The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(8)

“I’ve had a lot of practice. My older brother, Hari, used to bring his friends over to our house to do funnels when my dad was out. I hid in the broom closet so I could learn all their tricks.” A little white lie. By the time she was sixteen, she was doing the funnels with Hari and his friends, not just watching them.

Stacy retched into the toilet. Zara gathered up the folds of Stacy’s dress, holding the torn, paint-splattered chiffon off the floor. She was perversely pleased to see it had not survived the rigors of the paintball game.

“Why are you being so nice?” Stacy drew in a shuddering breath. “I gave you the worst dress. On purpose.”

Zara glanced down at her stained, ripped, and paint-covered dress and tried to think of something positive to say. “I think it’s a lucky dress,” she assured Stacy. “I met Chad Wandsworth in this dress. My team won all the paintball games. And you and I have sort of become friends. Who knows what other lucky things will happen while I’m wearing it tonight?”

“I’m feeling a lot better now.” Stacy sat back, resting her head against the wall. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll freshen up and call a cab to take me home. Could you let Maria know? I don’t think she saw my text.”

“Of course. But I’ll come back and keep you company until the cab gets here.” After fixing herself up, Zara ran a quick hand through her hair, trying to smooth down the unruly curls. Unbound and out of control, her hair had frizzed from the heat and humidity of the bar. Even a quick finger-comb and a firm pat-down with a damp paper towel weren’t enough to tame it.

A wave of exhaustion hit her, sucking the air from her lungs before she made it to the door. The day was catching up with her. Thank God Parvati had stopped her from doing that second funnel. Bracing herself on the sink, she pulled her emergency energy supply from her purse. No way was she crashing now.

Two handfuls of gummy bears and a stern talking-to later, she pushed open the door. A stranger leaned against the wall across from her, a scowl creasing his breathtakingly handsome face.

“I’ll call a cab to take you home.”

His voice, vaguely familiar, slid across her skin like dark velvet. Tall and brooding, with a strong, sexy jawline, and the barest hint of a five-o’clock shadow, he wore a black dress shirt that had to have been custom-tailored for his muscular body, hugging the broad expanse of his chest like a glove.

“Do I know you?” And how did he know she had crashed? She hadn’t even realized she’d run out of energy until she’d felt the familiar heaviness in her chest. It wasn’t a medical condition. Just a physiological quirk that allowed her to push past her physical limits until her body decided it had had enough.

He raised one thick eyebrow in what appeared to be disbelief. Delicious shivers slid down her spine as she assessed his cool, sensual face. His eyes were the deepest shade of brown, dark like the forest floor she’d hidden on before she’d taken a chance to claim victory for her team. A hint of a cleft in his chin and full lips in a beautifully shaped mouth softened what might have otherwise been a severe expression. As his gaze raked up and down her body, her nipples tightened and she crossed her arms over her chest, silently thanking the ’80s for her massive puffball sleeves.

“Are you kidding me? We were on the same team today.”

She studied him, trying to place his deep voice. Something niggled at the back of her mind, but after a few hours of drinking, her memories were a little fuzzy. “Sorry. Don’t recognize you. I’m good with faces. Not so good with masks. Excellent with beer funnels, though, so you can cancel that cab. I’ve been doing them for years. I’ve got a special trick where I relax all the muscles in my throat so the beer can slide right down. I could get a fire hose down there and not choke.”

“I . . .” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t need to know that.”

“If you think I need a cab, then you did need to know that.” She gestured toward the bar. “I need to find Maria and let her know she’s down a bridesmaid.”

He lifted his chin in the direction of the restroom door. “Does she need a hand?”

Despite his abrupt manner, the dude had a good heart to go with his looks, Zara decided. He was the whole package. “Thanks, but I’ve got it under control.” She walked down the hallway, acutely aware of the gorgeous man following slightly behind her. “Your concern is a refreshing change from the douchebag I was paired up with on the field this afternoon. Talk about bossy. He thought he knew everything about paintball.”

She stopped as they emerged into the bar, hoping he would continue on his way. He was too attractive, oozing power and confidence with every step. For a woman who had sworn off men, he was a dangerous temptation.

“Maybe he did know everything about paintball.” He frowned again, his voice clipped and hard.

“I doubt it,” Zara said. “Even if he was a pro, I can’t stand guys like that. I’ll bet he’s one of those wannabe military types who spends his weekends playing paintball with his geek friends, pretending he’s the real deal. It was sad, really. He clearly wasn’t good with strategy. You can’t win by doing what everyone else is doing, but he wasn’t interested in hearing what anyone else had to say.”

“?‘Wannabe military’??” He gritted out the words like they were a personal offense.