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created by someone and only used on our server, the anti-whatever programs wouldn’t catch it.”
    “Dammit.” Violet snatched a pencil from one of the jars on her desk and tapped it on the blotter. Panic was contagious. If Francis was correct, and he usually was, then they would have to go in and find the bug. She hated going into code. This was why she hired the wonderfully efficient programmers/developers like Alyssa and Rogers and Pete. The thought of going in to find the problem, then to fix the problem, made her head hurt. “Good Lord.” She put her head down on the desk.
    His chair pushed back with a squeak and he was behind her, rubbing her shoulders with strong hands. “Violet. I’m betting it’s a small problem. We’ll run the diagnostics on the server like you said.”
    “But you said—”
    “I’m a gloom and doom type of person. It’s probably a simple piece of malware. We’ll wipe it out and go on our merry way.”
    “If you’re sure.”  Her folded arms and her desk muffled her voice.
    “All we can do is try. Then we can see where to go from there.” He slid his fingers into her hair and began massaging her scalp. “But you have to relax, you hear me?”
    Violet wanted to curl up and purr, right there on her desk. Why couldn’t she have a normal life with a normal boyfriend, not this strange, out-there relationship with someone who was supposed to be a business partner? Damn Atlantic City conventions and their Manager’s Receptions! Free-flowing liquor and a balmy night at the Jersey Shore was a recipe for disaster. On top of it all, what happened in Atlantic City didn’t stay in Atlantic City.
    They should have gone to Vegas.
    “Francis?”
    “Yes?”
    “Never mind.” Soothed by the scalp massage, she had to shake herself into action. “Let’s start running the checks. No time like the present.”
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Despite the diagnosis on the servers, the anti-virus, the malware programs, and everything else, the ticks and glitches in the programs kept appearing and seemed to be multiplying. Even after running every program on the server known to the free world, they still weren’t sure what was going on. Violet tapped her blotter with the silver letter opener. Early morning in the office was quiet. Before they got started on another day of searching, she sorted through the mail.
    “Is it safe?” She spoke without looking up.
    Francis didn’t miss a beat. Stumping each other with movie quotes or other trivia was a way of kick starting the morning. “Marathon Man.” He guessed correctly. “How about: ‘I had a roommate, but my mother moved to Florida’.”
    “Ghostbusters. Easy-peasy.” Violet grinned at him. “I saw that last night.”
    “Seems like we’re even. But you owe me lunch.”
    “I’ll raise your lunch and buy you dinner, since it looks like we’re going to be spending even more time here tonight.” Violet sliced open an envelope with a flick of her wrist and scanned the contents. “Seems like I have so many trial offers going I don’t know what’s what.”
    Watching her was a welcome distraction from the crisis. Yawning, she placed the envelope in a stack of similar envelopes and dropped the letter opener in the desk drawer. “What’s the good word for today, if there is any?”
    “Not so good, Vee. The beta testers are reporting even more problems with the software. Seems like what we’re doing isn’t working.”
    “Damn.” Violet snatched a lucky pencil from her jar and began scribbling on her blotter.
    As he filled her in on the latest bad news, the scratching of pencil on paper became more furious until she dropped that pencil and snatched another. It was a five-pencil debriefing. When he had finished speaking, she tapped the sixth pencil on her desk, a pensive look on her face.
    “This is serious. Have you spoken to Rogers about this?”
    Francis hesitated before answering and she peeked over her monitor at