Chemistry of the Heart (Romancing The Geek Book 3), page 1
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
PHARMA LAB NOTES #269
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
PHARMA LAB NOTES #270
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
ZENTELLO STAFF TREATED LIKE THE LAB ANIMALS THEY USE FOR TESTING
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
PHARMA LAB NOTES #271
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
ROMANCING THE GEEK, BOOK 3
EMI LEON
Copyright © 2023 by Emi Leon
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by US copyright law. For permission requests, contact emi@emileon.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products are intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover and Illustrations by Melody Jeffries Design
For those who needed a second chance to get it right!
PHARMA LAB NOTES #269
BY JERRY DAVEY SLANGER
An inside source claims one of the X, Y, or Z pharmaceutical companies is on to something big. As in, for her pleasure big, if you know what we mean. Imagine a Georgia O’Keeffe painting and mentally inhale the sweet orchid scent. According to our source, this product is currently in the third phase of trials, and the results from the second phase are being verified and confirmed by a data specialist. Our inquiries to the company have yet to be answered.
CHAPTER 1
HILDY
I never expected to be in Seattle again. Nothing against the city with a Starbucks on every corner and the best clam chowder at Mo’s, but I left more than five years ago on a rainy October day, which was by far the worst day of my life, and there are far too many other places to visit to have ever considered returning.
Well, until this sunny day in August.
Given my mood, the weather should be overcast and dreary, not a bluebird day without a cloud in the Pacific Northwest sky.
With my brand-new employee badge hanging off the equally new lanyard I wear around my neck, I ride an elevator to the twenty-second floor of Zentello Pharmaceuticals. It’s too bad I’m not more excited about this opportunity, but in all honesty, a two-week side gig at the cutting-edge company was not on my bingo card for this year—or any year. That’s probably why I never would have imagined Nate Lowe, an old friend and one of the co-CEOs, making me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
He tried to charm me into doing him this favor for free. That’s so typical of his golden boy mentality even though he’s on the downward slope to forty, but I held strong. Until he offered me an insane amount of money that will make a huge difference for my younger sister and two-and-a-half-year-old nephew. Once I stopped hyperventilating and picked up my phone from the floor, I caved faster than a nuclear reaction going supercritical.
Fuck that bastard for knowing exactly what it would take to make me say yes.
Now, I’ll be able to cover a year’s worth of speech and occupational therapy and whatever else my sister, Mathilda, might need for little Flynn. Our father cut her off when his one and only grandchild was deemed “imperfect” with verbal apraxia and sensory processing disorder diagnoses. Flynn’s sperm donor had been out of the picture before my nephew was even born.
Nate doesn’t know I would have agreed to work for half the amount. I can’t wait to tell him now that my contract is signed and I’m officially an employee, albeit a very temporary one. Though having to sign a scary-ass NDA still leaves me with a sinking feeling like I may have just sold the soul of my firstborn to the devil, aka Zentello Pharmaceuticals.
The elevator stops, and I follow the directions to Zelda’s office. She sits behind her desk, working efficiently as ever. I haven’t seen her since before I left town, but she hasn’t changed. A pen holds her auburn hair up on top of her head, stylish glasses sit midway down her nose, and her blouse is buttoned all the way up. She’s always been a contradiction, giving off a weird mix of librarian and sex kitten vibes. Not that the two need to be mutually exclusive. Zelda is proof of that.
I still can’t believe Nate hired her as his assistant or that she accepted the job, given her education and background. I have no doubt he keeps her around in the hopes that one day they’ll get back together. I wish I knew Zelda’s thoughts on Nate, but I know he regrets his divorce.
Me?
The idea of working with my ex-husband—or even seeing him again—makes me want to vomit. I’d rather be thrown into an active volcano full of molten lava than reunite with my ex. Without a doubt, he’d agree. No love lost there.
I wait for Zelda to notice me by tapping my foot against the plush carpet, which unfortunately deadens the sound. Whatever she’s typing must be fascinating because she doesn’t glance my way. She works with an almost frenetic energy that seems to have increased since I last saw her.
Honestly, I don’t know why Nate wants her back. They were like acids and bases, endothermic and exothermic reactions, conductors and insulators. People say opposites attract, but in my experience, they repel. It’s best to walk away and not look back, which I did.
No regrets, besides not leaving sooner.
Zelda continues to type. At this rate, I’ll be late for my meeting.
I clear my throat.
Her head jerks up, and her gaze collides with mine. She does a double take. “Hildy?”
“In the flesh.” I force a smile. God help me, but everything about being back in Seattle feels forced.
Remember the money you’ll be paid. Mathilda and Flynn need it.
Zelda’s frown, however, surprises me. We were never close friends, but our exes did their postdocs at the same lab, so we socialized together over the years. Yet something feels off in a very noticeable way. The tension simmers like a pot of butter and sugar before it reaches the soft ball stage on a candy thermometer. She pushes back from her desk as if to put distance between us and crosses her arms over her chest.
What’s up with her?
Her reaction is weird. She’s obviously not happy to see me, but I have no idea why. “Nate’s expecting me.”
Panic flares in her eyes. Again, that’s an odd reaction, given Nate calls Zelda unflappable. More than once since their divorce, he’s said she had ice water running through her veins, but I’m not seeing that today.
She straightens as if a stick just got shoved up her ass. “He didn’t mention it.”
Not my problem, but I can’t forget I’m here for a reason and flash my badge. “Did he mention today’s my first day at Zentello?”
Her face drops—pales—and I feel a little sorry for her. Though I’m totally over my ex-husband, Nate claims Zelda’s as hung up on him as he is on her. Given her reaction to me, I’d say he’s right, though I’m not sure why she’s so put off by me in particular. We’d gotten along fine in the past and never found ourselves at odds over anything. Maybe her job makes her salty, or perhaps it’s Nate. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes and have to work alongside my ex-husband every day of the week like she does.
Zelda smiles, a fake smile, but I’ll give her points for trying after being caught off guard by my appearance and sudden employment. I hope I haven’t gotten Nate in trouble, but knowing him, if that’s the case, he deserves it.
“I’m sure he did, and I forgot,” she says with enough artificial sweetness to kill a lab full of rats.
Once upon a time, Zelda had a memory elephants envied. We all used to joke about it, so I’m not buying that she forgot, which gets me thinking. She’s too young for perimenopause to cause brain fog. Nate would have mentioned if she had a TBI, a substance abuse issue, or another health complication that affected the brain. The most obvious answer is usually right, which means she’s probably lying.
My skin prickles, which has nothing to do with the air-conditioning.
Zelda has no idea why I’m here, and that’s bad because she’s Nate’s right hand and supposedly the love of his life despite their divorce. So why didn’t he tell her I was coming?
A shiver inches down my spine and travels all the way to the tips of my newly polished toenails. What is he up to now?
Zelda stares at me, and I don’t look away. Her gaze narrows as if she’s trying to size me up. Oh, she should know better.
Whatever game she’s playing—it’s on. She should remember I’ll do whatever it takes to come out on top, even if I have to stand here for the next hour or even the rest of the day. Yeah, I can be a tad competitive, and I bla
me my sperm donor for that. He wanted sons, but he got two daughters. My childhood was a watered-down version of The Hunger Games where we competed for crumbs of attention. Affection was nonexistent, even from Mom, who was too afraid of our father to ever go against him.
As I ready myself for a long-haul stare down, Zelda blinks.
Aw … That was too easy. “So, Nate?”
“In his office. It’s the next one down the hall.”
She could have just said that when I arrived. Oh well. “See you later.”
I don’t wait for a reply and leave.
Nate’s office is right next door to Zelda. I hold my badge in front of the digital pad on the wall, and the door whooshes open. Fancy-schmancy, but Nate always enjoyed shiny new toys. I guess he still does.
I step into the office.
It’s huge and high-tech, like the rest of Zentello. Nate sits behind a ginormous desk. He sees me, smiles, stands, and walks toward me. Walk isn’t exactly the right descriptor. The guy saunters up to me like he owns the place. Given he’s co-CEO, he sort of does. “It’s so good to see you, Hildy. What’s it been? Five years? Looking fine, as always.”
“Should you say that since you’re now my boss?” Yes, I can be a bitch at times, but being a woman in STEM can be difficult. It’s a fine dance setting boundaries and sticking to them.
“It depends on your definition of fine. Mine is straight from Merriam-Webster. What’s yours?”
Nate’s as gorgeous as ever. He’s dressed more like a business executive than a scientist in his tailored gray suit and flashy red silk tie. Nate kisses my cheek, giving my shoulder a squeeze at the same time. He smells as good as he looks, which is nothing new. Some men are born with good genes or a silver spoon or a MENSA-level IQ. Nate has all three.
We’re just good friends, even if I may have had one random fantasy about having sexy times with him post-divorce when I was lonely and horny. The fact he’s my temporary boss and still hung up on his ex-wife makes it even easier to keep from proffering my lips now. Which reminds me … “Zelda acted surprised and unhappy to see me just now. Did something happen, or is there anything I should know?”
His mouth quirks, but a smile quickly slides into place. “No, she must be having an off day. It happens to the best of us.”
That’s reasonable, but his words don’t lessen the feeling in my gut. Maybe I’m just on edge from being in Seattle again. “It does.”
“What do you think of Zentello?”
“Fancy digs, and that digital security panel is impressive.” He beams at the compliment, so I might as well keep going to get on the boss’s good side. “But then again, you’ve always been on the cutting edge no matter what you worked on. I remember that from your postdoc days.”
“Good times back then.”
Meh. My divorce taints my memories. But I smile instead of saying that.
He leans against his desk and motions to a nearby leather chair.
I take a seat. “So what exactly am I doing at Zentello?”
Nate winks. “Isn’t seeing me enough?”
“Not really.” I’m being totally honest, but I keep my tone lighthearted so he thinks I’m joking. “You’re paying me too much for this to be just a personal visit.”
He laughs, a warm sound that’s as easygoing as he is. The only thing that flusters him is Zelda.
“That’s what I love about you, Hildy,” Nate says. “You cut through all the crap and tell it like it is.”
He’s not wrong, but that’s also why I’m in my late thirties and single. Mathilda says my standards are too high. My parents say I’m too difficult. I won’t confirm or deny either.
“You know, I have a job waiting for me in New Zealand.” A dream job, if only for the next six months to a year. Visas can be hard to come by, but my experience with mathematical modeling and biomedical engineering made me a shoo-in for the position. They don’t call me a polymath for nothing. The position has the possibility of becoming a permanent opportunity, but I don’t know how long I want to be away from Mathilda and Flynn, even though she told me to go. Giving her all the money I’ll make at Zentello will help assuage my guilt. I hope to convince her to move down there if I wind up staying longer.
Nate rolls his eyes. “I know. You told me about it forty-seven times during our phone call, which is why I put a timeframe on your contract. I won’t interfere with your plans, Hildy.”
He’s saying the right words, but something in his casual pose puts me on alert. I can’t shake off how much of a surprise my sudden employment was to Zelda.
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re assuming I’d let you.”
“Touché.” He sounds amused.
I’m not. “The job description was a bit … vague.”
“Like I told you on the phone, we’re in the third phase of clinical trials for a new product.”
“You didn’t tell me the name of it.”
“That’s because you hadn’t signed the NDA. Now, I can tell you.” His eyes dance with excitement, and he leans forward slightly. “The product’s called Orchid. It’s a female pleasure enhancement drug.”
I straighten. He’s got my attention. “Like a female Viagra?”
“Only better,” he admits, and yes, I’m very intrigued. This will look fabulous on my résumé, even if I’m only here for two weeks.
“It’s a top-secret project,” he continues. “Need-to-know basis only. Our lead scientist in charge of the data needs to verify everything. He could use help.”
“So you need another number cruncher?”
“Yes, and with your background, you’re perfect.”
I’m brilliant. Not going to lie about that fact when everyone knows it’s true, but what Nate says doesn’t make sense. I’m good, but I’m not the only person who can do this job. “What else?”
Nate flinches, which pleases me because his reaction tells me I’ve caught him off guard. That isn’t something that usually happens with Nate Lowe.
“Excuse me?” he asks as if he’s confused. Again, not typical for him.
“There has to be more to this job than data analysis, given the salary and the nice digs you’re putting me up in.” Not only are my accommodations covered for the two weeks, but I’m also receiving a per diem for food.
His mouth drops open. “I’m shocked you’d accuse me of—”
“Just get to the point, Nate. What’s so important I’m the only person who can help you and Zentello?”
He inhales and then exhales as if he’s trying to power all the sailboats on Lake Washington. “You’re right. I need you to do something else while you’re working at Zentello.”
Knew it, and that explains the ridiculous amount of money I’ll be earning and all the extra perks. I need to trust my gut more. You’d think by now I would. Oh well, it’s never too late to learn. “As long as it’s not pole dancing for the board of directors …”
Nate rolls his eyes, grabs a tablet from his desk, taps on the screen, and turns so I can read what’s there. “This article was written by a so-called science journalist. He’s using a pseudonym. We think he’s the same person who’s been writing articles about us since the first phase of the Happy Pill last year. Though we know there’s a team of them who use similar nom de plumes.”
I read the article, which is written in the style of a Hollywood blind item. The not-so-vague references suggest Zentello and their new Orchid project. That’s bad if the project is supposed to be top secret. “On our call, you mentioned having issues with reporters trying to publish a story about Bradley and his girlfriend last year. Is this them?”
Bradley Zimmer is one of the good guys and a lead scientist on the project. We met years ago when he, Nate, and my ex all worked together at the same lab back East. You could even say we were friends of sorts until we weren’t. I lost the majority of our friends in the divorce, so I haven’t spoken to Bradley in more than five years. The one friend I got is Nate. I hadn’t seen that coming, and I’m still not sure how it happened, given how close the guys were. But here I am because of that.
Nate nods. “Christina is his fiancée now, but yes, three reporters tried to blackmail Bradley into giving up information about Mr. Z, our other CEO. And a different reporter, James Austen, wanted Christina to spill the beans about the second phase of clinical trials, though he didn’t know anything about the actual product being tested. When Bradley finally told me what was going on, we found our mole. A biogenetics scientist named Jennings, who ran a lab here. A bit of a hippie-stoner type who played us all into thinking that he was, well … stoned all the time. But that was all a cover so no one noticed when he listened in on conversations or snooped around in areas he shouldn’t have been.”
