“You know, the real pleasure of a single malt is in its nuances. Like a lot of other pleasurable pursuits, if you rush through it, you miss the best part.” He smiled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”
Frowning, she took the glass away from him and set it down on the mirrored bar in front of her. “I prefer to do my own thing.”
Zael chuckled. “Yeah, so I’m gathering. Is that why you’re sitting here all by your lonesome tonight, pounding down shots and driving every red-blooded male in the place crazy?”
He should know; he was one of them. It had taken every ounce of his restraint to keep from stalking over to stake his claim until now. Not that he had a claim to stake where she was concerned. Brynne could have her pick of any man she set her sights on, though whether she understood that or not, he wasn’t sure. She’d made a point of letting him know back in D.C. that he would never be in the running.
And damned if that didn’t make Zael even more determined to find out why.
She let out an indignant snort as she swiveled on her stool to face him. “I’m not lonesome. I was trying to have a good time. Until you showed up, that is. How long have you been here?”
“Long enough to see you have a couple of close calls with some poor decision-making.”
She snorted. “Spying on me, you mean?”
Zael grinned. “How is that any different from when you crept out onto the terrace at the Order’s headquarters to lurk in the bushes and check me out while I did my sunrise workout?”
She gave him an outraged look. “I did not creep out there, and I most certainly didn’t lurk.”
“But you do admit you were checking me out?”
“Only in your deluded dreams, Atlantean.”
Her tone was defensive, though whether out of habit or the alcohol buzz she must be feeling, he wasn’t sure. She crossed her arms over her breasts, drawing his attention to her hardened nipples beneath the satiny fabric of her prim white button-down shirt. Her scowl and closed body language might be telling him she wasn’t interested, but the pretty flush of her cheeks—and the blood he could hear racing through her veins—were saying something far different.
As were the tiny amber sparks that kindled in her stormy irises.
The no-nonsense law enforcement agent may want to pretend the attraction between them wasn’t real, the way she had when they met for the first time last week, but he hadn’t been fooled then and he wasn’t fooled now. Whether Brynne wanted to admit it or not, the truth was right in front of him.
She cleared her throat and hiked up her chin. “You haven’t answered my question, Zael. What the hell are you doing in London? For that matter, what the hell are you doing in this club?”
“Looking for you.”
Well, that certainly got her attention. She went silent, her lips slack. The frown that seemed permanently creased into her forehead now faltered, though only for a moment.
“Looking for me.” She sounded surprised, her words guarded. “Whatever for?”
He knew he could play it smooth with her right now, use his charm and her physical, if slightly inebriated, reaction to him to his ultimate advantage. He had to admit, it was tempting.
Despite the fact that she was still dressed for a day in the office, from her sensible heels to the careful updo that corralled her thick mane of sable waves, Brynne had obviously come to this strobe-lit meat market in Cheapside tonight for a reason. Until he saw her shoot down every male who approached her, Zael had wondered if she was there with the intent that she wouldn’t be going home alone.
And why that idea should bother him so much, he didn’t want to examine.
Personally, he’d be up for the challenge himself, but seducing the prickly daywalker wasn’t the reason he was in London. All right, not the sole reason, anyway. He’d actually come out of concern.
He kept his voice low, even though the din in the club assured no one else would overhear. “I heard what happened last night here in London, Brynne.”
“Good news certainly travels fast,” she said dryly. She gave him a mistrusting look. “I wasn’t aware the Order had cleared you for that kind of information, Atlantean.”
“What good is an alliance if it’s crippled by secrets?” At Brynne’s grim nod of acknowledgment, Zael said, “I don’t imagine your colleagues at JUSTIS were pleased to find out you were working in secret with the Order.”
She groaned. “Your intuitive skills astound.”
When she raised her empty glass in plea to the bartender to come back and refill it, Zael gently caught her wrist and brought her hand back down. She looked too shocked to protest the physical contact, even as he covered her fingers with his on the bar. It took her a moment before she withdrew from his loose grasp.
“I know what you’re sacrificing by allying yourself with the Order in this. I also know what it is to be torn between the people you belong to and the ones you know are doing the right thing.”
He’d been toeing that same line since Lucan Thorne had summoned him to Washington, D.C., last week with a request to join forces. In truth, it had been something more than a request. A demand. Hell, it had been nothing short of a plea—no doubt, a first for a man like Lucan.