Jay took a spoonful of his red pozole, distracting one sense with the other. The flavor, rich and robust from the addition of the homemade red chili sauce, smoked paprika, and masa harina, dazzled his tongue and gave him something to think about that didn’t involve kissing or touching a beautiful, fun-loving attorney who was trying to find his match.
Zara managed two bites of her enchiladas before the soft strum of a guitar broke the silence. “A mariachi band! Let’s request a cumbia and dance.”
“How about we request something low-key and conducive to eating in our seats?” He could see where this was headed. There would be no casual conversation over a quiet dinner. She was already halfway out of her seat.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey!” The five performers moved toward them as the first chords of the song echoed through the restaurant.
“El Mariachi Loco”！
And she was gone. Moments later she was dancing with the band, lifting her knees along with them in time to the music. A few more restaurant patrons jumped up to join her and they did the hand jive together.
“I see your foot tapping,” she called out. “One dance.”
Jay shook his head and forced his foot to still. The restaurant was in the middle of the financial district, where he might be seen by potential clients, or even the bankers he was trying to court as investors. He had worked too hard to risk his reputation, even if he’d been tempted to join her.
The lead singer put his sombrero on Zara’s head and pulled her close, his hips moving in a way Jay didn’t want to see another man’s hips move when he was so close to the woman Jay had fantasized about kissing only moments ago.
As if he could hear Jay’s internal dialogue, the singer caught his gaze. His lips spread in a smug smile and he slid his hand down Zara’s back to the curve of her ass. Zara slapped his hand away but not before Jay felt a fierce and totally inexplicable wave of possessiveness wash over him.
Not my fight. But he was already out of the booth and across the floor. It was the disrespect the singer was showing toward her, he told himself, the danger he represented, and the gauntlet he’d thrown at Jay’s feet. Nothing more.
“You came!” Zara flung herself into his arms before he could even open his mouth to give the singer a piece of his mind.
Jay gave a satisfied growl and wrapped his arms around her, acutely aware of her soft sexy body pressed up against him, her warmth seeping into his skin like a drug. Something loosened inside him and he bit back a sigh.
“Jay.” She breathed his name and their eyes met, locked. The world fell away, the music fading beneath the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears. Raw need spiraled inside him, and in that moment he knew two things: he was going to kiss her, and it was going to happen now. He lowered his head, closing the distance between them, his thoughts centered on naked bodies, cool sheets, panted breaths, and the thudding of his headboard against the wall.
He was only seconds away from tasting her lips when she shattered the moment with the terrible words, “Let’s dance!”
Before he could process the shock of his lips meeting only cool air, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Jay! I thought that was you.”
Jay turned and tore his mind away from unrequited desire and the throb of his pulse in his groin. Work. Business. Investor. Thomas.
“Thomas.” He squeezed the banker’s hand. “Nice to see you.” His gaze flicked over Thomas’s shoulder to the octopus with the double-jointed hips, but Zara had positioned herself out of his reach.
“Don’t tell me you were about to dance.” Thomas chuckled. “I don’t think the board would go for a CEO who breaks out the zapateado in the middle of negotiations.”
“No. Of course not.” He gave a dismissive laugh. “I was looking for the waiter so I can pay the bill and get back to the office.”
“He might be over at our table. Brittany had some questions about the menu. She likes everything to be perfect for our clients.”
Of course she did. But he would rather be here watching Zara dance in a battered sombrero than at another stuffy corporate dinner where he had to worry about everything from the fork he used to the placement of his napkin.
Thomas leaned in, raising his voice over the music. “Yours isn’t the only company considering international expansion.”
“I’m not afraid of a little competition,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel in the least.
“How is that lawsuit going?” Thomas asked.