Sparks Fly

Excerpt:
AIDAN West let himself into his downtown apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him. He nudged open a small box on the wall beside it and tapped in a quick, complex series of numbers, disabling the self-installed alarm system that covered the whole of the apartment. He shrugged his denim jacket onto the sofa, kicked off his shoes, and went to turn on his network. It was always his first move, before a drink, before supper - before anything. Of course, he had mail to pick up, programming to check, but if he were honest, he knew the connection was more than that. It was his life. His purpose, his desire - and his only company nowadays.

He dropped his keys on the side table and took a deep breath, back in the sanctuary of his home. It had been a hell of a long day. He'd been back working full-time at Sparks for several weeks now - they'd demanded his total commitment and time as soon as they started preparing for the launch. Well, maybe the corporate letter - and the increasingly urgent telephone calls - had requested it, rather than demanded, but as far as Aidan was concerned, the request had been made with an edge of determination and a salary check that blew anything else he was involved in out of the water. It wasn't a problem, anyway, because he wanted to work on it again. And there was plenty of work to be done! The system had run reliably ever since inception, but the management was looking for something special for the launch, to present a new, more glamorous user interface in time for the public announcement. Something smarter and sexier, one of the marketing guys had said, his young face pink with enthusiasm. Aidan grimaced at the mere memory of the word in the same context as his work.

However, he was enjoying being there again, rejoining the technical staff. Being on a team wasn't one of his main priorities when it came to career decisions, but it was surprisingly pleasant, nonetheless. Only if the team was good, of course, which it was at Sparks. And even then, he didn't allow the pleasure to distract him. His intention was to direct the best of them on the main project support, while ensuring that no one was allowed anywhere near the core program without his overall supervision. That was always part of the deal, and the way he worked best. He'd be given responsibility for a team and they worked to his standards - or left. He'd fired men and women before; he'd do it again if need be. He was glad that Sparks gave him that measure of authority; that they realized he knew best in that area.

The large-sized screen of his PC popped into life in front of him, the blue light blinking in the dark room. He turned on a small but powerful side lamp. The room's main light bulb had blown days ago, and he kept forgetting to buy a new one. Like he forgot to get food, like he forgot to return calls from his work colleagues. Now they didn't bother inviting him out with them anymore. And when they did - well, he had to admit he could be a difficult companion. He wasn't so dense that he didn't see his own character faults. He could be too serious - he'd miss the point of other people's jokes, although his own sense of humor and his wordplay was sharp enough. He didn't have much time for clubbing and drinking, either, and he dated so rarely he couldn't remember much about the last time.

Yes, he could. He grimaced, ruefully. He didn't broadcast his sexual preferences much - he'd never seen any need to carry details of his whole personality on a placard around his neck - but he still seemed to attract people sometimes, whether he wanted to or not. There'd been a guy he met at the squash court a couple of times, and Aidan had been tempted beyond a nod and a civil hello - it had been in a moment of weakness; of sudden loneliness. The guy had finally persuaded Aidan to come for a drink after a tournament. The man had been good-looking, very easy-going. Good company, too. But it had been the first and last date.

Aidan knew it had been almost entirely his own fault. He was poor at social chatter and even worse at flirting. His interaction with people was clumsy and very often abrupt. He was intolerant of people who couldn't keep up with his thought processes, or who annoyed him - he also got too angry, too quickly, he knew that. He had a temper he couldn't control well when he was provoked. It was as if his body and emotions couldn't keep up with the speed of his brain. The guy from the squash courts had never meant to provoke Aidan - in fact, Aidan genuinely couldn't remember what he'd said or done that had disturbed their evening out - but things had gone downhill rapidly after that. Aidan had left before the bar closed, on his own - and before he'd had to make a decision about any other kind of interaction.

It was a familiar pattern for him.

He booted up the main unit and logged in, surfing his email quickly, and then padded into his bedroom. The apartment was just three rooms in total, and the kitchen acted as his office, of far more use to Aidan than somewhere to cook or eat. All of the sparse furnishings were from outlet stores, the walls bare of decoration, not that his surroundings were of much interest to him. He had no TV, he had no hi-fi. Just the computers, and they were leading edge equipment. He could download entertainment if he wanted, but he rarely did. And that was fine. It wasn't that he didn't have the money for anything else - no, the contract at Sparks paid well enough for the very best. But why would he need it?

He peeled off all his clothes, down to his boxers. He usually worked at night like this. The apartment was well heated, though he rarely felt the cold. He was a young, slender, sinewy man, with the pale coloring and the thick, wavy black hair of someone of Celtic descent. That inheritance came from his mother's family who had emigrated from Ireland during the desperate famine of the nineteenth century, but Aidan had never cared to investigate his history any further. No one who knew him had ever heard him speak of his family. He also had little interest in looking in the mirror at himself. If he had, he would have seen a very striking man, with full, sensual lips and vivid brown eyes. But his good looks were rarely shown to their best advantage - his expression was too often marred by a set mouth, and a habitual frown that mirrored his racing, internal thoughts.

There was a pile of papers on his desk beside the screen, and he caught sight of Sparks's name on one of them. Further down, it was signed off by Nic Gerrard. He'd worked very closely with Gerrard in the early days of development. At the time, he'd thought his new boss would be an insufferable nuisance, but he'd actually been quite tolerable. Very extroverted, very demanding, of course, and he moved in a different world from Aidan - but Gerrard had a good grasp of programming logic, even if he didn't have any technical expertise, and an excellent understanding of how it could service the product. It was Gerrard's idea and his enthusiasm that got it all going - but the final product, Sparks, bore the imprint of both of them. Aidan was very proud of that, although he'd never admit it aloud.

He'd enjoyed that time! That wasn't a word he used to describe his work very often. He smiled to himself, a little sadly. Part of his problem in socializing with other people was that he bored easily, and he needed continual challenge. Gerrard seemed to understand that, in those early days. Since then, the Sparks program still needed maintenance and enhancements, and Aidan was kept busy enough. But it wasn't quite at the same level.

He wished he weren't thinking about Nic Gerrard, though he wasn't entirely sure why. And it was damned difficult not to, when the man was on every billboard and every chat show! Now he was even in the financial press.

And where was he? Aidan West?

On your own again, he told himself, which is how you like to work, remember? In a team, maybe, but not of a team. And he thrived on it. Meeting deadlines, delivering the product, forcing through the testing and the implementation, and testing again. All driven by his own, personal determination. The thoroughness and single-mindedness were his trademark skills. There was so much satisfaction in producing perfection, that he didn't have either the time or the inclination for other relationships.

Did he?

He shook his head, impatiently. It wasn't his style, this introspection. What a fool, questioning himself! He sat down firmly at the screen and scrolled to his directory.

It'd be another quiet night in for him.

Like it always was.



"WATCH yourselves, Nic Gerrard's coming around this morning," called one of the girls in the executive office, passing by Aidan's cubicle. Aidan glanced up over the half partition, but looked down again almost immediately - it was Patti, Gerrard's own secretary, and she was talking to the guys in the cubicle one over from him. He didn't particularly want to catch her eye. She'd been acting kind of strange toward him recently. Kept hanging around him, even when he went for a cup of water.

One of his other colleagues laughed loudly as she passed by, and there was a babble of voices.

"Coming to fire someone - ?"

"No, something to do with the launch."

"Nah, to catch you surfing for porn!"

More laughter, more banter - Nic ran a relatively relaxed office, though he'd fired people in the past who didn't commit enough to him. Perhaps these guys have forgotten that, thought Aidan. He'd never had quite the same relaxed attitude toward staff.

But the boss hadn't come around this department for weeks and there was a certain amount of excitement when he did. Aidan didn't know why they should be so hysterical about it. Obviously the visit was to do with the launch. He paid enough attention to business matters to know the importance of the company going public, and also to expect the media circus that followed it - and Gerrard himself - around.

Nic arrived a half hour later. Aidan could pinpoint the exact moment because of the sudden, excited tension that gripped the atmosphere in the office. He watched Gerrard as he moved down the corridor, greeting some of the staff, laughing with his PA, that dark-haired, bossy guy who almost fawned over him. Nic was looking through some of the ideas from the team, signing some requisitions - just general stuff. He didn't need to come around here that often, he had plenty of managers to run things for him. Or so Aidan understood. Anyway, he usually made himself scarce when he knew a 'royal visit' was planned, for he could work remotely from his apartment as well as from here. Today had caught him unaware. The Gerrard effect was a distraction he didn't need.

The Gerrard effect! It was a phrase that Lin, one of his colleagues, had coined. She smiled mischievously as she said it, though even her breath had quickened at the mention of the boss's name. It was obvious to anyone who worked in Nic's companies for any length of time, the effect that his physical presence had. The whole office looked that little bit brighter, the staff more motivated, and all because of Nic's appearance. Aidan wondered what it was that made him so charismatic; that made them all like him so much. There was no envy involved, just curiosity. Nic was handsome, of course. And there was an inner presence to him - a restless excitement that showed in the way he moved, in his fast speech, in his very tactile approach to everyone. He shook hands often, put an arm around a shoulder.

Aidan found himself imagining that touch on his own body, but he shook off the ridiculous thought. He had no time for such nonsense.

Then the dark-haired assistant was pointing over to Aidan's cubicle, and Nic came right over to speak to him.

"Aidan - uh - hello."

"Is there a problem?" Aidan stood up to greet the boss, but he was confused. He couldn't think of anything that was running behind schedule, anything that wasn't being dealt with correctly. He cursed the fact that he felt uneasy. There was no reason for that.

"No," smiled Nic. Aidan couldn't help but notice the genuine pleasure in that smile. In fact, he found he couldn't look away. "Does there have to be a problem? It's just good to find you in the office, first time in ages we've met up. I know we haven't had many personal meetings since the initial development, but we're still on the same team, right? I just wanted to catch up with you. Say thanks for your work."

Aidan stared at him. They were of a similar height, and both had an innate confidence - almost arrogance - that made looking at each other something of a confrontation. Aidan didn't know why he should feel so defensive. Everyone said Nic was a charming, regular guy. Too charming, really, because there were plenty of rumors about his sexual appetite, and the trail of discarded lovers he'd left behind him. Aidan saw the good-looking man standing in front of him, and appreciated those looks in an objective way. It was, of course, of no personal interest to him. He just worked for the man, and it suited them both very well. Gerrard let him work on his own ideas, at times to suit himself, which was more than fair. And he always gave credit back where it was due, was always scrupulously honest.

Always honest....

"Come and see me next week," said Nic abruptly, breaking into Aidan's thoughts. "Okay? I have some more ideas I'd like to discuss with you. For after the launch. Okay?" he repeated, as if he were worried Aidan would say no. Aidan was surprised at Nic's insistence. His own, involuntary response to the man was startling - his awareness of the sharp, vibrant eyes, searching his; the other programmers, watching jealously; the slight increase to his heartbeat. God only knew what that was all about!

And then Nic was being drawn away, laughing, with only a brief backward glance at Aidan, who found himself standing beside his chair, temporarily halted from his work. There was an odd look on Nic's face, almost as if he'd been surprised by something Aidan had said. Aidan - although he didn't know it - was the only one to notice. And there was nothing he could think of to cause it; he'd given nothing more than a grunt of agreement. He wasn't employed for his small talk.

But he saw a sudden glint, a widening of Nic's eyes. A flash of something that sent out invisible tendrils to Aidan, teasing at his inner feelings. He felt Nic's energy as if it had reached out with corporal hands and stroked his skin. And, even more startling, he felt an answering reaction, a shiver throughout his body. Good or bad reaction, he couldn't have said, because he didn't have time to dwell on feelings, did he?

Idiot! he thought, scornfully. It was Gerrard's company, wasn't it? Wasn't this walkabout thing exactly what they all loved about him? It was just his normal practice. It was just his way of keeping them all on their toes.

It's a damned distraction, Aidan thought, settling back down to his screen. That was all. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, paused again.

Yes - just a distraction.