The single thing the out-of-the-way watering hole had going for it, she decided, was that she did not have to worry about running into anyone she knew. Or more importantly, anyone who knew Zach. She was on her second martini when the man she’d been waiting for finally showed up. “You’re late.” Mickey O’Rourke shrugged uncaringly as he waved to a pair of uniformed cops seated nearby. From what she’d already determined during her irritating wait, the Hibernian watering hole was a favorite with the police. “Something came up.” She frowned at him over the rim of the iced glass. When he sat down across the table, she caught the unmistakable scent of cheap drugstore cologne. “If you must meet me reeking of other women, I would prefer you find a bedmate with better taste in perfume.” He grinned unrepentantly. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” “Hardly.” The grin widened, a cocky flash of white in his freckled face. He tilted the wooden chair on its back legs and laced his fingers behind his head.
