thank you,” Sophie said, turning around to face him.
“Shall we go?” he suggested, eager now to put them in a position where they were surrounded by other people and where he wouldn’t have to continually fight this urge to reach out to pull her to him and find out just how good those candy-apple lips tasted after all.
“Let me get my bag.”
He looked around the apartment as she went into what he assumed was her bedroom. He liked what she’d created here. Despite its compact size the apartment had a light, airy feel to it—the furnishings combining a few good pieces with what were obviously refurbished yard-sale finds. It felt like a home. More so than his expertly furnished mansion on the outskirts of town. He loved living there, but it lacked the small touches that made a place more than just somewhere to eat and sleep. Mind you, for the amount of time he’d spent there lately, what did it matter? Besides, it was a prime investment. One he wouldn’t hesitate to flick off when he was ready to move on or when the market was right. He didn’t like to attach sentiment to assets the way his parents did. You never got ahead that way.
“I’m ready. Sorry for the delay, Zach.”
She’d replenished her lip gloss while she’d been in her room and looked so incredibly perfect from head to toe it was difficult to equate the woman in front of him with the slightly nervy creature who’d greeted him when he’d arrived. Women. He’d never understand them fully, nor did he really want to. Who had the time? But he certainly was in the right frame of mind to appreciate this one.
He guided her outside and waited on the path while she locked the front door, then escorted her to his gleaming black Cadillac CTS-V Coupe.
“New car?” Sophie inquired as he held open the passenger door for her.
“Not so new, but it’s my fun car. For weekends and special occasions only,” he said before closing the door on the inviting view of her slender legs.
He settled himself in the driver’s seat and started up the engine, allowing the growl of the 6.2-liter V8 engine to course through him for just a moment.
“You like it?” he said with boyish enthusiasm.
“It certainly looks and sounds sleek and fast, but somehow I would never have pictured you driving something like this,” she commented as she fastened her seat belt.
“No, why so?”
“With your reputation, I’d have picked you for European flash.”
“My reputation?” He raised an eyebrow.
“For being a risk taker. I would have thought your idea of a fun car would be some imported speed machine.”
He smiled. “No, proudly American all the way, that’s me.”
She was easy company on the drive to Claire’s, not being one of those women who felt the need to fill empty space with constant idle chatter. By the time they entered the restaurant, he felt it safe enough to lay his hand at the small of her back without worrying that it would trigger a wave of heat and desire. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
The instant his hand rested against the fabric of her dress, he could sense the warmth of her skin through its fine weave. The effect was more of a tsunami, threatening to swamp him. This was ridiculous, he thought as they were promptly shown to their table. He worked with Sophie every day. She was attractive, he’d always found her so, but he’d never had this kind of trouble keeping his attraction under control before.
He’d also never been quite this close to her before, never touched her, never smelled the light fragrance that trailed her now—a scent that reminded him of summer and roses and long hot aching nights. Maybe this was the real reason he’d envied his friend his capable assistant. Maybe it had nothing to do with her efficiency and all too much to do with the fact he hadn’t been laid in far, far too long. He’d have to remedy that. For now, though, he had to exert his self-control—and remind himself that Sophie was off-limits.
They sat at the table, Sophie refusing an aperitif when the waiter offered.
“Did you want to have a glass of wine with dinner?” Zach asked as he perused the menu once the waiter had left.
“Sure, just one.”
“Not much of a drinker, then?”
“No, I don’t like losing control.”
For a second there she looked surprised that she’d admitted as much. Zach gave her a nod.
“I know what you mean. It can bring out the best and the worst in people.”
She smiled back at him, relief evident in her eyes.
“I’m glad you understand. Most people just think I’m some kind of control freak.”
“I’ve seen you at work. I know you’re a control freak,” he teased gently.
A light flush colored her cheeks and she ducked her head, her short blond hair swinging forward to obstruct his view of her face as she put her attention to studying her menu.
“Anything in particular take your fancy?” he asked. “I know the steak is always good here.”
“I’ve never been here before, but it all looks good to me.”
“Did you want an appetizer?”
“No, I’ll save myself for dessert.”
“Ah,” he said, “a sweet tooth, huh? I didn’t know that about you.”
“I would think there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Her tone was slightly quelling, but Zach was nothing if not challenged by her statement. He noticed the exact second she realized the light of that challenge had reflected in his eyes.
“Not that I expect you to know anything about me, that is,” she said, her voice flustered.
“I’d like to know more about you,” he answered, closing his menu and laying it on the crisp white linen of the tablecloth. “We work together. There’s no reason why we can’t be friends also.”
* * *
Sophie swallowed. There was a determined set to his jaw that she knew from watching him at work meant he wasn’t going to let this go. Why, oh why had she been so careless with her tongue? From the second she’d agreed to this dinner she’d been off balance. Could she be friends with someone like Zach? She very much doubted it; especially considering how unfriendlike she’d felt when he’d ever so slightly touched her while rescuing her dress from the voracious teeth of the zipper.
She’d all but melted at the unintentional caress, and had had to draw on every last ounce of self-control to stifle the gasp that had threatened to expose her reaction to his touch. No, friendly was the last word she’d ever employ to describe how he made her feel.
Could she be friends with him, though? Honestly?
It would be tantamount to torture. But worse, how on earth could she explain that to him?
