Tempt Me by Tamara Hogan

program, where their relationship had inevitably turned romantic—Rafe’s blood pressure rose. “So let me see if I have this straight. Cooper was your lab partner, then your lover. How old were you?”
    Bailey’s cheeks were as pink as the Braeburn apple Lukas had given her. “Eighteen.”
    He considered her. “You were in a doctoral program at eighteen.”
    “I was...precocious.”
    “Intellectually, yes—but in terms of relationships, you were a babe in the woods, easy pickings.”
    “I deposed Cooper to help build Bailey’s defense,” Jack said. “He’s a major league asshole, and an expert manipulator.”
    “Social engineer,” Bailey corrected.
    “What?”
    “His technical skills are average at best, but he’s the most skilled social engineer I’ve ever known.”
    “What’s a social engineer?” Antonia asked before he could.
    “A social engineer exploits human gullibility to extract private or confidential information. He or she then uses that information to access data, systems or facilities they aren’t authorized to access.” She bit into the apple with a soft crunch, chewed and swallowed. “I worked the architecture, design and coding side of our dissertation project, and he worked the rest. The division of labor catered to our individual strengths.”
    “What was your project?” he asked.
    She glanced at Jack, then at the table. “I had an idea for a way to reduce malicious incursion risk against high-value databases—”
    “He tried to hack the freaking NSA and left you holding the bag,” Jack snapped. “He manipulated you. He stole your code. He adapted it—poorly. He—”
    “I should have known what he was doing,” she snapped back. “I was asleep at the wheel.”
    The guilt and shame coursing through her system nearly overwhelmed him.
    “And times have changed,” she continued. “These days, he doesn’t even have to know how to code to launch a successful denial of service attack. It’s automated; all you need is a goddamn credit card to buy the tool. Or—” she gestured to the wall-mounted screen “—he can outsource the job.” She rubbed her neck, blew out a breath. “He has an undergrad degree in psychology. He’s a master at reading body language and facial expressions. He used to take acting and improvisation classes; maybe he still does. He keeps detailed dossiers on all of his targets. He’s...a freaking chameleon. He can assume nearly any persona or role, become part of any group, have his victims believing exactly what he wants them to believe.” She sagged slightly, like a balloon losing its air. “He was good back then, and from what I’ve heard, he’s only gotten better with time. Do not underestimate him.”
    Rafe wanted to punch something. “You were her attorney, right?” he asked Jack. “Sounds like this d-bag was behind the whole thing. How—”
    “Bailey wouldn’t name him as an accomplice, much less the mastermind.”
    “Why?”
    Bailey crossed her arms and didn’t answer.
    “The judge was influenced by her youth and her clean record,” Jack said, “but despite my best efforts, and the fact that the incursion attempt was officially deemed unsuccessful, she still did some time.”
    Bailey shrugged a shoulder. “Less than a month at a minimum security facility. I met some nice women. Caught up on my reading.”
    Despite her careless tone, he sensed the residual fear jumping in her stomach like grasshoppers. Bailey had some acting skills he hadn’t been aware of.
    “Thankfully this happened before 9/11, or the outcome would have been fathoms worse,” Jack added.
    “Wyatt never did get that degree.” Bailey smiled tightly. “Pity.”
    Chico jammed his thumb through the skin of the orange, filling the air with a sharp spritz of citrus. “So, he doxxed you on a message board. He’s presumably responsible for the incursion attempts at Sebastiani Labs, and he’s the primary suspect for the apartment break-in. What does he