24

That expression caused the humming in my chest to erupt, adding to the slickness on my palms and the jitters in my stomach.

This man wasn’t just hot.

He was beautiful.

And his eyes hadn’t left me.

Eyes that . . . I was positive I’d seen before.

But that was impossible. I was sure I was just recalling all the photographs I’d seen of him during my research; that was the only explanation for this familiarity that still nagged at me.

“My partners will be joining us any second.” He rested his hands on the table, folding his fingers together. “While we wait, I must say, your résumé is impressive. MIT graduate. You worked for Faceframe during your senior year of college—if the dates are correct?”

I smiled back.

It felt necessary.

Almost . . . important.

“Yes, well, they started recruiting me my sophomore year and offered to pay for the remainder of my education if I transferred to Stanford and came to work for them full-time.”

He glanced at the paper, which I could now see was my résumé. “Bu