Her Favorite Rival (15 page)

“Right.” Zach inspected the bar for a few seconds before focusing on her. “But you don’t have a problem with sticky?”

“It’s not great, but Al’s is the bar equivalent of the Cone of Silence. Megan and I know we can bitch and whine to our hearts’ content here and we don’t have to worry we’ll be overheard.”

Cameron appeared with a drink in each hand, sliding the beer to Zach and the wine to her. They both nodded their thanks before he headed to the bar.

“So. We survived,” Zach said after a short silence.

“We did. For now.”

“You think he’ll come back for a second pass at the department?”

“I have no idea.”

They both drank. She could feel how wary Zach was, could feel her own awkwardness.

She took a deep breath. “Maybe we should get this out of the way—I don’t think you were trying to screw me over.”

“Good.”

“I’m still a little pissed that I put in all that work for no reward, but I acknowledge that what happened was not your fault.”

“Good. Because I enjoyed working with you. And I never intended for any of that to happen. It was just really crappy timing.”

“I believe you.” She did. She’d been blinded by anger and frustration initially, but the events of the afternoon had been like a bucket of cold water in the face. A wake-up call to quit with the bullshit and let go of anything that wasn’t helping her get where she needed to be.

Bottom line: she trusted the impression she’d formed of Zach during those late nights together. She believed he was a decent man. And she believed he’d made the best decision he could in a difficult situation.

She also believed that he genuinely regretted it.

“So if I send you flowers tomorrow, you won’t give them to Jan and Jean in the warehouse?”

So he’d discovered what she’d done with his floral offering.

“You don’t need to send me flowers.”

He pointed the neck of his beer bottle at her. “You’re a stubborn woman.”

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Neither would you.”

He smiled a little, which she chose to take as agreement.

She settled into the booth. “I think this day has to go down as one of my top five, all-time bad days. Just above the time I broke my leg in third grade, in fact.”

“What sort of break are we talking? Compound?”

“You know, I’m not sure. But don’t tell my parents that—they’re both doctors and they’d die of shame.”

“Really? How come you didn’t go into the family business?”

It wasn’t an uncommon response when she happened to mention that both of her parents were doctors. She took a sip of her wine before shrugging casually. “Not smart enough. But my sister is doing them proud, so they’ve got someone to pass their charts and anatomical models on to. What about you? What do your parents do?”

There was the smallest of pauses as Zach took a pull from his beer. “My parents are dead.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” Way to put her foot in it.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

His voice was utterly uninflected, but she had the sense that there was a lot going on beneath his easygoing demeanor. She wasn’t sure how she knew, she just did.

“Hey. Started without me, I see.” Megan slid in beside Audrey and lifted a hand to get Cameron’s attention. “I’ll have what she’s having,” she called.

Megan and Zach exchanged small talk while they waited for her drink to come.

“Listen, I don’t want to cramp your style,” Zach said. “Just let me know if three’s a crowd.”

“Hey, the more the merrier after the godawful day we’ve all had,” Megan said.

Zach was watching Audrey. Waiting.

“Stay,” she said.

His shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, as though he was letting go of a heavy burden. Had he been that worried about her forgiving him?

All evidence pointed in that direction. For some reason, her stomach gave a little nervous twist.

“Can you believe Charlie’s gone? And Ned?” Megan asked.

“There’ll be more, too, if Whitman’s running true to form,” Zach said, looking away from Audrey.

Megan swore pithily.

“You said it,” Zach said.

Audrey drank her wine and listened as Megan and Zach discussed the severance packages that appeared to be on offer. Then Zach said something about his previous company, and before she knew it an hour had passed and they were ordering burgers with the works and curly fries.

The conversation ranged all over, from the politics at play within the cooperative to their opinions of their competitors’ marketing and pricing strategies to Zach’s renovation plans and Megan’s pregnancy hopes. Audrey found herself talking about her own ham-fisted renovation attempts—the new timber venetian blinds she’d attempted to install the previous summer—and by the time it was pushing eight o’clock she was mellow from wine and animal fats and good conversation with people she enjoyed.

That one of those people was Zach wasn’t really too great a surprise. She’d already been well on the way toward liking him before the brown smelly stuff hit the fan at conference. Now they’d come out the other side of their disagreement and bonded over shared peril.

Powerful stuff, at the best of times.

“You want another drink?” he asked as Cameron cleared their sauce-and-grease-smeared plates.

Megan shook her head. “Gotta drive. In fact...” She checked her phone a split second before it began to ring. “There he is, like clockwork.” Sliding from the booth, she moved to take the call.

“Her husband,” Audrey explained for Zach’s benefit.

“I guessed.” At some point in the past few hours he’d shifted so his back was against the side wall of the booth, his elbow braced on the table. He’d undone a couple of buttons, too, and a triangle of golden tanned skin showed at his neck. He looked tired and relaxed and more than a little rumpled.

“Thanks for this,” Zach said suddenly.

She raised her eyebrows, not sure what he was referring to.

“I was going home to have Chinese on the couch.”

She understood then that he was thanking her for the company, for the chance to decompress.

“No problem. It was a horrible day. A bit of fellow feeling goes a long way.”

Megan returned to the table and leaned across to grab her handbag from where she’d stashed it alongside Audrey’s.

“That’s it for me, I’m afraid. I’ve been lured home with the offer of a foot massage.”

Audrey groaned with envy. “You seriously need to talk to Tim about hiring his services out by the hour.”

“You need to seek medical help for that foot fetish of yours.” Megan slid a sly look toward Zach. “Over to you, Dr. Black.” With that, she gave them both a cheeky wink before heading for the exit.

Audrey made a rude noise before calling after her. “I don’t have a foot fetish. I like a good foot rub. Perfectly innocent.”

“No crime against that. Not that I’m aware of, anyway,” Zach said.

She tore her gaze from her departing friend’s back.

“It’s mostly because I’m crap at wearing high heels,” she explained. In case he was inclined to believe she really did have a foot fetish. “If I could get away with wearing sturdy orthopedic shoes to work I’d wear them every day.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” He said it very confidently. As though he knew her inside out.

“What makes you say that?”

Zach shrugged as though it was self-explanatory.
“
You like to look good. There’s no way you’re going to ruin all that hard work with lace-ups.”

“
Are you suggesting I’m vain?”

He laughed. “No. No more than the next person.”

“What if the next person is you?”

“Oh, I’m definitely vain. If I wasn’t I’d wear a hundred-dollar suit and buy wash-and-wear shirts and rubber-soled shoes.”

None of those things would dim his appeal one iota, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So. I guess we should go, too,” she said.

Because it had hit her that it was just the two of them now. Alone in a dark, slightly seedy bar.

Probably not the best venue for one-on-one interaction with Zach, given the little fantasy she’d indulged in while they were away.

“Where is home for you?” he asked.

He was watching her with a warm intensity that was both unnerving and very flattering. She couldn’t maintain the contact, dropping her gaze to his mouth. It was decidedly sultry for a man, the bottom lip a little fuller than the top. She bet he could work magic with that mouth. Bring a woman to her knees.

Okay, not a helpful thought.

“
I’ve got a little place in Ringwood. You?”

“Surrey Hills.”

“Right.”

She glanced toward the door, aware that she should leave but not quite able to commit to doing so.

“Sure you don’t want another drink?” he asked.

She did. Very badly. And not because she craved alcohol—although she was aware that it would make a great excuse afterward if anything were to happen. She wanted another drink because it meant she’d get to spend more time with Zach.

“It’s probably a bad idea,” she said.

He was silent for a moment. “You’re right.”

Neither of them moved.

“What would you have done if you hadn’t come here tonight?” Zach asked.

“Honestly? I probably would have defrosted a meal and gotten stuck in the work in my briefcase.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Do you ever give yourself a break?”

“No. Do you?”

He shook his head. “Can’t afford to.”

“Ditto.”

“I guess you must have a very understanding boyfriend.”

It was such a blatant fishing expedition that she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“That’s an interesting concept, but no.”

“No boyfriend?” He was smiling a little, too. The faintest curving of his lips.

“No.” She hesitated, aware that a smart woman wouldn’t ask the question on her lips. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope. Apparently I’m a bad bet. A workaholic.”

“Right.”

“Always on the phone or bringing work home with me. Too serious.”

“You’re not too serious. You’re funny.” The words were out before she could stop them.

“Next time I need a character witness, I know who to call.”

“I’m pretty sure you can handle yourself without my help.”

She suddenly registered that she was leaning forward, instinctively trying to close the distance between them.

Bad move. Really bad move.

“I should go,” she said for the second time.

“Yeah. I need to get home, too.” He slid to the end of the booth and stood.

He pulled his wallet out and she opened her mouth to let him know that she wanted to pay her own way. He nailed her with a single, sharp look. She swallowed her words, knowing without him saying a thing that it would be pointless to protest.

“Okay. But it’s my turn next time,” she said.

Something flared in his eyes at the mention of a next time. She gave herself a mental kick. There would be no next time. Not if she was as savvy as she prided herself on being.

She gathered her handbag and hovered uncertainly while he settled their tab at the bar. Her heart threw out an extra beat as he turned and started toward her.

He had a really lovely body, and he looked incredibly sexy, all rumpled and disheveled and tired.

Her palms were suddenly damp. She eased them subtly down the sides of her skirt.

Dumb to be nervous because they were walking out the door together. This wasn’t a date, after all, this was an accidental meeting between work colleagues. In sixty seconds’ time they would both be in their cars, heading to their respective homes, and this evening would be history, important only because it marked the day they’d both survived the first descent of the ax at Makers.

“Ready to go?” Zach said.

“Yep.”

They stepped into the dim fuzziness of twilight. She knew without asking that Zach intended to escort her to her car. They walked silently across the gravel lot. The nervous sensation intensified with every step, to the point where she could feel her pulse thumping away in her neck and wrists and between her thighs. Her breathing was shallow, almost choppy, and she had trouble swallowing past the tightness in her throat. She was hyperaware of Zach at her side—the height of him, the breadth, the scent of his aftershave, the rhythm of his walk. It was almost as though he generated his own gravitational field, his presence was so compelling.

“This is me,” she said as she stopped by her car. A pointless comment, since he knew her car.

Her hands were shaking as she searched through her keys for the right one. Dear God, what was wrong with her? Anyone would think she’d never been walked to her car before.

“I’m really glad—” She lost whatever she’d been about to say when Zach took a step closer. Her gaze found his and a voice in her head told her to take a step back, or push him away or cut him down in some way. Whatever it took to prevent what was about to happen. What his eyes told her he was going to do.

She didn’t move. Couldn’t.

He took another step. She could feel the heat of his body, could see the individual whiskers of his five o’clock shadow. Her heart thrashed in her chest. Without consciously willing it, she tilted her head.

He brushed her temple with his thumb, his touch whisper-soft, before sliding his fingers into her hair. For a moment he simply held her in the palm of his hand, his gaze locked with hers. Then he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

In that split second she understood that it hadn’t been nervousness that had made her jumpy and edgy during the short walk to her car. It had been anticipation. Excitement.

Because she’d been hoping he’d do this.

He tasted of beer and desire. His tongue stroked along the seam of her lips and she gave way easily, eagerly, stroking his tongue with hers before allowing him into her mouth. The feel of him inside her even in such a minimal way sent a shudder of pure need through her. He responded by curling his hand around the nape of her neck and closing the remaining distance between them. The press of his body against hers was an electric, visceral thing, as revealing as the first touch of his mouth had been.