The Singles Table, page 14
Steeling himself against temptation, he made his way to the cloakroom, only to take a step back when Zara scowled.
“Is something wrong?”
“I look—”
“Beautiful.”
“Ridiculous.” She fisted the skirt of her red dress, tightening it around her curves in a way that made his mouth water.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was a zombie costume party?” she demanded. “I wouldn’t have come dressed like this.”
He drew her away from the zombie bride, who had a line of customers waiting to check their coats. “I thought you were here for professional reasons. It didn’t even occur to me that you would want to dress up.”
“This is me we’re talking about.” She pressed a hand to her chest between her breasts, drawing Jay’s attention to an area that was best not thought about in public. “I never pass up an opportunity to dress up. Never. And zombies? Are you kidding me? I have everything I need at home. I was a zombie for the Christmas party at my second law firm. I had rotting-flesh patches, teeth hanging out of my mouth, shredded clothes . . . I was going to bring a spare leg from the morgue, but Parvati said she’d get into trouble.”
“Indeed.” He didn’t want to ask why the morgue had a spare leg or why they didn’t come in pairs.
“I would have killed it tonight, Jay.” Her hands found her hips. “Killed it. No one does zombies like me . . .”
He held up his hands, palms forward. “My bad.”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Now what am I going to do?”
“Work with what you’ve got?” He couldn’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be interested in hearing her pitch when just the sight of her took his breath away. And after seeing her in court, unorthodox though her methods were, he would be happy to give his wholehearted recommendation as to her professional skill.
She lifted her skirt, studying the hem of her dress. “Good idea. Do you have a pair of scissors?”
He stared at her, aghast. “You don’t need to destroy your clothes.”
She gave him a soothing pat, every press of her palm sending a zing of heat through his chest. “Zombies don’t dress in nice clothes. I’ll need to tear up my dress. Oh, and I’ll break off one of my heels to get the zombie lurch. I can shred my stockings, muss my hair, a little makeup . . .” Her face brightened. “I’ll let you get back to work. The next time you see me, I’ll look amazing.”
She looked amazing now, blazing as hot and wild as a forest fire. It seemed almost criminal that she would hide all that beauty under zombie rags and makeup.
He caught Elias checking her out and his eyes narrowed. Maybe a zombie costume wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
* * *
• • •
Zombie fever had swept through the party. Jay couldn’t tell the good zombies from the bad—or maybe that was a tribute to the acting skills of the guests. He’d set up a perimeter fence around the buffet table, forcing the zombies to stand in a civilized line for their food instead of mobbing the table in a feeding frenzy. He’d stepped on so much fake blood he was certain his leather shoes would never be the same. Zara had been missing for well over an hour, and he couldn’t spot her in the crowd.
“Party’s getting out of hand,” Elias said. “You want me to shut things down?”
“We can handle them. I’ve got a line of cabs standing by outside. First sign of trouble, and we’ll start hustling people out the door.”
“You want me to start with that one?” He pointed to a woman wrapped in bloodstained rags, a crown of skewered meat on her tangled hair, eyes dark circles in a mottled gray face. Balanced on a table, she cheered on the zombie doing shooters at the bar.
Relief flooded through his veins. Even if he hadn’t recognized her face, he would have known Zara from the energy that pulsed around her. “No. I’ll deal with her.”
“Jay!” Zara lurched toward him when he reached her table. “How did you know it was me?”
“Your shoe.”
She lifted her foot to look at her heel and lost her balance. He was there to catch her fall. Arms wrapped around her, he lowered her to the ground, her soft, curvy body, wrapped in nothing more than a tablecloth, sliding against his chest.
“Oh.” She let out a soft sigh, her breasts crushed between them, hands holding his shoulders tight. “Good catch.”
“It’s my job.” He looked down at her blacked-out eyes, cheeks smeared with gray makeup, lush lips painted a garish red. There was no reason to keep holding her, but he couldn’t let go. Only when she flashed him a rotted-teeth smile did he finally release her.
“Where did you get all . . .” He waved his hand vaguely over her outfit. “This.”
“I couldn’t bear to cut up my dress, so I grabbed a tablecloth and asked around if people had any extra accessories. One guy had these extra teeth.” She gave him another grin. “Someone had makeup and baby powder. I picked up the rotting-flesh patches off the floor, and I made the crown from the meat section at the buffet. It’s nothing like my zombie costume at home, but I fit right in.”
“I’ve been waiting to introduce you to Bob. Are you okay to meet him like this? Zombie princess in a ham kebab crown doesn’t scream professional.”
She brushed off his jacket, now covered in makeup and powder. “I already met Bob. I challenged him to a beer funnel contest. Guess who won?”
“Not Bob.”
“Of course not Bob.” Zara laughed. “He was a good sport about it. Afterward, we had a chat and he said he’d never met a more relatable attorney. He autographed my arm and I gave him my card. He even asked for extra cards to give to his friends.”
“Well, that was . . . lucky.” He didn’t want to think about the good-looking celebrity drinking with Zara and touching her arm. Jay had planned to be there for the introduction. Celebrities were a horny bunch and it was his job to keep Zara safe.
“Luck had nothing to do with it. My beer funnel skills are unmatched.” She leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the invitation.”
He felt that kiss like a brand on his skin. How was he supposed to stay focused on his goal when she did things like that? How was he supposed to work when she looked so sexy in her bloodstained tablecloth? This wasn’t his path. She wasn’t his woman. Even if she didn’t find him a match, he’d upheld his part of the bargain and he could easily end this arrangement and move on with his life. “I have to get back to work,” he said abruptly.
“There’s lipstick on your cheek.” She rubbed his skin with a gentle brush of her thumb and pleasure spilled over him, freezing him in place.
“Is it gone?”
“No.” She bit the soft flesh of her lower lip and gave him a sultry smile. “Maybe I should kiss the other side and make it even.”
He jerked away, hands flying up in a warding gesture. If she came too close, if she touched him again, he would kiss her, powdered hair, greasy makeup, kebab crown and all.
“C’mon, Jay.” She gave him a rotted-teeth smile, lurching toward him on one red shoe. “I don’t bite.”
He took another step back, desperate to get away from her addictive warmth, her sunny smile, her sexy body, and her wicked laugh. His heel caught on something and he went down. The last thing he heard before he blacked out was a zombie scream.
* * *
• • •
Parvati answered the phone with a breathless, “Hello?”
“If somebody falls and bangs his head on a cauldron full of Jell-O brains and loses consciousness for about five seconds, does he need to come to the hospital?” Zara glanced over at Jay, who was back at his post near the door. He didn’t seem to be affected by his minor accident other than it had made him more grumpy than usual. He’d barked at her to get away and then stormed off to the restroom to clean his suit. Five minutes later he was kicking zombies out of the party with a vengeance.
“Oh, it’s you.” Parvati breathed a sigh. “I didn’t recognize the number.”
“Phones aren’t allowed at the party because they don’t want people taking pictures and selling them to the press,” Zara explained. “I’m using the bartender’s landline. It’s so cute. I didn’t know they made landlines anymore.”
“I’m assuming we’re not talking about you being injured.”
“It’s Jay.” She waved to the bartender to refill her zombie punch. Her last cup had been all eyes—lychees with blueberry pupils. After the recent disaster, she needed all the alcohol she could get.
“I accidentally caused him to fall over backward and bang his head on a cauldron full of fake zombie brains. I was pretty sure he lost consciousness for a few seconds, although he may have been closing his eyes at the sheer irony of it all.”
“How are his pupils?” Parvati’s voice turned serious. “Is he dizzy? Nauseous?”
“He’s fine, I think.” She turned in her chair to make sure he was still standing. “Every time he looks at me, his eyes narrow so it’s kind of hard to tell. But he is stomping around, and he can lift two zombies at once and toss them into a cab. The ladies seem to love it.”
Stunning in his dark blue uniform and security vest, he clearly didn’t have to work at attracting attention. Women were drawn to him even when he was just standing still. It would have been incredibly annoying except for the fact that he barely looked at them. Every offer was brushed off with a bland expression or a firm, curt gesture.
Except for the zombie bride.
While Parvati rattled off a list of possible symptoms, Zara watched the zombie bride make her second approach. Earlier in the evening the bride had broken through Jay’s defenses by pretending to hurt her foot. Jay had carried her to a chair, slipped off her sparkly stiletto, and examined her foot right down to her perfectly manicured toes. If Zara hadn’t been about to do shooters with Bob and his zombie lieutenant, she would have pointed out that there was nothing wrong with the bride’s foot, and only five minutes prior she’d been dancing up a storm.
This time, the zombie bride had washed the makeup off her face and combed her hair, revealing honey gold curls beneath the tangles. Her sleeveless bridal dress hugged her slim figure, the bodice loosely laced as if it could barely contain her generous breasts.
“Zara?” Parvati raised her voice. “Are you still there?”
“Yes.” Zara watched the bride snake her way across the room, hips swaying, tongue flickering as she licked her lush lips to a shine. A predator stalking its prey. “What should I do about Jay? He said he doesn’t do hospitals. The party is basically over.”
“Just keep an eye on him. If he gets a headache, blurred vision, slurred speech, or unusual fatigue then take him to the nearest hospital. If he comes here, I can take a look at him.”
She ended the call just seconds before the zombie bride went in for the kill. Hair toss. Giggle. Simper. Flutter the lashes. Hand on the arm. Pathetic. Zara knew all her tricks. She waited in breathless anticipation for Jay to brush her off—a step away, a fake call, or a shake of the head—but no. Jay moved closer. He murmured something in her ear, his face soft and gentle. And was that . . . a smile? Elated, the zombie bride leaned up on tiptoe and kissed his neck. Zara’s stomach clenched. What the hell was he doing with that piece of zombie trash?
“How’s my little zombie lawyer princess doing?” Bob put an arm around her waist and twirled her onto the dance floor.
“Good.” She forced a smile. As far as celebrities went, Bob was D-list who thought he was C-list, and pretended he was B-list. He’d wiped off his zombie makeup after the beer funnel fiasco to reveal a large forehead, deep-set eyes, and a narrow jaw. His face was distinctive, if not odd, and it was clear he was destined to be a character actor if he made it out of the land of zombie films.
“I’ve got a suite in the hotel across the street.” Bob leaned down to nuzzle her neck. He smelled slightly off, like he’d just finished the plate of zombie brain blue cheese liver pâté. “We’re heading over there for the after-party. I’ve got so much zombie dust you’ll be able to roll naked in it on the bed.”
“Tempting.” She looked around the club, but Jay and his zombie bride had disappeared. “Tell me more.”
“It’s just me, a couple of guys from the crew, and—”
“Should I call your cab?” Jay’s dark menacing shadow swallowed Zara’s view.
“Excuse me. We’re dancing.” Her anger rose when she noticed he’d brought along the zombie bride. “And then we’re going to party in a bed of zombie dust in Bob’s hotel suite.”
“I don’t think so,” Jay said firmly. “You’re going home.”
She wrapped her arms around Bob and glared at Jay. “Get over your bossy self. How I choose to spend my evening is none of your concern.”
“Maybe we could go, too.” The zombie bride curled her talons around Jay’s arm. “The party’s almost over.”
“The more, the merrier.” Bob slid an arm around Zara’s waist. “Let’s get the party started.”
Zara had a settlement meeting on Thursday morning. She needed tomorrow to prep, but damned if she was going to leave the party alone after Jay had hooked up with the wrong kind of bride right in front of her. “Just give me a minute to change out of this tablecloth.”
“Why bother?” Bob asked. “You’re just going to take it off anyway.”
Jay growled. At least she thought it was a growl. But then he rubbed his head and she became more concerned about a possible concussion than the way that sound rumbled through her body.
“Do you have a headache? Dizziness? Blurred vision?” She shook off Bob’s arm. “I talked to Parvati and she said I should keep an eye on you in case you have a head injury.” Her gaze fell on the simpering bride. “Of course, if you’ve got someone else to look after you tonight, I’ll be free to continue my super fun evening with Bob.” She held her breath, silently wishing he did have a headache—just a little one. Bob’s zombie dust party was the last place she wanted to be.
“Now that you mention it . . .” His hand went to his head, his brow creasing in a frown.
“Oh my God. I’m calling an Uber right now.” She gave Bob’s arm a squeeze. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll handle this. I’m so sorry I’ll have to miss the after-party. I’ve always wanted to roll naked on a bed of zombie dust in a room filled with strange men, but I’d better get Jay to the hospital. I’m pretty sure the cauldron was unstable, and the fake blood on the floor was a definite slip-and-fall hazard. You don’t want a lawsuit on your hands.”
“Lawsuit?” Bob’s eyes widened. “I don’t want any negative publicity.”
“Don’t worry.” She put an arm around Jay’s waist as if he was about to collapse and she’d actually be able to stop his fall. “I’ll take care of everything.”
• 14 •
“Around the back to Bay 5.” Zara leaned over the seat to talk to the Uber driver. “It’s the last one on the left.”
“That’s for ambulances,” Jay pointed out.
“It’s also for people who have a friend who is an ER doctor and is giving them special treatment. I come here all the time. It’s not a problem.”
“What do you mean you come here all the time?” Jay rubbed his head. He suspected the headache was more at the thought of Zara going to a slimy D-list actor’s zombie dust party than any injury he’d suffered from the fall. Or maybe it was because he associated hospitals with the worst times in his life: his mother’s illness and the aftermath of the crash that still gave him nightmares. Those first few days in the field hospital, still suffering the effects of a parachute drop too close to the ground, he’d had to watch soldiers bring in the bodies of the men he couldn’t save.
But no one was dying today. He didn’t even know why he had come except that Zara had threatened to put herself in a dangerous situation and he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. And maybe someone could give him a couple of pills to make the damn headache go away.
“My overzealous nature lends itself to the occasional injury,” Zara said. “It’s no big deal. No one has been seriously hurt or killed. At one point I contemplated having my dates sign a waiver before we went out, but then I figured that was just asking for trouble. People aren’t as careful when there’s a waiver in place. They take unnecessary risks. I didn’t want that to happen.”
Zara hadn’t been kidding about being in the hospital before. Jay felt like royalty when they were greeted warmly and then whisked through admissions at super speed. By the time Parvati joined them in the small curtained cubicle, he realized the whirlwind process had numbed the anxiety he usually felt when he visited hospitals or accompanied his mother for medical procedures.
“So . . .” Parvati smirked. “I understand that you fell backward and hit your head on a cauldron full of zombie brains. If I wasn’t a professional, I would ask if it helped.”
“Parv . . .” Zara shot her a warning look.
“There are just so many things I want to say.” Parvati chuckled. “So, so many things. But instead, I’ll just give you this . . .” She held out a folded pink square of cloth. “It ties in the back.”
Jay frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Change into the gown,” she said. “It’s hospital policy.”
His stomach clenched. This was getting out of control. It was one thing to keep Zara away from Bob. Another to subject himself to such humiliation. If he’d really been concerned about the fall, he could have contacted J-Tech’s staff doctor, who would have been happy to stop by his place and check him out. “I thought you were just going to assess my injury and look into my eyes with a bright light. That sort of thing.”
