Yes, beauty.
Its glass was black and the cork was sealed with an amber resin that trickled down the side of the neck like melted candle wax.
It was a work of art in itself—so much so that she picked it up and read the label.
The wordsBodega Romerowere branded into the glass, and even the label itself was stunning.
At first glance it looked like a flower—an orange poppy, perhaps, with a dark centre—but on closer inspection she saw it was a photo of a flamenco dancer. The orange was the ruffles of her dress, the black centre her slick black hair in a bun...
‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said, and then put the bottle down, watching his long fingers skilfully deal with the seal and the cork. She was nervous, but nicely so.
‘Oloroso,’he said. ‘It is probably the sherry you are more used to.’
‘I’m not a big sherry drinker. I...’ She hesitated, deciding it would be rude to say that she couldn’t stand the stuff. ‘Well, I’m not really a drinker.’
‘It’s fine,’ he said again. ‘Did you like the tapas?’
‘Yes,’ Emily said politely. ‘They were delicious.’
‘All of them?’
She felt her lips pinch on a smile at the doubt in his voice and realised he’d possibly seen her before she’d seen him.
‘Not the pea puree in a shot glass...’ She pulled a face. ‘I’m sure they were beautifully prepared,’ she added hurriedly. ‘I just don’t like peas...especially when they’ve been liquefied.’
‘So why did you drink it?’ he asked as he dealt with the bottle’s seal.
‘It’s rude not to clear your plate.’
‘The chef’s not that sensitive.’ He smiled a lazy smile and his teeth were as dazzling as the whites of his eyes.
God, he was gorgeous—and it wasn’t just that he was easily the best-looking man she’d ever seen. Despite the sheer thrill of him, she felt a rare but certain sense of ease in his presence.
His movements were smooth as he poured the drink and conversation flowed just as easily.
‘Did you see the little silver spoon on your plate?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s there so that you can taste a little, then decide.’
‘I’ll remember that in the future.’
‘Good.’
She wanted to taste just a little, Emily thought as she looked at that lipstick-smeared mouth and wondered what it might be like to be kissed by him.
It was a brief thought.
A pointless one.
He was completely out of her league and that wasn’t being self-effacing—Emily was simply being real. This was a tasting—a chance to test the product—nothing else.
It was just this tiny part of her mind that was raising objections... Saying this was something else.
Their eyes locked again as he raised his glass.‘Salude!’he said.
‘Cheers.’ Emily smiled and, knowing he was watching her as she took her first sip of Romero sherry, felt terribly aware of her own mouth. In the oddest way, she actually wondered if the glass might miss her lips.