Free Emma vs. The Tech Guy by Lia Fairchild

shook off the pity party for one and got back to my computer. At that point we hadn’t shared the new cover with the rest of the office, but I was dying to show it to Jayne. I resisted the urge, but I started to wonder if she was ever going to show her face. It wasn’t like her to pout for this long. In fact, it was more likely that she would have been waiting at my door with an apology.
    All the work I’d done over the last few hours had sailed me right up to lunchtime, so I got up to see what Jayne was up to. When I entered her office, she turned to me with a red face and brows that were knotted together.
    “God, are you still upset about yesterday?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
    She shook her head. “No, honey. But I am really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to cause a problem with you and your … best friend.”
    I stepped inside and walked over to her chair. “Hey, Jaynie girl. You’re my best friend too.” I meant it, but flinched at how high school that sounded. “Don’t you know that?”
    “I guess so,” she answered.
    “Then what’s wrong?”
    “It’s gone.” She shrugged her shoulders and stared at the screensaver on her computer. No, it wasn’t a beach scene or cute puppies frolicking. Four young hotties in work overalls, minus the top half which hung down past their waists, stood carrying tools and smiles. Those tight rippling pecks have to be airbrushed.
    “What’s gone?” I asked after my moment of distraction subsided.
    “My file. I worked on it for three hours. Did tons of research on it, too.” She looked up at me helplessly. “Bill wanted it, like, yesterday. I’ve tried everything.” She flopped down against the back of her chair and stared up at me with needy eyes. Unfortunately, Jayne didn’t have the same effect on Bill that I did. She found herself on the other end of his fury more than once.
    “Don’t panic yet,” I said. I put on my determined, problem-solving face. “Let me take a look.”
    We exchanged positions and I took her seat at the computer. As I began my own troubleshooting techniques, I asked, “Did you try Guy?”
    “He’s not in the office today and Matthew is too busy.”
    “All right, it’s okay. Let’s see … maybe ….” After a few more attempts I let out a frustrated sigh and shrugged. “Sorry, Jaynie.” Then I remembered what Guy had showed me on the server, only that was for emails. And it had been difficult to pay attention to what I was doing with him hovering over my shoulder. But there was one more option. “What about Marty?”
    “I don’t know.” Jayne shook her head, then rubbed the side of her temples. “Since when has Marty ever done anything right?”
    “I know, but he’s here today. And I don’t suppose the file can get any more lost, right?” I asked.
    “I guess. Let’s get his sorry ass in here.”
    I buzzed a couple of the offices where our freelancers hibernated until Marty picked up. I explained the situation in a needy tone that made me cringe and asked him to come to Jayne’s office. Then as though we’d beamed him up on the Enterprise , he materialized. Being replaced by Guy was probably hard to take even if he was relieved of the burden. Men need to feel needed. He stood in the doorway sporting his brown corduroy pants that scuffed the carpet as he walked and a cream-colored, button-down shirt. Tucked in with a belt, of course. Everything about him screamed old school. His hair, brown and bushy, wouldn’t behave if you paid it. The matching rug on his upper lip most certainly housed coffee residue with cinnamon specks from his morning donut.
    “Thanks, Marty,” Jayne said.
    I rose from Jayne’s seat. We both backed away, giving Marty room to get behind the desk.
    “No problem,” Marty said. He pushed his brown-rimmed glasses farther up on his nose as he sat down. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    As Marty tapped away at the keyboard, I peered over Jayne’s shoulder to see that she was sending