"Did I mention a restaurant?" he asks, smile widening both at her words and her touch, muscle tensing under the press of nails, a growl of response almost suppressed at the back of his throat as his hold on her tightened, keeping her against his body as the music ends and the dancers around them ripple into applause for the band and the singer. "Great food. I promise. Come with me, Ms. Hauer."
Two can avoid Christian names. It doesn't, necessarily, negate intimacy. He covers her hand with his, blunt fingers folding around her palm, his thumb moving in a light, apparently idle caress over her knuckles.