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From the tiny bit he’d revealed, he was quite possibly unemployed. Broke? Those big dreams of success he’d been so determined to see to fruition as a kid, were they trampled in the ugly dust of reality? Maybe that was why he’d been so weird at first? Was he embarrassed? Zoe’s heart sighed. Oh, man. Poor Dex. Her steps slowed. Maybe she could help him? Sure, she was used to working with big companies, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t adapt her skills to troubleshoot a single career, right? That’s what she was doing for Zach, after all.
The image of Dex’s sexy eyes, crooked grin and those incredible shoulders flashed through her mind. A lusty kind of nervousness took hold in her stomach, the kind of nerves that nagged a gal to go lingerie shopping before a first date. To endure the agony of waxing. To giggle idiotically, carefully plan serendipitous encounters and spend hours wondering how he kissed.
Which was crazy. This was her old friend. She wanted to help him because she cared. It wasn’t like she was coming up with some ploy to get him naked and have her way with his body until they both collapsed in screaming ecstasy.
Not really.
That decided, Zoe grinned and spun around to return to the restaurant.
And ran face-first into a wide, bulky chest.
“Watch out,” a deep male voice said as two beefy hands grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling on her butt.
Winded, Zoe tilted her head back and blinked a couple of times. Then she frowned and blinked again.
“Brad Young?” she asked.
No way. It looked like her old crush. The captain of the football team and the first guy to feel her up. The blond hair was supershort, just as thick as ever and impeccably styled. The boyish face was still handsome. And the body? Zoe’s gaze flicked over the fleshy arms and broad chest. The decade hadn’t really done this body good.
“Yeah, I’m Brad,” he said, letting go of her arms. “And you are…?”
Zoe took a step back, a little frown still creasing her brow. She gave him a second, longer look. Her hands lifted in the air, about a foot from his shoulders, measuring.
She wiggled her toes in her boots. The same boots she’d been wearing the night before. The four-inch heels brought her height to five-ten. But she still had to tilt her head way back to see Brad. Dropping her hands to her waist, she tapped her fingers on her hips.
Eyes narrowed, she once again dropped her gaze down his body. He wasn’t fat, by any means. But he did have that I-just-work-out-my-arms-and-drink-lots-of-beer look. Unable to help herself, she eyed his zipper. Unlike Dex’s jeans, which definitely had an intriguing bulk to them, Brad’s khakis lay flat and smooth.
Like a Ken doll.
Brad wasn’t the masked hunk. Her stomach sank into her toes as she worked through the panicked realization that she’d made out with a total stranger last night. And loved it.
“Babe? I’m glad you know who I am, and I’d love to know who you are. But you’ve got to say something.” Laughter, not necessarily kind, rang in the low voice.
Pulling her thoughts off her makeout session and back to the conversation, Zoe’s gaze flew back to Brad’s. Gag. She’d forgotten that he called every girl Babe. Even in her crush-induced excitement over him, she’d realized ten years ago it was his way of not having to remember a girl’s name.
His grin was wide and toothy, like a man trying out for a used-car-salesman job. Zoe forced her mouth to curve.
“Zoe Gaston,” she finally said.
“No way!” His brown eyes rounded and he looked her over as though he was trying to figure out where she’d hidden the rest of her chubby, black-clad teenage self.
“Way,” Zoe shot back, her smile growing stiff. “How have you been?”
“Awesome. I’m awesome, of course,” he murmured, as though barely aware of his words. Instead his entire attention was focused on her. His eyes did a slow perusal of her body from the top of her tousled hair to the pointed tips of her boots. Zoe felt as if she was being visually groped.
She should be thrilled. One-hundred-percent attention from Brad Young had ranked right up there with perfect SAT scores and a date for the prom at the top of her high-school goals.
Instead, she felt like taking a shower.
She sighed, imagining her teenage heart deflate like a punctured balloon. She wanted to toss out an excuse and split. But her tapping fingers played a beat over the cell phone in her front pocket, reminding her of Meghan’s message.
Brad was still the front-runner in the Who Is Gandalf quest. Which meant she needed him.
“I heard you were here and looking hot. Now I see it for myself. I’m sorry I missed you last night. I take it your whips-and-chains getup was in answer to that virginity problem?” he asked with one of those wink-wink-nudge-nudge leers. “Guess you didn’t need ol’ Number Eighty-Nine to help you handle that.”
