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  She cleared her throat and crossed her legs. “Don’t you want to ask me about my education? Where I went to school?”

  He waved a hand. “Nah. I want to know if you can pair wines.”

  She shifted in the booth.

  “What do you say, shall we get a start on this?” he asked, and held up a glass of sauvignon blanc. “Tell me about this wine and suggest what to order with it.”

  This was it. Impress the man with what you know, Kat. Mhhm, those eyes were looking at her, their color a cross between jade and tiger-eye. Brother, she was thinking like Venus. They were hazel! She lifted up a glass of wine, smiled, and started by holding it up to the light.

  Thirty minutes turned into two hours while the sous chef was apparently covering in the kitchen. After the first hour, she was hired. She’d paired every wine he had brought out, gave him the notes on the wine, and gave him her overall impressions.

  “You do know your stuff.”

  She twirled the glass with a sip of Bordeaux left in it. “Surprised?”

  “I looked at your resume.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “First job at this, huh?”

  Why was it that he seemed to look at her like he could see right through her? She’d heard that in a song before, or maybe read it in a book, and thought it sounded so ridiculous and trite, but Christian Reilly had this look: a look that said, I’m going to get under your skin, turn you inside out. “It is. I thought you didn’t care what my resume said,” she replied, trying so hard to sound cool.

  “I don’t. I care that you know your wines. What made you decide to become a sommelier?”

  “I got a divorce.”

  Christian raised a brow. “I’m divorced too. Six months now.”

  “Oh.”

  “Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked.

  She paused, looking at her wine glass. “Wouldn’t that be weird? You’re my boss now, right?”

  “I could fire you for the night and then re-hire you tomorrow. But if it goes well tonight, I’d have to fire you again.” He laughed. “Come on. It’s only dinner.”

  She crossed and uncrossed her legs. “No. I want the job and, I, yes, I would love to have dinner. When?”

  “I think I mentioned tonight. Now works for me.” His hand brushed over the top of hers as he reached across to refill her glass.

  “I, well, I…” She’d never been good at this. She had met Perry in high school and married him fresh out of college. “My boys. I have sons and they’re at home and they have school. And, I need to get home for them.”

  He studied her for a few seconds before replying. “Of course. I have a daughter. She’s three. I understand. Some other time then. Why don’t you plan to start training next Monday, right? I’ll have Rachel e-mail you over copies of our menus, wine lists, and some specials I typically serve.”

  Kat nodded. “Can you give me a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  She got up and headed to the bathroom, not believing what she was about to do. Before she could think twice, she dug through her purse, found her cell phone, and dialed Perry’s number, her hands shaking.

  “Kat?”

  “Hi. I need a favor.”

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  She hated that. They were divorced! He’d screwed her former friend and after he was done with her, he went for pretty much anything wearing stilettos and short skirts. They didn’t even have to be drinking age. No matter what, though, Perry had to play all Rico Suave and call her sweetheart as though she was itching to crawl back to him. Ick. “I’m in the city and can’t get home until late and the boys are home. My sister was supposed to come over and watch them, but she didn’t make it.” She knew she sounded desperate, but for God’s sake, when was the last time a man looked at her the way Christian Reilly had? When was the last time butterflies did that dance in her stomach? It was now or never, baby. No more groveling. Perry owed her anyway. Big time.

  “Of course your sister didn’t make it. She’s not exactly responsible. She’s an addict.”

  “She’s been sober for seven years, Perry. You know that, and your responsibility comment? Isn’t the pot calling the kettle black?” Oops, that sorta slipped out.

  “Kat, have you been drinking?”

  Another thing she hated about him. He always knew if she’d had even one glass of wine. Perry got off telling people he didn’t drink, as if it set him above the lushes of the world. Perry’s addiction was sex.

  “You know what, Perry, I have had a glass of wine and I really need you to step up and go over to my place, pick up the boys, make sure their homework is finished, put them to bed, and take them to school in the morning. I’ll even drop off their lunches so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  He laughed. “Listen to you. I got bad news, Kit-Kat.” She cringed. “I’m in a meeting. So, no can do. Guess you better end your little party and get home like a good girl.”

  She took a deep breath. She hadn’t been great at setting boundaries or defending her needs, but this moron had some gall. How had she ever married him? It was long overdue to call his bluff. “No, you listen here, Paris.” He hated to be called by his real name. “I can practically hear the eighteen-year-old platinum blonde gyrating on you. Since when did you start listening to Britney Spears? God, what is that? Baby One More Time? Wow.” He was so predictable. “That said, get the girl off you, go pick up the boys, and leave me a check in my mailbox. As of now, you’re officially three weeks late on your child support.” No more groveling.

  “When did you turn into such a bitch?”

  “The night I found you in our bed on top of another woman. When will you be at my house?”

  He sighed. “I guess I can be there in about thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you.” She clicked the phone shut and then reopened it to call the boys. Much to her dismay, they were excited about the new plan. Time with Dad. Yippee-cay fucking-ay. She really did need to get over it. She obviously should listen to more Wayne Dyer.

  When she walked back to the table, Christian looked up at her. “Still up for dinner?” she asked.

  “I am.” He picked up his glass of wine and twirled it between his fingers, smiling.

  She just about turned to butter right there.

  It was in that second hour over dinner that Kat knew, looking across the table at her now boss, that her life was never going to be the same. The man was adorable. And the thoughts running through her mind, seated across from him? Bad girl! She’d figured out that just because you have sex with a man didn’t mean you had to walk down the aisle with him. She’d made that mistake once and, besides the births of her sons, regretted every minute of it. But she hadn’t wanted to sleep with a man in a very long time, she couldn’t even believe she was thinking about sex with Christian. God! Hopefully he was thinking the same thing. But what if he wasn’t? Then again, what if he was?

  Then he took her hand across the table and held it as if he’d always taken her hands and held them. “You’re beautiful,” he said, and she believed him.

  Totally in deep trouble now. It was as if she were a runaway freight train and the engines driving the locomotive forward were her emotions on overdrive. She wasn’t about to listen to the common-sense angel sitting on her shoulder, the one she often sought advice from since the divorce. She frequently pictured an ivory skin, blonde haired fairy with lapis-colored eyes seated on her right shoulder telling her exactly how to behave in any given circumstance. Kat had named her Logic. She now caressed her shoulder, brushing Logic clean away.

  Kat wanted to get Christian naked—boss or not. In non-Kat fashion, she took his hand in return, smiled and said, “What do you like to do for fun?”

  That night, while Perry had his once in a blue moon share of the boys, Kat decided she liked Christian’s idea of fun.

  Back at his two-story town home overlooking the city lights, Christian took out a bowl and sliced up some strawberries, drizzled them in Grand M
arnier and topped them with whipped cream. He then walked over to his built-in wine cabinet and took out a bottle of Chateau Chasse-Spleen 1959. Holding it up, he said, “Did you ever play spin the bottle when you were a kid?”

  Kat giggled. “The kissing game?” He nodded and with a mischievous grin on his face, his cuteness factor sailed through the roof. “Believe it or not I was kind of a shy kid, so I knew kids who played but I never had the privilege. Plus I wasn’t real cute. Buck teeth.”

  He laughed. “You’re gorgeous now, and I think we should play. I want to play with you.” He took her hands and sat down with her on his living room floor. They sunk into the plush white carpeting. “We get to make up our own rules, though.”

  “Okay.” Kat had never in her life been so forward with a man and never had she ever slept with a man after only a few hours of meeting him. She was pretty sure that was where this was headed, and it was pretty wonderful.

  “You spin,” he said.

  “But there’s only the two of us.”

  “Yep. That’s where our own rules come into play. Here. I’ll go first and show you.” He spun and the bottle faced the sofa. “Look, it’s close to you. So now I get to kiss you.” He reached out and touched her hair, then moved his finger to her lips, tracing the outline of them with his thumb. “I’ve been wanting to kiss your lips since I saw you this afternoon.”

  A warm glow traveled through Kat. “Me too. I wanted to kiss you too.”

  He inched closer and slid his lips across hers. She pulled away slightly. “You okay?” he asked. She nodded and then leaned forward, running her hands through his dark thick hair. “Your turn.” He pointed to the bottle.

  She smiled and spun. “Huh. Landed on you.” Kat grazed his neck with her lips and she nibbled on his ear. She kissed him on his lips, biting him on the bottom lip.

  “You vixen.”

  She laughed. Christian grabbed the bottle of the seven-hundred-fifty-dollar Bordeaux and uncorked it. He stood up and held out his hand. Kat took it and followed him into his bedroom. “Don’t we need glasses?” she asked, pointing to the wine.

  He shook his head and pushed her back onto the bed, he lifted up her shirt, exposing her belly where he drizzled a small amount of wine onto her stomach and licked it off. Kat unbuttoned the rest of the blouse. She sat up. “We should, ah, do you have ah…” It was so awkward to interrupt the moment, but all the same she wasn’t taking any chances.

  He held up a finger. “I’ll be back.” A couple of minutes later, Christian came back from the restroom, condom in hand. He lit candles by the side of the bed that smelled of vanilla, and turned on his stereo and played Bebel Gilberto. Her seductive voice lingered in the air.

  Christian lay next to Kat, took her in his arms, and again kissed her, long hard, passionately. He turned her onto her stomach and drizzled more wine down her back, licking it off of her, as he undid her bra. She rolled back over and fumbled with the buttons on his jeans. He helped her and shook them off, then slid his shirt over his head. Naked together, they took each other in, their eyes lingering. He pulled her onto him. He smelled of cinnamon and rosemary. He cupped her breasts, pulling her closer, running his tongue over her nipples and then taking them one at a time inside his warm mouth. He reached up and held her face in his hands.

  Kat straddled him, not breaking their stride as he entered her, her hands between his chest and shoulders. As they began to move together, electric pulses ran up and down their bodies. It had never been like this before for Kat, never in sync in this way with any man. He flipped her over onto her back, kissing her face, her neck, her ears, his hands caressing her body, her fingers sliding down his back. He pressed deeper into her. Kat sighed with pleasure, moving her hips with Christian’s, the intensity increasing. She yelled out as small waves of sweet ecstasy rolled through her into one crashing wave, her body trembling as he also came, whispering in her ear, “Oh Lord, oh Kat.”

  He held her in his arms afterwards, stroking her hair, caressing her body and every so often whispering, “You are so beautiful. My God, you are beautiful.”

  Kat decided right then and there that not only did she love Christian Reilly’s version of spin the bottle, she might have just fallen in love with the man himself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alyssa

  Alyssa Johnson walked out of the funky flat where she taught art classes, a sly smile on her face and a little weak in the knees. This was a great day.

  She flagged down a cab and left Soho, heading uptown for the big dinner. Alyssa looked at her left hand, spreading out her fingers. The four-carat emerald-cut diamond with a band filled with three rows of smaller diamonds sparkled in the sun. The sparkle from the sunrays bounced off the wet pavement and into the late afternoon air, or maybe it was the diamond itself against her dark skin that made everything glow and shimmer. Alyssa couldn’t believe it. She was really doing it. Getting married! And to the most delicious man in the world. Terrell Henley.

  There was one problem though, a secret she’d shoved so far back into the closet that she prayed the skeleton had turned to dust. She closed her eyes and sunk back into the musty-smelling cab, the beauty of the day tarnishing. The memories always invaded her right at those moments when she felt the happiest. It was like a dark angel followed her knowing the exact moments when she might need a reminder of what had happened. This dark angel was sure to keep her from ever having total contentment for the rest of her life. That night rushed back to her in a vividness she couldn’t deny. The skeleton had not turned to dust.

  She opened her eyes, forcing the images away, but knowing what resulted from that night could somehow, someday, show up in her life. Ironically, almost as if she was being given a message, the sun disappeared behind the clouds again and drops of rain splattered against the windshield. The rhythmic swoosh and glide of the windshield wipers across the glass combined with the driver’s choice in country music helped bring her back to the here and now.

  But the memory screamed at her, swirling with a rush of adrenaline. It wasn’t a matter of if her secret would be revealed. But a matter of when. How would she explain herself to the man she planned to exchange vows with in less than three months?

  Terrell would understand. He embodied kindness and compassion. He had political aspirations and was planning to run for Congress in the next few years. From there, Alyssa knew his plans were even bigger. His dreams and goals only made it that much more pertinent that she tell him her secret.

  Tomorrow. Over lunch she would tell Terrell. He deserved to know, but how would he react? She knew he would wonder why she hadn’t told him sooner. Not tonight, though. Tonight was all about the two of them and their engagement. His law partners were throwing a party for them at their favorite restaurant, Jazzman, and when Terrell heard his best friend from childhood, James, and his wife, Olivia, were coming, Alyssa thought she’d never seen him so excited. Terrell planned to ask James to be his best man.

  James had spoken with Alyssa on the phone to tell him that he and Olivia would be flying in from New Orleans to join them at the party. She’d never met James, but had heard story after story about him and the bond he and Terrell shared growing up. They hadn’t seen each other in a few years because James and his wife had an ever-expanding family, now with five children. Plus they’d moved from the Big Apple to the Big Easy several years ago, where James owned some nightclubs. This was going to be some wedding—old friends, new friends, family. They would have it all.

  The cab pulled up in front of the restaurant. Alyssa paid the driver and got out. Terrell wanted to send a car for her, but she wasn’t sure about the timing and insisted on getting a cab. She knew she might be late and, sweet man that he was, he didn’t mind at all. He understood what her art meant to her. And today of all days, the art studio owner had scheduled an appointment with Raul Perez, the owner of The Perez Gallery, wanting to show him some of Alyssa’s oils. He’d been impressed. Now he wanted to host a show at his gallery! She c
ouldn’t wait to tell Terrell. He’d be so happy and proud of her. Everything was perfect. Almost. It would be though. Everything would be fine once she told Terrell her shameful secret.

  She opened the door to the restaurant and pushed back the hood on her mink-lined coat, leaving the rain behind. The door shut and the outside world was replaced with a vacuum of loud chatter and jazz over the speakers. The smell of food cooking and the blur of people at the full bar made her smile. Terrell had chosen this place because this was where they’d met. Lots of dark woods, glass and mirrors, and dim lights made the place elegant and warm. It was them. So very them from the day they met.

  She clearly remembered that day sitting at the bar when Terrell came up next to her. “Anyone sitting here?”

  “No.” She didn’t look up from the white wine she’d been nursing.

  “Rough day?” he asked.

  She nodded. Her grandmother in Italy had passed away. It was expected but, all the same, Alyssa had hoped she’d see her one last time.

  “Want to tell me about it?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  Usually a man asking her about her day offended her. Men in general often offended her and she’d done her best over the years to stay away from them. She forced herself to date off and on, and occasionally met a decent guy. But fear always took over and she wouldn’t allow herself to get close to a man.

  “I had a rotten day too. Lost a case.” His voice was strong but sincere. “Looks like you could use a refill. Can I buy you a glass of wine?”

  She started to glance up, with the word no at the ready, until she saw who she was about to say no to. She stopped glancing and was now looking. Her heart raced. In that second when her eyes met his, she was speechless for a few moments until she finally replied, “That would be nice.”