The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(34)

Her fingertips brushed his skin when she handed him the card, sending a current of electricity sparking through his body. He didn’t want to move his hand away.

“I’m impressed how you just interviewed yourself to talk me into meeting Indra.”

“Ah.” Her breath left her in a rush, and she was instantly contrite. “I get carried away sometimes.”

“I noticed, but I would call it enthusiastic.” He noticed a lot of things about her. The gentle curve of her neck, the glow of her skin, her easy laughter and sunny smile. What was it about Zara that fueled this scalding awareness? He tried to focus on their conversation and stop thinking about her lush lips and how soft they would feel if he kissed her. Had he ever had this type of reaction to a woman before? When she looked at him, he could almost see another world in the depths of her warm brown eyes. A world where drinks spilled, heads rolled, footballs flew across courtrooms, and the dark place inside him was banished by the sunshine of her smile.

“When I’m focused on something, it’s to the exclusion of everything else,” she continued. “It’s one of the reasons why I don’t get involved in any serious relationships. I’d be so focused on that person, the world could collapse around me and I’d never notice. No one wants that kind of attention.”

Jay could think of worse things. As a boy whose father didn’t want him and whose mother was working three jobs to keep a roof over their heads, he had been desperate for attention of any kind.

The food arrived, and with it a green margarita in an enormous glass, courtesy of the bartender with whom Zara had shared a two-minute conversation while they had waited to be seated.

“That’s a lot of margarita,” Jay pointed out.

“I’m a lot of woman.”

Laughter escaped him—so rare and unexpected he almost didn’t recognize the sound. What would it be like to laugh like this every day? To be in a relationship with someone who made him feel so alive?

Zara wrapped one hand around each glass. “You’ll have to peel me out of the seat when it’s time to leave.”

“Tell him you don’t need it. I’m sure he’ll take it back.”

“That’s hilarious.” Zara chuckled. “Send back a gigantic free margarita. You kill me, Jay. I knew you had a sense of humor.”

She thought he was funny. Now she was smiling at him, licking the salt from her glass off her finger. What the hell was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to look when her tongue was gliding over her plump lips and her eyes were dancing and her shirt had slid down to reveal the firm smooth crescents of her breasts?

Jay took a spoonful of his red pozole, distracting one sense with the other. The flavor, rich and robust from the addition of the homemade red chili sauce, smoked paprika, and masa harina, dazzled his tongue and gave him something to think about that didn’t involve kissing or touching a beautiful, fun-loving attorney who was trying to find his match.

Zara managed two bites of her enchiladas before the soft strum of a guitar broke the silence. “A mariachi band! Let’s request a cumbia and dance.”

“How about we request something low-key and conducive to eating in our seats?” He could see where this was headed. There would be no casual conversation over a quiet dinner. She was already halfway out of her seat.

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey!” The five performers moved toward them as the first chords of the song echoed through the restaurant.

“El Mariachi Loco”!

And she was gone. Moments later she was dancing with the band, lifting her knees along with them in time to the music. A few more restaurant patrons jumped up to join her and they did the hand jive together.

“I see your foot tapping,” she called out. “One dance.”

Jay shook his head and forced his foot to still. The restaurant was in the middle of the financial district, where he might be seen by potential clients, or even the bankers he was trying to court as investors. He had worked too hard to risk his reputation, even if he’d been tempted to join her.

The lead singer put his sombrero on Zara’s head and pulled her close, his hips moving in a way Jay didn’t want to see another man’s hips move when he was so close to the woman Jay had fantasized about kissing only moments ago.

As if he could hear Jay’s internal dialogue, the singer caught his gaze. His lips spread in a smug smile and he slid his hand down Zara’s back to the curve of her ass. Zara slapped his hand away but not before Jay felt a fierce and totally inexplicable wave of possessiveness wash over him.

Not my fight. But he was already out of the booth and across the floor. It was the disrespect the singer was showing toward her, he told himself, the danger he represented, and the gauntlet he’d thrown at Jay’s feet. Nothing more.

“You came!” Zara flung herself into his arms before he could even open his mouth to give the singer a piece of his mind.

Jay gave a satisfied growl and wrapped his arms around her, acutely aware of her soft sexy body pressed up against him, her warmth seeping into his skin like a drug. Something loosened inside him and he bit back a sigh.

“Jay.” She breathed his name and their eyes met, locked. The world fell away, the music fading beneath the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears. Raw need spiraled inside him, and in that moment he knew two things: he was going to kiss her, and it was going to happen now. He lowered his head, closing the distance between them, his thoughts centered on naked bodies, cool sheets, panted breaths, and the thudding of his headboard against the wall.