The Perfect Fit (Riley O'Brien & Co. #2.5) (8 page)

The navy blue lace sparkled with tiny beads, making the dress shimmer when she moved, and her back was completely exposed from her nape to her waist. Her nude satin sandals—another consignment store find—added three inches to her height.

She’d curled her hair into loose waves and pulled it up on one side with the crystal hair comb she’d splurged on. Smoky gray eyeshadow and mascara emphasized her blue eyes, and peachy-nude gloss shimmered on her lips.

Turning to Roby, she asked, “So what do you think?”

The Doberman, who was curled up on top of her paisley duvet cover, didn’t even open his eyes. She hoped Zeke’s response would be more encouraging.

She wanted to make a good impression with her colleagues, but more important, she wanted Zeke to notice her. She desperately wanted him to
see
her … to
desire
her.

Although she and Zeke had planned to drive to the Four Seasons together, he’d texted her about an hour ago to let her know that his softball game was running long. She could tell from his message that he was upset by the delay. He had apologized profusely and promised to get to the gala as soon as possible.

She knew most women would be incensed about the change in plans, but she wasn’t. These things happened. She was just happy that Zeke was going to be at the gala with her, even for a limited time.

Since his company softball league had started three weeks ago, they hadn’t spent much time together. She got the sense that he was avoiding her, but she didn’t know if that was reality or her overactive imagination.

Her phone chimed with a text notifying her that the cab was waiting out front. After grabbing her diaphanous navy blue wrap and satin clutch, she left the apartment and carefully descended the front steps in her heels.

The cab driver didn’t bother to open the car door for her, but she still felt like a princess … a very uncomfortable princess. Apparently, evening gowns were designed for standing, not sitting.

To her relief, the drive to the Four Seasons didn’t take long. Located in the heart of the SoMa district, the luxury hotel was right across the street from Yerba Buena Gardens, an eighty-seven-acre urban garden.

The Pictures & Paws event was being held in the Veranda Ballroom and Terrace. When she arrived on the fifth floor, the space was already packed with people, all of them garbed in colorful evening gowns or sleek tuxedos.

She had never attended an event like this, but she squared her shoulders and reminded herself that she had just as much right to be here as anyone else, maybe more. She was educated and licensed to care for the animals everyone professed to love so much.

Hundreds of pictures decorated the walls, a mixture of black-and-white and color images hanging from metal rods. Most of the photos featured animals. She wished she had the money to bid on and win a couple of the pictures, but she was still trying to rebuild her rainy-day fund.

She took her time getting to the tables reserved for Bay Area Animal Care, enjoying the lively atmosphere. She had just removed her wrap and dropped it on one of the chairs when she heard her name.

Turning, she spotted Jenny hurrying across the room, as fast as her tight red dress would allow. Her shiny black hair swung around her face, revealing glimpses of sparkly, dangly earrings.

Jenny hugged her. “You look gorgeous,” the petite woman gushed, her almond-shaped eyes wide with obvious admiration. “Where did you get your dress?”

“At this tiny consignment shop on Sacramento Street. I can’t remember the name of it.”

“I can never find anything good at those kinds of shops.”

Margo smiled wryly. She doubted Jenny had ever stepped into a consignment shop or thrift store. Her family was extremely wealthy, and her father spoiled his only daughter shamelessly. She worked at the clinic because she loved animals, not because she needed the money.

“And I love your hair,” Jenny added. “I never see it in anything but a ponytail.”

“That’s not true. Sometimes I wear it in a braid.”

Her friend laughed. “I like it better this way. It’s so glamorous … like the hairstyles in the 1940s. Very Agent Carter.”

“Thank you.” Margo frowned. “Who’s Agent Carter?”

“You know, from the Marvel comics. World-class spy. Captain America’s girlfriend.”

Margo nodded. “Oh, right.”

“So, where’s your roomie? I can’t wait to meet him.”

Margo had mentioned Zeke to Jenny a couple of times. Okay, more than a couple of times. She talked about him incessantly.

Suddenly, a horrifying thought occurred to her. She’d never told Jenny that she had feelings for Zeke.

What if Jenny flirted with Zeke? What if he liked it? What if her co-worker and her roommate clicked?

Margo lightly touched the other woman’s forearm. “Jenny…” she began, but stopped when she couldn’t figure out the best way to articulate her feelings. She really wanted to say:
Hands off. He’s mine.

Jenny met Margo’s gaze, her face openly curious. After a moment, her glossy red lips curled into a smile.

“Don’t worry, Margo. I’m not going to poach on your territory.”

“He’s not my territory,” she admitted reluctantly.

“But you want him to be.” Jenny smiled knowingly. “Isn’t that why you invited him tonight and wore a dress like that?”

She nodded. “I want him to notice me as a woman, not just an androgynous roommate,” she confided.

“Oh, he’ll definitely notice you. And he won’t be the only one, either. No guy could overlook you in that dress.” She laughed, the husky sound edged with wickedness. “This should be a very entertaining evening.”

A third person in the Bay Area now knew that Zeke had a prosthetic limb—the tailor at Saks Fifth Avenue who had fitted him for his tuxedo. The gruff older man had felt the edges of Zeke’s molded plastic socket through the expensive wool-blend of the trousers, but he hadn’t seemed to care much. He’d been more interested in whether Zeke dressed left or right.

As Zeke stood in the elevator in the Four Seasons, he ran his hand over his hair, searching for any unruly strands. Satisfied that everything was in order, he adjusted the French cuffs of his bright white tuxedo shirt and furtively checked his fly to make sure it was zipped.

Never in his life had he showered, shaved, and dressed as quickly as he had tonight. He was surprised he’d nicked himself only once.

Even though he’d driven like a maniac to get to the hotel as fast as humanly possible, he was still forty-five minutes late. He hated being late, regardless of the circumstances. But his tardiness tonight was even more unacceptable because Margo had been counting on him.

Because of a stupid softball game, she’d had to take a taxi in an evening gown. She was probably livid, and he couldn’t blame her.

Why hadn’t he just left the game early? Better yet, why hadn’t he declined Margo’s invitation to attend Pictures & Paws?

He should have. But he’d hated the thought of her going to this type of event alone. And, if he were honest with himself, he would admit that he’d wanted to go with her, even if it was a monumentally bad idea.

Being around her was
torture
. A couple of days ago, he’d accidently bumped into her in the kitchen, his front grazing her back. That small touch had created a big problem … behind his zipper.

Ever since that day when he had retrieved Margo’s panties from Roby’s paws, Zeke had tried—and failed—to push her back into the roommate-only zone. But those tiny panties had already done their damage.

Whenever they were together, he constantly thought about what she wore underneath her clothes. He even thought about it when they weren’t together.

His dormant libido had awakened, and now the damn thing was boiling like an active volcano. It could erupt at any time.

Zeke should be happy that his penis had returned to its normal operations. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was frustrated and edgy and hard all the fucking time.

He didn’t understand why this was happening now. And he sure as hell didn’t understand why it was happening with Margo.

It didn’t happen with anyone else.

Today, during the softball game, a pretty woman on the opposing team had run into him. The force of the impact had knocked them to the ground, with her sprawled on top.

She’d been a sweet-smelling, curvy armful. And his penis had been uninterested.

If it could talk, it would have said,
I’m bored
. But around Margo, it said,
Mmm, I want some of that.

Of course, his dick didn’t care about the eleven-year age gap between them. And it didn’t care that she had her whole life ahead of her, while he had already lived a big portion of his.

Finally, the elevator reached the fifth floor. When he stepped out, he immediately began to look for Margo. No matter where they were, her bright hair made it easy to spot her.

After searching the area where the pictures were displayed and the ballroom where dinner would be served, he wandered onto the terrace. The huge space overlooked Yerba Buena Gardens, and the surrounding buildings provided plenty of light.

He surveyed the small group of people on the terrace. His gaze landed on a woman with vibrant reddish-gold hair. She was a little taller than Margo, and her hair was wavy instead of straight. Her back was to him, the flawless skin exposed by her formfitting dress.

Damn, that dress is something else.

The dress’s lace overlay gave the impression that she was naked underneath. And the way it hugged her curvy hips and cupped her round ass … that should be prohibited in public venues to prevent riots.

Wait … he recognized that ass. He saw it—stared at it—every day.

The woman in the sexy dress was Margo. And the moment his dick realized that fact, it woke up from its nap and did a couple of stretches in preparation for vigorous exercise.

Zeke took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. For a brief moment, he thought about turning around, going back home, and locking himself in his bedroom until this insanity passed.

But then Margo glanced in his direction. And he knew, without a doubt, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He could tell the moment she saw him because her lips tilted in a delighted, welcoming smile. Shock sizzled through him. Every other woman he knew would have given him an icy glare for being so late. Andrea would have harangued him for being selfish and inconsiderate, and she would have been right.

But Margo wasn’t angry. She was happy to see him, and that made him feel even guiltier for being late.

She gave him a little wave before beckoning him with a flutter of her fingers. He moved toward her, trying not to limp as he crossed the terrace. The fall during the softball game had aggravated his leg.

When he reached her, she leaned up and gave him a hug. The first time she’d hugged him, months ago, he had just stood there like a giant oak tree, uncomfortable with her affectionate nature. But he was used to it now, and he hugged her back.

As he wrapped his arms around her, his palm grazed the bare skin of her back. How could anyone’s skin be so soft? Was she this soft everywhere?

He moved his hand a little lower, and his fingers encountered the lace of her dress. He wondered if she was wearing panties underneath, and if so, what color they were.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she murmured. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m sorry I’m late, Go-go.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, waving off his apology.

She stepped back and assessed his appearance. “You look very good in a tux, Zeke. But your bow tie is crooked. Lean down a little so I can fix it.”

He complied, bending down until his nose was almost buried in her fragrant hair. It smelled like cherries and vanilla.

As she fiddled with his bow tie, she asked, “Did you win the game?”

“Yes. Six to four.”

“Yay! Good job, team captain!”

The sound of a man clearing his throat drew Margo’s attention. As she turned, the decorative comb in her hair sparkled. “I’m so sorry for being rude, Derek. Let me introduce you.”

Suddenly, Zeke realized Margo wasn’t alone. He had been so dazzled by her that he hadn’t even noticed the guy standing in front of her.

“Zeke, this is Derek Symons. He’s one of my clients.”

Zeke eyed the other man, cataloguing his Armani tuxedo—the same one that Zeke had deemed too expensive when he’d gone shopping at Saks. They were about the same height and build, but the similarities ended there.

Derek was just as young and fresh-faced as Margo. Unlike Zeke, he didn’t have any gray strands threading through his dark brown hair, nor did he have any lines radiating outward from his hazel eyes.

Margo continued with her introduction. “Derek recently joined Abbott, Seligman…” She smiled ruefully. “What was the rest of it?”

“Abbott, Seligman & Rodarte,” Derek supplied. “It’s one of the largest law firms on the West Coast. So far, it’s going well. I’m really happy there.”

Zeke could feel Derek’s eyes on him, sizing him up, wondering who he was. He extended his right hand to the younger man, who gripped it strongly.

“Zeke May.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zeke. How do you know Margo?”

Margo laughed lightly. “Oops, I left that part out! Zeke is my roommate. I had a hard time finding a place to live when I moved here, and he had an extra bedroom to rent. He and my uncle are old Army buddies.”

Margo’s explanation was completely accurate. Yet it made Zeke irrationally angry, especially the “old” part and the way she minimized their relationship.

“Roommate,” Derek repeated, visibly perking up. He was obviously interested in more than Margo’s stellar skills as a veterinarian.

The two of them had a lot in common. They were at the same point in their lives, their careers taking off.

Both of them were hopeful and optimistic. They oozed enthusiasm and eagerness.

Margo and Derek made sense. Margo and Zeke did
not
make sense.

“Yeah, I’m her roommate,” Zeke confirmed, giving Derek the green light to make his move.

But he really wanted to say:
Hands off. She’s mine.