“Let’s call it a day.” He slammed a pen down, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. “I’d like to take you out for a celebratory drink.”
“You mean celebratory water?” She winked at him.
“No, I think I’ll have a drink myself today.” He stayed away from alcohol because it usually led him to one place only: sadness and reliving the most painful memories stored in his head. But today, he felt like he might have a chance at handling his liquor. At the very least, it could help him break through his inhibitions and at least kiss this beautiful woman.
“Wow.” Her eyes widened appreciatively. “I wonder what you’ll do when we seal this deal tomorrow.”
“One can only wonder.” He led them out of his office, locking the door behind him. He knew exactly where they’d go: a little lounge bar near her hotel, famous for after-work cocktails for professionals in the district. When they pulled up to the bar, Marian looked like a child in a candy store.
“This is the place I want to be every day after work.” She glided inside, her gaze bouncing around their surroundings. Steel beams crisscrossed the open ceiling, modular art dappling the walkways between bold patterned couches. Sleek professionals lounged casually, looking more like models than the working class, even white-collar working class.
“Minarak is trendier than I imagined,” she murmured, sliding onto an open couch. Omar slid next to her, their legs brushing. He slung an arm over the back of the couch, smiling down at her. This felt right—but it would feel even more right after a drink. Already he could feel the guilt threatening at the edges, promising to steal his thunder.
“It’s a fun city to live in,” he said. “There’s always something to do, if you can stop working long enough to do it.”
“I’m a bit of a workaholic myself,” she said. “It’s hard not to be, as a woman in a man’s world.”
“You mean it’s harder in the US than it is here?”
“No, it’s easier in many ways. But still…” She trailed off as a waiter paused to hand them menus. “It’s a fight to be taken seriously.”
“I can’t imagine,” he said, the only thing that seemed appropriate.
“Well, apparently possessing tits means you’re somehow less capable.”
At the anatomical reference, Omar couldn’t help but glance downward. “I’d say they make you more capable.”
“Really?” A knowing smirk waited for him. “How so?”
“They attract all kinds of attention, but still you manage to succeed. If men had breasts, we would have floundered long ago.” Omar paused, perusing the menu. “Probably because we wouldn’t do anything other than play with them all day.”
Marian burst into laughter. The waiter arrived, and they ordered two martinis. The drinks appeared quickly, and both sipped appreciatively.
“I love a good martini,” Marian murmured.
“Yes, it’s very nice.” He ran a tongue over his teeth, enjoying the lick of alcohol through his veins. “A fitting celebration for your investigative connections.”
Marian lifted a brow, looking like she wanted to add more. His admonishment from the night before probably weighed on her. It certainly weighed on him. Perhaps the low point of his career as a man—imploring the sexiest woman he’d met to keep it professional. That has to change. Today.
They chatted easily, about everything from current politics to literature. One drink turned into two. When he’d drained his second drink, Omar knew he had to call it a night, or they might regret it.
“I think I should head back,” Omar said, signaling for a waiter to bring their check. “I don’t drink often, so I have to be careful.”
“Mmmm.” Marian eyed him, her eyes glittering as if she knew a secret. “A man who knows his limits. What a treat.”
His heart raced as he filled out the receipt and then offered a hand to help her stand. She wobbled to her feet, laughing as she stood.
“I’ll walk you to your hotel,” Omar said, sticking out his arm. “It’s very close.”
“What a gentleman,” she purred. She slid her arm through his. It fit perfectly, but more than that, the weight of her at his side felt ideal somehow. Like a piece he’d been missing. Sadness tried to take its familiar path through him but he rerouted it, inviting back the sexy thoughts from earlier. He would show her how he felt…what he’d been dying to show her.
Their steps fell quietly against the pavement as they meandered back to the hotel, more like a couple that had been together for twenty years than new work colleagues. People bustled by them. When they got to her hotel, he walked her to the elevators, not letting go of her arm.
He pressed her to the wall, out of view of the lobby. She inhaled sharply, looking up at him with the sexiest look he’d ever seen in his life. Her pink lips were a breath away, but he stilled himself. His heartbeat echoed wildly between his ears.
“Marian.” He dragged a hand down the side of her shirt, his fingertips desperate for more contact. “May I kiss you?”
“What happened to keeping it professional?” She murmured, brushing her lips against his. “I mean, yes.”