Love On My Mind by Tracey Livesay Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t other engineers. His customer was every person who’d ever owned a computer.
    “You’re right. Your peers are probably not interested in learning your favorite pizza topping—”
    “Exactly,” he interrupted, triumph in his voice.
    “But they won’t be reading this article. You know who will? The everyday consumer who’ll make you a success. It’s the difference between the Linux operating system and the iPod. One used and respected by people in the industry, the other a pop-culture phenomenon that not only changed the way we listened to music, but changed the way we consumed music as a product.
    “Now, I don’t know what you’ve created,” she hedged, when he subjected her to that laser-eyed stare again, “but if you’re being asked to do this interview, it means the company is trying a mass market approach. And that means appealing to people outside of your usual sphere.”
    She was fascinated by the way he considered her opinion. She thought she could see the rotors and gears in his brain sifting through the options.
    “How do you know who my peers are?”
    Her breath caught. Damn, this was hard. “I don’t. But anyone with this setup, and who talks the way you do, must work in an industry with intelligent people. And those people tend to read industry journals, not celebrity magazines.” Hopefully, that appeased any suspicions he had . . .
    Finally, he nodded. “No one, nothing, Unmapped, pepperoni and banana peppers, and combo.”
    Chelsea gaped at him. He’d delivered the information so smoothly that it took a moment to realize he’d responded to the questions. She glanced at the monitor and matched each answer he’d given to its proper mate.
    “Okay, that’s a start.”
    “Start? I’m done.”
    “Technically, you answered the questions, but your replies are basic and, well, boring. You’ve got to elaborate, spice it up.”
    “I told you, I don’t lie, Chelsea.”
    Did she imagine the extra grimness in his voice? A tingle of apprehension skittered down her spine and she shook off the feeling.
    “You’re not lying. You’re selling yourself to your future customers. Think of an apple. Apples are good for you. They’re healthy. But that’s not enough for people to buy them. We make them look appetizing. We emphasize the taste—tart or sweet—and the texture—soft or crisp—all to make the apple more appealing. And in the end, it’s worth it because we’ve sold an apple and we know the person who bought it will be healthy.”
    “You’re presuming it’s not enough to tell people that apples are healthy. That’s pessimistic.”
    “Not pessimistic. Realistic. I can help you with this. Let’s take each question one at a time. You don’t have a celebrity crush?”
    “No.”
    “I find that hard to believe. Come on, who do you find attractive?”
    “This isn’t the appropriate time to answer that question.” His blazing stare gleamed down on her, causing her nipples to tighten against her bra.
    It wasn’t?
    No! What was wrong with her? Had her body declared mutiny against her brain’s rationality and decided to throw its lot in with the nearest source of testosterone? Sure, she hadn’t been laid in a while— In over eight months! her body screamed—but she’d been around numerous men during that time and her body had never rebelled like an overprivileged teenager. Why was she reacting this way to this man?
    She swallowed thickly and looked away from his heated gaze, crossing her arms over her chest. “We can come back to that one. What about question number two? You don’t watch television?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “You don’t record shows?”
    “I work extensively. I don’t watch anything in real time.”
    “Then why did you answer ‘none’ to the question of which shows you DVR?”
    “Because I don’t use a digital video recorder. I can watch whatever I want online and on demand.”
    She drummed her fingers on the desk. “You don’t have to