The Chemistry of Love(30)

I hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

“Okay,” I said, rushing the words out before I could change my mind. “I don’t see how it’s going to work, but I’ll give it a shot.”





CHAPTER NINE


“Yes!” Marco said, clapping his hands together as he beamed at me. “I do think that we can do this if we work together.”

I wanted to believe him, but it was difficult. Especially given how simplistic his actual plan was. It was full of holes, but I’d give it the old college try.

“We should probably keep this between us,” he said. “Secrets tend to have a way of coming out.”

“I have to tell Catalina. She’s my best friend, and she works at Minx. She would definitely notice if I suddenly started dating her boss’s boss’s boss with no explanation. She’s smart. She would figure it out.” Plus, I had the feeling I was going to need the moral support.

“What about your family? Do you need to tell them?”

“My grandparents aren’t going to care about you unless you suddenly decompose or grow a beak and feathers.” Becoming dirt or a bird was honestly the only way they’d be interested in Marco.

He picked up his water. “Well, I’m definitely not telling my family for obvious reasons. Anyway, I feel like we should make this official. A handshake or a toast or something.”

“A toast,” I said quickly. I didn’t want to hold his hand again. It seemed unwise.

“To saving my brother from himself,” he said.

“And Minx Cosmetics.”

We clinked our glasses together and both took a quick drink. “You should try your pizza,” I told him. He was the one who had wanted to come here. I felt bad that he hadn’t eaten anything yet.

He picked up his slice and did the weirdest thing ever—he folded it in half lengthwise. “What are you doing?” I asked in alarm.

“This is how you eat a slice in New York. I went to boarding school there during high school.”

“Like a taco? That’s culinary blasphemy.”

“You need structure in your crust or else you get the flop.” I wanted to tell him this wasn’t New York and our crusts in California already had plenty of structure, but he gave me a mischievous grin and took a big, wolfish bite. I wanted to laugh but refrained.

When he swallowed his food, he said, “So tell me what you were working on before you quit.”

I figured it’d be safe to share that information because I’d done the work at his company. We ate while I told him about all of my recent professional projects. I wondered who had taken them over and had a brief pang of regret. I kept expecting him to interrupt me or change the subject, but he didn’t.

He also didn’t get that glazed, bored look in his eyes. He seemed interested in what I had to say. This was nice. He would make a great brother-in-law.

One thing at a time, I told myself. I was jumping too many steps ahead. First, Marco’s completely sane and totally-based-in-reality plan had to work.

After we’d both eaten half of our pizzas, the waiter brought over a couple of boxes and the check. Marco made a big show of paying the check, and I didn’t offer to split it. He could afford it. I thanked him and grabbed my jacket to put it back on.

“Before we go,” Marco said, “we should make plans to get together soon. We should go on a date.”

“A date?” The words squeaked out of me. I’d thought we were just going to pretend to date. It just hadn’t clicked that we might actually go on a real date. Together. In the same place at the same time.

Him paying for lunch didn’t count.

“Yes, a date. You’ve seen them on TV—now have one of your very own.” He was teasing, but the reality of it felt unsettling. “Like I mentioned earlier, I think we should do a couple of practice dates before we specifically spend time around Craig and Leighton.” He took out his phone and scrolled through it. “It’s too bad there’s no red-carpet events coming up soon. We could get our picture taken together and put on some website. Craig’s assistant has a Google alert set up with my name.”

I did not want to know how he knew that. Totally believable, though, knowing Gretchen. “I may know a way to get his attention.”

Marco looked skeptical. “Really?”

“The friend I mentioned earlier? Catalina? She’s having a D&D party at her place in a couple of days. She asked me to come, even though she knows I won’t.”

“Then why did she invite you?”

“Duh.” I almost rolled my eyes. “I still want to be invited; I just don’t want to go to her parties.”

“I’m confused. You just said she’s your best friend.”

“Yes, which is why she knows she has to invite me but that I won’t be there. I never go to parties.” Too many people and too many conversations. I found them so draining.

“You never go to parties?” he said in the same way someone else might ask, You don’t breathe oxygen? His tone had me wondering if he was rethinking our agreement.

I felt a little judged, even though he hadn’t said anything negative. He was just surprised, which was fair, given that most nonintroverted people seemed to enjoy things like parties. I had to stop assuming that people meant the worst when they were only being curious. I couldn’t project my own personal insecurities onto others.