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Jesus. Why was I so nervous?
“I’m so sorry,” I gasped, mortified at what I’d done. I immediately grabbed the napkin from the table, not thinking as I placed it on his thigh. My fingers were suddenly dangerously close to the thick bulge between his legs.
His reaction was minimalistic, lifting his head, his lips pursing. The fact he remained quiet was unnerving.
“Again, I’m sorry. I just wanted to bring you the wine you ordered. I can certainly have your trousers dry cleaned if you’d like, or you can stop by with the bill, and I’ll be happy to repay it.”
Very slowly he removed his sunglasses, putting the book to the side. “That won’t be necessary.”
His accent was subtle, but decidedly Spanish, sultry in a way I hadn’t expected. “Well, you’re very kind, but I would hate for the experience to be one you remembered for all the wrong reasons.”
“I assure you that this has been the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time.”
I was nervous for no other reason than I’d just made a fool of myself. “Bentley Little. ‘Anyone in Horror’s path is irrevocably altered.’” When his eyes opened wide, I laughed. “My favorite quote of his.”
He nodded, swirling his glass of wine. “‘Murder is an inherently evil act, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how convincing the rationalizations.’”
Half laughing, I found myself surprised that he was as much an aficionado as I was. “Also Bentley Little. And here I thought I was the only macabre person inside this bistro.” The writer penned pieces that would terrify the majority of people. I found the writer’s stories comforting.
“You’d be surprised the number of people who harbor filthy desires while pretending to be abhorred by the possibilities.”
“An interesting philosophy, Mr.…”
“Please, call me Alessandro.”
“Alessandro,” I repeated, the name certainly appropriate for what he was reading, sultry with a hint of delicious sins to come.
“Then you would be Sierra Wynters. I’m here because of the high praise provided by one of your local magazines.”
“I take that to mean you’re not from Raleigh.”
He chuckled “No, just passing through attending to business. However, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to indulge in my favorite merlot.”
“You have exquisite taste.”
“Yes, I do.” Alessandro allowed his gaze to fall slowly.
“Again, I apologize.” He was disconcerting, enough so I wasn’t certain I could maintain my end of the deal.
“Truly unnecessary. However, you could make it up to me.” His look was piercing, but his smile drew me in.
“Hmmm… And how could I do that?” His eyes were mesmerizing, dark like the blackest night yet his irises held a shimmer of luminescence that drew me in, engaging in their darkness.
“By sharing a glass of wine with me.” When I didn’t respond right away, he leaned forward in his seat, the light breeze allowing the scent of his musky aftershave to drift into my system. The fragrance was seductive and inviting, just like the man sitting in front of me. “Or am I being too presumptuous?”
He had a presence that intrigued me. Powerful. Dominating. But not unkind. That was the key. There wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t appreciate a bad boy, but they required a heart of gold. Maybe I was into romance after all. His accent was as seductive as the man, and a part of me wanted to share more than just a glass of wine with him. However, something about him was off. Even if he wasn’t the dark stranger, I couldn’t rule out that he might be here under false pretenses.
Now you’re going too far.But was I?
“I think I can do that. Just allow me to make certain my guest enjoyed her event.” I couldn’t believe I’d agreed. I wasn’t a risk taker, not by any stretch of the imagination. However, this was my establishment. There were still at least two hundred people inside the store. Nothing was going to happen other than engaging in conversation over a glass of wine.
“Ah. I should have known by your attention to detail. You’re the owner.” He waited until I’d started to walk away before making the statement.
“I am.” I turned slightly, savoring the way his rounded lips evoked thoughts of passion, kissing on a long winter’s night.
As a smile slowly slid across his face, I was caught in the moment, studying his chiseled jaw and the way his long, dark eyelashes floated across his skin. The man was drop dead gorgeous, curly thick hair resting on his collar, broad shoulders that screamed of strength. Whew. Whether or not he was arrogant remained to be seen. At least it was possible that the conversation would be a break from the dull reality of my life.
And I could shut Clarice and Dierdre up for at least a week, a huge plus.
