“Hey, Roger,” she said, turning on her sweet voice that made most men bend over to accommodate her. This included Roger, even though he would never admit to possibly being attracted to her. “Can I borrow your laptop for a minute? I want to check my email.”
“Oh for…” Roger reached into his bag and pulled out the heavy chunk of plastic that was his laptop case. “Fine. But only because I’m tired of carrying it around anyway.” He had been using it to take notes at panels and presentations. Him and every other real estate Joe with the same great idea. Never before had Lana seen so many cords plugged into outlets, since at best a laptop like Roger’s only got two hours of battery life. We truly are in the technological age. Lana barely knew how to use a laptop, so this was always a hoot.
She sat in the first available chair that had its back to a wall. The laptop was hot against her thighs, its fan already kicking up a fit the longer she kept her skirt pressed against the vents. Shut up and let me do this. Roger was already logged in. All she had to do was locate the browser, wherever it was. Whatever happened to Netscape, anyway? Oh! There it was!
“Don’t change my homepage again,” Roger warned her. “Last time you used it I opened up my laptop to find Google. Don’t do that.”
Just to spite him, Lana went to Google’s homepage and may or may not have agreed to let it be the new permanent one. Besides, she had some searching to do before checking her email. One of these days I’ll get my own laptop. She was holding off on buying an overheated clunker until she was at a new firm. Until then, she would use her desktop back home and be happy with it.
“Kenneth Andrews real estate,” she typed into the search bar. After her date last night, she was hankering to learn more about the man who always had something else hidden up his tasteful sleeves.
Right away she was led to his personal profile page on the Lois & Bachman website. A professional headshot looked back at her. Hello, Mr. Sexy. Lana had to contain her excitement. She wasn’t here to look at pictures of the man she made love to two nights in a row. She wanted deets. Lots and lots of delicious details.
He’s not even thirty yet? Whoa. Lana had pegged him to be at least in his early 30s, if not a solid thirty-five. That had nothing to do with how he looked and everything to do with his position in his prestigious company. Plus, the amount of self-assurance that man carried was something she attributed to older men, not one still in his twenties. Not that his profile gave his birthday. It simply said he graduated with a Master’s in Real Estate Development a mere few years ago.
When Lana scrolled through the other places he had worked for, she was less surprised to see how successful he now was. Some of the nicest firms (of various sizes) in New York had once hosted him as an intern or outright paid him to be their right-hand man. Lois & Bachman was a gig he entered as an agent and now controlled in lieu of the actual Lois & Bachman. “Ken has been the lead manager of our firm since early 2002. He’s ready to take a look at your needs and help you make the best plan of attack in today’s market.” Lana also knew he owned at least one nice hotel and wanted to, oh dear, diversify into other areas of real estate holdings. If that wasn’t sexy enough…
She then did a quick search on his family. Aha! No wonder. The Andrews were an old money family going back a hundred and fifty years with increasing success. His father was one of the biggest investment bankers in Boston. No wonder Ken had started creating his own success at an early age. Lana was very familiar with how a little nepotism and a lot of family money could open important doors. Still, we ain’t as rich as these people. Sexier and sexier.
Before Roger could peek at what she was doing, Lana opened her email and stared at the business card in her conference media packet. [email protected] was about to get a flirtatious email from his lover of the moment.
“Do you still want to meet for dinner? You and me? I’ll leave Roger to rot for another night, although I’ll have to think up a good reason. Any ideas? I’ve already pretended to be sick.”
She fired off that email and wondered how she was going to ask to use this computer again later. Either that or she would have to pay to use the hotel computer later that evening, and that was gross. I’d be better off going down to the Mac Store and finally treating myself. She didn’t doubt half the male contingency of the conference would volunteer to condescend to her about electronics.