Page 28 of Unmatched

I go to close the door, my face heating a little even as my eyes linger where they’re joined. Until the guy notices me and says my name in a familiar faint British accent. “Anton?”

I hesitate, glancing back into the space full of cereal and canned goods. My friend Henry Hill untangles himself from the woman I now recognize as Annabelle Wallace, Carl and Eva’s daughter, who is interning with her dad this year. She’s super cute, but super young, barely out of college. I’ve known Henry long enough that it doesn’t surprise me to see him with her, though. He’s a lot like my brother.

“Henry.” I nod to them like we’ve run into each other on the street, not tucked away next to a sack of potatoes. “Annabelle.”

“Hey, Anton,” she says with a giggle, her fingers drifting inside Henry’s suit jacket.

“I . . . didn’t realize you two knew each other,” I say.

“We were matched up for singles this morning on the tennis court.” Henry grins at Annabelle, who looks like she wants to nibble his ear. “Two sets in, she’d crushed me, and I found myself invited to a party.”

I stifle a laugh as he smooths his clothes and leads Annabelle out of the pantry. Henry likes to network, and often has fun with it. He isn’t directly in finance, but hooking up with Annabelle Wallace is probably more strategic than he makes it sound. Still, it’s hard not to notice the way their hands never seem to leave each other. Even out in the kitchen, he’s stroking the inside of her elbow while she keeps toying with his hair. Both of them seem ready to dive back into each other. I can’t remember if Lydia and I ever used to act this way.

“Where’s your wife?” Henry asks, and I freeze for a second, wondering if he can tell the state of my thoughts just by looking at my face. “I wanted to talk to her about my sister’s dog.”

This relaxes me a little, though the dog talk is unexpected. Henry comes off as a bit of a snob with his accent, designer suits, and impeccable hair. I’m pretty sure he’s too neat and meticulous to ever own a pet. But we were roommates in college, and I happen to know under the flawless surface, he’s a decent guy.

“Uh, she’s out there.” I wave in the general direction of the rest of the house.

“I thought you looked miserable.” Henry chuckles, knowing all too well social events are not my scene. “So, you’ve abandoned her to do your schmoozing for you?”

I shrug. “Don’t know what you mean. I’m the life of the party.”

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I need her help. Or my sister does. Her puppy is ruining my life.”

“Send it to daycare,” I say, promoting the Pooches on autopilot. “Lydia’s opening up a new place close to your office.”

“Another one already?” Henry’s brows shoot up. “Your wife is on fire.”

“Yeah, she is,” I mutter, spotting a case of water bottles and ducking back into the pantry. As I wrestle one free of the plastic, I see Annabelle reach for Henry outside the door, pulling him to her lips. My hands lose coordination as he cups her breast, and she presses her leg between his.

When I finally step out with the water, she pulls away with a gasp. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispers, tugging on Henry’s arm. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to my dad on the way out. Then let’s go to your place. Nice to see you, Anton!”

Henry winks at me as she leads him into the hall, and I wave. But it’s like their passion lingers in the air, and I’m hit with a sudden, heady desire for my wife. To touch her skin, feel her curves, stoke a fire between us. That can’t be something only other couples get to have.

Clutching the water, I head back to the great room, my pulse urging me on. There’s a new hire trying to impress a girl from IT in the corner. Carl and Eva are smiling at the center of the room, arms around each other as Henry charms them and their daughter. And then I spot Lydia, looking like a perfect hourglass in that sexy blue dress. I swallow hard. Will she let me peel it off tonight? Yank down the zipper and toss it to the floor? I start toward her until someone places a hand on my arm.

“Anton,” says Myra Alvarez. “Carl and I were just talking about you. He couldn’t stop praising how innovative your account strategies have been. I’m looking forward to working together.”

Pivoting my thoughts from undressing my wife back to finance feels like trying to stop a speeding train, but I meet Myra’s deep brown eyes and manage a smile. “I—I have some thoughts already on how to improve your portfolio. Maybe we can sit down and go over them next week.”

“That sounds marvelous.” She follows my gaze to Lydia across the room with a warm smile. “I remember when I used to watch my wife just the way you’re looking at yours.”

I snap my eyes back to hers, my face heated, but she just laughs.

“It’s obvious you and Lydia have a special bond as well.”

I frown. Did Lydia say something to make her think our passion was mutual? Or does she see something I’ve been missing? The mere thought shortens my breath.

“Of course, that was before the kids, our careers, an international move, and middle age. It’s hard to keep romance alive twenty years in, but our relationship is strong. We manage.”

This makes me pause. Do Lydia and I have a bond like that? I used to think so, but we can’t even manage to take a weekend away together. It’s hard to imagine where we’ll be in twenty years.

I swallow hard. “What, ah, what would you say is your secret?”

“Excellent sex.” Myra sips her champagne, eyes twinkling. “And we never speak about work in our bed.”

I straighten, unprepared for such a frank answer, but as I think about what she said, my stomach tightens.

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