Nothing Like Love by Abigail Strom Read Free Book Online

do that. But could I call you later? After the dinner is over?”
    Once again, he found himself thinking of Simone . . . and what might have happened between them tonight.
    Maybe it was for the best. Work always came first with him, and there was that unspoken personal guideline of his. If he and Simone had hooked up tonight it would have been his first exception to that rule in a long time.
    “Of course you can,” he said. “I still think sleep would be the best thing for you, but if you’re awake in a few hours, give me a call. I’ll probably be back in my hotel room by midnight.”
    “Dearest Zach. Darling Zach. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
    “It’s my pleasure, Isabelle. Always.”

    Simone was glad when the toasts began. All she wanted to do was bask in the feeling that clung to her very skin even after Zach left to take his phone call, and she had no interest in making small talk.
    The toasts were well under way by the time Zach returned. He sat down, gave her a quick smile, and then turned his chair to face the father of the groom, who was in the middle of an anecdote that Simone hadn’t really been listening to.
    Now that Zach was sitting beside her again, there wasn’t much chance she’d hear the rest of it, either. He was between her and Tom’s father, which meant she could stare at the back of his head for the rest of the speech.
    By the time Mr. Shelburne had ceded the floor to Jessica’s sister, Simone had memorized the line of Zach’s neck and the way his broad shoulders filled out that perfectly tailored suit.
    He was quietly attentive to each speaker, but Simone noticed that his left hand, resting on the table beside him, told a different story. Every so often his fingers moved, tapping against his wineglass or curling into a fist.
    She remembered the energy that had crackled between them during their Shakespearean rap battle. She remembered the look in his eyes afterward, when he asked what she smelled like under her dress. She was in a bit of a dating slump these days—nobody had tempted her past the flirting stage in a while—but she could still read masculine expressions and body language. As floored as she was by the idea that Zach Hammond was attracted to her, she didn’t doubt what his look had meant.
    At least, not until dinner was over and the two of them were outside the restaurant.
    The air had turned deliciously cool. The breeze felt wonderful against her cheeks, which were warm from alcohol and anticipation.
    She and Zach were waiting together in the taxi line. She was going to ask him if he wanted to share a cab with her. Since her place was all the way downtown, that question alone would convey her intentions.
    Zach looked a little remote, but then he often did. Not in rehearsals, where he was passionate and intense, but in his personal interactions.
    Tonight, though, she’d have a chance to see a different side of him. What would it be like to watch that detachment transform into something else?
    They were at the front of the line now. When the next taxi pulled up, Zach opened the door for her and she got in.
    Then she went for it. “Do you want to—”
    He shut the door and leaned down to talk through the open window.
    “Have a good night, Simone. I’ll see you tomorrow at the wedding.”
    She stared at him. “At the wedding. Right. Unless . . . do you want to come with me? To see my paintings,” she added quickly.
    Good God. Her paintings ?
    In spite of her recent dry spell, Simone liked to think of herself as a woman with game. Moves. At the very least, a basic level of competence in her dealings with the opposite sex.
    Now, apparently, she was reduced to asking guys to come upstairs and see her etchings.
    “I’ll take a rain check, if that’s all right,” Zach said. “But I hope you’ll save me a dance at the reception tomorrow.”
    “Where to?” the driver asked impatiently as Zach straightened up and backed away from the curb.
    She gave