An Intimate Bargain

“You mean you’re not here to celebrate Mayor Seth Jacobs’ election victory?”

“I am not,” he admitted, holding her gaze.

She squinted with suspicion. “You have anything against Mayor Jacobs?”

“I do not. I’ve never met the man.”

Her face relaxed at that. Her shoulders drooped a little, and she leaned back into the big, brown leather chair.

Zach knew he was about to get his marching orders. Too bad. He’d have loved to sit here and get to know this woman, even if it did mean forgoing the burger and fries he’d promised his empty stomach.

“So you don’t know who I am?” she asked.

“I’d like to,” Zach immediately put in.

She chuckled. “While I’d prefer it if you had no earthly idea.”

He didn’t miss a beat. His tone went low and intimate as he propped his elbows on the lacquered tabletop and leaned toward her. “I can live with that, too.”

She rested her own elbows on the table, leaning forward, a playful glint now lurking in her expression. “I wasn’t offering to date you.”

“I didn’t think you were.” He quickly backed off. Okay, he’d hoped she was. But a guy could hope without penalty.

“Are you lying?” she asked him.

“I am not.”

She contemplated him a moment longer. “I take it you’re not from Lyndon.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Passing through?”

“Essentially.” He hoped he wouldn’t have to stay long. He hoped tripling production at Craig Mountain proved to be a straightforward proposition, that he could leave the brewery manager with instructions for expansion then get himself back to his corporate headquarters in Houston. He’d left Alex to hold down the fort during a very critical time.

Her sexy fingertips drummed lightly against the table. “So, we could do this?”

“Do what?” He found himself hoping all over again, but he sure wasn’t going to presume a second time.

“Have a casual conversation about nothing that matters. You don’t know me. I don’t know you.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed without hesitation. He could talk with her, or do absolutely anything else that she wanted.

Someone entered the bar through the archway, drawing her attention. She tracked the progress of a fiftysomething man as he headed for the bar. After a few seconds, she seemed to relax. She turned back to Zach.

“Waiting for someone?” he couldn’t help asking.

She emphatically shook her head.

His second guess would be that she was avoiding someone. He took a chance on his instincts. “You want to get out of here?”

She seemed to contemplate his words for a long, slow moment. “Yes,” she finally answered. “I believe I do.”

He gestured with a tilt of his head. “I saw an exit door at the far end of that hall. We can probably make a clean getaway.”

“What makes you think I need a getaway?”

He leaned across the table again, dramatically lowering his voice. “You’re acting like someone who needs to lie low for a while.”

She matched his posture once more. “You make me sound like a felon.”

“Are you a felon?”

She fought a grin. “Would it matter?”

“No,” he answered honestly. With her looks and sense of humor, it truly would not.

She chuckled low, drew back and rose from her chair, retrieving a small, black clutch. “Then let’s do it.”

He stood with her. She moved past him, and the exotic scent of jasmine teased his senses.

He inhaled appreciatively then affected a Chicago-gangster drawl. “Act natural, Doll-Face, and stick close to me.”

She matched his tone. “Right beside you … Lucky.”

He couldn’t help grinning to himself as they crossed the bar. He lowered his voice. “You want I should score us a getaway car?”

“We’re only half a block from Main Street,” she stage-whispered in return. “Plenty of hideouts there.”

They ducked into the hallway then hurried for the back exit. Zach pushed the heavy, steel door open, and they crossed the threshold into the late-summer night. The door clanged shut behind them.

“A clean break,” she breathed, pressing her back dramatically against the brick wall.

“Stick with me, Doll-Face,” he rumbled in return, making a show of checking both directions on the quiet street. “I don’t see any gumshoes hanging around.”

“Good to know. But I’m more worried about constituents.”

“Constituents?” He played dumb. “You mean the feds?”

She shifted away from the wall and started down the short block toward Main Street, her high heels echoing on the pavement. “I mean the good people of Lyndon. I don’t want anyone to recognize me.”

“So I’m hiding you from the entire town?” he asked with mock incredulity.

“Only from the people I know.”

“How many people do know you?”

“Several thousand.”