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I held up the bottle of wine. “Do you want a glass? I promise I didn’t drug it,” I smirked.
“But I suppose you made it yourself.”
“That I did.”
“What other talents do you have?”
I stepped closer to him, only the bottle of wine and glasses separating us. “I guess you’ll have to do some more research to find out.” I shouldn’t flirt with him, but it came so naturally.
He leaned in, his warm breath cascading down my neck. “Don’t tempt me, Sorrel,” he whispered.
It took me a second to catch my breath. “Do I tempt you?”
“I think you know the answer to that.” He stood upright and took the bottle of wine from me—bringing me back to my senses. “Let’s have a drink, shall we? I believe I still owe you an apology.”
We both took a seat at the small table near the ledge. It provided a spectacular view of the river, which was illuminated by moonbeams. Lovers walked along the shoreline while others stopped to dip their toes in the river. Such a happy scene.
“You smile so easily, Sorrel.” Eric poured each of us a glass.
“I like seeing other people happy.”
“Like I said, I’ve never known anyone like you before.” He downed a rather large drink of the wine.
“It bothers you. I bother you.”
He studied me for a moment. “You intrigue me. I want you to prove me wrong. Make me believe that you have nothing to hide. You’re pricking my conscience.”
“You have one?” I giggled.
He held up his glass as if to toast me. “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you.”
“I’m not that surprised.” I took a sip of my wine, berating myself for spouting such nonsense. It was nonsense I believed, but I had no idea why.
He cocked his head. “You’re naive.”
“Perhaps, but I know people. And something tells me that deep down you’re more than a brooding, egotistical, selfish reporter.”
“So, this is what you really think of me?” His pearly whites glistened in the mood lighting.
I had some other thoughts, but I kept them to myself.
“I am sorry, Sorrel. I’m only doing what I’m told to do.”
“Yeah, your boss,” I snarled, “he’s a real charmer.”
Eric barked out a laugh. “I heard you called him. You’re not the first.”
“A lot of good it did me.” I gripped the table. “I just don’t understand why. Why me? I’m not hurting anyone or doing anything illegal. This was supposed to be a fun piece.”
He skimmed the rim of his glass with his finger. “How do you get people to confess their deepest secrets?” His tones bordered on persuasive and seductive.
I thought for a moment about what to say. “Honestly, I don’t know.” That was true. I had no idea where these powers came from. I mean, how could the earth gift a book to someone? But I knew something flowed through me. I’d felt it my entire life. It had only gotten stronger after I turned twenty-five and the book became mine. Though it never spoke to me, I could feel something different coursing through me. Like I was tied to something I couldn’t put my finger on. I supposed it was the book. Actually, it felt like the pull I felt toward Eric. Odd.
“You don’t know?” Eric was obviously skeptical.
“Haven’t you ever met someone who you just wanted to tell everything to, no matter the consequences?”
Eric cleared his throat. “Yes,” he reluctantly admitted. “She’s sitting in front of me.”
“Maybe you can answer your own question, then. Why do want to tell me your secrets? And I know you have some, because I’ve found that those who make it their business to find out the secrets of others have the biggest ones to keep.”
His jaw dropped, but he quickly recovered. “You’re right, I shouldn’t underestimate you.”
I flashed him a disarming smile. “I’m harmless.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
I bit my lip. “Is that a compliment?”
“Yes,” he said in a soft, low voice.
I tucked some hair behind my ear. “So, what else can I say to prove you wrong?”
He tapped his fingers against the table. “Tell me about your father.”
I had to hold my anger back. He had no right delving into my past like that. He had no idea how many times I’d played that event over and over in my head—my dad stumbling through our back door, holding his chest and reaching out for me. He kept saying, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” Only my father would apologize for having a heart attack. But I reminded myself this was my opportunity to make Eric see how ridiculous this all was, so I held back my diatribe. “My dad was a wonderful man. He loved the outdoors and making wine. We owned a vineyard when I was younger.”
“A vineyard?” That piqued Eric’s interest.
“In California, in a small town called Tulare. No one’s ever heard of it.”
