Page 21 of Love Under the Microscope
No one should be awake in the middle of the night.
Oh, no. Did something happen at Zentello or to Nate, or did Chloe go into labor? She’s pregnant again, and it’s way too early for the baby to be born, but if that’s the case, why didn’t someone call me?
I scramble out of bed, still holding on to my phone, and hurry out of my bedroom, speeding up as I run toward the front door.
When I reach the entryway, the porch light is on, so I peer out the peephole—because safety comes first even in an emergency, and—
Jack Parker is standing at my front door.
What the fuck?
I unlock and throw open the door. Pissed doesn’t begin to describe how I feel right now. My heart pounds like an alien is trying to burst out of my chest. “Jack!”
“Hey, Zelda.” He appears rested as if he’s had a full night’s sleep. Not only that, but he’s also still got that sexy, put together vibe going on. Even his hair is styled. Unlike me, with a bird’s nest of hair on top of my head and a sleep crease down my face from my pillow.
“How the hell did you get my address? And what are you doing here at three o’clock in the morning?” I rub my tired eyes and yawn. “I thought it was an emergency or something bad happened. Maybe someone died.”
The words spew out of my mouth like jets of charged particles moving at the speed of light out of active galactic nuclei. I’m generally not like this, but I’m tired and need to sleep, and he’s the last person I expect or want to see at any hour of the day.
“God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
The guy is either lying or being cheeky. I can’t determine which, so maybe he’s both.
Jack peers around as if to see if I’m alone. “Can I come in?”
I stare at my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas and sigh. I’d rather go back to bed, but something has dragged him to my place at this ridiculous hour. I might as well hear him out. “Yes, but this better be good.”
I stand aside to let Jack inside, and when he walks past me, his arm brushes my boobs. The only thing between my bare skin and his is the thin jersey fabric of my pajamas. Maybe it’s the cool breeze, or maybe it’s because they’ve not had much male attention for a while, but my nipples spring to attention.
I hate that my body betrays me by reacting, but this is all on me for working way too many hours and ignoring particular needs. I’ve tested Orchid, but only by myself using a few vibrators. I’ve been experimenting with a wand and a clit sucker to see which performed better for me. Unfortunately, it’s been a long, dry spell since I had sex with another person, and I hate that. I enjoy being touched and miss the intimacy.
“You must be a light sleeper.” Jack walks into my living room, all tall and cocky like he belongs there, and then runs into my reading chair, knocking it forward and sending a throw pillow to the floor. He picks that up with a sheepish expression on his face. “Oops. Didn’t see it.”
I don’t believe him. Maybe touching my boob affected him too.
Still…the guy has some nerve. I should have made him stay on the porch. My floor plan is open, and the temperature is cool, but he makes everything seem smaller and cozier and warmer for some reason. I don’t like that at all.
“I didn’t knock that long, yet you answered,” he adds.
“Your knock could’ve woken the dead.” He doesn’t need to know I only turned out my light half an hour earlier. My brain never stops thinking about all the things I need to do and take care of until my head hits the pillow. It’s hard having so much responsibility and people counting on you. Maybe that’s why I both love and hate my life, often at the same time. “Okay, sit down and talk to me.”
Jack sits on my sectional, and his elbow bumps the light on the end table. He grabs it quickly and keeps it upright. Okay, maybe he isn’t as cocky and calm as I first believed.
He glances around the room, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I have a lovely townhouse in a good part of the city. I bought it before real estate took off, but I will admit my furniture is expensive. I have certain…tastes, and I prefer to buy good quality. It doesn’t matter if I’m purchasing chairs or panties. Still, the judgment I see in Jack’s face annoys me. As in temperature-rising, feeling the need to go on the defensive annoyance.
“I work hard.” I take a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “And I like nice things.”
He frowns. “Not sure what you’re getting at.”
I point at his face. “You look as though you’re judging my place.”
“Nope.” He shakes his head, then seems to catch himself. The guy seems a little off for some reason. “Just thinking you have good taste.”
I watch him carefully and take his word for it. What else can I do? I’m too tired to get into a conversation about my shopping habits. I wouldn’t say I’m addicted to retail therapy, but I may be a tad overzealous when I actually have the time to go to a store. Although I love to shop, most of the time, I order online. “I believe I asked you two questions right before you walked in. I’m still waiting on the answers.”
Jack gives me a tentative smile, and my heart bumps. Just a little, though any amount is too much where he’s concerned.
“I’m a…journalist. An investigative reporter. Searching for people is my job, and I have sources. Don’t forget that.” He points a finger at me as if to remind me I am one of his, and I roll my eyes. In his dreams, maybe.
