Beauty from Pain(7)

Did he say something? Wait—he asked if I was enjoying the wine? At least that’s what I think he said. “I am. Very much.”


He shifts his attention to the glass in front of me. “What are you having?”


Oh, shit. I don’t know what kind of wine it is. There are only two kinds in my book: good or bad. I give it a once-over and decide there’s no reason to pretend I know. “Honestly? I don’t have a damn clue. It’s red and it’s good. That’s all I know.”


He smiles as he takes the glass from my hand. He lifts it for inspection before tucking it under his nose. “It’s Cabernet Sauvignon.” He tilts it upward and takes a small sip. “Not bad.”


Oh, double swoon. His lips are where mine were. Lucky glass. “I’ll have to take your word for it because I know nothing about wine.”


His brow wrinkles as he looks at me. Damn. His eyes are mesmerizing, the kind you can get lost in with very little effort. “If you don’t know wine, then how did you come to be at a vintage dinner?”


“I’m the guest of one of the students showcasing his vintages.”


He gestures to my glass of wine he’s still holding. “Is this one your friend’s?”


Is it Ben’s? They’d started running together several glasses ago. “I think so.”


“It’s good. As for most of the others I’ve tried tonight, I can’t say the same.”


“I’ll tell Ben you said so. Or perhaps you’d like to. He stepped away, but he should be back any minute.” I silently pray he won’t return and ruin my conversation with this man I haven’t stopped thinking about since our prior meeting.


He has a crooked grin. “If I recall correctly, I think you owe me a dance.”


“Yes, I believe I do.” He reaches for my hand and leads me to the dance floor where the band is playing a fairly decent version of Van Morrison’s “Someone Like You.” We begin to step with the tempo.


“You’re American?”


“Everyday and twice on Sunday.”


He laughs. “What brings a funny Yank like you to Wagga Wagga?”


I glance over his shoulder and see Addison noticing us, so I give her a smile. “My best friend invited me to spend the summer.”


“Your accent sounds different from the other Americans I’ve met.”


I had taken a lot of flack from Addison over the years about my strong twang. “That’s because I’m from the South,” I explain.


“I like it,” he says. “So, how were you were able to put your life on hold for three months?”


“I needed to step away from my career for a little while so I could clear my head about some decisions I need to make.”


He peers over my shoulder and an irritated countenance appears on his face. “I have somewhere to be in a few minutes, so I have to cut our dance short, but would you join me for dinner tomorrow night?”


How could I tell this man no? “Yes, I would like that.”


“I have a meeting tomorrow evening and I expect it to run late. May I send my driver to pick you up around seven?”


He has a driver? “Umm, okay.”


He takes his phone from his pocket. “Where are you staying?”


It takes a moment for me to recall the unfamiliar address, but he puts it into his phone as I call it off. “452 Stanton Street.”


“My driver’s name is Daniel and you can expect him to be prompt.”


“Okay. I’ll be ready.” As he walks away, I remember we never introduced ourselves. “Wait. I didn’t get your name.”


He smiles as he walks backwards away from me. “It will be more interesting if you don’t know. See you tomorrow night.”


More interesting? What the hell is that supposed to mean? He tells me his driver’s name, but not his? That’s weird. I should know his name if I’ve agreed to meet him for dinner.


I’m about to chase him when I feel a warm hand on my arm. “Hey, what are you doing standing out here on the dance floor by yourself?” Ben asks.


“I wasn’t alone. I was dancing with someone, but he had to leave.” I search for Nameless, but he is already gone. Like a phantom.