The Chemistry of Love(32)

“Like how you would come here today,” he agreed.

“What do you mean by that?”

“To speak your language, I formulated a hypothesis about you.”

“Which was?” I asked.

“I thought that if I made you curious enough, you’d meet with me to find out what I wanted.”

Scoffing, I said, “Most people would have come. Your premise is flawed.”

“Most people wouldn’t, given the circumstances.”

What circumstances? The glittery orange ones? “If I asked you out to lunch, you’re telling me you’d say no?”

He leaned in, that weaponized smile of his gleaming at me and making my knees a bit wobbly. “Anna, are you asking me to go to lunch with you?”

“We’re already at—” I cut myself off. I was exasperated, and I knew he was messing with me, but his charm was too effective on me. I was worried I was going to say something I’d regret.

Of course, that was one hypothesis I had to prove to be true. “You need to shine that handsome spotlight of yours somewhere else. You’re not as charming as you think you are. It’s annoying.” And my aggravation came not only because I felt defenseless against him but also that he’d used my curiosity against me. That was something that should only be used for good. Like discovering the perfect long-lasting foundation or lipstick that wouldn’t smudge.

“Sorry about that. I’ll work on improving my charm to meet your exacting standards. But not too much, because I don’t want to ruin things between us.”

“Ruin them how?”

“I wouldn’t want you to fall in love with me.”

Of all the arrogant, self-centered, egomaniacal . . . “Ha, I say. Ha.”

He shrugged. “You’re the one who keeps bringing up how attractive I am.”

I opened my mouth to protest and had to shut it again. I couldn’t object because it would be a lie. “It’s just an objective fact. Like I can see that a Porsche is objectively beautiful, but it’s not for me. Too fast, too flashy. I don’t want to own a Porsche or go for a ride in one.”

“You’re saying you want me to give you a ride?”

I couldn’t help blushing at his innuendo, and I found myself annoyed again. “I’ll take Betty any day.”

“Now you’re comparing my brother to your death trap?”

“That’s not . . . you’re missing the point.”

His grin let me know that had been on purpose.

“You are the worst,” I informed him.

“I am,” he agreed cheerfully.

“You also take way too much pleasure out of annoying me.”

“I do,” he said.

“Stop being so agreeable!” It was hard to be mad at someone who went along with your accusations.

“Sorry,” he said in a way that didn’t sound at all sorry.

He aggravated me, and I enjoyed him at the same time. I didn’t understand the contradiction. “You’re the one who said your competitiveness with Craig will make him fall for me. When that happens, aren’t you worried your competitiveness will make you want to keep me for yourself?”

“No, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that.”

Ouch, did that smart. Not that I wanted him to be in love with me, but it still dinged my ego.

He must have seen my expression change, because he hurried to add, “We’ll just make it a rule. I know how much you like those. The rule is I won’t fall for you and you won’t fall for me.”

“Done,” I said before he’d even finished his sentence. Easiest rule to keep ever.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.

“I think I’m owed one,” I responded, especially after everything he knew about me.

He smiled slightly and said, “I’m jealous.”

For a single irrational moment, I thought he meant he was jealous that I liked Craig. That he did want me to have feelings for him instead. But I knew that was ridiculous. “Of what?”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever felt about me the way you do about my brother. I’ve never had a woman in my life who would do something like this just to be with me.”

“Have you ever felt that way about someone?”

“Not even close. I’m not sure I think love even exists.”

“Oh, it does,” I told him. “I’ve seen it.”

Marco recognized that I was echoing back his joke from earlier about the TV and smiled again.

“Sounds like dating you is a rough proposition,” I told him, trying to tease him again, but I felt like I’d failed when his smile flattened out.

“So I’ve been told.” That pain was there in his voice again, and all I wanted to do was hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. “But I know I dropped a lot on you today, and I wanted to ask you how you’re doing with all of this.”

It was considerate of him to ask, but it felt unnecessary. He’d gotten what he wanted from me—he didn’t need to try to be my friend, too. “It’s fine. I just don’t like change, and this is all going to be a really big change.”

“But you change things at a chemical level all the time,” he said.