Shaken (4 page)

His easy smile and welcoming wave served as a weekly reminder that someone outside of their circle valued her. A year earlier, she’d arrived on a stormy Friday night only to discover that most of her Martini Sisterhood couldn’t make their weekly happy hour. Feeling rather like a drowned, disheveled rat and unhappy to boot, she’d nearly turned around and left. But Tony had insisted she stay, and he’d set a cozy place for her at the bar with fresh coffee, spiced with rum, and an even hotter meal. They’d chatted amiably for nearly two hours.

So, if she could do it then, why not now?

The problem fluttered in her belly and spread outward to encircle her nipples before continuing the aching climb to heat her cheeks. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the way his shirt stretched and flowed over his muscles. Despite Tony’s white button-down and professional appearance, his muscles rippled with every action. The shirt went taut as he twisted to grab a glass or reach for a bottle, or when he lifted enormous trays, laden with drinks over the bar like they were featherweights. His charm cut through the gloom and applied electric paddles to her already overwrought system.

Every time he glanced in her direction, her temperature spiked. She swallowed another mouthful of wine, but it only increased the raw need in her belly. Zip might be named for a trailblazer, a dedicated wife, and artistic caretaker, but she’d never been one to take risks. The safe path was…well…safe.

Nothing about Tony promised safety.

Not his charismatic smile.

Not his sexy bedroom eyes.

Not his long, nimble, bronze-colored fingers.

“Thanks for waiting.” He leaned against the bar, his grin dragging a quivering response from her effortlessly.

“My pleasure.”
An understatement by far
. His attention and laser focus were well worth a half hour of her time. Hell, they were worth an entire evening. Something about the man made her hungry for every smile, word, or action. Even the curve of his lips held her on the razor edge of anticipation, eager to find out what happened next.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

“You.” She went for it, seizing her liquid courage in both hands. “And, hopefully, me.”

“Really?” Pleasure skittered through the surprise on his face, and his eyes warmed.

“Really.” She bit her lower lip, hesitation rearing its ugly head, but she plowed on regardless. “I like you. I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe over dinner? Breakfast? Something in between?”

“Can I choose D, all of the above?” His voice dropped a suggestive octave, and she did not imagine the playful wink or the spark in his eyes when she’d said breakfast.

“Really?” Her voice squeaked up a notch, and she had to swallow a groan. The heat rushing into her cheeks seemed determined to set her face on fire. Pressing her hand to her face, she tried to dial down her response with a cold palm on her overheated skin.

“Absolutely.” His smile faltered, and her lungs seized in indecision. “I don’t get off for another couple of hours though.”

“I don’t mind waiting.”

He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the wall clock, then patted the bar in front of her. “Let me see if I can get someone to swap me out early.”

“Tony.” Not wanting him to leave yet, she dared to cover his hand with hers, and the zing of connection raced through her. At this rate, her brains would be utterly scrambled.

He froze, his eyes locking with hers, and she said. “I really don’t mind waiting.”

In one smooth move, he captured her fingers in the barest of squeezes that did more to her equilibrium than all the wet, sloppy kisses attempted by her ex. “Don’t you turn into a pumpkin well before midnight?”

“I did tell you that, didn’t I?” She wanted to bounce because he maintained their contact, but she managed to contain herself. Barely.

“Yeah. You like to be in bed, fuzzy socks and all, no later than ten.”

“Never had so much to keep me interested in staying awake before.” Was she really saying this? Holy cow, maybe she did know how to flirt.

“Let’s split the difference. You stay awake, I’ll try to get out of here early. You want some coffee?”

Not trusting her voice with the quaver in her belly, she nodded.

“Sweet with cream, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Bold, sweet, and very creamy.”

Tony grinned and gave her another squeeze as though reluctant to let go, but he did because more people were lining the bar and the conversation pitch in the lounge climbed. “Stay right there.”

“I promise.”

“I’m holding you to it.” He plucked the wine glass and strode down the bar. For the next hour, he handled customers, waitresses, and the other bartenders with the same generous authority. He cut off one patron, checking his keys and calling a taxi for him, mediated a dispute for one of the waitresses, and sent still another home for the night when she began to sway on her feet.

A fourth bartender joined him at the bar and took on serving duties. Every ten minutes, Tony made a sweep past her corner, checking her coffee and bringing her a fresh cup when she’d let it go cold. He never failed to give her a smile or a wink. She’d never been so aware of anyone in her life, and her stomach bubbled with stampeding butterflies when he came up behind her, his jacket in one hand and her coat in the other.

“Ready to go?”

Was it really midnight?

Her eyes flickered to the clock where the seconds ticked away to the midnight hour, but, instead of a pumpkin, she’d gotten a prince.

“Absolutely.”

****

The February midnight lay like an icy blanket across the city. Johnny held the door for them, and Tony guided her outside, shouldering his backpack along with her own. With a frown at her feet, he shook his head and chuckled. “We’re getting a cab.”

“You said you wanted to head to the diner,” Zip protested even as a stiff breeze sliced around the corner, swirled along her legs, and shocked her knees together. “Holy crap, it got cold.”

Delight filled his smile. The deep, rolling timbre of his laugh nipped at the chill threading her bones. “It’s late, and, as much as I hate the way this sounds like a complaint, you’re not wearing enough clothes for this kind of weather.”

Excitement thrummed in her chest. He’d noticed what she was wearing. Of course, her nipples were so tight from the cold they threatened to rip right through her silk blouse, and the suit jacket barely offered the promise of warmth.

His arm swooped around her, enveloping her in his body heat. Wool stroked her skin. He’d not only wrapped an arm around her, but the length of his sturdy coat. The thick fabric reminded her of a Navy peacoat, and she snuggled into the shelter.

His whistle split the night air, filling her with envy and admiration. She’d never mastered that whistle, despite living in New York her whole life. As if by magic, a cab rolled to them, and Tony hustled her over, holding the door so she could escape from the cold into the confines of the vehicle.

It smelled a little of gum, a hint of whiskey and just the barest touch of sweat under the leather cleaner and carpet refreshers.

“JJ’s on 53rd,” Tony told the driver, scooting in next to her and setting their bags on the floor between his feet. She couldn’t quite shake the shivers, but he slid his arm around her again and closed the gap between their bodies.

“Okay, I’m crazy cold, and next time I’ll bring a coat if I plan to stay this late.”

“It’s the wine. You had more than you thought. But I’ll keep you warm, I promise.”

Oh, where she could go with a statement like that. She’d never been one to take an inch and run a mile, but, damn, if she didn’t want to. As it was, the drive took less than five minutes. Regret tugged at her when Tony ran his credit card through the cab meter and slid out first with their bags. When he held out his hand, she forgot all about her reservations.

His steady grip kept her balanced as she stepped out onto the curb and then he herded her toward the yellow-and-white-striped canopy shielding the diner’s entrance. Inside, Zip glanced around. She didn’t think she’d ever been to JJ’s, although she’d heard their cheesecake was worth killing for, and that straight from Kaley, who considered herself a connoisseur of all things sweet and delightful.

“Hey, Tony!” A silver-haired waitress strolled out from behind the 1950s Formica counter top. Dressed in a yellow uniform that fell precisely to her knees, stockings, and black waitressing shoes, she seemed like every diner waitress ever portrayed on television. Zip wouldn’t have been surprised if she shot a
kiss my grits
over her shoulder to the cook.

At the thought, Zip skipped a look in the cook’s direction. Dressed all in white, wearing a white baseball cap appearing to hide a smattering of white hair around his bald pate, or maybe just a really thin line of hair holding full baldness at bay, he seemed the perfect Mel to the waitress's Flo. Amusement bubbled through Zip. She’d spent too many late nights working on receipts and watching old repeats on television.

“Good evening, my goddess of coffee and all things pie.” Tony ducked his head and obediently kissed the older woman on the cheek when she tapped it with her finger. “Marge, I’d like you to meet Zip, my favorite customer. Zip, this is Marge, my favorite waitress.”

Marge chortled and patted Tony’s face. “You’re a sweet talker. But you’ll do. Come on, and let’s get you settled. You two hungry?”

Leading them through the sparsely populated diner, she set them up in a comfortable booth away from the other customers—a tacit offer of privacy and comfort Zip appreciated. She didn’t miss the older woman’s assessment or nod of approval.

“I’m starving,” Tony said. Right there to take her jacket as she tugged it off. He hung it on the peg next to the booth and tucked their bags to one side.

Zip bit her lip and slid over the vinyl seat, enjoying the faint bounce as he joined her. No sitting across the booth from him. No distance. Not even a manufactured one. Her heart did a little skip beat, because her boldness thrilled and terrified her in equal measures.

His leg bumped hers, and she couldn’t help the silly little grin that kept trying to escape, as though she were sixteen and not already a swing dance past thirty.

“Zip, you hungry?”

Her breath caught. She was starving, but she didn’t think they were going to offer her Tony with a side of spanking until the sun rose.
Where the hell did that come from?
Apparently, she also suffered from a great deal more whimsy than she’d expected. Shifting, she crossed one leg over the other. Maybe that would keep the ache between her thighs from escaping.

“Actually, yeah. I am. What’s good here?”

“Everything.” Something about the way he emphasized the
every
in that statement sent chills racing over her skin. “What do you like?”

Marge chuckled. “Hmm. Tony gets a Lumberjack: eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and biscuits and gravy. Coffee, black.” She rattled it off without missing a beat.

“Zip likes her coffee with cream and sugar, Marge.”

“No problem, honey.”

Two expectant gazes stared at her. If it were a normal date, she’d eat like a bird, order something like fruit and granola. At least give the appearance of a healthy eater who couldn’t wolf down everything they’d just mentioned. Her stomach gurgled and grumbled at the idea that she’d deny it. The scent of sizzling bacon drifting through the air didn’t help.

“You know, actually I wouldn’t mind some steak, eggs, and hash browns.” A diner like JJ’s had to make the best hash browns: golden, crispy, and fluffy. Her stomach squeezed hopefully.

“How you want those cooked, honey?” Marge asked, all no-nonsense and businesslike, but Zip’s brain went straight to sex. Maybe it was the company—because sex with Tony was definitely worth thinking about.

Clearing her throat, she tried to remember how she liked her meals. “Medium on the steak, over medium on the eggs, extra crispy on the hash browns.”

“You got it.”

Marge sailed off with their orders, and Zip laughed at the smile playing up the corners of Tony’s mouth. “What?”

“You eat like a real person. I think I’m in love.”

Her heart did a little somersault at the words.
Slow down, it’s a figure of speech.
But, damn, if it wasn’t a beautiful one.

“I’m hungry. I didn’t really think about the fact that I haven’t eaten in hours until we got here. And this place smells great.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He loosened the buttons on his shirt, and Zip found it all she could do not to reach over and give him a hand. The man made her wish for more of Kaley’s creativity or Veronica’s boldness. Still, she’d managed to ask him out, so she couldn’t really complain about being herself.

He’s so damn good looking….
“I take it you come here a lot?”

“Every night after my shift. Marge always makes sure I eat. I actually started coming down here after classes. One of my study partners worked a block over. So we’d hook up here, study, eat, and then head home.”

“And where is home?” Surprisingly, she didn’t know that much about him; he always asked after her, but she’d rarely returned the favor.

“Manhattan. Used to be in Queens, but yeah….” He shook his head. The damp note at the end of his words suggested there was a lot more to that story. She wanted to know more, but probing further went far beyond the purview of her business unless he decided to offer it.

“Nice. Close to work?”

“Not that far, and I’m lucky; inherited my grandmother’s rent control. And I like Coveted. It’s a great opportunity and has fabulous customers.” He bumped her leg playfully.

“You know, I heard that somewhere. Awesome bartenders. They know our drinks, and they are always waiting with a smile.”

“Not hard when you walk in with that sassy little grin of yours.”

The blood rushed to her cheeks again. He said the damnedest things and turned her from grown woman to awkward teenager. “I didn’t know it was that sassy.”

“Please.” He paused as Marge delivered two steaming cups of coffee and a carafe. She added a bowl of tasty creamers and winked before scooting away to the counter where three college kids schlumped in with their backpacks.