Page 8 of Miss Matched

Zac pulls his hand back and shrugs as I take a sip. The sugared rim cuts the lemon with sweetness. I moan as it runs from my lips down my throat, burning in the most delectable way.

It isn’t until I set my drink down that I realize my enthusiasm has captured Zac’s—and the bartender’s—full attention. Luckily, the bartender dips, and Zac turns away with a hard swallow.

“Kennedy,” I say, shooting out my hand to cut through the tension.

Zac’s eyes do a once-over before he slips his hand in mine, lighting my skin with the kind of heat that threatens to turn me into a puddle on the floor.

“Nice to meet you, Kennedy.” He says, then nods over my shoulder. “You a friend of Chad’s?”

Chad’s?

I follow his eyes for a moment and realize he must have seen us talking outside the bathroom.

“Not exactly.” I shake my head, feeling nauseous at the thought of even being an acquaintance. “You know Chad?”

The question hangs in the air, and it has the potential to shape everything I need to know about the elusive Zac Vincent. From what I’ve read, Zac doesn’t hang out with the tamest crowd, but he also gives off a more respectable vibe than someone who would be caught with his dick in his date in the bathroom.

“Fuck no,” Zac says with a chuckle. “I know of him. We’ve been in the same place once or twice. But I can’t say that Shit-Faced Ulrich everstayed sober long enough for anyone to really get to know him.”

Shit-Faced Ulrich. Sam would love that name.

A very unladylike laugh bursts out of me, and I snap my mouth shut trying to trap it. Being cool and collected for one conversation is too much to ask for. And with Seattle’s hottest bachelor, no less.

I tamp down my embarrassment and turn back to my drink, taking a healthy sip.

Zac sits unfazed beside me, running his fingers through his thick brown hair with an amused grin on his face. My humiliation gives way to the sudden urge to reach out and touch him. But I’ve dealt with his kind before. Rich and good looking enough to let his money and smile do all the charming. So while my body may be betraying me, my brain is smarter than that.

“I step away for five minutes, and you’re making friends,” an unfamiliar man says as he approaches. His sharp brown eyes dart from me to Zac as he tucks his hands in his pockets.

“Mark, Kennedy. Kennedy, Mark.” Zac nods, then focuses on me. “He’s no Chad, but he’s still a bit of a shit. And my friend, unfortunately.”

“Charmed,” Mark says with enthusiasm as he lifts my hand and plants a sweet kiss on the back of my knuckles. “You’ll have to excuse my buddy here. Guy’s still learning how to act around a beautiful lady.”

Zac nudges his arm, and Mark puts his hands up, laughing. “Sorry, sorry.”

“So, did they tie her to the stairs yet?” Zac asks Mark, and I’m not sure if I heard that right.

Tie who to what?

“Kitchen table. I’ve gotta get back before further damage is done.” Mark turns to me. “Never have children.”

It’s a warning, but it’s warm and filled with love.

“Go.” Zac waves him off. “Save the sitter from your evil spawn.”

“Lovely to meet you, Kennedy.” Mark acknowledges me once more before shooting a sideways look at Zac. As Mark backs away, he holds his hand up to his ear in the shape of a phone and winks.

“Presumptuous,” I say as Mark disappears.

Zac nods. “He means well.”

I don’t doubt it. In my profession, I’ve dealt with men from every end of the spectrum, from the Chads to the Marks. Mark strikes me as one of the good ones.

As he disappears, the air returns to that tense thickness it had when I took my seat. It’s palpable between my body and Zac’s, and I realize he must have shifted, because we’re only a foot apart. My eyes avoid him, but his stay pinned on me.

“You’re thinking something,” he says with a smile that turns my mouth to sandpaper.

Taking a sip, I turn to face him. “I’m not quite sure what to think of Seattle’s hottest bachelor perusing a hotel bar this time of night. It’s questionable behavior for someone of your status, don’t you think?”

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