Dream Date with the Millionaire. Melissa McClone

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      His search query resulted in 336,000 documents. The Colonel was a character in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, but the descriptions Bryce read didn’t make sense. One article called the Colonel “sad and reserved.” Another said he was a “dull older man.”

      Nothing, however, explained why Sanfrandani was desperately seeking the Colonel. She was twenty-six, according to her profile—too young for such an old, boring guy. Unless she was a gold-digger.

      Bryce stared at Sanfrandani’s picture. Even though he couldn’t make out any of her facial features, she seemed to have a graceful neck. And that red bandana was starting to grow on him. Still, a woman after a rich husband would have uploaded a better photograph.

      But why had she responded to him so mysteriously, almost playfully, instead of telling him to get lost? She’d brushed off the other guys who had contacted her. Was she leading Bryce on? Or not?

      He was annoyed. Intrigued.

      Attracted.

      Not attracted, he corrected. This was an investigation, not a flirtation.

      Bryce needed more information so he could figure out where she was coming from and what kind of game she was playing. Then he would know what to do. As he hit “reply”, he heard a commotion outside.

      He hastily typed a response. He would have rather taken his time, but that wasn’t an option right now.

      “Look at this,” someone yelled outside his office. “Am I really seeing this?”

      A low hum buzzed.

      Not a good kind of noise either.

      Bryce hit “send” with a twinge of regret, but he needed to find out what was going on out there.

      “SQL injection.”

      The words stopped him cold.

      “No way.”

      “It can’t be.”

      He understood the disbelief in the voices. The denial.

      “It is.”

      Damn. Bryce bolted to the door. Someone had entered an executable code disguised as data into the site. No doubt trying to steal credit card and other personal information from the database.

      Outside his office, the noise level increased exponentially, his team springing into action like an Emergency Room staff with multiple casualties coming in. Except these injuries weren’t as easily diagnosed, and the damage unknown.

      “Run forensics on the logs,” Bryce ordered.

      “Already on it,” Christopher, a rock-star caliber software engineer, said.

      Bryce nodded his approval. “We need a snapshot of the database right now.”

      “I’ll do it,” someone said from across the room.

      “Let’s patch the hole, people. Compromised data?” he asked Grant, his number two employee.

      Compromised data—the stealing or copying of customers’ personal information—would be a PR nightmare. Even if credit card account numbers hadn’t been captured, there was the issue of privacy. Online dating may have become an accepted way to find love, but some people would be embarrassed to have their anonymous use of the Web site become public knowledge.

      Grant rubbed his hand over his face. “We don’t know yet.”

      “Okay.” Bryce projected calm. “Then let’s find out.”

      He wanted to jump into the trenches and dig his fingers in. Bryce was a techie at heart, but he was also the boss. Sometimes the two didn’t mesh well together. Today he would make sure things worked. He couldn’t afford for them not to.

      “Should we shut down the site?” Grant asked.

      Bryce shook his head. “Not unless we have to.”

      “Don’t want to lose the revenue?”

      The money didn’t matter to Bryce right now. This was personal. “I don’t want to tip off the hackers. Not if we can nail them.”

      “It’s a mess in here,” someone murmured from a few desks away.

      Bryce imagined himself as one of the Jane Austen heroes Sanfrandani liked to read about, ready to clean up the mess and save the day. Yeah, right.

      He sat at an empty desk, one being set up for a new hire, and logged on to the system to double-check the database. Bryce wanted to see that personal information—everything from names and passwords to credit card numbers—was encrypted. The data was. “How strong is the encryption?”

      “Strong enough to keep a 100,000-computer botnet busy for years,” a security specialist answered.

      Good news. But Bryce was still going to have to call their lawyer as soon as he had a better handle on things. It was going to be a long day. And most likely an even longer night.

      Talk about a long day.

      Dani stretched her arms above her head. She needed a nap but would settle for more caffeine. She’d spent her afternoon working on search engine optimization aka SEO. Increasing traffic to the site was a big part of her marketing job. The more hits, the more clicks. And that meant more money—advertising revenue. But turning visitors into repeat users was important, too, and sometimes harder to do. Especially when the site lacked the type of content it needed to draw people back. Content she’d found on Blinddatebrides.com. Content she now had to create for Hookamate.com.

      Too bad she was more interested in checking her e-mail every five minutes to see if Bigbrother had replied. She’d never been like this before, waiting for some strange guy to e-mail her, disappointed when he hadn’t.

      Pathetic.

      That was what she was.

      And distracted ever since she’d checked out Bigbrother’s profile. Talk about making a big mistake with a single click.

      He lived in San Francisco and was cute in a geeky sort of way. In his picture, he wore a San Francisco Giants baseball cap pulled low on his brow. Dark hair stuck out from the sides. He was dressed casually in a Boston Red Sox shirt and a pair of faded jeans. The photo wasn’t a close-up, but she caught a hint of a smile on his face. He almost looked…shy. She liked that.

      A beep sounded. Dani checked her e-mail again.

      Jackpot.

      Bigbrother had replied. Anticipation unleashed the butterflies in her stomach. She couldn’t wait to see what he’d written. She opened the message.

      To: “Sanfrandani” <[email protected]>

      From: “Bigbrother” <[email protected]>

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