She’s built a firewall around her heart.

He’s determined to crack the code.

Hailstorms come with the territory in Austin, Texas. Having a hot guy to shelter with is a less frequent phenomenon. It must be the shock – or the hailstorm to the temple – that makes cautious technology consultant Alicia ask Jackson out.

Minutes later, still reeling from his kind rejection, she walks into the biggest meeting of her career. And it’s just her luck that *he’s* there - Jackson, the sexy charmer. But he’s no longer charming; he’s madder than a rattlesnake that Alicia’s there to take over his project.

But it’s Alicia’s job to turn around the project, even if Jackson thwarts her every move. Even if their late nights in the office are more about chemistry than code. Even when she teaches him to two-step and he kisses her under the stars.

If anyone finds out Alicia and Jackson are more than colleagues, it’ll threaten not only the project but both their careers.

He’s a genius.

She’s the boss.

Can they work together – without falling in love?

Fall for these two rival programmers in this steamy, slow-burn, laugh-out-loud enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy featuring a straitlaced single mom, a tech genius who hides a secret under a playboy exterior, and way too much tequila. Set in up-and-coming Austin, it’s the first book in the Synergy Workplace Romance series and can be read as a standalone.

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Tropes

• Office romance
• Rivals to lovers
• Forced proximity
• Opposites attract
• Forbidden romance
• Single parent
• Fish out of water/New guy in town

Chapter 1 look inside

Chapter 1

ALICIA

The sky was the color of pea soup. Angry pea soup.

Having lived in Texas all my life, I knew the sky turned that color and the clouds boiled only when they were brewing something especially violent.

I gauged the distance from the overhang of the parking garage to the building entrance across the cracked pavement of the four-lane street. There’d be no sprinting across in my four-inch heels.

“Trying too hard,” I muttered. “Flats would’ve been fine. Or even boots.” But I’d wanted to make a good impression at my first gig for my brand-new company. Serious. Capable. Flawless. Ready to use my pointy-toed shoes to kick ass and create a name for myself by turning around this troubled project.

This was my stick-it-to-em moment. To my old boss, Lowell, who’d said I was too “sensitive” to be management material. To Dr. Fletcher, who’d told our entire class—while I, the only woman in the room, sat there, too flummoxed to object—that women didn’t have the drive to succeed in technology. To every coworker who’d ever talked over me, taken credit for my work, or tried to mansplain programming to me. I was walking into Synergy Analytics, a Fortune 1000 company founded by two Stanford grads and now worth over six billion dollars, to use my smarts to help them succeed.

Not bad for a local girl who went to a state university. I brushed invisible dust off my shoulder.

My phone pinged. Thirty minutes until the meeting. Plenty of time to get through security, shake some hands, and take my seat at the head of the table. I drew myself up. For the first time in my life, I was my own boss. I was more than qualified to do this gig, and I could beat the rain, too.

As my shoe hit the sidewalk, I heard the first plink. Ha! Missed me! A good thing, since I was wearing a white blouse, my suit jacket folded over my messenger bag to keep cool in Austin’s early-September heat. A see-through shirt at my first meeting would not be a good look. Another quick step, and I checked the street for cars. Clear, if I went fast.

I stepped off the curb, and a raindrop bounced in front of me. Bounced? Another one to my right. A blur of white zoomed in front of my nose. That wasn’t rain; it was hail. Pea-sized. No sweat. Hail wouldn’t even get my blouse wet.

Crossing the second lane of traffic, I kicked a hailstone. That one was bigger, about the size of a marble. An anomaly. Still, better watch out. If I stepped on one that size, I’d probably go down in the middle of Sixth Street. And then I’d get run over by a car. I couldn’t let Noah lose another parent. Besides, I hadn’t yet bought life insurance to replace the policy my old employer had provided. “If I get into this building safely,” I murmured, “I promise I’ll call the insurance company as soon as I get home.”

Gritting my teeth against the pelting stones, I took two big steps to cross the last lane before hopping up onto the curb over the pile of white hailstones that had drifted against it. Two more steps took me under the building’s sheltering overhang. I glanced up at the green clouds. “Thank—”

A flash of white, and pain seared my forehead right at my hairline. “Ouch!” Cradling my face, I scuttled further under the awning. That’d teach me to practice gratitude.

“Are you all right?” A tall figure loomed up in my peripheral vision.

“Fine, I’m fine.” But when I pulled my hand away, my fingertips were smeared with blood. I dug in my bag for a tissue.

“Scalp wounds bleed a lot. Hurt like a motherfucker, too. Hang on, I’ve got something.” The man set down his duffel bag and rooted around inside. His faded black T-shirt with AC/DC’s distinctive logo rode up on his back, revealing a vee of lean muscle that disappeared into his jeans. Between working a desk job and hanging out at soccer fields, I hadn’t seen a lot of physiques like that. Not since Rick. I shook off the memory. I couldn’t let Rick ruin my you-go-girl attitude.

The man turned, a heather-gray T-shirt in his hand. “It’s clean, I promise. Mind if I—?”

Not sure whether my lost power of speech was due to his Greek-god bod or blood loss, I shook my head. Gently, he brushed away my hand holding the blood-soaked tissue and pressed the shirt to my face. The shirt smelled like fresh soap and something else. Leather. Like a boot shop. Or the inside of a luxury car. I inhaled, wishing I could wrap myself in that scent.

When he stepped closer, he kicked a hailstone. “What is this? It’s not snow.”

“It’s hail.” The shirt covered one eye, but I checked him out with the other. He was tall, a good three or four inches taller than me, even in my heels. Ah. It wasn’t all his laundry soap. He was wearing some fancy cowboy boots; thus, the leather scent. Ostrich. Expensive. Faded, broken-in jeans that showcased narrow hips, and the shirt I’d already noted that stretched tight in all the right places. Dark hair, somewhere between brown and black. Dark eyes, too. Sharp. Assessing. But also kind. My cheeks heated under that stare.

“Hell? You mean, as in frozen over?” He spoke crisply, like the people on TV, not like anyone I’d ever met in real life.

“No. Hail. H-A-I-L. You’re not from around here, are you?”

He smiled, the right side higher than the left. “Nope. Still trying to get used to some of these Texas accents.”

“Just visiting, or do you live here now?”

That lush mouth tensed a little. “A little of both. I’ve been in Austin for three months, but I hope I can go home soon.”

“You hope?” I flashed him an easy smile. “Clearly, you haven’t had the full Austin experience. Most people never want to leave.” Except me. After living my whole life here, my hometown had started to feel a little like a favorite shirt I’d outgrown. Soft and cozy, but a little too tight.

The tension disappeared, and his right cheek kicked up again. That smile should’ve been illegal. “Maybe I haven’t had the right tour guide.” His gaze started to trail down, and his eyes widened when they reached my chest. He blinked back up to my face. “You’ve, ah, you’ve got some blood on your blouse.”

“Oh, shit.” I put my hand over his on the T-shirt. His hand was warm and dry. Smooth skin, like he also worked at a desk. He slid it out from under mine so I could survey the damage. Dammit, two red drops right over my left boob. Holding one hand to the cut, I tried to unfold my jacket with the other.

“Let me help?”

I nodded, and he shook out my jacket. While he held it out behind me, I slid in one arm, swapped hands over my cut, and then slid into the other sleeve. When he pulled the sides together, we stood close, like we were dancing. That heavenly scent of his surrounded me, and the hail, my meeting, everything faded around me.

He looked familiar. I’d seen those full lips before, quirked to one side. The short, dark beard, thick on his chin and a little scraggly on his cheeks. The genuine smile seemed different, but I’d seen those eyes crinkled at the corners. How did I know him?

“Have we—”

He spoke at the same time. “You work around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“It’s my first day. I have a big meeting this morning.” Clearly, I wasn’t all that memorable if he didn’t think he’d seen me before. Where had I met him?

“In there?” He tilted his chin toward the Synergy building behind me.

“Yes, I’m a consultant. I own my own business.” Even bleeding there on the sidewalk, I felt my chest expand.

“Consultant.” He stepped back, taking the glorious scent with him. The hailstones plinked outside the awning. “Let me get you a bandage. I’ve got one in my bag.”

“No. Thank you, though.” I couldn’t walk into a meeting with Cooper Fallon with a bandage on my face.

“Would you rather have blood dripping down your forehead during your big meeting? That chunk of ice really got you.” He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a small plastic first-aid kit.

“Are you a Boy Scout?” I carried a first-aid kit in my car for Noah, but I didn’t know too many men who did.

He chuckled. “They kicked me out when I was nine. Marlee. My assistant. She takes care of me.”

An assistant? My first-aider in jeans and a T-shirt didn’t look like someone with that kind of power. But now that I thought about it, his voice did carry a slight imperious edge like he was used to giving orders. And having them followed.

He clicked open the kit and pulled out a bandage. When he peeled apart the wrapper, I caught a flash of red.

“What’s that?”

“Oh. Lightning McQueen. You know, from Cars? She has a twisted sense of humor.”

Of course I knew Cars. It had been Noah’s favorite movie since he was three. “You’re not putting Lightning McQueen on my face.”

“Show me that smile. The one you gave me when you talked about your business. The one you’ll show them in that meeting.”

I couldn’t help it. I smiled, big and broad, every time I thought about Weber Technology Consulting.

“That’s it. No one will be looking at old Lightning McQueen here when you flash that gorgeous smile.” He lifted the shirt away from my face, brushing my fingers. It wasn’t blood loss that made them tingle.

“Thanks…” I raised my eyebrows.

“My friends call me Jay.”

“I’m Alicia.”

“Alicia.” He rolled my name in his mouth. Then, with a light press of his warm fingers, he adhered the bandage to my head. “We match now, see?” He held up his arm, and, sure enough, across his elbow was a Lightning McQueen bandage.

“The hail didn’t get you, too?” I’d been too focused on my own injury, my own problems, and I hadn’t been paying attention. Jay’s arm bulged with lean muscle, and a vein wrapped around his forearm. I’d only seen that on TV, too.

“Nah.” He rubbed it. “Got too close to a tree on my run.” He stepped closer again. “May I?”

I nodded, my throat too dry to speak. He tugged my jacket so the sides met in front. Then he slid a finger into my hair near the cut and smoothed it down. He scanned me from my head to my toes, and every spot his gaze hit tingled.

“Good as new.” He stepped back. “Feel okay? Not too dizzy?”

Dizzy? Yeah. I blinked. Had I said that out loud? “I’m good.”

“Good.” He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Was he about to ask me out? He had to be feeling what I was. That thing he’d said about my smile was definitely flirty. An invisible tether kept either of us from moving toward the door or out onto the sidewalk.

My sister’s words echoed back to me from years ago. Life is short. Don’t wait for what you want. Ask for it, and then take it. She hadn’t lived long enough to follow her own advice. But I’d taken her words to heart, and I knew what I wanted: more time with this guy’s gentle fingers and bottomless eyes. “Hey, Jay, I’ve got that meeting now, but maybe you’d like to get a coffee sometime?”

He glanced again at the door behind me. “I’m sorry, I…can’t.”

My belly went tight and heavy, and my cheeks heated. “Oh, okay.” Did he have a girlfriend? Was Marlee more than his assistant? Or maybe I was in shock and had hallucinated the signs of his attraction. Served me right for putting myself out there. For following Melissa’s advice.

I needed to get out of there. Regroup and focus on my meeting. I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder. “I have to go. Thank you for your help.”

When I held out the shirt to him, the gray fabric was smeared with blood. Gross. I snatched it back before he could touch it. “I’ll wash this out tonight and bring it back tomorrow. I’ll leave it here in the lobby in the morning?”

“Sure.” He bent again, showing that tantalizing sliver of his back, and picked up a golf ball–sized hailstone. He pulled a sock from his duffel and wrapped it around the hunk of ice before dropping it back into his bag. I had to smile despite my embarrassment. If he was anything like Noah, Jay would stash it in the nearest freezer and pull it out to examine later. Scientific curiosity always melted my nerdy heart.

Though this scientist-slash-first-aider’s heart didn’t feel the same about me. My cheeks blazed again.

He opened the door and held it for me.

I walked through, careful not to brush against him. The heat had spread down my neck to my chest. I spotted a sign for the restrooms to the right and turned toward it without looking at him. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Alicia.”

A few minutes later, I clipped a visitor badge to my lapel, mentally donning my armor again. Back on track. Kicking ass. No more distractions, no matter how sexy.

Another tall man strode through the security sensors, extending his hand to me. “You must be Ms. Weber. I’m Cooper Fallon.”

I sucked in a breath. Chiseled jaw, sandy-blond hair, eyes the color of bluebonnets. I’d seen photos of him—the CEO of Synergy Analytics had been on the cover of Forbes at least twice, plus I’d Googled him, of course—but photos hadn’t prepared me for six-feet-something of tanned skin and trim physique accentuated by a crisp blue shirt, tailored slacks, and a creaseless sports coat. I passed my hand over my slim black skirt, wrinkled from the drive over.

Mentally giving myself a shake, I grasped his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fallon.”

He didn’t ask me to call him Cooper.

“Stairs okay?” he asked. “We’re meeting on the second floor.”

“Sure.” A little cardio might settle out my nerves. Taking a deep breath, I followed him through the security sensors to a wide, open staircase. Climbing, I looked around me. Wide wooden planked floors, exposed ductwork in the ceiling, bright reds, oranges, and blues in colorful splashes on the walls that reminded me of the Hill Country in spring. “How long have you owned the building?”

“Not long. We bought it from a company that decided to move to a remote workforce. We’re living in the space for a while before we decide to make any changes.”

“But Synergy didn’t go remote?” I almost smacked my forehead. Obviously, Alicia. They’re here.

He waited for me at the top of the stairs. “No, we take a collaborative approach to software development. Jamila says that’s what you prefer, too?”

I smiled at the mention of my mentor. I could almost feel her standing next to me, saying, You got this. “Absolutely,” I said. “Teams can get so much more done when they’re located together, when they don’t have to rely on email or even instant messaging for communications.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the team.”

He pulled open a frosted-glass door to a conference room. Inside, most of the chairs were taken. A quick glance told me the meeting attendees were all men; no surprise there. And at the head of the table—

“Jay?” I lifted a hand to my forehead. Was he one of the developers I’d be working with?

“Alicia!” Jay stood, his smile quickly turning to a frown as he glanced from me to Cooper. “What’s going on, Coop?”

Maybe that hailstone had done more damage than I’d thought. Or maybe I’d been too infatuated by a pair of sharp, dark eyes. But seeing the two men together, the puzzle pieces snapped into place. Cooper Fallon and my-friends-call-me-Jay Jackson Jones, cofounders of Synergy Analytics. The business brains and the programming muscle that’d started the company in their dorm room at Stanford and had grown it into a Fortune 1000 company in less than a dozen years.

Why the hell did Jackson Jones need me on a programming project?

Beside me, Fallon straightened. “Ms. Weber is here to help set direction and move the project forward.”

Over the phone, he’d told me I was there to rescue a struggling project. Huh.

Jackson’s stare went flinty. “As the project lead, it’s my role to set direction.”

Next to Jackson, a young programmer slumped into his seat like he was trying to melt into the polyester mesh. I wanted to do the same. These two were supposed to be best friends, and now they were arguing. Because of me. Actually, because Cooper Fallon hadn’t told his business partner he was hiring a consultant. Me. And who the hell was in charge here? I eyed the seat at the head of the table, the one I’d planned to occupy. The one where Jackson Jones now presided.

Something that wasn’t my fault had suddenly become my problem. Nothing for it but to woman up and solve it. I stiffened my spine. Showtime.

“Mr. Fallon, would you like to brief Mr. Jones while I get to know the team?” I said, with what I hoped was the smile Jay—Jackson—had admired and not a teeth-baring snarl.

“Great idea, Ms. Weber.” Fallon tilted his head toward the hallway. Jackson circled the table and followed his cofounder out the door.

A second before the door swung shut, Jackson’s low tone floated through. “This is bullshit, Coop—”

I spoke loud enough to drown him out. “While Mr. Jones and Mr. Fallon talk strategy, we’ll get to know each other. I’m Alicia Weber of Weber Technology Consulting, and I’m here to help get this development project back on track so we can deliver on schedule. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you.

“Would you like to start the introductions?” Waving at the young guy who’d been sitting next to Jackson, I circled around to the head of the table. I moved a Synergy mug of coffee out of the way and sat in the power seat, surreptitiously lowering it so my feet touched the floor.

As the guys took turns introducing themselves, the arguing on the other side of the door eventually quieted, and before we’d finished, Jackson and Fallon slipped back inside. Fallon took the empty chair across the table, his expression serene as he listened to the team provide status updates on their assignments. Jackson leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the color still bright on his high cheekbones. He said not another word, but heat seemed to radiate from him, and the programmers closest to him squirmed in their seats. But to me, at least, there was no mistaking the hurt in his eyes. What the hell was going on between those two? They needed a couples therapist more than a consultant.

“Now that everyone has met,” Cooper said as he stood, “I’d like to review the project constraints. With Alicia joining the team, I’m confident you’ll be able to complete development by November 15 as originally planned.”

Two months. I had two months to turn the project around and deliver shippable code. I could do it. I knew I could. Unless…

“Alicia?” Cooper asked.

What had he asked me? Something about the date, I thought. “Absolutely, Mr. Fallon. We’ll get it done.”

Jackson snorted.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He wouldn’t sabotage me, would he? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried. I’d seen it all before: deliberate slowdowns, bugs introduced “accidentally,” even calling in sick at a critical point on a project. All because a woman threatened their fragile egos. They’d closed ranks and manspread around the table until there was no room for me.

I couldn’t let that happen here. If we succeeded, Cooper Fallon’s recommendation would open doors for me in Austin, in Silicon Valley, wherever I wanted to work. I’d write my own ticket. If I failed, though, that’d be the end of Weber Technology Consulting. I’d head back into someone else’s cubicle to churn out code, something I’d been trying to escape for the past five years.

So when Cooper Fallon shook my hand and said, “See you at eight tomorrow morning?” I said, “Absolutely. Can’t wait to get started.”

It’s always good to start a new job lying your face off, right?

As if he could see the guilty thought race across my forehead like a marquee, Cooper narrowed his eyes at me. “Until tomorrow, then.” He turned to talk to Jackson, who stared at me with an unreadable expression. Gone was the tenderness he’d shown when he’d pressed that ridiculous bandage to my forehead.

I stared right back. It didn’t matter how nice he’d been. Or how famous a programmer he was. No way was I going to let Jackson Jones ruin this make-or-break opportunity for me.

Thank You!

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All my love,

Michelle

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