Her sexy fingertips drummed lightly against the table. “So, we could do this?”

“Do what?” He found himself hoping all over again, but he sure wasn’t going to presume a second time.

“Have a casual conversation about nothing that matters. You don’t know me. I don’t know you.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed without hesitation. He could talk with her, or do absolutely anything else that she wanted.

Someone entered the bar through the archway, drawing her attention. She tracked the progress of a fiftysomething man as he headed for the bar. After a few seconds, she seemed to relax. She turned back to Zach.

“Waiting for someone?” he couldn’t help asking.

She emphatically shook her head.

His second guess would be that she was avoiding someone. He took a chance on his instincts. “You want to get out of here?”

She seemed to contemplate his words for a long, slow moment. “Yes,” she finally answered. “I believe I do.”

He gestured with a tilt of his head. “I saw an exit door at the far end of that hall. We can probably make a clean getaway.”

“What makes you think I need a getaway?”

He leaned across the table again, dramatically lowering his voice. “You’re acting like someone who needs to lie low for a while.”

She matched his posture once more. “You make me sound like a felon.”

“Are you a felon?”

She fought a grin. “Would it matter?”

“No,” he answered honestly. With her looks and sense of humor, it truly would not.

She chuckled low, drew back and rose from her chair, retrieving a small, black clutch. “Then let’s do it.”

He stood with her. She moved past him, and the exotic scent of jasmine teased his senses.

He inhaled appreciatively then affected a Chicago-gangster drawl. “Act natural, Doll-Face, and stick close to me.”

She matched his tone. “Right beside you…Lucky.”

He couldn’t help grinning to himself as they crossed the bar. He lowered his voice. “You want I should score us a getaway car?”