Rusty Nailed (Cocktail, #2)(53)

“Putty and Bone,” I told Sophia, “what a great name for a—”

“Oh, shush with your great name for a band—here comes Neil,” Sophia hissed, wrapping her arm around Bernard, who was coaxed from his beige oration by very soft breasts pressed into his side. His eyes widened and he shifted his feet nervously. I almost felt a little sorry for him; the poor guy had no idea what he was caught up in.

“Putty and Bone is a great name for a band,” I mumbled to myself, taking my leave and a shrimp puff from the potluck table.

The party was in full swing; beautiful couples swaying to rockabilly Christmas songs on the stereo, hot toddies and spiked cider being poured generously by Ryan, while Mimi set out tray after tray of goodies.

As I shrimp puffed, I scanned the crowd for Simon. He was talking to one of Ryan’s friends from work. I caught his eye and pointed toward the hallway, where Neil was making his way to the kitchen. The girl he had in tow was darling; sharp eyes and a curious look on her face as she took in the crowd. They were on a collision course for Sophia and Beige Bernard. I stuffed another puff in my mouth and spy-walked back toward the kitchen, meeting up with Simon, who had also alerted Mimi and Ryan, around the corner.

“You know, this is getting ridiculous,” I said as we four took up a watch-and-wait stance, flanking either entrance to the kitchen.

“We’re just watching out for our friends,” Simon said, flattening himself against the wall. When did this become Mission Impossible?

Right about when Sophia and Neil laid eyes on each other for the first time since Game Night, and remembered that while Beige Bernard and Pretty Polly were fine and dandy, they weren’t ever going to blow their hair back. They were never going to be the “one.” But that didn’t stop them from trying.

“Sophia.”

“Neil.”

So dramatic, these two.

“Bernard?”

“Polly?”

Wait, what?

The four of us peeked around the corner like totem poles, watching as Pretty and Beige collided in the center of the room in a tangle of arms and laughter.

“Wow, Polly! I haven’t seen you since the symposium on genetic rehabilitation at the Hilton in Anaheim,” Bernard said, looking thrilled to see her.

“Has it been that long? I looked for you at the Quantum Summit in San Diego; I thought for sure you’d be there,” Polly replied, looking up shyly through her eyelashes.

“I was in Switzerland—the Hadron,” he said, puffing out his chest a bit. I didn’t get it, but she sure looked impressed.

“Large Hadron Collider, it’s at CERN in Switzerland,” Ryan whispered across the entryway. Mimi looked impressed too. With Ryan.

“Uh, Bernard, why don’t you introduce me to your friend,” Sophia interjected, tugging at his arm. He didn’t notice. She pushed her boobs out. He noticed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Polly. These are, I mean, this is Sophia,” he said, flushing. “Sophia, this is Polly. She heads up a lab over at UCSF—”

“I play cello with the San Francisco Symphony,” Sophia spat out, looking surprised at her own word vomit.

I bit down on my fist to keep from laughing.

“Very nice to meet you, Sophia, This is Neil. We just met; he—”

“Hi. NBC. Channel 11,” Neil said, pumping Bernard’s hand up and down furiously. “Sports?” he finished, when Bernard looked at him in puzzlement. “I’m the sportscaster? You know, Neil makes the call every day at six and eleven?” he finished in his best broadcasting voice.

“Oh, sure, hi. Nice to meet you . . . Neil?”

Simon choked back his own laughter.

Polly and Bernard continued to talk in the center of the room while Neil and Sophia backed into their own corners, confused. I went back to the shrimp puffs with Simon, content that this night would work itself out.

? ? ?

An hour later I was huddled in the bathroom with Sophia and Mimi, debating the benefits of an on-purpose nip slip. Bernard and Polly had continued to reminisce about conferences they’d attended, who had published what article in which journal, and now they were talking about some charming guy named quark who was a bottom? Ryan had attempted to explain the latter, but when he launched into fundamental forces and particle decay, I couldn’t listen anymore. Mainly because Mimi was panting so loudly; she loved it when Ryan gave good science.

So now here we were, debating the slip of said nip, and whether it would be enough to get Sophia’s night back on track. A little tipsy from too many toddies and still thrown by the fact that I wasn’t going to Rio, I was losing interest quickly.

“Oh, for God’s sake, just go flash some cleave at Professor Boring over there, will you?” I snapped, pushing back out to the party. Pretty Polly and Beige Bernard were on the couch, noses practically touching, and I was pretty sure more body parts were on their way.

Their chemistry was the kind that was cultivated in a petri dish and simmered over a Bunsen burner until hot and horny. Someone’s hadron was colliding tonight, that was for sure.

I spied Neil heading over to where Sophia had just appeared from the bathroom, and I rolled my eyes.

“How ya doin’, babe?” Simon asked, taking my arm.

“Great! How ’bout you?”

“You sure you’re okay?”