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My inner thighs grow warm. “You always this bossy?”
“Only when it comes to things that should be savored.”
The way he says this makes my mouth go dry. I inhale the wine’s aroma, following his lead. “Smells like springtime,” I say, surprising myself.
“Tell me more.” He’s closer now, watching me with those dark eyes.
“Pink roses.” I take another breath, deeper this time. “And chalk? Am I really smelling chalk?”
“The aroma comes from limestone soil, which has the qualities of chalk.” His lips curve. “You have a good nose.”
I’m startled by the intensity in Sam’s gaze as his eyes caress the lines of my body. It’s not a crude look. Instead, there’s something dark and magnetic about him. Even the air seems charged with his energy.
I look at the liquid in my glass. “The last time I had pink wine, I was fourteen and my stepdad had just been transferred to Frankfurt.”
He laughs. “Your memory must have something to do with more than wine.”
“Yes,” I say, blushing. “I was drinking it with my first boyfriend, Hans.”
“Was Hans handsome?” Sam arches his brow.
“You bet. And he had a motorcycle. A mustache, too.” I smile at the memory. “I thought I was so grown up.”
“I take it he was one of those dark, dangerous types.”
“You nailed it. What about you? Platinum-blonde homecoming queen for your first girlfriend?”
“Of course. One of many,” he says with a playful smirk.
“Ha! Well, you don’t have to brag about it.”
“Not bragging,” he says, teasing me with his eyes over the rim of his glass. “Just a matter of fact.”
“Anyone special to match my Handsome Hans?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Valentina,” he says finally.
“Sounds exotic.”
“She was an Italian princess—not fairy tale, real aristocracy. Her family lived in a Medici palace in Rome.”
“That is so cool!” I glance around his penthouse. “Though this isn’t bad either.”
“Her best friend was Sue, my bandmate Rafe’s sister. I saw Valentina all the time. But she wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I say, studying his chiseled jawline.
Sam shrugs. “I was just some kid from Connecticut. Her parents had her future mapped out. Marriage to an Italian prince...”
“And a life happily ever after in a castle,” I add.
He smiles. “To Hans and Valentina,” Sam says, raising his glass in a toast. “First loves and impossible dreams.”
An intimate silence follows. To ease the tension, I take his hand.
“Isn’t it a little early to get fresh?” he questions, his deep voice contrasting with his lighthearted tone.
“I’m reading your palm,” I say, tracing the lines with my finger. “My Grandmother Lola taught me and Hilary so we could defend ourselves from bad men.”
