Merry and Bright(2)

“There’s a new exhibit,” he told her. “Floating furniture made with matching sets of repelling magnets. The couch can support up to two thousand pounds, can you believe it? How cool is that, a floating couch?”

“Very,” she said, wondering who would want a floating couch.

He smiled. “I’m putting one in my office. They’re carrying it up now. Want to stick around and see?”

Was he gearing up to finally ask her out again? Unlike Jacob, Scott was her type. She knew this. He was cerebral, brilliant really, and extremely into science, which made him perfect.

“Hey.” This from boss number two, who poked his head out of his office, right next to his brother’s.

They were identical twins. Crazily competitive twins, with Tim into robotics and Scott into molecular bionics. They ran Data Tech as a legacy to their father, while each doing their damnedest to one up the other, at work, at play, in any way they could.

Tim tossed a glass vial to Maggie. Her latest formula, which she’d given him a few days ago. “It’s beautiful,” he told her. “But we’ve added a secret ingredient. Let us know what you think.”

She held the vial up to the light but didn’t see any change. “What is it?”

“Tim,” Scott said, suddenly looking unhappy. “I—”

“Just something to smooth the formula,” Tim said over Scott. “It’s a secret until you let us know if you like it.”

“I’ll try it out tonight.” She’d been running test groups on the drug delivery formula using Vitamin B3 and other essential oils as the drug of choice. So far, she’d been inconsistently successful, but she would get there.

“Tim.” Scott sent his brother a long look. “I thought we—you know I wanted to . . .”

“Spit it out, bro.”

But Scott appeared to have lost his words, and just glanced at his brother.

“Lethologica,” Maggie said. “The state of not being able to find the word you want.” She patted Scott’s arm. “Don’t worry, it happens to me all the time, it’ll pass.”

Scott blinked and she smiled, but he didn’t return it. “I’ll test it for you,” he said instead, reaching for the vial. “No need for you to have to.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t mind at all.”

“She doesn’t mind,” Tim said to Scott. “Let it go. ’Night, Maggie.”

Maggie looked at Scott, who clearly wasn’t going to ask her out now. “ ’Night.”

“Maggie.” Scott eyed the vial. “I really think—”

“ ’Night,” Tim repeated, putting a hand over his twin’s face and pushing him back into his office. “Don’t have too much fun tonight, Maggie.”

Okay, they were acting strange. But who was she to judge? As for having fun, ha. After a lifetime of being the nerd, of going to Stanford three years ahead of her peers, of completing college before anyone her age had even begun, she’d gotten damn good at not having fun.

And wasn’t that just the problem.

Turning, she walked to the elevator. She could see Jacob and his crew at work, just down the hall. He stood on a ladder, pulling a hammer out of his tool belt, reaching far above him to a ceiling tile, that long, hard body all stretched taut . . .

The elevator dinged and she stepped into it, craning her neck, not to see all the pretty decorations, but to catch the last view of Jacob’s tush as the doors slid shut. Was Scott’s butt that cute? Since he always wore a white lab coat, she couldn’t say.

Outside, she drew in a breath of the cool L.A. evening air and headed to her car as her cell phone rang. It was her sister Janie, a UCLA professor who did not have the geek gene. Nope, Janie had somehow snagged a normal life for herself. She’d married and brought two beautiful kids into the world, and was determined to make sure Maggie did the same.

“Hey, Mags.” Janie’s mouth was clearly full. “Sorry, chocolate stuck in my teeth.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still eating leftover Halloween candy.”

“A Baby Ruth bar. Sinful, I’m telling you. Why do you think they call it a Baby Ruth? Why not a Baby Jane or something?”

“It was supposedly named for Grover Cleveland’s baby daughter.”

“Your brain works in the oddest ways.”

“I know.”

“Uh-huh. And do you also know if you’re coming for Christmas Eve?”

“Bringing the pumpkin pie.”

“Spending the night?”

“Wouldn’t want to miss Santa.”

A lie, and they both knew it. Maggie just didn’t want to be alone in her condo on Christmas morning. “What am I supposed to get you for Christmas, by the way? You already have everything you could want.”

“You could bring a date.”

When Maggie laughed, Janie sighed. “Well, you could try. Your Mr. Right is just right around the corner, I know it.”

“Yes, but which corner?” Maggie stopped beside her sensible Toyota and searched for her keys, blowing out an irritated breath when she realized she was completely blocked in by Tim’s not sensible Porsche. “Dammit.” She whirled back to the building. “I have to go kill my boss.”