by M K Lansbury
“Wow. That’s . . . I really appreciate that.”
The girls walked away, and Zara whirled around to face the open bar. Her eyes widened as she mouthed “oh my god” to the glass shelves behind the bartender.
The bartender saw her. Zara smiled sheepishly.
“Seems you, like, did well out there.”
“I gave it my best shot.”
Zara’s confidence faltered just a little when she recalled the gray eyes that had secretly challenged her from the audience. Those eyes had also been very admiring, but Zara’s heart chose that moment to palpitate aggressively against her ribcage.
Why is this making me nervous? I did well.
“Zara Rodriguez!”
Zara could recognize Kassandra Young’s voice anywhere. She had watched Tech Talks for years, and Kassandra’s throaty purr of a voice was extremely distinctive. Zara had barely turned when Kassandra slid into the barstool next to her.
“How are you enjoying the party?”
“It’s great. A lot of fun.”
Kassandra chuckled. “It’ll be more fun if you actually get away from the bar. Go network. Go mingle. You did a fantastic job tonight, and I’m really impressed with how you held your own when I ambushed you by introducing Lance.” She laughed a practiced and melodious sound.
Zara wished she could be that graceful while laughing. Her laugh rarely sounded like anything but a zebra neighing. But that was just her own perception. Ally promised that Zara’s laugh sounded pleasant. But Ally was biased—she loved Zara too much to provide an accurate review of Zara’s laugh.
“Zara, we should definitely do this again. Say, after you launch Soul Mate and get some good download numbers, how about we get you back here and get your experienced opinion next time?”
Zara’s blood rushed to her cheeks in excitement. “Absolutely. That’d be an honor.”
Kassandra placed a hand on her forearm. “It’s time us girls brought Finder down. Show them how it’s done.”
Zara grinned, and something made her gaze pull away from Kassandra’s gleaming ebony skin to a lone figure standing at the end of the gigantic hall.
It was him.
He was watching her. Lance Chase. Always a solitary figure. Always so mysterious and charismatic. He seemed to glow in his dominant energy. Holding a drink in his right hand, his free hand tucked into his pants’ pocket. His feet placed slightly apart. He looked tall and dark and dangerous. She was attracted to him in a way she had never felt. Electric sizzles were coursing through her veins like electricity.
“Excuse me, Kassandra, I just spotted someone I need to talk to.”
“Sure. Go on!”
Zara couldn't believe how sweet Kassandra was to her, but she was entranced by Lance. Holding her chin up in a show of confidence that she didn’t exactly feel, she chanted Ally’s go-to mantra in her head.
Fake it till you make it. Fake, fake, fake it. Make, make, make it.
“Hi!”
He was already beaming at her. “Hello.”
“I don’t know about you . . .” Zara was glad and surprised that her voice wasn’t trembling, “. . . but I feel like you owe me an apology.”
“Do I now?”
Lance reached for a glass of champagne off a server’s stable tray and held it out to her. A thrill ran through Zara. Something about the way he didn’t ask her if she needed a drink and took control made her want to drink it all immediately.
“I believe it wasn’t until the end of the conversation that you told me you were the actual owner of the beach house.”
His laugh resounded in her ears, sending shivers down her limbs. His head fallen back, she ogled his long neck, strong Adam’s apple bobbing, and shaded dark area on his jaw where his stubble would probably grow within the next twelve hours. Everything about him was tantalizing. She’d never noticed a man’s facial hair follicles before. What the hell has gotten into me?
“You mean after you had said that it was your brother’s place? And that you were responsible for all of said brother’s success?” He smiled and shook his head playfully. “No, I believe that you’re the one that owes me an apology, Zara. Or is it Sam?”
Zara began to feel comfortable around him. Rich, wealthy, powerful, and successful men had a knack for making the other person feel like they weren’t sensible or smart enough to communicate with them. But this man certainly made her feel like she was a rock star.
“I guess both of us were a little cagey about our true identities that night.”
“Yeah, I guess so. So our apologies really just cancel each other out.”
“Two wrongs make a right?”
He grinned. “Bygones. It was a really fun night in Montauk. The highlight of my weekend, actually.”
Zara’s mouth went dry. There was no denying that the space between them was crackling with an electric charge. A charge that seemed magnetically tugging them together even though she fought it.
Zara grinned. “Full disclosure, though, now that we know our true identities. Soul Mate fully intends to kick Finder’s butt.”
His chuckle was deep and throaty.
“Finder promises to give Soul Mate a very good butt-kicking. And you should know . . . I’m known to keep my word.”
Something about the way he said it didn’t make it seem like a threat. Jittery, nervous energy coursed through her. Made her kind of manic in happiness she hadn’t felt ever before. “I look forward to proving you wrong.”
“In your dreams.”
“Lance!”
Zara’s head lurched to the side. Kassandra Young appeared out of nowhere. Her hands were now clutching Lance’s forearm like an octopus crushing its prey with all tentacles. Kassandra had only two, and she was sure using them. To Zara’s surprise, Lance didn’t as much as glance at Kassandra. His eyes dropped to the drink he held, a polite smile pasted on his face. Zara found the whole interaction kind of mesmerizing. And confounding.
She couldn’t help noticing, however, that the African-American beauty and the tanned Greek God of a man made a striking pair.
It hurt her chest a little.
Kassandra’s purr was inches from Lance’s jaw. “I didn’t know you were coming to the show until my producer told me just before I went on, Lance. You little tease. You really have to finally give me a date.”
His eyes flickered to hers only briefly at the mention of a date.
She laughed. “Oh, silly me!” The flirtatious tone was so obvious it made Zara cringe. Especially since Lance did not reciprocate at all. If anything, he looked a combination of amused and annoyed.
“A date for appearing on my show. Lance, you know what I mean.” She laughed at her own quip. “It’s going to be the best show I’ve ever done. This is the first time you’ve shown up in my audience. Don’t know what finally brought you here, but that’s a step in the right direction. Now you have to come on the show. No panel, of course. You’re a powerhouse of information.”
Zara realized that there existed an extensive, awkward silence ever since Kassandra had landed in their midst. Finally, Lance spoke.
“Of course, Kassandra. I’ll consider it. Please excuse me.”
He pried his arm free of her tentacles. There was no denying the longing in Kassandra’s eyes when Lance walked to a group of men decked out in suits. They turned to him and gave him their undivided attention like he was a rock star.
Zara could only smile sheepishly at Kassandra. She’d made the whole evening kind of squeamishly awkward.
***
An hour later, Zara was getting her coat when a strong hand caught her wrist.
“Hey! Finder-competitor! Come on.”
Her heart racing, her jaw falling open, she followed Lance out of the lounge and onto the street. The fresh air soothed her skin and her jitters, even though the July heat was anything but comfortable.
Lance released her waist just as they walked up to another grou
p. Zara recognized the six people. They were at the lounge after-party earlier. The four women in the group were founders of leading app development companies, the two men founders of an organ donor connection app.
Basically, all behemoths in the tech world. And Zara was just an ordinary girl, which her tech-genius friend had hired as Head of Marketing.
Never in her life had Zara felt this out of place and awkward. But at the same time, she’d never felt this special either. Lance was right next to her, and he did not seem to want to let her go.
“We’re all heading to Randy’s. It’s a piano bar right around the corner.”
Zara smiled at him sideways. “We? Am I part of that ‘we?’”
He chuckled. “You got somewhere else to be?”
Zara slowly shook her head no. She’d rather stay right here with him.
Randy’s Piano Bar was a hip, cool place. It was bustling with a crowd that was hipper and cooler. Zara wanted to blend in and belong, but it was going to be a very challenging feat.
The rustic furniture made the bar look like a miniature farmhouse with two worn-out oars put up on the wall that looked like they held sentimental value. The floor was lined with small round tables along the walls encircling a central open space where a piano player sat rocking his head to some silent tune in his mind. Next to the piano, there was enough room for people to break into an impromptu dance.
Amidst the rustic farmhouse décor, the patrons in sophisticated tailored suits and elegant dresses contrasted beautifully. To some, it might seem like these polished, well-dressed people didn’t belong with the weathered benches and cracked pair of oars, but their love of music was what made them belong.
The group of Lance’s tech pals banded together as they headed toward the bar. Instinctively, Zara stuck close to the group—or maybe she just wanted to be near Lance.
The group of tech geniuses was keen to talk to her as if she was their childhood pal. After four rounds of drinks were consumed and a fifth ordered, Zara wanted more than to just stand in one spot. Something about the piano player drew her closer. Zara was entranced by the way his fingers cascaded over the keys. He rocked to a tune, tapping his foot, completely in his own zone. Suddenly, he halted, and the whole bar applauded with deafening force.
Her ears buzzed as the piano player’s fingers quickly drummed a new tune. It was a Broadway song, something that Zara recognized from her youth.
“‘Oklahoma!’” Beaming, she turned around and found that Lance was right behind her. “I absolutely love this musical!”
“Yeah? So do I,” he said with a grin that made her want to melt on the ground.
“It reminds me of home!” Zara smiled openly and danced to the music just as Lance began to sing along with the musician.
The song allowed Zara to forget the world and what a misfit she was. No one was making her feel like she didn’t belong. It was all in her head. She just had to be herself and let herself have a good time.
Laughing, she sang along with Lance. He took her hands, twirling her around briefly as they sang together:
“Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain.
Where the waving wheat can sure smell sweet.
When the wind comes right behind the rain.
Oklahoma, every night my honey-lamb and I
Sit alone and talk, and watch a hawk making lazy
Circles in the sky . . .”
The bar was bustling. Almost everyone singing to the upbeat melody.
But Zara felt like no one existed in the world but her and Lance. His grey eyes were bright and burning, his smile smoothing his face to make him look absolutely mischievous. Somehow, the authoritative, powerful man seemed like an approachable boy.
A boy she had a horrible, painful crush on.
“We know we belong to the land
And the land we belong to is grand
And when we say Ay Yippy Yi Ki Yeah.
We’re only saying, you’re doing fine, Oklahoma!
Oklahoma. You’re okay.”
***
Two hours later, Zara was not okay.
The silence in the street outside Randy’s, the warm breeze, the lights, and Lance’s glistening eyes that refused to pull away from her face made her jittery. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. Real life was never this perfect.
She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to pull her gaze away from Lance’s.
“I had a really good time tonight.”
His voice was a salve on her burning skin. “Yeah, me too.”
Zara knew exactly what made the whole thing so awkward. She felt a connection to him, and she was pretty sure he felt the same. There was no other reason for him to be standing there in front of her after not leaving her side in the last two hours. But the elephant in the room—or more accurately in the middle of the street—was that they were competitors.
They couldn’t be friends.
There was no way this evening could go anywhere from here. Zara couldn’t help but feel like she was trapped in a contemporary, modern-day version of Cinderella. As soon as the evening was over, this dream was over. She had to run as fast as she could, as far away as she could, from Lance Chase.
It all ended here, at the entrance to Randy’s Piano Bar.
“I guess I should get going.”
He nodded. “Can I drive you home?”
“Oh, no. That’s okay. I’ll manage. Thanks anyway.”
Sense was slowly rearing its weary head, and she extended her hand as a goodbye. With the handshake that would follow, Zara would bid adieu to the entire possibility of anything bordering on the idea of a relationship. It had to be done.
“Goodbye, Lance Chase.”
He took her hand. “Goodnight, Zara Rodriguez.”
“I’ll see you on the battlefield.”
“Waving a white flag?”
“Never.”
“I’m sure you look good in white.”
Zara turned and clenched her eyes shut briefly as she walked in the opposite direction. She refused to look back, even though she really wanted to know what he was doing.
She wanted to let the buzz linger a little longer. She knew that nothing would come of it, but this was the first pseudo-date she’d enjoyed since her breakup.
Consider it a trial run for when you meet someone you can actually date.
Zara bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile, still warm in the afterglow of the wonderful evening she’d actually lived. She couldn’t help herself. She stopped and looked back. Lance and his Bentley SUV were long gone. But the goodbye they’d said still lingered in the middle of the street.
Not really a goodbye when he hadn’t said it back.
He’d said goodnight.
Her heart thudded dramatically as a voice chirped cheerfully in her head.
Goodnight is not the same as goodbye, right?
SIX
The Beta Soul Mate
Time to say hello to the beta launch of Soul Mate!”
Zara and Ally laughed at Beata’s exuberant announcement.
The three of them were sitting around the conference table in the Soul Mate office, their laptops open, several files scattered in front of them. Chet joined them a moment later and half fell into a chair next to Zara. Grabbing the edge of the table, he pulled himself closer.
“Sorry I’m late.”
The conference table jerked from the pressure, and all three women looked up at Chet briefly.
He was clueless, unaware of the table’s near-tipping.
Zara smiled to herself, amused by her well-meaning friend.
“Okay! The in-house marketing campaigns have launched. We still have seven more days to fine-tune the campaign as we go along. Ally? Do you have something to help put us on the radar for college students in particular?”
“Yes, I’ve sent all three of you an email with the plan.”
Fifteen minutes
later, Beata was pacing the office floor, wringing her hands. “Assuming we get the initial downloads as expected, I’m willing to increase the marketing budget for the launch of—”
“Zara?”
Zara stiffened at the unannounced voice behind her in the room. She recognized it. Across from her, the fury on Ally’s face made it clearer that the voice belonged to Stewart Wong.
Yes, her ex-boyfriend. The coworker.
Ally’s deathly stare settled on a spot behind Zara. Zara wanted to turn instantly and use the opportunity to give Stewart a piece of her mind. But she was momentarily riveted to the way Ally transformed into an avenging angel. Zara watched in mounting panic as Ally stood up. Her hands on the table, her voice was shrill and loud.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
Zara whirled around before Ally blew up in her ex’s face. “Stewart?”
“Zara!” he gushed as if they were long-lost lovers and this was a dramatic reunion. “I’m so glad I found you. I'd like to talk with you.”
Zara cringed. She remembered the humiliation of being dumped via text. The humiliation of being forced to still work with him. The humiliation of hearing about the relationship with Anne-Marie. “Why?”
He glanced around at the silent occupants of the room. “Can I speak to you in private?”
“No.”
He hadn’t expected that and had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “I’d really like to talk with you. In private.”
“Well . . .” Ally’s amused voice resounded in the room. “That’s not really Zara’s problem, is it?”
“Zara, I . . . okay, here goes.” He stepped forward and reached for Zara’s arms, but halted midway when Zara jerked and took a step back. “Look, I’m sorry for what I did. I knew it was a mistake and I’d like to say I couldn’t help myself, but I could. But I didn’t. But . . . well, I heard about your appearance at NY Tech Talks, and I just . . . Well, I’m really, really sorry.”