Page 34 of Zane

Tossing the cigar away, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Coffee." He repeated the offer that he had made her all those weeks ago. Expecting her to refuse, he stood there waiting.

When she simply smiled and said, "Dinner," he blinked at her.

"What?"

"How about dinner?" Taking out her key fob, she pressed the button to disengage the alarm. "At my place. I'll cook. I'm quite good at it."

When she nudged him aside, he was so flabbergasted and distracted, he allowed her.

"You want to cook for me."

"Yes."

"At your place."

She turned and sent him that seductive smile that had his insides curling into knots, painful ones. He was sure his blood pressure had gone into the stroke area.

"That's where the stove is." She opened the back door and made a production of leaning over to toss her handbag in, giving him an unrestricted view of her tight and very shapely butt outlined in the skirt. He swayed, his palms sweating.

And she took her time straightening up. Zane had the uncomfortable idea that she knew exactly what the hell she was doing and was enjoying every minute of it.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he asked dazedly.

She laughed softly, her eyes skimming his face and settling on his lips. "Shall we say eight on Friday? Do you like shrimp?"

"What?"

"Are you a seafood lover?"

"I-" He cleared his throat. "Yes." He felt as if he was drowning.

"Good." Sliding behind the wheel, she whipped out a pair of shades from the holder and placed them over her eyes. "Come hungry." With a jaunty wave, she peeled out of the parking lot.

He stood there like a bloody buffoon with the blood pounding in his head and his knees as weak as a newborn baby's. Walking drunkenly over to his motorcycle, he sat heavily. This could not be the same woman who had been as timid as a kitten just a week ago. The invitation to dinner at her place had felt like something else. Or was he making it up in his mind?

Did he want it to happen so much that he was reading something else into it? No. He shook his head. The invitation had been clear. They were definitely going to have sex.

Then why was he so bloody hesitant and nervous? Because he preferred to make the first move. And she had gone and shattered his initial impression of her. He wasn't sure he liked it. Not one bit.

*****

He sought the advice of a friend and considered David a stand-up one when David agreed to meet him at his trailer home.

And he figured that it said a lot about a man like David Synder to agree to kick back in a ratty lawn chair in front of a firepit, enjoying a can of good old American beer. David was used to living in the height of luxury. It amused Zane to see his friend in this very rustic setting.

"Comfy?"

Aware of his friend's derisive look, David deliberately stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "Immensely. Beer and a blazing fire, nothing beats that."

"Unless it's the luxurious flat you left to come and hang out with me. What? You'd have been eating lobster tails and caviar and drinking a bottle of Cabernet."

"Filet mignon, foie gras and vintage champagne."

Zane huffed out a laugh. "Christ! You're so bloody predictable."

"That's what Hailey had for supper." Just the mention of his wife brought on the longing. He had called her just before he left, waking her up by FaceTiming her. The sight of her sexily sleepy face, the short hair tumbling over her forehead and the thin silk strap falling off her shoulders had sent him into a surge of lust he had found staggering. But it hadn't surprised him one bit. The exquisite woman he had married and who bore his children could fell him with one glance. It had been that way since the day he first set eyes on her.