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The Chemistry of Love(12)

Author:Sariah Wilson

I decided to ignore his question that might have hit a bit too close to home. “I was crying because the love of my life is marrying someone else.”

“Craig?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, Craig.” Why did he have to sound so shocked? “Craig Kimball,” I added, just in case he was talking about another Craig who had also announced his engagement tonight.

Marco’s dark, penetrating eyes were making me feel a little light-headed. But that sensation ended when he asked, “You’re in love with my younger brother?”

CHAPTER FIVE

His brother?

What?

How was that even possible? They did not seem to have any visible genetic connection.

“Half brother,” Marco said, and I realized that I had again said aloud the words that I meant to keep in my head. “Different mothers, same father.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say to that. So of course, I came up with something meaningless. “I guess that means you’re going to be the best man at his wedding.”

He tipped his head back against the wall and straightened out his legs. I noticed that he had a very nice Adam’s apple. That wasn’t something I’d ever noticed on a man before. He responded to my statement by saying, “I don’t think there should be a wedding.”

“You don’t?” Why did this give me hope? It was probably because Marco seemed like the kind of guy who got stuff done. Maybe he knew a way to keep it from happening.

“No, I don’t. I’m against that whole thing.”

“Why? Are you in love with him, too?”

“My brother? No. I’m not in love with my brother.”

Duh, I obviously knew that. My face was flushed, but that could have just as easily been because of the alcohol. “I meant her. Are you in love with her?”

“No. But two months ago, she was my girlfriend.”

At that, I gasped loudly. Loud enough that it echoed off the tiled walls. “Did she cheat on you with your own brother?”

He ran one hand through his hair, brushing it off his forehead. “I hope not, but I don’t actually know.”

My mind made the important distinction that it was Craig’s fiancée who had cheated on Marco. Not Craig. He might not have even known that Marco and Leighton were together! This could not possibly be as bad as it was sounding.

Craig wasn’t like that.

I still felt bad for Marco, though. “Wow. I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything.”

Shrugging one shoulder, I said, “Maybe if I’d convinced Craig to fall in love with me sooner, it wouldn’t have happened.”

That made Marco smile again, and I noticed sparkly tingles inside my stomach. That effect was clearly because of the bubbly champagne, and not for any other reason.

While I was trying to convince myself of this fact, Marco said, “Quick question. Was Craig the one who told you about the nonfraternization rule?”

I didn’t like his tone. Like he’d just figured something out that I wasn’t going to like.

Trying to defend Craig, I said, “Yes. He said we couldn’t date.” That wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but I figured it was close enough.

“Because he’s engaged.”

“No,” I said. Although you would think that sort of thing would come up in a flirty conversation like we’d had. “Because of the rule.”

“But you don’t work for Minx Cosmetics anymore. And there never was a rule.”

“Exactly!” Some tiny part of my brain worried about the fact that there never had been a rule when Craig had said it like it was known, like it was something I should concern myself with. I ignored it and tried to connect the dots for Marco. “I sort of quit my job for Craig. It’s the grandest of gestures. That will have to mean something to him. I know it. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Into the men’s bathroom with a bottle of champagne?”

“Yes! I mean, no. You’re not understanding. Craig and I have a special connection.” One I’d had to remind him of earlier, but it was still there.

“I think he has a special connection with Leighton, too.”

“Leighton,” I scoffed. “Even her name is pretty. I want to make fun of it, but I’m too drunk to think of a way to mock it. Plus, it would be mean to do that, and by all accounts I’m not a mean drunk. Just a talkative one.”

“You don’t say?” He sounded amused.

“It’s kind of gross that both you and your brother dated the same girl.”

“Grosser than sitting on a bathroom floor in a hotel?” he said with a smile that didn’t remind me at all of Craig. I had a hard time believing they were brothers.

And somehow I’d also forgotten that I was in a bathroom. I was enjoying talking to Marco. “It’s surprising that no one’s come in here this whole time.”

“I locked the door. You seemed like you needed some privacy.”

This might have been the champagne talking, but that just seemed like the sweetest gesture. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

Our gazes locked, and there was something in the air, like I was standing on the precipice of an important moment. I didn’t know what that was and I didn’t want it. I needed to back away from whatever was happening right now.

Marco seemed to have the same impulse and brought Craig and Leighton back into the conversation. “Dating the same woman happens. Especially in our circle.”

My brain felt a little fuzzy, and I wasn’t sure what he meant by circle because the only kind I could think of were concentric and orthogonal.

“You don’t seem like a CEO,” I announced.

“You don’t seem like a cosmetic chemist,” he teased back.

“I think I’m insulted.”

“Me too.”

But it was hard to feel too upset with him smiling at me like he thought I was delightful. Maybe I should add that to my list of traits for Drunk Anna. Talkative and delightful.

Also, prone to crying and dripping a lot of snot.

A green haze of nausea swelled up inside my stomach. “I’m not feeling too well.”

He immediately got to his feet and offered me his hand. “Let me help you up.”

I weighed my options—I was going to have to touch this sexy man or crawl like an undignified idiot across this floor to reach a toilet.

I settled for the lesser of two evils. When he took my hand in his, it was like that time when I was eight years old and performed an experiment with a wall socket, a screwdriver, and a nine-volt battery. A massive electrical shock slammed into me. I was glad I was still sitting down, because his touch would have floored me.

Trying to ignore the sensations singing along my nerve endings, I cleared my throat and said, “I was right. Your hands are nice and strong. Are they symmetrical, too?”

Dumb. That wasn’t going to help anything. Don’t talk about the man’s body parts being sexy! I told my brain, but it didn’t seem to be in the mood to listen.

“Probably. We could grab a ruler and get some exact measurements if you’d like.” He pulled me up slowly, and when I got into a standing position, my body swayed toward him. With his other hand, he reached for my waist to hold me still.

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