fiancé prove the matchmaking algorithm works, since that’s how they found each other.”

Sanfrandani set her fork on the plate. “You believe the algorithm actually works?”

He understood the doubt in her voice. Turning matters of the heart over to a machine wasn’t easy. “I do. Relying on the program is the easiest and smartest way to find a compatible date.”

“It’s difficult for me to accept a computer could do a better job picking a date for me than I could.”

“Is that why you haven’t gone out with anyone before?” he asked.

“It didn’t seem right.”

Her response set off warning bells in Bryce’s head. “Right?”

“The right time,” she clarified. “But the compatibility program did work for a friend of mine who lives in London. They are married and expecting a baby.”

“I’ll have to tell my sister. She wants everyone to be as happy as she is.”

“I have two friends like that. The one with the baby on the way and another who is engaged. I met both on the Web site,” Sanfrandani said. “They’re always pushing me to go out more. They mean well, but the…”

“Pressure.”

“Exactly.” She drank her coffee, seeming completely at ease. “Luckily, my mother doesn’t care if I get married or not.”

“She’s not on the grandma track, then.”

“Not at all. The only thing she wants is for me and my three sisters to pursue our passions and follow our dreams, whatever they may be.”

Bryce wondered what her dreams entailed. “She sounds like a great mom.”

“My mom’s the best. My hero.” Sanfrandani’s eyes softened, as did the tone of her voice. “She raised us on her own. We didn’t always have a place to sleep at night, but we always had food to eat and we knew we were loved. No matter what was going on, there was always more than enough love.”

Her words squeezed Bryce’s heart. No place to sleep sounded like she’d been homeless at times. No one should have to go through that, especially an innocent child. Maybe her background explained the way she acted and her ambivalence about dressing nice for their date.

He thought about his silver spoon upbringing—the overabundance of toys and clothes, the mansion and vacation homes, the revolving door of stepparents and the trust fund he’d never touched. His parents loved him, but they were so busy with their own lives and marriages, they’d often left him and Caitlin in the care of nannies. He couldn’t say more than enough love existed at his house. Houses. “Sounds like you still had everything you needed in spite of the tough times.”

“I didn’t think so then, but growing up like that made me stronger, more determined.”

“To do what?”

“Succeed. Make it on my own. Show the world I’m more than what they think I am.” She raised her chin, then looked down. “Sorry, that probably sounds arrogant.”

“No. Not at all.” Even though the two of them came from different worlds, Bryce understood because he felt the same way. That was why he’d taken a job as a Web developer. He’d wanted to make it on his own terms. Not live off the rewards of his great-grandfather’s real estate foresight over a hundred years ago. “It’s important to make it on your own, especially if people said you couldn’t.”

She reached across the table and touched his hand. “You get it.”

He nodded, trying not to stare at her hand. Dani’s gesture was friendly, not sexual, but he enjoyed the feel of her soft skin against his. She pulled her hand back. He missed her warmth.

“I want to buy my mom a house. Nothing fancy, maybe a white picket fence. Just someplace that belongs to her. We never really had that. A home of our own.”

“A worthy goal.”

She nodded. “Something to work toward, that’s for sure.”

Sanfrandani seemed nice. She was close to her family, funny and intelligent. A guy could do a lot worse. But he couldn’t forget why he was here.

I’m a spy.

Bryce straightened. He needed to figure out what she’d meant by that. Spying didn’t always mean espionage. She might have joined the site to spy on a crush, a boyfriend or an ex.

“Why haven’t you gone on more dates?” He wanted some answers. “Did you try using the compatibility matching program? The questionnaire seems thorough enough.”

“Oh, it was thorough all right.” Her mouth quirked. “That stupid thing took forever to fill out, with all its nitpicky and redundant questions.”

He’d heard the criticism before, but the questionnaire was far from stupid. “The time you spend pays out in the end.”

“Let’s be real.” She leaned toward him. “How do you know someone else is going to fill it out as carefully as you did? They might choose an answer they think someone might want to hear.”

“That’s built into the algorithm and the reason for so many questions, even redundant ones. To get to the bottom of what a person needs in a relationship and a mate. Not what they think they need.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.”

“I work with computers,” he admitted, waiting for questions to follow. So many people worked with computers in the Bay Area, yet some women wanted to know more—where do you work, what’s your title, do you get stock options?—in order to gauge future earning potential.

“Poor you.” She poked her fork into her waffle and swallowed a bite.

Was Sanfrandani really disinterested in him or playing hard to get? Maybe she was just hungry. That waffle looked good.

“I like computers,” he said. “And with anything Internet based, there’s an element of trust involved.”

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