so much my heart. More like my pride.”
“Wait, now I’m confused. You were going to propose, but you weren’t in love with her?”
“No, Zara,” he said, his voice even.
Her name on his lips had never made her feel like this. The low, husky tremble of his voice, the smell of cognac on his breath, the way his fingers were moving against the table, almost put her in a trance. Her stomach tightened. It’s hot in here all of a sudden.
Swallowing, Zara said, “No?”
“No,” he repeated. “Getting into a fight at my father’s annual holiday party wasn’t the only mistake I made. Marrying Naomi would have been epic.”
“So, why propose?” Is that my voice? High-pitched, unsure ... flirtatious? Damn it, no. She wasn’t supposed to be flirting with him. They were friends. Just friends. And she didn’t melt in the presence of any man. She was strong, self-assured. She got shit done.
“I thought I knew the answer to that question.” He shook his head. “I didn’t. Because Naomi is not the one.”
Zara sucked in a deep breath. Okay, so I’m melting a little. Why? She didn’t know because that had never happened before. Maybe it was his voice? Or it could be because she hadn’t had any in a long time? And he was hot—so hot, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.
In the back of her mind, she knew she should look away. She didn’t. She couldn’t. It was his eyes, the way he stared at her like she was the answer to that question. Even though common sense told her he was simply being X. And she was Zara. He’d always been an intense person, and she’d always been... Why is he looking at me like that?
“How do you know?” she whispered.
“Xavier?” Jax called from the doorway.
Jumping to her feet, Zara shouted, “Okay, I’m going to go. I have to . . .” She rested her palm against the table to steady herself. “I have to get the hell out of here,” she added under her breath.
Jax approached her and pulled her into a hug. “Zara, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you made it.”
She smiled at her surrogate uncle and mentor. “You as well. I’m happy to be here.”
“I saw your father a few weeks ago. He mentioned he would be in the States next month.”
Zara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her father had been promising he’d be home for eight months. It had been three years since she’d seen him. Once her father hit fifty, he’d decided that life was too short to be tied down to one place and one woman. And after the divorce, he’d made it his mission to travel to all the places he’d wanted to see. Without them.
“That’s good,” she lied.
Jax nodded, patting her back affectionately. Fatherly. Something she’d missed. “How long are you in town?”
The change in subject was welcome. “Until tomorrow morning.”
“I’ve actually been meaning to contact you for some time. Just to check in, see how the agency is treating you.”
Zara couldn’t deny the influence Jax Starks had on her life. She’d modeled her career after his. She’d interned with Pure Talent every summer as a teenager, learning from him, watching him in action with his clients and his staff.
“Things are good. I’m up for partner.”
“Great.” He frowned slightly. “We should catch up. How about we set up some time after the holidays?”
Zara eyed Xavier, who’d been watching their interaction quietly. Meeting Jax’s waiting gaze again, she nodded. “Sure. I’ll call.”
“Sounds good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to my son.”
“Sure,” she said. A little too loud for her taste. “I’ll... join the party.” If there is still a party to join.
Zara hurried toward the door. Unable to resist, she turned back and nearly tripped over nothing when she met X’s waiting eyes. The smirk on his full lips told her he’d caught that. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing him that she liked that damn smirk. Tipping her head toward him, she mouthed “Good luck” before she left the room.
Chapter 3
Zara glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time since she’d arrived on the top floor of her office building: 1:25. The CEO of Huntington Sports Agency had another meeting, which ran over, pushing her scheduled one o’clock meeting back.
Jeffrey Huntington was never late. He may have been a jerk most days, a male chauvinist pig every other day, but he made it a point to be prompt. She’d seen him walk out of meetings to make it to another on time. In the ten years she’d worked for the agency, he’d remained aloof and unavailable, but he was consistent and direct. She didn’t have to worry about him working behind her back. Every unpleasant thing he’d said about her had been to her face. And she appreciated it—even when it felt like a slap to the face—because it had made her better. And it made her one of the best agents at the company.
“Zara, stop pacing.” Jeffrey’s executive assistant, Alma, leaned back in her chair. “You already have more than enough steps to meet your daily goal.”
“Girl, I didn’t even realize I was doing that.” Zara stopped in front of the desk and picked up one of Alma’s paper weights. “Is this new?”
“Yes,” Alma chirped. “I picked it up on my trip to Alaska.”
The polar bear stared back at Zara and she set the potential weapon down. “I’ve never met anyone who collected paper weights.”
Alma winked. “Just like you’ve never met anyone who was attracted to Richard ‘I am not a crook’ Nixon.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Zara giggled, recalling the day that sweet, motherly Alma admitted she’d fantasized about the thirty-seventh president. It was akin to her own mother mentioning that she once imagined Billy Dee Williams in place of her father during sex. Yeah, that was really a conversation.
“At least you’re not fantasizing on that current president. I might have to end our work friendship.”
Alma waved a hand of dismissal. “I like handsome and debonair, not orange.”
One of the things Zara loved about Alma was that she wasn’t one of those people who got offended when called on their privilege. They’d had many heated debates and still remained cool, sharing walks during lunch and even meeting for dinner after work several times.
“Anyway”—Alma leaned for ward—“are you ready to get that promotion, girly?”
Zara felt her face heat up. “I’m nervous. He’s been in there a long time. Who is he with?”
The older woman rolled her eyes. “Damn Larry, the kiss-ass.”
“Stop, Alma.” Zara
