Nothing Personal Read Free

hadn’t done justice to the man he was now. They could capture his features, the slightly tough look of nearly black hair against dark skin, the strongly delineated nose, the squareness of jaw that kept his regular features from being too handsome to be masculine. Ridiculously good-looking, yes. Boyish . . . no. Not even close.
    He hadn’t been quite that obviously muscular in those pictures, though, the close cut of the suit revealing rather than concealing his build, the breadth of shoulder and trimness of waist and hips. She’d heard rumors that he’d spent the last few months on some reality show. He must have got in some serious shape for it, or during it, or something.
    But above all, no camera could have caught the essence of him, the way he dominated any space he was in, the way he drew every eye.
    Charisma. From the Greek for “divine favor,” the gift of the gods. To call it “charm,” as some of the articles had, wasn’t enough to express its effect in the confined space of a conference room. Alec was talented, no doubt about it. But it was the flash of his smile, the way he seemed to be looking just at you, the way you wanted him to keep looking, to hold his attention, the way you couldn’t stop looking. That was what had rocketed him to stardom, or at least the tech world’s version of it. In an industry dominated by former geeks, he stood out like a poppy in a field of dandelions.
    No, she hadn’t quite expected all of that. And scrambling over the floor of the coffee shop hadn’t been her best moment, though she thought she’d come out of the encounter reasonably well. He’d seemed more flustered than she had, oddly enough. And he’d certainly been more flustered at the meeting, which was understandable. He’d had a shock.
    And he hadn’t recognized her. Their previous meetings had clearly had more effect on her than on him. And she’d changed more. That was putting it lightly.
     
    “Ewww. That is so sad.”
    Desiree heard the low-voiced exclamation, the giggles coming from the group of girls lounging on their towels on the grassy bank of the Bidwell Park swimming pool, just above where she had waded in, needing the shock of cold water after her sweaty bike ride. She didn’t pay much attention. Not until she heard the boy’s voice raised above the girls’ laughter.
    “Paging Chewbacca. Come in, Chewie.”
    The giggles increased then, accompanied by a loud masculine laugh. Desiree glanced at the group clustered near the water’s edge. Four or five girls, wearing the kind of cute bikinis she’d eyed wistfully in store windows, on equally cute figures. She’d bet they had called around, coordinated their outfits beforehand. Senior girls, probably. Clustered close to the knot of boys she saw here every time, as far out of her league as movie stars.
    Although she’d never seen that one before. In the center of everything, shaggy dark hair hanging straight around features that were almost too pretty, but not quite. She could see that even without her glasses, not to mention the deeply tanned skin on a tall, slim physique that looked more Hollywood than high school, and had already had her sneaking glances in his direction.
    They were th e popular kids, the ones she’d seen before, hanging out at the pool as they did on just about every August day here in Chico, with the mercury beginning its steady climb toward the hundred-degree mark. Nothing new there, except that he was new. But not new like her. Not gangling and awkward and left out. They all knew him. And if they were the royal court, he was their king.
    And every one of them was looking at her. The girls whispering and giggling again, most of the boys grinning. Desiree gave a quick glance down at the loud floral pattern of her one-piece, with its ruffle over the bodice that, her grandmother had assured her, made her lanky frame look curvier. She could tell her face was flaming, wanted nothing more than to be invisible, to sink into