“Oh, right.” She lifted the wine and sipped, allowing the liquid to slide on her tongue before trickling down her throat. It was the same wine she’d had at Shane’s house. She remembered the burst of fruitiness, the soft tannins in the background. And the hint of it on Shane’s lips when she’d kissed him.
She put her glass back on the table, unable to look Shane in the eye. But he watched her. She could feel his stare from across the table.
“Madame?” the sommelier asked again, bottle poised to pour.
“Oh. Yes, um, it’s perfect.” He filled her glass, then Shane’s, and finally retreated. “That was stressful,” she mumbled, only half kidding.
Shane chuckled, drawing her attention.
“What?” she asked, unable to keep from smiling over at him. “Did I do that wrong?”
He cradled his glass in one large palm. “You did not do anything wrong. I just…” He shook his head as if arriving at a conclusion that surprised him. “You’re refreshing, do you know that?”
“I am?”
He kept his eyes on hers as he took in some of the red liquid and pursed his lips, sucking in air as he rolled the wine around on his tongue. She simply stared, utterly distracted by the contours of his mouth.
“Completely,” he said. “I like that you’re not intimidated by”—he gestured at the five-piece band and flock of well-dressed diners—“any of this.”
“I’m following your lead,” she said honestly. “You’re the most grounded billionaire I’ve ever met.”
“Know a lot of us, do you?”
She waved a hand. “Tons.”
He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made her stomach pitch. “To us.” He lifted his glass. “We kick ass.”
* * *
After she ate the finest meal to ever touch her tongue, and they’d emptied the bottle of wine and refused a second, the conversation shifted from work to family.
“My parents live in Missouri, though they do visit me several times a year.” She pretended to look at her invisible watch. “They’re about due for their quarterly butt-into-my-life visit, as a matter of fact.”
Shane smiled. “Siblings?”
“One brother,” Crickitt said, pushing her plate away before she stuffed herself beyond repair. “He’s in Missouri, too.”
“What does he do?”
“He works for the phone company. He’s a repairman. What about you? No wait, let me guess,” she said pressing her fingertips to her temples and pretending to read his mind. “You are an only child.”
“Very good.”
“And I’ll bet you were first in your class when you went to college.”
“I wasn’t first but I was close,” he said with a crooked smile.
Fingers to her temples again, she narrowed her eyes, concentrating. “Your parents bought you your first Mercedes when you were sixteen. Your dad taught you everything you know about business.”
Shane’s smile faltered. Like the moment she mentioned the clock on his living room wall, she sensed she had crossed a line.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” he said, but his smile was polite. “My dad was a machinist at a factory.” He spun his wineglass, the liquid swirling against its sides. “And my mom was a schoolteacher.”
“And they are no longer living,” Crickitt said, picking up on the obvious. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“Don’t be. Dad died a year ago. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve recovered.”
“And your mom?”
He averted his gaze, spinning his wineglass on the tablecloth. “When I was a kid.”
The waiter descended with a tray of desserts. Crickitt waved him off, having eaten too much of the five-star cuisine to make room for caramel-chocolate cheesecake.
Shane settled the bill, and they rose to leave. As she stepped around tables and dodged an incoming waiter with a tray of food, Shane briefly pressed his palm on the small of her back. A fiery trail licked her spine, and she inadvertently tensed. By the time they’d boarded the empty elevator, Crickitt was clutching her purse with strained fingers.
Shane leaned against the wall on the opposite side, regarding her from beneath thick lashes. He was so tall and broad and handsome, being under his scrutiny made her nervous. Or maybe that was excitement. It was getting easier and easier to forget this man was her employer, that he wasn’t attempting to seduce her, that he was treating her because of a job well done. She turned her eyes to the digital display and counted down the floors, hoping the gesture would tame her hijacked hormones.