Casual Affair

As he stood behind her at the bar and ordered their drinks, she noticed how big he really was. You couldn’t exactly miss the man’s size, but being engulfed in his arms, completely surrounded by him, made her truly appreciate how built he was. She wondered how big his di—

Nope, not going there.

“So this is, what, a girls’ night out for you ladies?” he asked as he grabbed their drinks and moved them to a less crowded part of the bar.

“Pretty much,” she replied. “Our friend definitely needed it, and Felicity and I could use a break from work.”

He nodded, drinking from his glass. “The store is looking great, by the way. Peter is very impressed—”

She cut him off, holding her hand up. “I said a break from work, Zane. No work talk. The only things I want making my head spin tonight are music and alcohol. Not numbers or money or contracts. Got it?”

His expression was amused. “Fair enough. All right, what would you like to talk about?”

“Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

He thought for a moment and chuckled lightly. “The first time you told me to call you Bea, I pictured a sixty-year-old woman in my head.”

She choked on her drink, coughing several times to clear her throat. “Excuse me?”

She didn’t know whether to be insulted by that or…insulted by that.

“As in Bea Arthur? From The Golden Girls?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure you’re making this any better.”

He put up a placating hand. “My mum was obsessed with The Golden Girls when I was a lad. She watched it about every day. My dad eventually started a garden in our backyard just so he could have an excuse not to watch it with her.”

Bea couldn’t help but smile at the image of sophisticated, worldly Zane watching a show like The Golden Girls. “So you’re into older women, huh? Tell me, is it the gray hair or the sensible shoes that get you hot?”

“Actually, the AARP card.” He lifted one shoulder, waggling his eyebrows at her. “What can I say, discounts do it for me.”

She had another spit-take moment before composing herself again. “Well, you’re not too far off with the whole name thing. Our mama got our names from soap operas, apparently.”

He shook his head. “You Yanks and your soap operas.”

“Don’t you be calling me a Yankee,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “Them’s fightin’ words where I come from.”

He put his hands up in surrender. “My apologies, luv. No offense intended. What brought you up here from Alabama, anyway? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

Considering this was their first non-work-related conversation in two months, that wasn’t a surprise.

She liked talking to him like this.

Much more than she should have.

“Our parents moved us to DC when I was twelve,” she replied. “Daddy was a congressman. He and Mama moved back South after Felicity graduated high school. His term was up by then.”

“You didn’t go with them? Do you not like it down there?”

“No, I love Alabama. But Felicity and I chose to stay here to go to college, and we eventually decided to go into business together. This city felt like the right fit.”

“Just you and her?” he asked. “No other siblings?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just us.” She looked around, squinting at the dark club that was packed full of bodies. Even if Felicity hadn’t been barely five foot, Bea still wouldn’t have been able to spot her. “She’s around here somewhere. What about you? Any siblings?”

“No. It’s just me and my father.”

Something about the way he said it told her not to pry further. Sensitive subject? Well, if he wasn’t willing to share, that was fine with her. She didn’t really want to talk tonight, anyway.

She tipped her head back and drained the rest of her drink. “Well, I believe we’re in a club, Mr. Price. And the fact that you haven’t asked me to dance makes me think you’re probably horrible at it.”

Wait. What the hell was she doing?

No touching, remember? Dancing is definitely touching, said her brain.