The Soulmate Equation (15 page)

“Oh my God,” Fizzy said. “That was close.”

“Yeah.” Jess looked again, heart racing as she watched them walk straight to the newspapers. “Let's go. She'll leave Pops at the papers and head straight for kids' nonfiction. We have about thirty seconds.”

Fizzy nodded, and with Juno's and Pops's backs turned, they ran straight for the doors.

FIZZY STAYED LONG
enough to finish a glass of Nana's iced tea and jot down the details of their adventure before heading home to do some social media stuff and get ready for a night out with Rob. Jess had a few texts from River mentioning the possibility of a party, and that Brandon would be emailing them both… definitely nothing to warrant the flash of heat that moved up her neck. She was tempted to launch into a brilliant retelling of her and Fizzy's little crime spree but stopped herself for fear of beginning a conversation she didn't really want to have. Jess wasn't upset that River had met Juno, but she wasn't sure she wanted it to happen again, either. Future Jess would definitely have to deal with it, but after the day she'd had,
this
Jess just wanted to have a glass of wine and make spaghetti.

As she straightened the apartment and began dinner, she fell back on a new and still unfamiliar comfort: reminding herself that she didn't have to worry about money, at least for a few months. She'd never had the luxury of a cushion before, and it was almost indulgent to imagine paying a year of insurance premiums in advance or splurging on real Tylenol instead of the generic. Wild times.

Pigeon wound around her feet and Jess was just adding pasta
to the boiling water when the door burst open and Juno rushed inside.

“Mom!
How to Build the World's Best Roller Coaster in Ten Easy Steps!
I got it!” She kicked off her shoes and opened her bag in the middle of the living room, spilling the contents across Jess's freshly vacuumed floor.

Setting the wooden spoon on the trivet, Jess turned away from the stove and leaned against the island. Did she look guilty?

“I was number two on the waitlist, but somebody didn't pick it up, and so when I was there, Emily said I could check it out.” Juno slapped the book on the counter and finally came up for air. “I gotta start my project.”

“Hello to you, too.” Jess stopped the whirling dervish with an arm around her shoulders and reeled her daughter in to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Where's Pops?” She looked out into the courtyard but didn't see him.

Juno disappeared into the living room, returning with a blue folder, at least a dozen pieces of paper trying to escape it. “He's taking Nana for Ethiopian food.” She toppled a neat stack of mail as she spread the papers out on the counter in front of her. Jess picked them up again. “The instructions say to use a nine-by-twelve piece of cardboard but I can also use a thirty-six-by-forty-eight.” She paused. “Do we have that?”

“You're asking if I have a four-foot piece of cardboard lying around? Sorry. Fresh out.” Jess stirred the pasta and turned off the stove. “Baby, let's try and keep it manageable? Where would we even put something that big?”

Juno looked around the apartment and motioned to the dining room table.

“And where would we eat?”

“At Nana and Pops's.”

Jess looked at her daughter over her shoulder as she drained the noodles. “What else do you need to start this project?”

“Art tape, the big kind. Lots of it. Did you know that in Philadelphia somebody made a one-hundred-twenty-eight-foot cocoon out of translucent tape? Twenty-one miles of it! You can climb in it and everything.”

“Wow.” Jess pulled down plates and brought them to the counter.

“I also need glue and regular tape and construction paper to make the people.” She pointed to Jess's iPad on the table. “Can I look it up?”

“May I,” Jess said reflexively, and dished noodles onto the plate, topping them with sauce.

Juno picked up Pigeon from the chair, lifted the iPad to wake it up.

“How was school today?” Jess asked, turning just as an image loaded on the screen.

A picture of her and River.

The cover of the
Union-Tribune
she'd been looking at this morning.
Fuuuu—

“Mom!” Juno yelled. “That's you and River Nicolas!”

Was it possible to lose all the blood in one's body without actually bleeding?

“Is he your boyfriend?”

How was Jess supposed to answer that? That she was only pretending with River because they were
paying her
? That they were friends who just happened to be photographed wrapped up in each other's clothes? How was it that she tried so hard to protect Juno, but consistently screwed everything up?

She set down their dinner with shaking hands. “That's…” Jess searched for words, panicked, sweating, spiraling. “We were—”

I am not my mom. I am not putting Juno last. I can explain.

Before Jess could speak, though, Juno tilted her head. “You look pretty with your hair like that.” And then, just as quickly, her attention was drawn to her plate. “Ooh, spaghetti!” She took a humongous bite, eyes closed as she chewed.

Stunned, Jess could only stare as Juno tilted her glass to her face and set it down, leaving a bright moon of milk over her top lip. She grinned winningly at her mother. “Can I order tape after dinner?”

“Yes, as much tape as you want,” Jess said.

“Okay!” Juno swirled more noodles onto her fork. “Can I get different colors? Like blue and orange and green and red?” She took another giant bite, and Jess moved back to the kitchen.

She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Sure,” she told her, and poured herself a drink.
Pink? Purple? Polka dot? Knock yourself out, kid.
Jess had never had the luxury of being frivolous before; it felt strange but also wonderful. She watched Juno finish her dinner and pull out the iPad again, humming as she added art supplies to her cart.

Whoever said money couldn't buy happiness had never seen this.

B
Y BRANDON'S RAVING
account, Trevor and Caroline Gruber were completely lovely people. Yes, they were GeneticAlly investors, and yes, after that
Union-Tribune
profile they wanted to host a cocktail hour to meet Jess along with some of the other major donors, but
They're unpretentious, Jess
, Brandon had insisted.
You'll love them.

Trevor was some sort of tech genius from Detroit, and Caroline was a pediatric orthopedist from Rhode Island. Worlds colliding, true love, all of that.

That they'd chosen to give a cool few million to a company whose goal was to match people up with their soulmates gave Jess hope they and their guests wouldn't all look like the Monopoly man. There were a thousand good investments in this booming biotech area, but as someone who manipulated data and helped companies evaluate risk, even Jess couldn't say for sure that, under different circumstances, she'd choose to give money to GeneticAlly.

That said, one look at River when he picked her up out in front
of her building, and she would happily throw her wallet and banking passwords at whoever was asking. He was in a tailored navy suit. Polished shoes. Perfect almost-too-long hair, bright eyes. The Adam's apple she'd thought of licking more than once since the Shelter Island interview a week ago. Brandon had talked her off a ledge earlier, insisting GeneticAlly would spring for her dress and send someone to do her hair and makeup. A thoughtful and generous gesture, it had mainly served to highlight that the event was Very Fucking Important, which sent Jess deep-breathing into a paper bag.

And just when she'd convinced herself she was both socially adept and attractive enough to handle being on Dr. River Peña's arm all night, he stepped out of his car looking like solid muscle and sexual energy poured by a fancy German-engineered machine into that suit.

Jess took a flying leap off a mental bridge. She was so completely screwed. She'd lowered the drawbridge to sex thoughts and now they were stampeding across. Frankly, if she and River ever managed to get it on, he was going to have a lot to live up to. Fictional River was a wonder in bed.

He bent and kissed her cheek again—this time she was at least prepared for it, but she was not prepared for the assault of sensation. He smelled… different.

He did a similar deep inhale near her ear.

They spoke in unison:

“Are you wearing perfume?” “Are you wearing cologne?”

Her question echoed last, and louder.
Is he blushing?

“A little. My sisters—” He cleared his throat. “They told me to go to Neiman Marcus, get some recommendations.”

Jess pulled out a mental bag of arrows and took aim at the imagined saleswoman who'd dabbed his skin with various colognes and gotten close enough to smell him. “Your sisters told you to get… cologne?”

“They're invested. In this.” He sighed, but she knew he was only pretending to be exasperated.

His sisters were invested in them? Was that adorable or terrifying? “That's very sweet,” Jess managed.

River laughed dryly. “That's one word for it.”

“Well, the cologne is nice.” Understatement of the ages. Jess wanted to eat him up and wash him down with the rest of the bottle.

He leaned in again. “What is it I'm smelling?”

Jess was thrown for a moment when she registered that they were
smelling
each other. And recognizing a difference. Was this normal? Was this weird? She decided to roll with it.

“It's—okay, it sounds weird, but it's grapefruit. It's a grapefruit roll thing—” She didn't know how to say it. “It's not perfume, exactly. Like an oil? It's a little roller—” Jess shut up and just mimed rolling something on her wrist. “Perfume gives me a headache, but this”—she felt the tops of her cheeks flame—“this I can do.”

“I like it.” He seemed to struggle for words. “A lot.”

What was she hearing in his voice? Weird tight restraint. It sounded like he was telling a platter of buttery beef Wellington,
I could stand to take a bite
, when really he meant,
Get in my face
.

Did River Peña… want
her
in his face?

Jess had to take it down a notch. She might have been consistently obsessing since their Shelter Island snuggle, but she could make no assumptions about where he was with all of this.

Also, as they climbed into his car, Jess reminded herself that they would soon be standing inside an investor's penthouse for a cocktail party. That is, River—and everyone there tonight—had a financial interest in her looking at him with horny eyes. Jess knew already that River chose his words carefully; for all she knew, his sisters might be
actually
invested, not just sentimental and meddling. Her obvious attraction to him helped boost confidence in his company, which helped his pocketbook, and also helped confirm everything he'd been saying from a scientific standpoint all this time. Jess knew how important it was to River that the world saw the impact of his data.

And frankly, look what Jess was willing to do for thirty thousand dollars. No, it wasn't a hardship to buy dresses with GeneticAlly expense accounts and walk hand in hand with dressed-up science-brained sex on legs into a fancy party, but her thirty thousand was a drop in the bucket compared to what River stood to make. Millions.

“What are you thinking about over there?” he asked, cutting into her pondering silence.

It couldn't hurt to be honest. “Oh, just questioning every choice I've made.”

This made him laugh. “Same.”

Doubtful
. “Give me one example.”

He glanced at her and then back to the road as they took the 163 on-ramp. “Really?”

“Really.”

After a long pause, during which Jess assumed he'd decided to
ignore her request, River finally spoke. “Okay: Did you think of me when you put on that dress?”

From chest to forehead, her skin flushed hot. Jess looked down at her gown. It was deep blue, with black spaghetti straps. Delicate metallic stardust embroidery was scattered in small, artful clusters across the entire gown, giving it the feel of a gently starred sky. The subtle black lace trim crisscrossed above and beneath her breasts and purred
evening wear meets
evening
wear
, but Juno and Fizzy—her two jabbermouths—had literally gone speechless when she came out of the dressing room wearing it, so Jess trusted their reactions over her hesitation that she might be showing way too much skin.

“I know you're getting paid to be here,” he added quietly. “So, there's my question. Did you?”

“Same question, but with the cologne,” Jess said through a cork of emotion in her throat. “And you're getting paid a lot more.”

“Potentially.” He laughed.

“But that's exactly it. If we do a good job tonight, you stand to make a lot more than thirty thousand. Your sisters told you to get some cologne—that would be smart seduction advice, especially if they're shareholders.”

“They are,” he acknowledged.

They fell back into a thick silence; Jess was unwilling to answer until he did. She bet her entire thirty thousand that he felt the same.

“So, smart seduction advice, then?” he pressed, grinning slyly at her before turning back to the road.

“It smells really good on you,” she admitted quietly, and was instantly mortified about the growling bass in her voice. She cleared her throat.

Jessica Davis, get your shit together.

Beside her, River shifted in the driver's seat. “Well, for what it's worth, that dress is…” His voice also came out hoarse, and he coughed into his fist. “It is also really good on you.”

TWO GOOD-LOOKING GUYS
in their early twenties jogged over as River pulled the car up to the curb.

“Every bit of fanciness just makes me more nervous,” Jess admitted quietly after River tipped the valets—nephews of the hosts, they'd learned—and met her on the sidewalk.

He stepped closer, looking down at her with concern. “Everyone who'll be here is incredibly nice.”

“I'm sure,” Jess said. “It's just that as of yesterday, my fanciest outfit was the only other dress you've seen me wear. This dress cost more than two months of Juno's ballet lessons.”

“It's worth every cent, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does,” she said, smoothing her hands over the front of the dress. “Just keep telling me I'm pretty and it'll be fine. Oh, and wine. Wine will help.”

Laughing quietly, he let her lead them inside the building. The marble-floored lobby was empty except for a security desk, a beautiful leather settee, and two elevators at the end.

The security guard looked up as they approached. “Here for the Gruber event?”

River's warm palm came over the small of her back, and every thought in her brain was incinerated. “River Peña and Jessica Davis,” River confirmed, and the man checked their names on a list before programming the elevator from where he sat.

“Head on over to the car on the right,” he said. “It'll take you straight up.”

As the doors closed, Jess was reminded of the other times she'd been in an elevator with River—the strained silence, the unspoken disdain between them. Going back to that felt like it'd be simpler than this unmeasurable, unmanageable attraction.

River cut into the quiet. “I think I need to clear something up.” Jess looked up at him in question, his eyes fixed on the wall ahead. “About my sisters.”

“Oh?” She had no idea where this was headed, but the pace of the world's second-slowest elevator suggested there'd be plenty of time to find out.

“They
are
investors,” he said. “They both put in money at the very beginning of the project. But that isn't what I meant by ‘invested.' ” Finally, he looked down at her. “About the cologne.”

Jess bit back a laugh. He was so serious. “Okay.”

“They think this”—he gestured between them—“is very…” He paused, and then gave her a sardonic smile. “
Very
exciting. But,” he quickly added, “please don't feel pressured by their enthusiasm.”

Nodding, Jess gave him another quiet “Okay.”

“And I'm telling you this now because up there is waiting a roomful of people who, you already know, are deeply financially invested in how you and I interact, and I don't want you to go in there thinking that everything is for show.” River reached into the inside
pocket of his suit and pulled out his phone. He swiped it awake, opened it to his photos, and began scrolling. Finally, he found what he was looking for and turned the screen to face her.

For a second, Jess had no idea what she was seeing. River's doofus doppelgänger was her best guess. He was in his early twenties, but his posture read even younger, way less confident.

“Do you recognize him?” he asked.

She was afraid to guess. This scrawny, hunched, mismatched child could not be—

“It's me.” He swiped through a few more, showing her several photos of the same dorky alternate-reality version of himself.

“Plaid shorts and striped shirt was a real style choice,” Jess said, laughing.

“I moved away from home when I was sixteen,” he said, and the elevator doors opened.

Her stomach vaulted into her throat because for the past ten seconds, she'd forgotten where they were. They stepped out, but River paused in the marble foyer leading to a single front door.

“I graduated high school early and started at Stanford when I was about four months shy of turning seventeen.”

“Holy shit.”

“I was probably twenty in this picture—although you'd never guess it—and you can see that once my sisters could no longer exert daily influence, I had no idea how to dress myself.”

Jess burst out laughing, sparking a return smile.

“If it weren't for them, I'd probably still be wearing those plaid shorts.”

“Please, no. Your sisters are doing a much better job.”

He laughed now. “It's just how they are. They left for school on the East Coast when I was in high school and… it wasn't always… They feel responsible for me.” River licked his lips and glanced up at the door before back to her. “All of this is to say: I wasn't thinking of this roomful of people when I put the cologne on earlier. I was thinking of you.”

She didn't know what else to say besides “Thank you for telling me.”

Jess was split in half—turned on by his confession and terrified by it.

Luckily, he didn't seem to need a bigger response. Straightening, River turned to face the Grubers' double front door and took a deep breath. She expected him to ring the bell, but he didn't.

After a few long, increasingly awkward moments of silence, Jess asked, “You okay?”

“I hate these things,” he admitted.