“Zara was in court just the other week.” Jay slid an arm around her waist. “I got to watch her trial. She was amazing.”
“How lovely.” Brittany reached for her glass, her hand brushing lightly over Jay’s sleeve. “Jay mentioned you two just got together.”
Zara’s focus sharpened on the banker’s daughter. Brittany wanted her man and was making no effort to hide it. Zara couldn’t decide if she was insulted or impressed. Not that it mattered. Jay was hers and Brittany needed to get that message.
“When you know, you know.” She leaned into Jay and nuzzled his neck. “Isn’t that right, hon?”
“Yes, that’s right . . .” Jay stiffened, cleared his throat. “Hon.”
“So . . . Brittany.” Zara sipped her wine again for the liquid courage it offered and to keep her hands away from Brittany’s throat. “What do you do at the bank?”
Brittany launched into a rambling explanation of bank structures, financing groups, and her long list of credentials. Zara could only partially focus on her words because every two sentences or so Brittany’s hand would fall gently on Jay’s arm. “MBA blah blah blah. Isn’t that right, Jay? Global markets blah blah blah. Jay knows all about that . . .” The sheer audacity of the woman astounded her, but not as much as the overwhelming rush of emotion she felt at the thought of Jay and Brittany together. It didn’t make sense. Only a few weeks ago, she’d been trying to match Jay up with someone exactly like Brittany. Only the other night she’d told Jay’s mom there was nothing between them.
“What’s going on?” Jay murmured when Thomas drew Brittany away to introduce her to a colleague.
“Nothing.” Jealousy wasn’t an emotion she’d ever had before when it came to boyfriends. She’d never allowed anyone to get that close.
He put an arm around her shoulders. “Are you sure? You’re scowling, and you’ve got that tiny crinkle in your forehead that you only get when something is really bothering you.”
“She’s after you,” Zara blurted out, putting to one side for later consideration the fact he knew her so well. “You probably don’t even realize it because you don’t speak bitch.”
Jay’s voice took on a deep, steady warmth that made Zara’s knees weak. “There’s only one woman I want.”
“I hope it’s me or someone’s getting a four-inch stiletto through the throat,” she muttered under her breath.
Jay responded by leaning down to nuzzle her neck. “Your jealousy is turning me on. If you keep that up I might think you actually like me.”
Why did he say things like that? Why did he have to call her beautiful when she felt like she was about to explode out of her suit like the Pillsbury Doughboy? Why did he tell her he would always be there for her? That his help came with no strings? That he wanted her any way that he could have her?
He wants me.
She’d tried to pretend she hadn’t heard it but she had. Just like she’d tried to pretend she hadn’t seen the hurt on his face the night she told Rick they weren’t together. It was so frustrating. Why couldn’t they have just enjoyed the pause in their deal, have a little fun sex, and move on? Neither of them wanted a relationship. So why was it beginning to feel like they had one?
The situation deteriorated over the course of the evening. Jay filled her glass and brought her snacks. When she shivered, he offered her his jacket. He boasted about her ingenuity in court and encouraged people to buy a ticket to her show. She most certainly did not sing like a nightingale and brighten up the stage. His disturbing pride in her accomplishments put a downer on what should have been a delightful evening. He seemed to have conveniently forgotten that she was a magnet for disaster and that he was supposed to be an arrogant officious jerk.
She was contemplating an early escape when a disturbance at the door caught her attention. News reporters and photographers backed into the room, shouting and waving. A murmur rippled through the crowd, a buzz of anticipation. Zara stood on tiptoe to see what was going on. And then Lin-Manuel Miranda walked through the door.
Acutely aware of Thomas and Brittany standing beside her, Zara slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. Where should she get her autograph? She’d been so busy being annoyed by Jay’s goodness that she hadn’t even made a plan.
She needed to calm down. No. First she needed to ditch the jacket so Lin-Manuel could sign her arm. Her Wandsworth autograph had already faded despite the fact she hadn’t washed that arm in weeks. He could choose left or right. Maybe she could get him to autograph both.