Page 63 of One Billion Reasons

He’s silent. His throat works, and his eyes are full of banked heat. I will break you, Miles Becker.

I spin around and press myself against his chest. His eyes meet mine. So beautiful. So full of secrets. I press a kiss to his lips, and his whole body jolts. “I’ll see you later,” I murmur. I walk away to a table where Catherine is standing, all by herself. I look back at Miles, and he’s rubbing his jaw and looking entirely shell-shocked. I laugh softly to myself. Game on, Miles.

“You’ve really done a number on him,” Catherine says.

I smile and squeeze her shoulder. “Ready to taste some wine?”

“Am I ever,” she sighs.

“Still no luck on the husband front?”

“No. Not unless I want to marry someone as old as my grandfather. And I’m not that desperate. Yet.”

The sommelier for the evening interrupts us and asks that everyone create tables of four in order to ‘facilitate discussion.’

“Sounds like my worst nightmare,” Catherine mutters, and I laugh under my breath. Two women join our table and introduce themselves as Emily and Joanne. Emily is curvy, with dark curling hair and bright blue eyes, and Joanne is tall and willowy with Bantu knots and a fabulous gold choker.

“I just want to drink the wine,” Emily complains. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Joanne grins. “If they ask, just make something up. I usually go with red fruits and notes of spice when I don’t feel like engaging.”

“Yeah, but you actually know about wine,” Emily grouses before taking a secret sip of one of the whites on the table. “You probably know more than whatever bro is up there.” She waves her hand, and I can’t help but smile. These women are fun.

“Joanne, you’re a wine person?”

“I’m a buyer for Sotheby’s,” she says. I wait for more explanation because I have no idea how that translates into wine drinking.

“Oh, she has the coolest job,” Emily interjects. “She’s going to be all modest about it, but trust me, she has a glamorous lifestyle.”

Joanne smiles. “It’s pretty cool. I travel the world, appraising private wine collections and then importing them for sale.”

“Whoa. That is cool.” And I have no frame of reference for why people would buy wine at auction, but I guess that’s something rich people do.

“Do you live in New York? Isn’t that where Sotheby’s is based?”

“Oh, no. I live in London most of the time, but I’m traveling probably half the year.” She smiles serenely and openly takes a sip of the red before the sommelier has given us the go-ahead. Damn, Joanne. I can already tell she’s a badass.

The sommelier announces that we’ll be trying the first white, and we all dutifully swirl and sniff before tasting. The cool white slides down my throat, and I sigh.

“You like wine, Lane?” Joanne is asking me.

“I do, though I don’t usually buy anything fancy.” I don’t want to admit that Mal and I have enjoyed a Two-Buck Chuck on many a Friday night. “Maybe this is my chance to learn more.”

“I know next to nothing,” Emily interjects happily. She drains her glass. “I just drink what this one tells me to buy.” She jerks her thumb at Joanne, and her diamond bracelet catches the light.

Catherine murmurs her agreement. She’s strangely quiet tonight, observing the room, taking small sips. I wonder what her deal is. There’s something very lonely about her. I focus on Emily as we try the second white. This one is crisper than the first, and I enjoy the tart flavor, especially with how my cheeks are already a little warm.

“Are you enjoying the weekend?”

“Other than all the time spent outdoors, relaxing?” Emily says the word like relaxing is the worst thing she can imagine.

“Emily hates the Hamptons,” Joanne tells us with a grin.

“Too many cars. Too many lawns. No public transit. I’m a New Yorker, born and raised, and I like it there.” Emily drains her wine and looks around for another.

Catherine finally smiles. “Now you’ve really set her off. Wait until she starts talking about the MTA budget.”

“Hear, hear.” I raise my glass to Emily, and the women laugh.

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