Page 28 of Love Under the Microscope
“Hmm, I’ve gotten used to these things, thanks to Nate. His family has money. That’s not confidential. Just search Nate Lowe’s parents. And I promise you, nothing will break given how much alcohol will be consumed tonight, so touch away.” She lets go of my hand and waves at a woman approaching us. “Hey, Lynelle, how are you?”
A woman dressed in black with a gold bow-type thing in her hair pulls Zelda into a hug. They chat for a few seconds, then someone else comes along and grabs Zelda. It’s a guy wearing a tux, not unlike the one I have on, courtesy of a tailor that Nate uses. Marcel found me something to wear tonight as a favor to Zelda.
We walk toward the bar. Man, I need a drink. But six feet later, we’re stopped again. Each time we start, we don’t make it very far. For someone who isn’t a people person, Zelda is popular.
“You seem to be holding your own here,” I say.
Zelda shrugs. “You make it easy.”
If only… I laugh because I have nothing to do with how all the attention leaves her unfazed, chatting and welcoming people with a hug and a friendly word. Everyone we run into seems pleased to see her. She’s magnetic, pulling people toward her with no effort. Maybe she does have a tractor-beam effect like I felt earlier.
Finally, we reach the bar. I glance at the menu, which is written in a fancy font. At the top is the drink of the evening, some custom cocktail created by a famous mixologist brought in for tonight’s event.
I’m not sure I want one of those, especially at that price. Even a beer is spendy. Then I remember this is for charity. “What’s the gala benefiting?”
“MedicAid. The money will be used to send medicine to Africa. Nate was supposed to represent Zentello tonight, but he’s at a conference in Chicago with two of our lead scientists, so unfortunately, I’m here in his place.”
“Mr. Z couldn’t make it?”
She shrugs. “Nate asked me to attend, so here I am.”
So much for getting some info about the other CEO tonight. “You seem to know an awful lot of people who are here.”
“Nate meets up with them at conferences and stuff like this. Some good people are in the industry, but…” She points at a guy who looks like the archetypal all-American pinup boy. Neatly styled blond hair, tall, broad-shouldered, and a face people write poems about. “He isn’t one of them.”
“Who is that?”
“Nigel Carrington.” Her face is impassive, and her tone is flat.
Ah, the less-than-kind ex. “Good-looking. If that floats your boat.”
She shrugs. “Maybe on the outside and a bit on the inside once, but no longer apparently.”
“How are we going to get his attention to start our revenge plan?”
She holds up a finger as if to stop me. “Not revenge. The more I’ve thought about this, the more I realize I’m not after revenge. I want to stop him from being a douche. Big difference. If I want revenge, then I’d go for chopping off his dick. It would be far more satisfying, don’t you think?”
I see her logic, but I’m unsure what tonight will accomplish if she’s not looking for revenge by making him jealous. Yes, being her fake date was my idea. But the more I think about it, the more I have to wonder … how will our dancing together help us find out if Nigel Carrington is the person spreading rumors about Zentello?
She touches my arm lightly, but the way her fingers spread on my biceps appears almost possessive. I guess it’s showtime, though maybe that started when I held her hand on the way in. Still, I can’t wait to see how Zelda will play this because why would making a guy jealous lead him to admit to anything?
I see Nigel glancing our way. “So what do we do first?”
“This.” She looks me in the eye, brings her hand up to touch my face, and kisses me.
CHAPTER 6
ZELDA
Whoa! This guy has the softest lips and the most talented tongue ever. I press my mouth harder against his because I want more, so much more. Tingles erupt in my stomach, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. Oh my. I arch toward him. This kiss…
As my blood heats, I’m lost in the moment, my fingers running through his hair until I grip the ends.
Jack pulls away and smirks at me. “A bit of a cliché, don’t ya think?”
Well, that tosses a wet blanket on the passion building between us. I physically sag, wishing he would have enjoyed the kiss as much as I did. And then I spot Nigel. He’s watching us, and the look on his face says it all. If jealousy is green and anger is red, they make brown when mixed. Well, let’s just say brown smoke is pouring out of Nigel’s flared nostrils. The man doesn’t look happy, and suddenly, I’m not as upset at Jack for not enjoying the kiss.
“Mission accomplished,” I whisper to Jack, brushing the lapel of his tux. “He’s raging with jealousy like a bull who missed out on running with all those fools in Pamplona.”
