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I put my hand over my heart. "You wound me. I'll have you know I can be very agreeable."
"I don't doubt it. When it suits you."
I grin, enjoying the back and forth. "Perceptive. I knew I liked you."
She arches an eyebrow. "You don't know me well enough to like me."
"An oversight on my part. One I'd be happy to correct, if you'll permit it." I turn on the charm, giving her my most roguish smile.
She regards me thoughtfully, and I have the distinct sense she is taking my measure. "Perhaps," she says after a moment. "If you prove less insufferable than you first appeared."
I laugh. "I accept the challenge."
We are interrupted by the flight attendant offering drinks. The woman requests a Torres tequila neat. Just Torres. Nothing else will do, she demands. Interesting choice. She turns to me and declares. "If you're smart, you should order the same."
I comply.
When our drinks arrive, I lift my glass. "To new acquaintances," I say.
Something like amusement flickers in her eyes. But she touches her glass to mine.
"To not judging books by their covers," she counters.
The game, most definitely, is on.
I take a sip of the same Torres tequila, watching her over the rim of my glass. She downs her tequila in one smooth shot, barely reacting to what must have been a hefty dose of alcohol.
Impressive.
"I don't think I caught your name earlier," I say.
She regards me for a moment before answering. "Isabella."
"Isabella," I repeat. "Lovely name."
"And you are?"
I hesitate. My name carries weight and has been known to change people's attitudes toward me. But that's in New York and she's from Mexico. It probably won't matter to her.
"Stefano," I say after a beat. "Stefano Nitti."
She nods, accepting this without further questions. She doesn't give me her last name. I find myself intrigued by her poise and self-possession. Most women I meet fawn over me, but she seems largely immune to my charms.
I search for a way to draw her out. "That was an excellent tequila. You must know your spirits."
"I should hope so. I am Mexican and I've worked in the tequila business on and off."
"Oh? Which distillery?"
Her eyes flash with amusement. "One you haven't heard of, I'm sure."
I lean forward. "Try me."
She shakes her head, a mysterious smile playing about her lips. "I think I'll keep you guessing."
"It's okay if you are not in the tequila business, you do not have to lie to impress me," I baited her.
She gave me a baffled look. "I don't have to lie. Ask me anything about tequila," she challenged.
