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She glared at him. People were so trusting, he thought.
“I’m sorry to tell you, but any computer science student could have accessed these photos.”
The thought obviously hadn’t occurred to her.
“But how… why?”
“You mean, aside from being bored teenagers?” He shrugged. “Who knows? But there’s nothing pseudonymous about it now.”
Her face fell. “I have to contain this. I don’t want these photos connected to my other work. They can’t be connected. Not in this town.”
Maybe they had something in common after all. Ethan got up and went to the window. The good girl with a secret. It put her in an entirely different light.
“Look,” he said with a sigh. “If you redo your website properly, adjust the SEO and keywords, install a decent firewall, it’ll be harder to make the connection – not impossible, you understand – but someone will have to make a dedicated effort.”
The relief on her face was almost comical.
“That’s wonderful. How quickly can you do that?”
“Oh,” he said. “I don’t do that sort of work. I could give you some recommendations for competent website designers. That’s all you need.”
He was the cyber security equivalent of a stealth detective-surgeon, able to identify tumors, remove organs, amputate limbs, replace lifeblood, all without the host even being aware that he was there.
She was asking him to remove a sliver from her pinkie.
Carrie’s face fell. Her soft eyes, the color of rainwater, met his and held and he found himself hoping that he passed whatever evaluation she was giving him.
Were those tears sparkling on her lashes?
No. Not tears. Anything but tears.
He did not deal in pleas. Certainly not from women with stormy eyes and milky skin who pretended courage when they were terrified, which is the only kind of courage that mattered.
He kicked himself for answering her inquiry in the first place, but something about the way she’d worded it had appealed to him. It made him wonder about her voice. It sounded like a human. A woman.
It had been a long time since he’d spoken with a woman.
He’d let her in, and now he was stuck. “Carrie,” he said, finally. “What’s the big deal? Boudoir photos aren’t new. Lots of women have them done.”
She blinked, and the sparkle disappeared. She pursed her lips again and adjusted her posture.
“Not here, they don’t.” She shook her head firmly. “Things like that aren’t done in Cherry Lake. Certainly not by me.”
“If you say so.”
But he knew better than most that people were rarely what they appeared on the surface. Even Cherry Lake would have its share, whether she believed it or not.
Suddenly he realized he didn’t like the idea of someone else clicking through the photographs with the blue vase. He felt a strange, unwelcome, ridiculous surge of jealousy, as if they were his. As if it was his responsibility to protect her.
“I’m vividly aware of how dumb I was in letting this happen, okay?” Her color was high, as was that pert chin. He had to admire that kind of spirit. “But I’m trying to fix it now. Are you going to take the job or not?”
“As a security consultant,” he said, “my job is to make you aware that there’s no such thing as security. If someone wants to hurt you, they’re probably going to find a way. Even in the sweet, sheltering arms of Cherry Lake.”
Carrie lifted her eyebrows slightly and gave one slow blink.
“Get invited to a lot of parties, do you?”
He felt unaccustomed warmth prickle his neck.
“I don’t create the truth. I just tell it.”
“It’s a wonder you have any work, if that’s your sell sheet.” She crossed her arms.
“I sell fantasy, lady.” He gestured to the closed laptop. “Just like you do.”
She sucked in a breath, making her breasts swell against the fabric of her blouse. “Thanks for your time, I’ll be on my way.”
She began to get to her feet but he waved her down.
“Stay. Sit. Sorry,” he added, wincing at the dog language. “I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.”
