Page 15 of Embrace

“But is that his name? Kirk?” she asked.

I flinched. “Damn it, I didn’t introduce the two of you. That was a total miss on my part.”

“It’s fine. No need to beat yourself up about it.” She stopped walking, and I followed suit. “But now that it’s just the two of us, tell me, how rich is Jake Sparrow?”

I sighed then pursed my lips, pondering whether answering would betray Jake’s trust.

“I mean, if he’s going to send you to a party in a limousine, one that will be attended by the nosiest people at the hospital, then apparently he’s not trying to be cautious,” Zara said.

I shook a finger. “True.”

“Okay, so what’s the answer?”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be a lawyer? You’re so good at making your case.”

She scrunched her face playfully. “Stop stalling, Penina.”

I sighed. “Jake is very rich.”

“How rich is very rich?”

I shook my head as if offended. “What do you mean, ‘how rich’? Do you think I’d ask him where he gets his money?”

Zara grinned goofily. “Yes.” Then she studied me with one eye narrowed. “Fuck. No, you wouldn’t.”

We laughed.

“He just took me by surprise,” Zara said as our laughter simmered.

I frowned. “Who?”

“Kirk, the driver. He’s very handsome. Kind of sexy. No, really sexy.”

“Should I formally introduce the two of you?”

We both turned to look at the car, and Kirk was standing against the passenger-side door, watching us—or more like watching Zara.

Zara’s eyes narrowed seductively as she continued watching him. “He’s a big boy. If he wants a formal introduction with me, he should know how to make one himself.”

I nodded. “True.”

“Anyway, so how is he in bed?” she asked.

I knew who she was talking about. The question remained stuck in my mind as I closed my eyes and let it sit there. Then the tears rushed to my eyes.

“What is it?” She sounded sorry she’d made me sad.

“Nothing. It’s just…” I sniffed and wiped my eyes.

“Is that you, Penina?” a recognizable male voice called.

Zara and I turned to the porch. Rich was leaning on the banister, holding a beer in front of his lips.

“You chose to wear that dress?” he griped.

Zara and I widened our eyes at each other.

“What’s wrong with your dress?” she muttered, trying to keep her lips from moving as much as she could.