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The Banker's Draft was a narrow, oak-paneled pub crushed between the City banking buildings. Decorated in dark colors, it harnessed the feeling of old money, the brass beer pumps gleaming in the lamplight. Despite the fact it was a hot summer's evening, the subdued lighting and old world quality made it feel comfortable and inviting.
Zac leaned on the polished wood bar and glanced around, noting that the seating was all taken.
"Mr. Bordino?"
Turning, he saw a familiar face behind the bar. "Joseph, I didn't expect to see you here, you haven't left us have you?" Joseph was a cellar manager at his father's West End restaurant.
The barman chuckled, shaking his head. "No way, I'm just topping up with a couple of evening shifts here."
"My father isn't paying you well enough?"
"Very well indeed, but my wife is expecting our second child. Your father won't let me do any more hours for that reason. He's offered me an advance but I'd rather just make a bit of extra hay while the sun shines."
Zac nodded, growing thoughtful. "Do you see much of my old man?"
"Not since he's retired, but I heard a rumor he's been looking at a new bistro, somewhere out near home."
"Doesn't surprise me," Zac commented.
Joseph tipped his head at the bar. "What can I get you?"
"I'm expecting company...do they stock any good champagne here?"
Joseph leaned over the counter, scanning left and right as if he thought he might be overheard. "They keep Bollinger but you might be interested in a couple of bottles of Retsina, apparently ordered in for a party a few weeks back."
"Retsina it is then. Actually, that might be fun for my guest. I haven't told her about my Greek heritage yet."
"Is she beautiful?"
Zac smiled. "Very."
"I'll put the Retsina on ice and bring it over." He nodded over at a snug, where the current occupants were making ready to leave.
"Thank you, Joseph. I appreciate it."
As he eased into the snug, Abby emerged through the heavy oak and brass inlaid door. He waved, smiling when recognition lit her features.
She looked like a dream as she sauntered over, wearing a black dress that hung, heavily, like a pool of oil, from her shoulders. Occasional ripples in the fabric moved from the points where her breasts and hipbones disturbed the material. Her hair was pinned up, but bits of it spilled down onto her bare shoulders. He patted the seat alongside him, urging her to join him on the banquette.
"Am I late?"
"No." He rested a gentle kiss on her mouth, the touch of which was enough to make every part of his body pay attention. He breathed deep the scent from her warm skin, musky, floral, all woman.
"Mmm, are these part of your courier uniform?" she asked, her hand resting on his thigh, stroking his leather jeans.
"Actually, I only did the courier job as a favor to someone."
"Does that mean I can't call on you if I need some documents delivered?" The flirty look in her eyes was doing bad things to him.
"You can call on me any time."
She gave a decadent chuckle. Twines of copper fell from her ears, echoing the colors of her hair, lips and eyes. He wanted to commission a portrait of her, looking just that way.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you smile like a wolf?"
He wasn't sure he felt comfortable being likened to a wolf. "No, is it a bad thing?"
"Oh no, not so long as we're playing out the adult version of the fairy tale."
