leaned on the wooden railing and lifted her hot face to the breeze. Zan’s gaze felt as palpable on her skin as a physical touch.
“Is he the reason you wouldn’t give me your number?” he asked.
A sound came out of her, part laughter, part sob. “No! Just a blind date. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Maybe you should rethink these blind dates, sweetheart,” he said. “Maybe it’s time that you opened your eyes.”
His fresh scent was so different from Reginald’s cloying cologne, which had made her throat tickle. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s chilly out here. You can wait in the van for Prince Charming, if you like.”
“Thanks. I’m fine out here,” she said.
“You’re shivering. No wonder, going out at night in a slip.”
She was stung. “This is a Versace! It cost me two weeks’ salary!”
“Two weeks’ salary wasted.” He looked her up and down. “Save your money and buy yourself a sweater, baby.”
Her knees weakened at the lazy appraisal in his eyes. “Stop it,” she whispered.
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”
“Stop…stop vibing at me,” she blurted.
“Sorry, beautiful. It’s the one thing that I cannot control,” he murmured, moving closer. “You’re cute with your hair up, you know? I usually prefer girls’ hair down, but I like those swirly wisps.” He twirled one of her wisps around his finger. “You’ve got color,” he went on, his voice velvety. “Are you blushing? Or do you have a fever? I swear, you’ll get pneumonia dressing like that. Not that I’m complaining.”
Every individual particle of her body was anxiously aware of how near he was. Every hair stood on end. “Smart-ass,” she said shakily.
“That’s what they tell me,” he admitted. “Since I was a baby.”
Looking into his face made her feel like she was going to topple over backward. “You’re looming. Stop it. It makes me nervous.”
“Don’t worry. Your stuffed shirt will be back from the bank machine in a minute to protect you. Relax.”
“I’m not tense. And I don’t need protecting.” She stretched up to peek over his shoulder to see if Reginald had reappeared.
He wasn’t there, but the cab was. She turned to tell Zan good-bye.
He cupped her jaw, his thumb dragging delicate circles over her cheek. “Forget about him.” He brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes.
“Who?” she breathed, as he leaned closer.
His smile widened in triumph. He cradled her face in his hands. The leather of his jacket creaked as he leaned forward.
His lips were sensitive, coaxing. Velvety soft. Startled pleasure flashed through her body. His arms closed around her, his lithe body pinning her against the railing. He tasted wonderful. Coffee, a hint of mint. So warm and solid, vibrating with energy. She wanted to wrap herself around him and squeeze, but she was melting into taffy.
He stepped back. The void between them seemed to ache.
A couple was getting into her cab, laughing and smirking. The cab pulled away. They stared at each other. His eyes were so dilated, they were almost black. He gripped her shoulders. “You can’t let him touch you,” he said. “Tell me you’re not going to let that guy touch you.”
She opened her mouth to say she would never let a gasbag idiot like that touch her. The concept was too complicated to verbalize in her melted-taffy condition. He leaned forward to kiss her throat. “Promise me,” he urged, under his breath. The plea was breathless and ragged.
“I promise,” she whispered.
“I take it you two have met?” Reginald’s voice was glacial.
Zan’s hand dropped. Abby locked her knees, hoping they would bear her weight. “Ah, yes,” she said distractedly. “I locked myself out last night, remember? He was the locksmith who opened my door.”
Reginald squinted. “You didn’t tell me that you knew this man intimately before you gave me his phone number, Abby.”
“Actually, I, ah, don’t,” she admitted.
“Ah. This kind of promiscuous behavior is exactly what I would expect from someone suffering from your pathology.”
She was so rattled by Zan’s kiss, it was hard to follow the through line of Reginald’s insults. She focused on Reginald’s face, then wished that she hadn’t. She hadn’t noticed just how unattractive his beady dark eyes were. Squinched into a furious frown, they seemed rodentlike.
“So it’s not a coincidence?” Zan pitched his voice just for her ears. “You gave him my number on purpose? Wow. I’m touched.”
“This disgusting impulse to have a sordid liaison with a stranger is symptomatic of the larger chaos of your life,” Reginald said. “I’m sorry to have witnessed this, Abby. It’s painful to me. But I’m glad to know the truth about you before I got embroiled. Thank you for that, at least.”
“Disgusting and sordid?” Zan sounded remarkably cheerful. “I’ve been called lots of things, but I do believe that one’s a first for me.”
“I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten-foot pole anyhow, so piss off, Reginald,” she said.
Reginald blinked. “Temper! You’re projecting your frustration over your own lack of self-control onto me. In my professional opinion, you would benefit from intensive psychotherapy, specifically targeted at your rage problem and your sexual addiction. A pharmaceutical approach might be in order, as part of a multimodal treatment plan.”
“Sexual addiction?” Her mouth worked. “You…you jerk!”
“How about you guys thrash out the psychiatric treatment plan after you pay me?” Zan’s voice sounded faintly bored. “That way I can open up the car and we can all call it a night. OK?”
Reginald pulled out his wallet and wrenched out a wad of money. Zan shoved it into his pocket. He pulled a toolbox out of his van and crouched beside the car. Reginald hovered over Zan’s shoulder as he pulled out a wedgelike object and a long pronged wire.
Zan frowned up at him. “I can’t work with you breathing over my shoulder,” he said. “You’re blocking my light. Give me some space.”
“Do not scratch my car,” Reginald said.
Zan raised an eyebrow. “Back off, if you want this thing opened.”
Reginald backed away. Zan inserted the wedge between the window and its seal, easing the wire rod delicately under the window, probing with small, precise movements, his face calm and faraway.
