“I guess—”
“Travel or no travel? I’d guess travel because you were in the air force. You don’t take a job like that if you’re a homebody, and if you travel, you’d want a partner who travels, too.”
“Yes, but—”
“Working or stay-at-home?” She didn’t even pause long enough to let him talk. “I’d guess working. You’ve had two careers and built your own business. I think you’d appreciate a woman who is independent, educated, and can contribute to the family finances . . .”
She trailed off when Jay shook his head. “You’re forgetting that I’m just looking for something casual. My mother asked me to make an effort to find a partner and I’m curious about who you think would be a good match. But I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. I’m not interested in anything long-term.”
“Sorry. I got carried away.” She grimaced. “I’ll scratch the next question, which was about kids.”
“I’ve never even thought about kids.” But he had. As a boy, he had wanted what his friends had: the noise and chaos of a big family. Birthdays with so many people they spilled into the yard. Weddings so huge they needed a giant venue. Aunties and uncles and cousins who would be there no matter what. He loved his mother, respected her choices, and was deeply appreciative of everything she had done to give him a happy childhood. But sometimes he had felt painfully alone.
“I know this is probably premature because we’re still in the fact-finding stage, but there is someone I think you should meet.” Zara opened her purse and pulled out a card. “My father is an artist as well as a musician, and he’s showing a new collection next Monday at the Indra Roy Gallery. I thought of Indra right away when we made our deal. She’s smart, elegant, and sophisticated, and her gallery was just elected to membership in the prestigious Art Dealers Association of America. She’s everything a workaholic, Economist-reading CEO could want. You can drop by any time after seven. If she doesn’t suit, it’s no harm, no foul because she won’t know that’s why you’re there.”
Her fingertips brushed his skin when she handed him the card, sending a current of electricity sparking through his body. He didn’t want to move his hand away.
“I’m impressed how you just interviewed yourself to talk me into meeting Indra.”
“Ah.” Her breath left her in a rush, and she was instantly contrite. “I get carried away sometimes.”
“I noticed, but I would call it enthusiastic.” He noticed a lot of things about her. The gentle curve of her neck, the glow of her skin, her easy laughter and sunny smile. What was it about Zara that fueled this scalding awareness? He tried to focus on their conversation and stop thinking about her lush lips and how soft they would feel if he kissed her. Had he ever had this type of reaction to a woman before? When she looked at him, he could almost see another world in the depths of her warm brown eyes. A world where drinks spilled, heads rolled, footballs flew across courtrooms, and the dark place inside him was banished by the sunshine of her smile.
“When I’m focused on something, it’s to the exclusion of everything else,” she continued. “It’s one of the reasons why I don’t get involved in any serious relationships. I’d be so focused on that person, the world could collapse around me and I’d never notice. No one wants that kind of attention.”
Jay could think of worse things. As a boy whose father didn’t want him and whose mother was working three jobs to keep a roof over their heads, he had been desperate for attention of any kind.
The food arrived, and with it a green margarita in an enormous glass, courtesy of the bartender with whom Zara had shared a two-minute conversation while they had waited to be seated.
“That’s a lot of margarita,” Jay pointed out.
“I’m a lot of woman.”
Laughter escaped him—so rare and unexpected he almost didn’t recognize the sound. What would it be like to laugh like this every day? To be in a relationship with someone who made him feel so alive?
Zara wrapped one hand around each glass. “You’ll have to peel me out of the seat when it’s time to leave.”
“Tell him you don’t need it. I’m sure he’ll take it back.”
“That’s hilarious.” Zara chuckled. “Send back a gigantic free margarita. You kill me, Jay. I knew you had a sense of humor.”
She thought he was funny. Now she was smiling at him, licking the salt from her glass off her finger. What the hell was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to look when her tongue was gliding over her plump lips and her eyes were dancing and her shirt had slid down to reveal the firm smooth crescents of her breasts?