Page 29 of Love Under the Microscope
“Raging?” Jack raises a brow. “From one kiss?”
Yes, but what a kiss. I force myself not to sigh and fan myself.
Stop being so ridiculous.
I’m not a teenager with unrealistic expectations of love. I’m divorced and far closer to forty than thirty. But our plan seems to have worked.
Nigel has kissed me enough that he can see how much I enjoyed Jack’s. No pretending involved there. Nigel no doubt saw my fingers threading through Jack’s ginger hair, pulling us together as if I couldn’t get close enough and didn’t want to let go. Again, no acting involved there either. The science journalist knows how to kiss, and I wouldn’t mind another.
“Seems like it,” I say, trying to keep my senses when part of me wants to lean into him and say take me now. But I know something I can do—for Nigel’s sake. And maybe a little for mine. “You think you could just pat my ass for a little extra?”
Jack frowns. “Seriously? There’s a whole movement to stop that kind of stuff. I’m sure you’ve heard of Me Too.”
“Yes, but I’m giving you permission.” I try hard not to roll my eyes. Him being so hesitant to touch me isn’t the vibe a hot-to-trot couple should give off. Even though we’re playing make-believe, I need Nigel to think this is real. That’s the only reason I’m pushing this. It has nothing to do with what I want. Nothing at all. “We’re two consenting adults enjoying each other’s company for the evening. A woman likes it when her date pats her ass.”
“Is that right?” His grin fits well with his twinkling eyes, and it’s clear the two of us could make an awful lot of trouble together if we wanted to. A part of me does, except I need to focus on saving Zentello. And let’s face it, the men I’ve been involved with all wanted something from me, including Nate. Unconditional love was never part of any of my relationships. And the only thing Jack wants from me is access to Mr. Z.
“Oh yes, indeed.” I grab two champagnes from a passing server since we’ve never gotten around to ordering from the bar. “Here. These are free.”
Jack takes one and stares into the bubbly with a look of slight disgust. “I prefer beer, to be honest. But the price is right, and we don’t have to wait.” He takes a sip and shrugs. “Not as bad as I expected, but it kind of tastes like fizzy perfume.”
“Hmm,” I say around a swallow of bubbly. “This is a damn good champagne, but I need to speak to the chair about checking our margins to make sure we’re not spending too much money on the event so we can donate as much money as possible to the charity.”
Jack laughs. “I’m sure you will.”
Something catches my eye, and when I turn to see what it is, I inhale sharply. Yes, our plan is working.
“What?” Jack asks, his tone full of concern—not about me, but that our plan goes accordingly because he has his own agenda.
I quickly turn back to him and know I need to keep my voice low. “Nigel is coming this way.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing.” I give a slight shake of my head. “Just let him hang himself.”
Nigel Carrington is a good-looking man, and I’d been dazzled by those good looks when I first met him. I’m not a stupid woman, but I’d acted silly around him. It might well have been because I was desperate for male company after my divorce. My biological clock had also been ringing loudly after I got together with Nigel, a surprise because I hadn’t wanted to start a family with Nate, given how much he worked. I didn’t want to be a married, single parent. I knew—and still know—Zentello is his first love. Possibly his only true love, and nothing will change that. Yet no amount of pressing the snooze button would turn that thing off with Nigel. My body wanted what it wanted until I moved in with him and saw how I’d misjudged our relationship thanks to my baby fever. Thank goodness I wised up and have been cautious with men ever since.
Post-breakup, Nate and I worked and ate meals together, but our friends-with-benefits arrangement came a year after Nigel, and no, I’m not proud of us becoming that.
“Zelda.” Nigel’s tone is low and hard, and I feel no attraction, especially when his voice used to be part of our foreplay. His tense jaw tells me he noticed the little show Jack and I put on.
“Hello, Nigel.” I flash him a sickly-sweet smile, which is as fake as my date with Jack, but Nigel will never know that. “How are you tonight?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.
“I’m here to support the charity like everyone else. This”—I place one palm on Jack’s chest and tilt my champagne flute toward him—“is my partner, Jack Parker.”
Nigel’s quick glance at Jack is followed by a twitch of his eye. My ex knows exactly who Jack is. A good thing we didn’t go with my original plan.
“And how do you know Jack?” Nigel asks, his lips practically curling.
“Jack was interviewing me, and well…” I stare at Jack with what I hope is a loving smile. It’s been a while since I’ve loved anyone romantically, and I hate that the last person I felt this way about was Nigel.
Nigel must’ve bought our charade because he frowns and steps closer. His gaze intensifies as he stares into my eyes. “What kind of game are you playing, Zelda?”
I force a smile. “No game. I’m here to attend the benefit. Like you.”
“And why are you here and not your bosses? They must be desperate and in hiding to send their personal assistant in their place.”
