Left to Murder (Adele Sharp #5) - Blake Pierce Page 0,2
always had some hidden crutch. She simply preferred finding out about it after she got what she wanted.
Amelia allowed her eyes to stretch up and down the American once more, taking him in, wondering what he looked like without that suit on. Then, smirking to herself, she moved over behind the counter, withdrawing one of the special stock from the wooden slot at the back of the display case. Then, retrieving two clean glasses, she moved back toward where he waited.
He noticed the second glass. “Will you be joining me?” he called across the room, still cranking his smile to a ten.
She shrugged back at him over the counter. “If you don’t mind. My shift is almost over as it is.”
The man chuckled. “It will be our little secret.”
She brushed a strand of hair back into submission behind her ear and then returned to the table, her heels clicking against the floor as she strode back toward the man. She placed the tray and the two glasses on the table next to him. She hesitated, then realized she’d left her wine opener back with the other dirtied glasses.
“Merde,” she cursed. “Sorry, one second.”
She turned and hurried away, but a few seconds later, behind her, she heard a quiet pop. She glanced back, stunned, but realized the cork was now off, and the man was wafting his hand over the top of the bottle, inhaling deeply and then smiling.
“Spatburgunder, no?” he called out, smiling.
As she rejoined him a second time, leaving the bottle opener with the dishes, she slowly sat at the table and raised her eyebrows, impressed. “You know your grapes,” she said. “Are you a sommelier too?”
He shook his head primly. His hands were clasped around the glass he poured, and she noted how he kept twisting it, studying the liquid within. One of his eyebrows arched delicately on his forehead.
“You know, there are stories about wine… Have you heard of Dionysus, the Greek god?”
She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head as she settled in the chair opposite him.
He smiled. “Just a myth, of course. But some think Dionysus’s infatuation with wine was due to its god-making potential. The fruit in the garden of Eden, some say, was closer to a type of grape. It certainly wasn’t an apple.”
She smiled, puzzled for a moment.
Seemingly sensing her confusion, he gave a dismissive little laugh. “Wine is what you went to school for?” he asked.
She puffed her chest a bit and said, “Actually no—agricultural engineering.” She still wished she hadn’t sweated so much, but it was nice to talk about herself. Not everyone shared her interest in wine. She studied his lips, his jawline, her eyes tracing up to his soul-searching gaze. For a second, she glanced back at the physician’s bag with the slightly open zipper. She still couldn’t quite see what was inside and realized perhaps it wasn’t polite to stare, so she looked back at him. “You haven’t told me your name,” she said.
He curved one side of his lips up into an alley cat grin. “You can call me Gabriel.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gabriel,” she said.
“The pleasure is all mine, Amelia.”
She smiled, but the expression became rather fixed. A slow, chilly wind seemed to suddenly creep through the studio. How had he known her name? Her name badge only had her last name. An intentional effort by the staff, after some unwanted phone calls from various customers.
“Excuse me?” she said.
He smiled at her again, his startling blue eyes shifting in the fading sunlight, almost changing hue to a deep purple. “And besides wines, what other things do you enjoy?”
She rubbed at one of her arms, unbuttoning the sleeve, deciding this only made her more uncomfortable, before buttoning it again. “Music, art, poetry.”
“Wonderful. All of it, wonderful. You’re young, aren’t you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I doubt I’m much younger than you.”
He shrugged modestly. “What are you, twenty-five? Twenty-six?”
She felt another bout of discomfort. Why was he asking her these questions? So quick, moving seamlessly from discussing wine to digging into her personal life. It wasn’t a huge bother from someone who looked like Gabriel, but Amelia wasn’t stupid, either. She suddenly realized she was alone with a stranger and glanced toward the gray sedan parked behind the dumpsters. She couldn’t quite make out the license plate.
She watched as the man’s fingers twisted around and around the wine glass. He still had some wine left in his glass, along with a small bead of red on his