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“We’ll have a bottle of the 2011 Opus One Napa Valley Red and please have that brought to a table on the roof patio.” His voice was husky, laced with a seductive tone.
The bartender blinked then craned his neck. “The 2011 Opus. Are you certain?”
He tapped on the bar, tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Absolutely.”
She swallowed hard, sensing his presence. A sultry blend of spices wafted across her nose and she dared not blink or move. There was such a powerful aura, a vacuum of intense pressure that everyone in close proximity sensed. A dozen people were drawn to the tall and evocative man, who held his stance, alluding wealth and stature in society without lifting a muscle.
“But sir, that’s a five-thousand-dollar bottle of wine,” the bartender croaked.
“I’m very well aware of the cost, young man.” The tone of his voice was even, the sound a sultry mix of arrogance and domination.
The slight accent was definitely European and the same one she’d heard at Club Noir. Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed the four one-hundred-dollar bills thrown in the bartender’s direction. The man at least had good taste. Without a shadow of a doubt she knew his identity. He was here and he wanted her.
The twelve standing were leaning in, eager to hear the outcome, to learn from such a man.
“You do have the wine in stock?” His voice remained calm, hypnotic.
“Of course,” the blond whispered.
He tapped the bar and a slow breath escaped his mouth. “Then I will anticipate the wine delivered to our table within five minutes. Am I correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent.” His hand captured hers and without another word, he led her past the suffocating crowd and toward the back of the café.
A collective gasp was slight, but a definite sound. The dozen souls had just witnessed a man of action.
Destiny held her breath as she was led up a narrow flight of stairs. His hand was cool but the hold was strong, the fingers clasping as if he’d never let her go. Her heart raced as her pulse doubled. A haze shifted into front of her face and she refused to succumb to his prowess, at least immediately.
He opened a door and she trailed behind him as he walked to a small table for two, one nestled next to an iron railing. She noticed that every other table on the rooftop was taken with standing room only. Except for the one table and the location had a four-foot perimeter around the chairs.
He seemed to notice her look of surprise and smiled as he pulled out a chair, easing her into the seat. ”I took the liberty of arriving early and securing a table. I hope you don’t mind. I enjoy the outdoors as well as the sounds of the city. I thought this would be an excellent choice to spend some quality time.”
“This is fine,” she whispered and cleared her throat. Every single one of the people on the deck had turned to look at them. She eased her purse to the deck and attempted to seem nonchalant. Her mystery date was in a fabulous suit and she was in jeans. His intent was to keep her off guard. “Why did you ask me here?” The Café was in a well-to-do part of the West End, where all the fashionable twenty-somethings came to play. He’d selected as if testing her.
“As opposed to?” His eyes twinkled.
“Somewhere else.” She realized the irony of her question.
He leaned forward. “You mean as in a dungeon perhaps or at least a dark basement?”
The way he was staring at her, his eyes full of mischief, helped ease the tension. She offered a genuine smile. “Something like that.”
He held out his hand. “I appreciate your directness and thank you for meeting me here. I enjoy getting to know the women I become close with.”
Destiny studied his eyes. They weren’t cold as she’d anticipated, but full of life. His features were strong, handsome in a sensual way. This was indeed the man she’d met briefly. However, there was no voice inside, no secret lover reminding her what she should and shouldn’t do. “Close? Are we going to become close?” She took his hand. There was a connection, a single jolt of electricity. There was also a knowing shared between them. Instead of being nervous, she was excited, her pussy clenching. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was well aware of her condition – wet and hot.
“I very much hope so.” His eyes never leaving her, he lifted her hand, pressing his lips across her knuckles.
Shuddering, she was surprised how comfortable she felt with him.
He let go of her hand only when a waiter approached.
She didn’t know how name, fake or otherwise, and decided she wasn’t going to ask. He remained quiet until the wine was poured and in the two minutes she studied his attire.
“And what did you determine?” he asked as he lifted his glass.
“I’m sorry?”
