CHAPTER 4
AFTER THE PUBLIC FLIGHT
The public portion of the tasting ended with polite applause and the rustle of coats.
The other couples bought bottles, arranged deliveries, and thanked Julian with the mild intoxication of people who would retell the evening as charming.
Miles suspected none of them had attended the same tasting he and Serena had.
A hostess brought receipts in black folders. Outside the private room, the main lounge had grown louder. Laughter rose from the bar. Somewhere, a piano played a slow version of a song Miles almost recognized.
Serena stood, smoothing the front of her dress. The gesture was automatic, but Miles noticed her fingers were not entirely steady. He wanted to ask what she was feeling. He wanted not to break whatever spell had survived the final public pour.
Julian approached them with the easy patience of a man who never chased what already leaned toward him. 'Mr. and Mrs. Delaney. May I ask one indulgence before you go?'
Serena looked at Miles before answering. That mattered. It also made the heat low in his stomach sharpen.
'What kind of indulgence?' Miles asked.
Julian's smile was courteous. 'A bottle I do not open for groups. It needs a quieter room and a more responsive audience. No obligation. It would be my pleasure.'
Miles should have asked the price. Instead, he asked, 'A private tasting?'
'A private conclusion.'
Serena's gaze dropped briefly to the marble counter. When it lifted again, she looked younger and more dangerous than she had all evening. 'That sounds like something we should not do.'
'Many memorable things begin that way,' Julian said.
Miles gave a small laugh because the alternative was saying the truth too plainly.
His wife was standing between him and another man, flushed from expensive wine and attention, and the other man was inviting them deeper into the building.
Miles was jealous. He was aroused. He was afraid of both feelings leaving fingerprints on his voice.
'Serena?' he said.
She turned to him. For a second the room around them disappeared. He saw the woman he had married, the woman who had danced barefoot in their first apartment while cheap pasta boiled over, the woman who had once told him she never wanted a life so safe it stopped surprising her.
'Only if you want to,' she said.
It was not the answer of a wife asking permission. It was the answer of a woman inviting him to be honest.
Miles swallowed. 'I want to see where the room is.'
Julian led them through a side door and down a short hall lit by brass sconces.
The air cooled as they descended three shallow steps into a cellar lounge hidden behind the tasting room.
It was smaller, richer, quieter. Velvet chairs surrounded a low table.
More shelves lined the walls, but here the bottles were older, their labels cream and faded.
A single decanter waited on a cart beside three glasses.
Serena moved slowly into the room. 'This is beautiful.'
'Beauty behaves differently in private,' Julian said, closing the door but not locking it.
Miles noticed the unlocked door. He noticed because he needed to know they could leave. He also noticed that he did not move toward it.
Julian removed his jacket and hung it neatly over the back of a chair. Without it, he looked less like a host and more like a man. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled once at the wrist. His forearms were strong. Serena noticed. Miles saw her notice.
'Please,' Julian said, indicating the velvet seating. 'No more tasting cards. At this hour, notes become excuses.'
Serena sat first. Miles sat beside her. Julian sat across from them, close enough that the low table felt less like furniture than a boundary drawn in candlelight.
He lifted the decanter. The wine inside moved darkly, catching red at the edges.
'This is the late pour,' he said. 'The bottle saved for when people are finally ready to stop pretending they came only for wine.'
Miles felt Serena's knee touch his.
Julian filled her glass first.