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luscious, full lips would feel divine around his cock. His dick flexed in agreement, and Tony coughed, swallowing his next line because it was a lot closer to hey, nice shoes, want to fuck than he cared to admit.
    “I’m good.” He followed his body’s desire and roamed back to her, wiping the white oak finish along the way, giving his hands something to do. Something else to do…. He needed the reminder for his libido suddenly gone wild. “How are you doing?”
    “Can I reserve the right to answer that question later?”
    He couldn’t be imagining the playfulness on her face or in her voice. At least, he hoped he wasn’t, anyway.
    “I suppose. Any reason why you can’t answer it now?” Arriving in front of her, he cocked his head to the side. The air around her seemed warmer than the rest of the bar, sweeter and perfumed with a hint of Angel Mist—her preferred scent. The scattered details he’d acquired over the last year coalesced.
    She lived in a modest brownstone in Brooklyn, worked at an accounting firm in Midtown, had never owned a car or ventured far from the boroughs of New York City, enjoyed reading, running, had a mild addiction to show tunes, and, despite her buttoned-down appearance, dressed in costume every Halloween. Perfectly practical in every way, but with a streak of whimsy that reeled him in like a fish on a line.
    “It’s tax season.” Her nose wrinkled, and she patted the bulging backpack. “Which means long hours of no-you-can’t-deduct-your-cat’s-vet-bills-as-a-medical-expense conversations, and more.”
    Tony gaped. Was she serious? “People try to deduct that?”
    “Oh, you’d be amazed what some people try to deduct. I had one client insist that his bar tab should be fully deductable as a mental health expense, or at least divided between business and mental health.”
    He flicked his gaze along the bar, aware of where all his waitresses were, Lavon ringing up someone’s tab, and the general mood of the customers. No one needed him immediately, so he indulged himself and settled across from Zip. The exasperation in her tone amused the hell out of him because she couldn’t disguise the sparkle in her eyes.
    “Let me guess—he didn’t mix business with drinks.”
    “Oh, he did. But more to the tune of a couple of grand over the course of the year, not the full twenty-one thousand he wanted to charge off.”
    “Holy hell….” He didn’t bother to disguise his admiration for the soaring tab. “I guess alcohol consumption can’t be that much of a write-off.”
    “It depends on why you buy it. If you’re a wine taster and you’re training your palate, absolutely. If you’re a bar owner and you’re gauging the competition, sold. If you’re out chasing skirts or drowning your sorrows, sorry, no dice.”
    He latched onto the second item on her list. “What if you’re researching businesses? Shopping around for the right combination?”
    “Arguably, if you can show a business plan and that’s a part of your strategy, it can be a legitimate business expense.” She rested her elbow on the bar and propped her chin in her hand. The mild pink flush suffusing her skin gave her the rosy look he’d imagined would spread over her whole body when she rolled over in bed in the morning. He’d love to kiss his way across it and see just how red her body could turn.
    And back to business, Tony….
    “Good to know. Can I get you anything?” He tried to ignore the kick in his gut being so close to her gave him. Her mouth parted at his question, and he couldn’t help following the swirl of her tongue moistening her lower lip. The woman acted like a drug on his system, and he didn’t want to get clean.
    She seemed to struggle with an internal indecision, but the corners of her mouth kicked up and she blew out a breath. “You know, I’d love another glass of wine.”
    “You sure you haven’t already had enough?” He’d shaken two martini pitchers, and she’d had at