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Maybe in part that was due to her cancer survivor’s support group. They met every Thursday, and it meant a lot for her to stay connected to the community and help others. The women there were smart and funny and more courageous than anyone I’d ever met at work. She loved them like family.

“Thanks for the ride, honey.” My mom slid out of the car and shut the door before tapping on the window. I rolled it down so she could lean in. “And Payton? You have your grandmother’s legs. In that skirt, you’d have your pick of the bikers.” I groaned but she was already gone, breezing toward the steps of the center like a woman on a mission.

Chapter 6

You’re losing

The bar reminded me of the honky-tonks I’d visited in Nashville on spring break as a freshman—long and skinny, with barely enough room for a few tables and a band.

Donovan was reclining in one of the half-dozen booths lining one wall, his gray Henley clinging to firm arms and shoulders. Unlike Avery, this guy didn’t appear to spend his nights and weekends at the gym. He was leaner, more angular, but it worked.

Yeah. It worked.

The barbell glinting from his eyebrow today had pointy ends, like arrows. Maybe he’d put on his battle gear too, I mused as I slid in across from him.

“Payton,” he murmured. “Nice to see you again.”

Does he say everyone’s name like he knows what color their panties are?

The waitress materialized to take our drink order before I had to respond. “Gin and tonic,” I answered without consulting the menu.

“My usual,” he said easily, without taking his attention off me. “You said you were a mess. That’s not what I pictured.”

“I cleaned up.” His chocolate eyes warmed and I hurried to add, “not for you. For the public good.”

“Right.” His gaze dropped to my body. The attention should’ve made me queasy, but instead it just made awareness prickle down my spine. “So listen. If we’re going to work together, I need to ask a question.”

“Ask away.” I was armed to the teeth with explanations of interest rates and terms.

Donovan folded his arms, a thumb brushing over his lip again. “Did you like it?”

Words good. Focusing on mouth bad.

“Did I like what?”

“The game, Payton,” he said patiently.

“Oh. Sure, but…” I trailed off when I realized he looked genuinely interested, the smugness vanishing like fog burning off in the sun. “Wait a second. I thought it was supposed to be punishment. A test, to see how far I’d go.”

Donovan cocked his head. “You think I sent you a copy of my best-selling game to
punish
you?” When he put it like that, it did sound stupid. He lifted his palms in the air. “Maybe I wanted to open your mind, huh? Maybe when you met me, you didn’t give a shit about what I did, just that I was a client you could land.”

I started to disagree, but the intensity of his gaze stopped me. I always wanted to learn about my clients, but this time I was under the gun and cared more about getting the deal than anything else.

As much as I hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong.

“You’re not what I expected,” I confessed. “It’s taking me some time to calibrate.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Translation: when you read ‘gamer,’ you thought I’d be some stammering nerd with glasses who can’t talk to a pretty girl.”

If there was a compliment in that I didn’t stop to acknowledge it, and he didn’t expect me to.

“No.
But
,” I added, “I did hope that because you’re practically my age, you’d be more open-minded. You know, like not assuming a woman used anything other than her…intellectual assets to get where she is.”

“I never implied that,” Donovan corrected. “I just figured they didn’t take me seriously, so sent me someone fresh out of school.”

“Well, we’re both wrong. So maybe we should spend less time judging each other and more time listening to each other.”

He eyed me appraisingly. This time it was admiration, not hostility, in his narrowed gaze. “Well played.”

“This isn’t a game,” I retorted. The blood was pumping in my veins from the quick exchange but Donovan looked unaffected.

He leaned back in the booth, stretching his arms across the top. “Everything’s a game, Payton. That’s the big secret.  Work, life, sex. If you’re not playing one game, you’re playing another. If you can’t tell you’re playing a game? You’re losing.” The cynicism startled me, but he went on before I could react. “So tell me, what did you like about Oasis?”

“Well… I like the idea of it. That you can start from having nothing and find something that matters. Become something that matters. I like that you can work with other people to be stronger than you are alone. Sure there are the battles, but at the core it’s strategy—how you use your time, your money, your energy to accomplish your goals. I guess I also liked the characters. That you learned about their stories and what made them who they were.”

“That’s quite a list.”

“It’s quite a game.”

Pleasure flickered over his face, and I took a sip of my drink to soothe my scratchy throat.

I realized for the first time that I
did
like Oasis. I might not be playing it for kicks every night, but it was surprisingly addictive. And, though I’d never say it, I was impressed as hell that the guy in front of me had produced it himself.

“So, Mr. Donovan, if I give you twenty million dollars, what are you going to do with it?”

“Max.” His gaze probed mine.

“Excuse me?”

“My name,” he replied, lifting my glass to retrieve the cocktail napkin underneath it. “It’s Max.”

My thighs were nearly sticking to the leather of the booth, and I wondered if they’d cranked the heat in the bar.

If he noticed my discomfort, he didn’t let on. Max pulled a pen from his pocket and started to draw. He had an engineer’s precision, his aggressive block printing punctuating the straight lines. When he was done there was a long rectangle on the bottom and a smaller one on the top with lines coming out of it.

I watched with growing interest as he turned the napkin and leaned over the table so we both could look at it.

“First lesson, Payton Blake. Games run on a platform called an engine.” Max pointed to the bottom rectangle and I forced myself to concentrate on the drawing, not the barbell just a few inches from my face. “This is your foundation. Developers write a game—” he pointed to the top box, “—but the engine controls all of the physical laws of the world you’re in. It determines how high your character jumps. Or how quickly a fire spreads when you light one.”

I felt some of my focus fade from him and flow to what he was describing. My brain started lighting up, making connections. “So the laws aren’t the same for every game.”

“Right.” He drew more small boxes on top next to the first one. “You could run infinite games, either connected or completely distinct, off the same engine. Oasis borrowed on someone else’s engine.”

“You want to build your own.”

Approval shone in his eyes. “I want to build the best engine ever made.”

A shiver ran through me. The determination in his voice had me ready to buy whatever he was selling.

Plus, it was sexy as hell.

I ignored the last, very destructive, train of thought.

“So you’re going to create a whole new universe? With its own rules for…what, everything?” I couldn’t imagine how you’d even go about doing that, but I was getting into this. I might not know all there was to know about games yet, but I wanted to make this happen.

“Yeah. The secret is…we’ve already built it. Or technically,” he amended, “we’re nearly there, but we’re burning through cash. It takes a lot of hours. But it also makes for a unique experience. Oasis ran on an engine called Crystal. The new engine will be like nothing ever created before.”

I tried to keep up. “Engines have names? Like they’re pets or something?”

“Sort of. Our new one’s Evolve.”

I nodded slowly. “That is definitely better than Old Yeller.”

That’s when it happened.

Max grinned.

A dazzling, shit-eating grin that made my toes twitch in my pumps.

First cousins hot it is.

I cleared my throat, desperate to find the focus I’d lost somewhere in Max Donovan’s dimples. “So what’s the new game?”

“It’s called Phoenix. You want to help me with it?”

“Yes.” Excitement bubbled through me and I leaned forward.

Max shifted back in his seat, took a sip of his drink and looked at me over the rim. His eyes danced with something I couldn’t name. “This is good. This level of enthusiasm. Big improvement.”

I realized with dawning horror that he was done talking. “What, so now that I want to know, you’re not going to tell me anything?” I needed to know more. Not only was it my job, but now he had me damned curious.

“You’ll see more in the design document when my team sends it over. And, once you sign an NDA.” I could feel myself pout with disappointment. “But you can have my chili recipe for free,” he offered, the grin still in place.

“But…I’m going to see it in twenty-four hours anyway. Why not tell me now?”

“Because me not telling you is driving you crazy.” His voice dropped. “And I think I like driving you crazy.”

I uncrossed and re-crossed my legs under the table. He’d hooked me and was all set to reel me in, but at the last moment, he’d cut the line. “You’re a tease, Max Donovan.”

“I’ve been called worse.” The half-smile lingered but it was tinged with something darker I couldn’t name.

“Well, until tomorrow.” I signaled for the waitress. She dropped the check between us. Max glanced at the black folder but made no move toward it. “Hold up. You’re borrowing twenty million dollars and you want
me
to buy drinks? What is it with you and not paying?”

He shrugged, tossing back the last of his drink and setting the glass back on the table with a thud. “Alliance pays for this. Besides, you should thank me. I’m helping break down gender stereotypes.”

“All the specs better be in that document,” I grumbled as I handed the waitress my card.

“They will,” Max promised, and for some reason I believed him. “So once this all goes through, what happens?”

“I keep tabs on what you’re doing. Call to check in every couple of weeks and see if things are on track. If they’re not, I intervene.”

His eyes narrowed and some of the amusement fell away. “I’ve made a game before, Payton. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“Don’t think of it as babysitting. It’s more like…an extra set of hands.”

“And if I don’t talk to you every couple of weeks?”

“Alliance could call the loan. It’s in the terms for any project like this.”

He grunted. “So basically ‘be a good boy and everything will be fine.’“

“Exactly.”

We both shifted out of the booth at the same time. He was taller than I’d first thought, and I resisted the temptation to give him the same once-over he’d given me.

“Well. I look forward to your extra set of hands,” he murmured, his clever eyes connecting with mine. “Goodnight, Payton.”

Dammit, you might need to change your name.

“Goodnight, Max. “

Max brushed past me to head for the door.

The waitress returned my card a moment later. “I can’t believe he made you pay for drinks,” she sympathized. “He’s in here at least once a week and he always picks up the tab.”

I gritted my teeth. “Of course he does.”

Chapter 7

I don’t give a shit what my boss thinks

“Max, it’s Payton calling. Thanks for sending over the paperwork. You are now able to access the funds we discussed.

“We’re glad to be working with you. I wanted to know when we could reconnect for check-in meetings. You can reach me at this number anytime.”

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Re: Follow-up meetings and resources

Max,

Thanks again for signing on with Alliance. I’m looking forward to booking those follow-up meetings we talked about. Would you be available late next week?

I’ve also attached some resources I found on licensing engines. Thought it might be interesting as you’re thinking about how to turn Evolve into additional revenue streams going forward.

Best wishes,

Payton Blake

Associate, Alliance Financial