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He gave a jolly guffaw. Kind of like a perverted Santa Claus. Zoe knew her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn’t help it. The guy still referred to himself by his football number?
“So how do whips and leather play into your job?” he asked, stepping closer. “I’ll bet the details are juicy.”
“Not really,” she muttered as she took a small step backward. After all, she didn’t need him enough to turn the visual gropes into the real thing.
Zoe wanted to turn and walk away from the oozing smarm. But Brad was her best bet in the quest for Gandalf. All her research so far, as well as the gossip she’d gathered, indicated he was the obvious candidate. So she pulled out her fallback defense. Attitude. She cocked her hip to one side, tilted her chin and gave Brad a wink worthy of Mae West. Pretending she was tapping her riding crop instead of her phone, she took charge of the discussion.
“I was sorry to miss you last night, too. I really wanted to see your costume. Someone said you were a wizard?” she asked with a smile. She threw in an attempt at fluttering her lashes for good measure. “Since I missed out, you’ll have to fill me in. What are you doing these days?”
Brad frowned, peering at her as though he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her eyes. Zoe quit fluttering. “These days?” he asked blankly. “Same thing as always. I’m playing the game, ya know?”
Aha. She gave a relieved sigh. He was Gandalf.
“The game?” she asked ingeniously.
“You know—the game. Life is all about strategy. I put my talents as Central High’s football captain and class president to good use. First in college when I got my degree in computer science, then later, making a fat pile of money.”
Zoe kept her smile in place, but cocked her head to one side and gave him a “huh?” look. How did that apply to video games? Gandalf hadn’t created any sports games.
“So what, exactly, does that mean you’re doing now?” she probed, her amiable smile slipping a little. She wanted to know if he was the video-game wizard or not. Because if he wasn’t, she could get the hell away from him and his leer. God, what kind of idiot had she been to crush so hard on this blockhead?
“That’s a secret, remember?” he said with a loud chuckle as he pulled her close for an over-cologned bear hug. Zoe grimaced against his chest. “You’re just as sneaky as you are cute, huh? Trying to figure out what I do to win the reunion challenge.”
“No, really—” Zoe started to protest.
Before she could do more than peel her face off his polo shirt and stutter, a cold laugh ricocheted around the room like a Stealth icicle.
“How sweet,” Candice said as she glided over. Her entourage, including the redheaded twins and a dozen other perky-looking people, followed close behind. Candice gave Zoe a snide look, her eyes pure blue frost. Her entourage watched in rapt curiosity, waiting for Candice to beat Zoe over the head with a pom-pom or something.
Zoe sighed. No wonder she’d hated school.
“It’s like going back in time,” Candice murmured. “You chasing after the unachievable.”
“And you, determined to win by any means possible,” Zoe shot back.
The blonde gave a toothy grin, beauty queen to geek. “Of course, you have your own means, don’t you? Leather, wasn’t it?”
“I left my riding crop on the bedside table,” Zoe deadpanned.
“Next to your leather bikini?” Brad asked, intrigued enough to risk stepping into the simmering catfight.
“Cute,” Candice said at the same time.
Knowing from experience there was no point in trading ugly for ugly, Zoe offered them both a bland smile.
The blonde looked like a woman who’d just spent the morning in the salon: perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect body. She gave Zoe a smirk, then, stepping between her and Brad, placed her pink-taloned hand on the stud’s chest and leaned close to kiss his cheek.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” she asked him.
Brad blinked a few times, a frown etching deep furrows in his forehead. “Huh?”
Zoe narrowed her eyes. Twenty-four hours and the cheerleader had already bagged him? Or was she just trying to give Zoe that impression? No matter. Candice could have him. Or at least, have his body. It was his career Zoe wanted.
“I sent you an e-mail,” Candice murmured, leaning closer to him and tilting her head to block Zoe from the conversation.
Brad’s blue eyes blurred a little with confusion. Or maybe it was something else, given that Candice was squishing her boobs against his arm.
“I signed it SweetCheeks,” she heard Candice whisper.
