Page 9 of Code Red Chemistry

Suddenly, my eyes land on her, and the sight of Dr. Zoe Meyer dressed to the nines hits me like a wall of heat from a five-alarm blaze. Her hair is up, just as it was at Alex and Kristina’s wedding five years ago. But it’s the low-cut red dress with matching red lipstick that’s a lethal combination. Even at this distance.

The sight of her is so distracting I forget to walk until Ashley prompts me to “let the folks see what they’re bidding on” with a wave of her hand toward the walkway extending down the middle of the ballroom.

I lurch forward as Ashley continues. “And get this, ladies. His perfect first date? Dancing under the stars on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen and talking until sunrise.”

My gaze swings back to Zoe, and I catch the way her eyes widen as round as saucers before they dart away, and she hastily drains the champagne in her flute.

The crowd aws, but I’m too busy picturing that night. Remembering how the city lights sparkled around us. How this woman felt in my arms as we swayed to the music. How we talked for hours about everything and nothing after we’d slipped away to the coat closet. How that night felt surreal on so many levels.

I have to look away as I reach the end of the extension.

“Levi also mentioned his dream girl would be someone who makes him laugh. A woman who’s not afraid to call him on his bullshit. One who stands up for herself and others, and who looks amazing in a cocktail dress.”

There are more appreciative murmurs from the crowd as I spin to return to the stage and risk another glance at Zoe. She’s staring right at me now, those red lips parted. Yeah, I might as well have written “Dr. Zoe Meyer” on that form in big bold letters.

“And what does our brave firefighter have to offer in return? Besides the obvious?” Ashley gestures at my bare chest as I pass her, drawing more whistles. “He promises respect and an unforgettable evening together to the winning bidder. Now, who’d like a chance to see if Firefighter Reyes lives up to his romantic side? Let’s start the bidding at five hundred dollars!”

A paddle shoots up immediately. Then another. The numbers climb steadily as I stand there dumbfounded.

“Eighteen hundred!” calls a blonde in the front, fanning herself with her paddle.

It’s quiet for a minute before Ashley starts the countdown. “Going once…”

My shoulders tense. Eighteen hundred for the children’s burn unit. That’s respectable. And now that I know where Zoe’s seated, I can track her down once I’m done up here.

“Two thousand dollars!”

My head snaps up so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.

That was her voice. I’d recognize it anywhere.

Sure enough, there she is, paddle number 42 raised high in the air.

My entire world shifts on its axis. The crowd murmurs. Our eyes meet, and the challenge in Zoe’s fiery hazel gaze makes me forget I’m standing here half-naked. The entire room fall aways, and my pulse thunders in my ears as Ashley waits for a beat.

“Going once… Going twice…”

The rapid kick of my heartbeat drowns out everything else until the gavel falls.

“Sold to paddle 42 in a killer red dress!”

Zoe

Heads across the crowdedballroom swivel as another successfully auctioned firefighter emerges from the side door beside the stage to join the gala. This time, it’s Levi. He wastes no time meeting my gaze and beelining straight for me across the glittering ballroom. And damn, if anticipation with a side of desire doesn’t flutter deep in my belly.

The black tuxedo he’s changed into fits him as if it were custom tailored for his broad shoulders and thick thighs, and suddenly, I’m grateful for the champagne bubbles dancing in my bloodstream. He’s adjusting his cufflinks as Libby’s gaze, which had tracked mine across the room, swings back with an arch of her brow. But she doesn’t say a word.

She doesn’t need to because the second the gavel dropped, she spun toward me and called bullshit on my promise with a pithy, “And how exactly is winning the auction ‘showing Levi what he lost?’”

With a triumphant smile and a pounding heart, I admitted that, sure, bidding two thousand dollars on a date with a guy I turned down last week and swore I didn’t want to see again might have been a touch of a reckless impulse. But, that my new plan—to get him out of my system for good—is the perfect prescription for a cure.

She didn’t buy it for a second.

“Don’t wait for me if you want to call it a night,” I murmur to Libby now, rising from our table without another glance at Levi as I smooth my dress and grab my clutch.

“Believe me, I won’t. I can read the writing on the wall. You know, the glaring colorful graffiti that screams, ‘We’re hot for each other.’”

“Yes, but that’s all it is. Red-hot chemistry that simply needs a release.”

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