Page 27 of Love Under the Microscope
She smooths her tight black dress, her hands running along the sides of her hips almost tentatively. I don’t really know her, but in the short time I have, I’ve never seen her do anything like that before, and I wonder if she’s nervous. She doesn’t seem nervous, so maybe I’m projecting.
The corners of her mouth twitch. “I should warn you. I’m not a people person. That means you might have to do a lot of the talking.”
Her words match her gesture—definitely nervous. Again, that’s something I didn’t expect her to be, given she works with CEOs and other executives at Zentello and appears to be uber-confident, even at three o’clock in the morning in sexy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas. Okay, the jammies are more adorable than sexy, but her erect nipples took them to the next level.
As if pulled in by an invisible tractor beam, I move closer to her, my shoulder brushing hers. I’d smelled her perfume when we met in the hotel lobby, but now the scent surrounds me and makes me want to take another sniff. Man, she smells so good. I lace my fingers with hers, and the gesture feels more natural than it should. Her skin is soft and warm, and I hold on tight. For her sake, I tell myself, and nothing will convince me otherwise. “I’m an extrovert. I’ve got you covered.”
Her gaze collides with mine and then lowers to stare at her hand. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, and that bothers me. I want to know everything about her.
I squeeze Zelda’s hand the way a date—make that a fake date—would. “Okay?”
She doesn’t jerk her hand away. Instead, she nods. “We never discussed a cover story about how we met and why we’re together.”
“Didn’t even think of that.”
“Me either.” She looks at me again with her lips smashed into a thin line. If anything, she appears even more nervous. “Do you think we should do that now?”
The question catches me off guard as much as her tone. She’s the one in charge—the boss, so to speak, as I jokingly called her the day we met—yet she’s asking me what I think. Again, unexpected.
Zelda’s so different from the straitlaced woman I heard ran Nate Lowe’s professional life for him. People I’d spoken to said she rarely smiled and that she was all business all the time. The Zelda I’ve interacted with is funny and cute and a bit scatterbrained when it comes to her sleuthing plans. And even though I try to focus on the business side of her, I can’t deny she’s also very sexy in her dress with flirty feathers around the hemline, her hair worn loose so it falls past her shoulders, and the highest heels I’ve ever seen on her feet.
“Okay,” I say as we walk into the venue, still holding hands. Our linked fingers seem to have calmed her. Good. It’s been years since I’ve touched a woman other than bumping into someone. I must admit this is…nice. But nice is all it can ever be. I can’t forget that.
I clear my throat. “Let’s make the story as near to the truth as possible. How about this? I was interviewing you about Zentello, and we hit it off?”
She smiles at me. “I like that idea.”
Tingles fill my stomach.
What the fuck?
That shouldn’t be happening on a fake date. And then what this is hits me. Nerves over trying to pull off her plan with Nigel. Nothing more. “Are you using my real name?”
“Of course.” Zelda winks. “I’m not dating a pseudonym.”
“Don’t blame you. Jack fits me much better than Ernie or James.”
“Or Johnny.”
I stop. That was the first pseudonym I used in the article about Medi-Lion. A part of me isn’t surprised Zelda figured it out—she’s a smart woman—but once again, she’s caught me off guard. That’s becoming more of a habit where she’s involved. I’m also intrigued. “How’d you know—”
“Writer’s voice. You have a distinctive style compared to the others.”
I don’t know whether to be impressed or frightened by this woman. “Thanks.”
I think.
“Come on.” She pulls me toward the event entrance, where classical music drifts out from the open doors. “We don’t want to arrive too late.”
A few steps inside the ballroom, I stop again. I grew up middle class. Even the people I knew who got married didn’t have receptions at luxury hotels like this. I’ve never had the goal of being rich, and I’ve never been envious of how the other half lives, but this place …
Talk about impressive.
The ballroom is decked out in black and gold with huge swathes of fabric hanging from the ceiling along with large crystal chandeliers. It’s like something out of a movie set or streaming series. I had no idea real people lived like this.
I press my lips together to keep my mouth from gaping.
“Fancy,” I say, almost to myself, feeling like a stranger in a strange land. This is not my ordinary world. My dreams aren’t even this nice. “I’m afraid to touch anything.”
