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‘I’m just interested.’
‘Why?’
She laughs. ‘Is it a crime to wonder?’
‘What about you, then?’ I flip the tables, drinking my soda. ‘Do you hook up with men you meet in bars?’
She shrugs her beautiful, slender shoulders and my eyes flick to her cleavage. ‘Sometimes.’
That answer is just as unsatisfying. I wonder at the curiosity that flares inside me even as I want to talk about anything else. ‘What kind of men do you usually go for?’
‘I don’t really have a type,’ she says.
‘I guess when you’re just looking for a one-night stand, you don’t need to consider a lot of factors.’
‘You’re one to talk.’
‘I wasn’t judging you,’ I say, lifting my hand.
‘Weren’t you?’ She stares at me for a minute and then smiles mysteriously, sipping her drink, her pink lips forming a perfect ‘o’ around the straw.
‘I don’t generally meet women in bars,’ I say after a moment. ‘I mean, from time to time, but usually if I’m with a woman it’s someone I’ve known a while, perhaps met through a mutual acquaintance. Flirtation might develop slowly.’ I shrug. ‘I’ve never done anything like this.’ I gesture from her to me.
She captures my hand, lifting it to her lips. ‘And you never will again. I’m irreplaceable.’ She’s teasing me, making light of what I’ve said, keeping things fun and frivolous, just as we’ve agreed.
‘So the newspapers have you all wrong?’ she pushes, placing her drink on the bar between us, moving her body closer to mine so I can feel every soft undulation of her frame, every whisper of her breath, and I’m certain she can feel me growing harder by the second.
‘Not completely.’
She nods slowly. ‘I thought not.’
Something like dissatisfaction snakes through me. I’m about to clarify when a couple approaches us—too close to be an accident. I turn to look at them with obvious impatience. Something about the woman is vaguely familiar.
‘Jess?’
Jessica angles her head, her swan-like neck drawing my attention back before I put a bit of space between us, accepting that she’s going to have a conversation with whoever this is.
‘Jemima. Hi.’ Her voice isn’t exactly bursting with enthusiasm. Jemima? This must be her sister and brother-in-law. That’s why the other woman looks familiar—there’s something in their features that’s similar. Eyes and smiles.
Jessica disentangles herself from me to lean forward and kiss her sister’s cheek, then the man behind Jemima leans forward, bringing himself against Jessica and kissing her on the other cheek.
Jessica springs back, right against my side. ‘Guys, this is a friend of mine, Zach Papandreo,’ she murmurs, gesturing to me in some misguided belief they haven’t just seen us getting up close and personal right here at the bar. ‘My sister, Jemima, and her husband, Simon.’
‘Jesus, Jess, you’ve been keeping this quiet,’ Jemima says with a grin. I’ve heard enough from Jessica to make me interested to observe their interaction. I contemplate asking them to join us in a booth but I honestly think Jessica would hate that.
‘Kept what quiet?’ Jessica asks with a face that’s sheer innocence.
‘You two.’ She points from me to Jessica. I feel Jessica bristle.
‘It’s nothing.’ She looks to me for help. ‘Right?’
‘Oh, absolutely nothing,’ but I grin and wink conspiratorially at Jemima, I can’t say why, before reaching out and extending a hand to her. ‘Nice to meet you.’ I follow the action for Simon, shaking his hand, remembering belatedly that there was some particular beef with him and Jessica.
‘We have a table booked. Why don’t you join us for a drink?’ Simon suggests, gesturing to a booth in the corner.
I wait, leaving it in Jessica’s hands. ‘Oh, we were just here for one drink.’
‘Then have it with us!’ Jemima enthuses, reaching out and squeezing Jessica’s hands. ‘Come on. Just ten minutes.’
