Nothing Personal by Rosalind James Page A

He had a good reputation—the trio’s past three ventures had certainly succeeded spectacularly enough to send any sales and marketing professional’s career skyrocketing—but now she wondered how much of that had been due to his brilliance, and how much to the Alec Kincaid magic.
    Her cell chirped , and she turned from the screen to which she’d added not a word, glanced at the display. Claudine.
    “Hey, you.” She leaned back in her chair to stretch a little. “You still around?”
    “SFO. Waiting to board. Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Tell you what?” She sat up straight again. Was Claudine upset that Desiree hadn’t notified her of the job change? She hadn’t seemed to mind yesterday.
    “That you and Alec had a thing going on.”
    Desiree’s mouth opened, stuttered over a protest as Claudine went on. “I’d have backed off if I’d known. I’m a little hurt, tell you the truth, that you don’t trust me more than that. He’s Prime cut, no doubt about it. But you’re a friend.”
    “Wait . I mean, thanks.” And there Desiree was, right back in the Confusion Zone. “But we don’t. Have anything going on, I mean. Nothing personal. Just business.”
    “Uh- huh.” The skepticism came right through the airwaves. “Which would certainly explain him turning me down.”
    “He did?” Desiree felt a surge of relief at getting the right answer to a question she hadn’t dared ask, even of herself. “Well, I can imagine that doesn’t happen to you very often,” she hastened to add, “but it’s nothing to do with me.” She didn’t say that she was sorry, because she wasn’t.
    “Only possible explanation,” Claudine insisted. “ Because I know it’s not me. I’ve still got it. And he isn’t exactly famous for turning women down. Turning them over, you bet. He knows it all, and he does it, too, six ways from Sunday. I could walk into any Women in Tech conference you’d care to name, ask who knows where his birthmark is, and count the show of hands. And then ask who’d like to see it again, and honey, that number would be exactly the same.”
    “All right, he’s hot stuff,” Desiree conceded. “ And apparently more than a little slutty, I will just point out here. But everybody’s entitled to an off night.” Although he hadn’t seemed like he’d been having an off night. Not while he’d been watching her eat whipped cream, he hadn’t. A surge of pure lust at the memory had her doing some involuntary Kegels under her desk, and she actually shivered.
    “And another thing. ” Claudine continued as if Desiree hadn’t spoken. “Who did we talk about all evening? Not yours truly, beautiful and fascinating as I am.”
    “Me?” That was news. “He talked about me?”
    “Where did I meet you?” The mimicry was clear. “How long have we known each other? And if you’d like to quiz me on my knowledge of how you’ve spent the past few weeks, your brilliant organiza tional skills, go right ahead, because I’m all clued in. Boring as hell, baby, and you know I love you.”
    “Oh.” Desiree couldn’t think of what else to say.
    “But, Rae.” Claudine’s voice was serious now. “Here’s a word of warning from a veteran of the trenches. He’s a pro at this, and you’re not. I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. But I don’t think the words ‘I love you’ have ever crossed those luscious lips, not unless he was talking to his mother. He’s a good time, but he’s not a good bet, not as a long-term prospect.”
    “He’s not a prospect at all.” Desiree was clear on that, whatever her body was telling her. “Even if I weren’t working with him, he’s not my type.”
    “Honey, that man is everybody’s type.”
    “Not mine , he’s not. I don’t want a player. I sure as heck don’t want to be played.”
    “You just hold that thought . Whoops. The Premium Star Alliance is boarding, and you know I’m premium.”
    “And a star. ” Desiree smiled, feeling extremely