quizzically, Mary Anne gestured for him to have a seat on a bar stool. “What’s that you said?”
“Um nothing,” he hedged, afraid to make more of a fool of himself than he had already.
“Any favorites?” She queried, pointing to a long row of bottles.
“Pinot Noir,” he replied as she nodded and smiled.
“Good choice. I know a lot of people say Oregon has the best Pinot Noir, but I would have to say that we do in California…” she trailed off, noting how the man flinched as soon as she said Oregon. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all. I’m sure everything is better in California,” he replied with a sly wink. It was his first attempt at flirting with the woman, and it felt exhilarating.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Mary Anne commented, selecting a trio of Pinot Noir bottles and setting them in front of him.
“Steel,” he answered, drawing in a sharp breath.
“Steal?” She echoed in surprise. “As in ‘I’m going to steal your heart?’”
“No. Steel. As in hard as steel,” he replied firmly as her expression of surprise deepened.
“Is that your real name?” She asked doubtfully, pouring him his first taste.
“No, but it might as well be. People have been calling me Steel for the past 10 years,” he declared, swishing the wine around in the glass.
“I see,” she mumbled. “Anyway, this is our special house blend,” she informed, pointing to the glass.
“Aren’t you going to drink with me?” He asked, his eyes unblinking as they surveyed her face.
“Well, no. I don’t drink with the customers,” she said uneasily, pushing a wisp of dark hair away from her brow.
“Could you make an exception?” He prodded.
“I don’t think so, sir…”
“Steel,” he corrected brusquely. “Why not? Wine is one of the finer things in life, and I haven’t had anything fine in too damn long,” he revealed, curling his fingers around the stem of the glass.
“Uh, I don’t know what to say…” she faltered, looking down at the bar. The man was unnerving her with his intense perusal and odd morsels of conversation.
Boldly, he took the bottle of wine from her hand and poured her a full glass. “Cheers,” he offered, raising his glass to tap hers.
Hesitantly, Mary Anne picked up the glass and took a tentative sip. “Are you from around here?” She asked, hoping to learn more about the enigmatic stranger.
“I’m a drifter,” he replied vaguely, sipping his own wine. “Delicious,” he murmured while fixing his gaze on her wine-stained lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the rim of the glass as he persisted to ogle her.
“I don’t mean to stare at you, but you are damn beautiful,” he muttered as his erection created a painful friction against the fabric of his jeans.
“Thank you. No one’s said that to me in a very long time,” she admitted, taking a deeper swig of the red wine.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he said in genuine disbelief. On a rising note of curiosity, he probed, “No husband? No boyfriend?”
“Just an ex-husband,” she answered bitterly. “And 2 teenage children,” she added more brightly.
“ Teenage children?” He asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” she twisted her luscious lips into a smile as he struggled to keep his breathing calm. “How old do you think I am? And don’t try to flatter me.”
“Well if you’ve got teenage kids, you’ve got to be at least in your late 30’s, but I wouldn’t say any older than that,” he wagered honestly.
Her smile widened as she said proudly, “I’m 46.”
Steel winced in genuine astonishment. “You know you look better than most women who are 26, right? And by better, I mean hotter. Sexier. More desirable,” he said in a raw tone as her face flamed.
“Thank you,” she laughed , though the intensity of his words jolted her.
“Don’t thank me,” he muttered.
Reaching across the bar, he