“What do you want?” the irate woman asks.
I vaguely remember her. If memory serves, she rushed past me in the hall after Lina kicked me out of the bridal suite on her wedding day. Apparently, I’m on this woman’s shit list, too. I put up my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s all the hostility for? You’re not supposed to shoot the messenger, remember?”
“Messenger?” The woman sneers. “That’s rich. The person who convinced my cousin’s fiancé to cancel the wedding is an accomplice, not a messenger.”
My gaze darts to Lina’s face. Her mouth trembles, but I don’t even blink before she clears her face of any expression. Is that how she feels? Or am I just a douche by association? I wish she’d give me a peek inside her brain. It’s where all the action happens, and it must be fascinating in there.
“Look—” I point at the woman. “What’s your name again?”
“Natalia,” she says through gritted teeth. She jabs a thumb in the other woman’s direction. “And this is Jaslene.”
Jaslene shakes her head at me gravely. “Hey, Max.”
Huh. Jaslene doesn’t seem to hate me. Shocker. Maybe she’s a potential ally.
I turn back to the hostile one. “Look, Natalia, from what I overheard I gather you’re up to speed. Which means you also know Lina and I can’t avoid working together. I’m trying to make the best of an uneasy situation. So, do you mind if I talk to your cousin for a minute?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and shifts to the left. “Be my guest.”
“Alone, please?”
Natalia and Jaslene take several steps back but remain within arm’s reach.
“I stopped by to invite you to lunch today,” I say to Lina. “I think we should talk. Maybe clear the air and figure out a way forward? What do you say?”
Tilting her head, she widens her eyes and blinks like an owl on speed. “Clear the air? Why would we need to do that? We’re strangers, remember?”
Oh, we’re playing this game, are we? Fun. “Well, we’re strangers as long as I cooperate, remember? Rebecca’s just a phone call away.”
She straightens and glowers at me. “You. Wouldn’t.”
Dammit. She’s got me there. I shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t. But you know how in a movie when a group of teenagers does a bad thing, there’s always that one kid who cracks under pressure and confesses everything? That’s Andrew. If you and I don’t get our act together, he’s going to get scared and sing like a canary.”
She takes a small breath, her face pensive as she studies me. “We can clear the air right here.”
“Or we can clear the air over a nice lunch. Like adults.”
She leans over and rests her hands on her thighs, as if she’s addressing a small child. “Are you sure that wouldn’t put too much pressure on you to perform?”
Jesus. By the time Lina’s through with me, I won’t just be a shell of myself; no, I’ll be a mutated version that wears V-neck cashmere sweaters, relaxes in Adirondack chairs, and chortles when someone tells a joke.
“Nice,” Jaslene says.
Some ally she is.
Why am I subjecting myself to this abuse? I didn’t sign up for this. Okay, so maybe a tiny part of me is enjoying this snarky side of her, but that’s not the point here. If I don’t reassert myself, Andrew’s going to easily steer his planner to victory—and I can’t let that happen. Plus, I’m tired of being punished for someone else’s bad behavior. Andrew’s especially. Frowning, I squish my eyebrows together and pretend to be confused. “I think I might have missed the moment when I left you at the altar.” Then I rest a hand on my hip and tap my chin. “Oh, wait a minute. That was my brother. Sorry. I get us confused sometimes. You do too, apparently.”
Lina squints. Natalia growls. Jaslene gasps.
Oh fuck. That came out way harsher than I intended. Now I’m stranded on Gone-Too-Far Island, and these women are my only chance for a rescue. Before I can apologize, Jaslene pulls Lina away. They face each other, and Jaslene rests her hands on Lina’s shoulders, as though she’s coaching her through a personal crisis.
“Petty is as petty does,” Jaslene tells Lina, her voice urgent. “You can do this.”
Lina looks from Jaslene to Natalia, and the latter nods as though she’s the Godfather, silently putting a hit out on someone. What an odd trio.
Lina inhales, her chest rising high and proud, then she breathes out slowly. “Okay, Max. Where would you like to go?”
That’s it? She’s not going to flay me for that ill-advised outburst? I feel as though the Queen has granted me a reprieve. Well, I’m taking that reprieve and running with it. I still have five weeks to smooth over any bad feelings. “Your choice. Whatever you want.”
“How about the Grill from Ipanema?”
“In Adams Morgan? That’s right around where I live. Perfect.”
She nods. “Okay, I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”
I point at my illegally parked car. I’ll probably get a ticket if I’m not gone in the next minute. “I can give you a ride if you’d like.”
“Nah,” she says. “I need to run an errand first. I’ll meet you there.” She turns in the direction of her bodyguards while Jaslene pulls Natalia away by her shirtsleeve.
I take a few steps and freeze when I hear Lina call out my name. “Yeah?”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she says. “And I really appreciate the gesture.” Then she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and smiles at me shyly.
Lina’s luminous as it is, but that smile transforms her face, as though she’s suddenly glowing from the inside. It’s not just breathtaking, it’s breath snatching. I inhale deeply—because I want my fucking air back. “Uh, yeah, I’m glad we’re doing this. See you soon.”
She nods and turns away.
I stand in a daze of my own making, cautiously optimistic about the quick progress we’ve made. Makes me realize I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. Interacting with Lina isn’t a battle. It’s more like making a great cocktail—a science I’ll be perfecting over time. Take a person who thinks they’re in control (Lina), add in someone bent on throwing them off-balance (me), and stir vigorously. It’s effervescence in a glass, an explosion of flavors on the tongue, and it leads to tiny breakthroughs like the one we just experienced. With a few more tweaks, we’ll be so good together someone will want to bottle our chemistry.
Platonic chemistry, of course.
Just, you know, chemistry between two people interacting on a professional level and working toward a common goal.
Dammit. I can’t unthink it. Now I’m the one flustered enough to do absurd shit—like wonder what would have happened if I’d met Lina before my brother did.
* * *
Lina and I have just ordered our meals—an appetizer, entrée, and dessert for her (says she prefers to choose her dessert and work backward from there), and an entrée for me.
So far, so good.
I sneak a glance at her face as she sips her drink, a cloudy concoction with lime and mint in it. She’s been disturbingly serene since we sat down, and I’m recalibrating how to engage with her now that she’s no longer throwing daggers with her eyes. “Let me start by congratulating you on a fantastic opportunity. You must have really dazzled Rebecca. She’s putting a lot into this search process.”