I thought back on his last statement as I stared up into his dark orbs. “Your thoughts…about what?”
“Why, about you, of course.”
“What about me?”
“Dinner first.”
Without provocation, I began to walk in step as Rett led me down the hallway. As he pulled open a heavy wooden door, the floor changed from rough to smooth marble, and we were met with a swoosh of cool air. A smiling woman in a long red gown nodded our way.
Peering down at the top and gauze skirt I’d worn, I suddenly felt significantly underdressed.
“Sir,” the lady in red said, “your table is waiting.”
As if reading my mind, Rett leaned down, his lips close to my ear as his warm breath teased the sensitive skin of my neck. “You’re absolutely spectacular. Your outfit is perfect.”
“I-I didn’t know…”
Again, he led me as we followed the woman in red.
She opened one of two large wooden doors to an intimate dining room. The chandelier above acted as a prism, creating golden light that danced upon the ceiling as the crystals swayed. The walls were covered in rich oak paneling, trimmed in intricate carvings. The one and only table was set with a white linen tablecloth and red linen napkins. A single red rose stood in a silver vase with two tall candles in silver holders glowing from the center. Releasing his touch of my back, Rett moved forward and pulled one of the high-backed large chairs away from the table for me to sit.
Once again, I hesitated.
My gaze went to the woman in red. Her equally red lips were curved into a smile, and her eyes were set on me.
Okay. She knew I was here.
That should mean it’s safe?
Right?
“Emma.”
My name rolled off Rett’s tongue with the slightest of accents, deep and commanding, as if giving me little choice but to take the chair he offered.
With a deep breath, I moved forward and sat. Rett pushed the chair toward the table and took the other seat. Seductive music infiltrated the air; unlike the loud notes out in the courtyard, this melody was softer and teamed with the melancholy twang of blues. Even without words, it sounded like poetry floating through the air.
Rett lifted a bottle of wine, presenting the label. “My research showed that you’re a connoisseur of red wines, the drier the better.”
I didn’t speak.
What kind of research had he done?
“This cabernet sauvignon is extremely rare. It’s a members-only selection from a quaint vineyard in northern Michigan. I specifically requested it for this evening.” Before I could speak, he continued, “The grapes in 2011 were threatened by an early frost. The harvest was expedited, resulting in fewer than one hundred bottles being corked. As you can imagine, acquiring a bottle is not easy.”
His dark eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t determine.
He continued, “I enjoy the hunt almost as much as the acquisition.”
Apparently, the cork had already been removed. Rett poured a small portion into a glass, swirled the contents, and inhaled. “But, my dear Emma, once the target is obtained, rareness alone no longer gives it value. For once it’s obtained, the sense of rarity is lost. That is when the true value is tested. That worth comes from the combination of quality, uniqueness, and taste.” He passed the glass my way. “Please, have the first sip.”
I took the glass. “I already drank a Hurricane. I’m not sure if I should drink any more, especially before food. That was what I was about to do—”
“Only a sip,” he interrupted, “and you will understand what I’m saying.”
I did as he had, taking the stem in my fingertips and swirling the contents. The aroma filled the globe of the glass, and as the deep ruby liquid stilled, the scents of plum, blackberry, pine, and violets filled my senses. I tipped the glass, allowing the wine to tease my lips. The earlier aromas came to life on my tongue. It truly was unlike any wine I’d ever tasted.
“Well?” he asked.