Page 61 of Love Under the Microscope
Jack nudges my shoulder playfully. “Are you sure about that?”
Not when I wish he’d kiss me, but that would be a mistake, right? I do a quick cost-benefit analysis of the situation.
“You’re thinking about it,” he quips.
“Maybe.”
Jack sighs. “What if we figure out a way I can write the article without you identifying yourself?”
Yes, it’s probably a good thing he didn’t kiss me. Still, that sucks. I stare up at him. “Do you think you could do that?”
Nodding, Jack lets go of my hand and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes, I’ll do whatever it takes to make you satisfied. In case you haven’t guessed, which you probably have since you’re so smart, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”
I shimmy my shoulders. Oh, what the hell. I hug him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“Spoilsport.” A brilliant idea strikes me. “I know what we can do.”
He appears doubtful. “Guns blazing?”
“You just want to wear one of those cool tactical outfits, don’t you?” I tease, though he would look hot in one. “You can interview Nate. It’s almost the same as interviewing Mr. Z.”
“Except Nate’s done thousands of interviews in the past. There’s nothing elusive about him.”
My shoulders sag. “Oh, right. You want an exclusive.”
“I do, which gives me an idea.” His arm goes around the back of the couch and drops onto my shoulders. “Let me interview Mr. Z. Not you. Mr. Z. No one needs to know that’s you.”
My palms sweat for some reason, and I rub my hands up and down my thighs. “I told you I’m not ready to do an interview yet.”
“I hear everything you’re saying, but you’re in a tight spot.” He pulls me closer as if hoping to ease some of my tension, but that only makes my muscles bunch more. “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘the best defense is a good offense’? Sometimes it’s better to strike first. If he retaliates, he’ll just look petty.”
What he says makes sense. “It still sounds risky.”
“I’ll angle the article in such a way that it’s clear you know you have enemies in the industry. People or companies who want to see Zentello and Orchid fail. I’ll also include some facts and figures around corporate espionage in the pharma industry.”
“There are facts and figures for that?”
“If you know where to find them.” His thumb gently rubs along the back of my hand. “I’ll even make you sound hot.”
My lips twitch. “Hey, I am hot.”
“Not you, Mr. Z.” He pulls me even closer. “You’re smokin’ hot.”
I shoot him a coy glance. “How do you think people see Mr. Z? Short and fat with a goatee and a thin mustache?”
“That sounds like a cross between Alfred Hitchcock and Hercule Poirot.”
“Ooh, old-school references.” I tilt my head to study him. “And here I’m thinking you’re a naive young thing who can only reference as far back as the past decade.”
“I’m a well-educated man.” He runs a finger down the curve of my cheek. “I even know there was a bad man who tried to take over the world in the 1940s.”
“Now, that’s impressive. What about music pre-millennium? And please don’t quote boy band lyrics at me. Otherwise, we really can’t be friends.”
“That’s really a bummer.” He smacks a hand against my forehead and sings a well-known line about friendship from a famous boy band. “Bummer because I know just about every Boyz II Men song, thanks to a babysitter.”
I laugh and then push him away. “Nope. I said we couldn’t be friends. It’s too bad.” Then I sing a Backstreet Boys lyric about heartbreak.
