Damn it.
“You’re telling me this is coincidence,” I said. “That your team just happened to develop a system that produces identical results to mine.”
“Not identical,” she corrected, and there was a hint of fire in her eyes now. “Better. Our system is more energy-efficient because we’re not running dedicated meteorological sensors twenty-four hours a day. We’re leveraging existing infrastructure. And our color temperature adjustments are smoother because we’re using a predictive model, not just reactive.”
Better. She’d called it better.
I should’ve been furious. Should’ve been calling my lawyers. Instead, I was fascinated. She was sharp. Sharper than I’d expected. Sharper than Reed had any right to hide on a junior development team. And she was doing it while looking like…that.
I hated that I’d noticed. Hated that part of my brain was still cataloging the way her blouse pulled slightly when she leaned forward, the curve of her jaw, the way her lips moved when she spoke.
Focus, Ashbrook.
“I’ll need to see the source code,” I said.
Her expression didn’t change, but something cooled in her eyes. “That’s proprietary, Mr. Ashbrook. I’m sure you understand.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
“No,” she said evenly, “we’re at the point where you decide whether you trust the documentation I’ve provided, or whether you’d like to pursue legal action—which will cost you time, money, and credibility when you lose.”
The audacity. I should’ve been angry. Iwasangry. But there was something else underneath it, something I didn’t want to name.
“You’re confident,” I said.
“I’m right.” She stood, smoothing her skirt, and I found myself standing too, some outdated instinct kicking in. “I understand your concern, Mr. Ashbrook. Truly. But ClimaGlow doesn’t infringe on your patent. If you’d like, I can arrange a technical deep-dive with our legal team and yours—we can walk through the architecture line by line.”
A deep-dive. More meetings. More time with her sitting across from me, making my office feel smaller and warmer than it had any right to.
“Fine,” I heard myself say. “Set it up.”
She extended her hand again. “I’ll have my assistant coordinate with yours.”
I took her hand. This time, I was ready for the spark, the warmth. It didn’t help.
“Ms. Craig.”
“Mr. Ashbrook.”
She turned, and I watched her walk to the door—watched the sway of her hips, the confident set of her shoulders. She paused with her hand on the handle and glanced back.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I’ve been following your work for years. WeatherSync was brilliant. The ClimaGlow team learned a lot from studying what you built.”
Then she was gone, and I was standing in my empty office, staring at the closed door like an idiot. Reed Baxter hadn’t sent his assistant or some PR rep to blow me off. He’d sent someone smart enough to defend their work—and young enough to make it clear he didn’t think I was worth his time. And I had no idea how to fight someone who looked at me like that.
Like I was a problem to solve, not a man to fear.
I sat back down, pulled up my calendar, and stared at the empty slot next toDeep-dive meeting—TBD.
This was going to be a problem.
2
AVERY
Icouldn’t sleep. Again.
And no, it wasn’t caffeine or blue light or the full moon’s personal vendetta against me. This was work stress.
