“A sauvignon blanc,” Jordan guessed. “Likely one from the Loire Valley. Then a Riesling, a pinot gris, and a California chardonnay.”
He looked impressed. “Not bad.”
She shrugged. “I know my way around a tasting.”
“Except you screwed up the chardonnay.”
Surprised, Jordan took a look at the menu. In the past, Xander had always picked a California chardonnay, but this year’s selection was from Burgundy, France.
“Interesting, don’t you think?” said a man to her left.
Jordan turned and saw Rafe Velasquez, co-owner of a lucrative hedge fund based out of Chicago. Like her, he was a regular of the party. She greeted him with a smile. “Hello, Rafe.” She looked around the room. “Where’s Emily?”
“She decided to stay home – most reluctantly. Our youngest has been fighting the flu all week, and she didn’t feel comfortable leaving him with the nanny. I think something’s going around. Everyone I talk to these days is sick.”
Jordan thought back to Huxley, sprawled across the couch with his blond Mohawk. Something was going around all right, and it wasn’t pretty. Turning to Nick, she made the introductions. “Rafe Velasquez, Nick Stanton.” As the two men shook hands, she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d made it through the first intro without screwing things up.
“So you must be proud of yourself,” Rafe said to her.
She cocked her head in confusion. “Meaning … ?”
Rafe pointed to the wine menu. “The reds?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet – I’m still stuck on the fact that Xander didn’t go with a California chardonnay.”
“Forget the chardonnay – check out the cabs.”
Jordan’s eyes skimmed over the menu. She pulled back in surprise when she read the names of the two cabernets Xander had chosen for the evening.
“What do you make of that?” Rafe asked slyly.
She didn’t answer immediately. She had a feeling she knew what Rafe was suggesting, but it couldn’t mean … well, that.
“Looks like somebody has a secret admirer,” he said.
Nick frowned, suddenly very interested in their conversation. “I think I’m missing something here.”
Rafe explained. “At last year’s party, Xander, Jordan, and I got into a discussion about his red selections. See, Xander always picks Screaming Eagle as his cabernet – which is a fantastic wine, don’t get me wrong. But Jordan jokingly said that if he ever wanted to shake things up, she’d be happy to give him some suggestions. So Xander asked what her favorite cabernets are.”
Nick turned to Jordan. “What did you tell him?”
“I … may have mentioned the Vineyard 29 estate cab,” she said.
Nick checked out the tasting menu. “That’s on this list.”
Yes, it was.
“And she also said that she was a huge fan of the Quintessa meritage. Which I completely agree with, by the way,” Rafe said.
Nick checked again. “That’s also on this list.”
Yes, it was.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “So to be clear: two of the five red wines on this highly exclusive list are ones that you said are your favorites?”
Well, when he put it that way … Now on the defensive, Jordan felt the need to point something out. “I do own a wine store, you know. This is likely a professional compliment, not a personal one.”
“Are you sure about that?” Nick’s green eyes probed hers intently.
Before answering, Jordan thought through her recent interactions with Xander. Nothing jumped out at her as abnormal, no conversations she could immediately recall that signaled any particular interest in her. Sure, Xander came by the store often, but so did a lot of her regular customers. And he flirted with her from time to time, but Xander flirted with everyone. He was a notorious womanizer and constantly dated women he met in his clubs – usually leggy brunettes under the age of twenty-five. Being blond, five-foot-five if she stood really straight, and thirty-three years old, Jordan met none of his criteria.
But now that she was specifically thinking about it … there had been that one slightly odd conversation – five months ago, right before Kyle had been arrested, and just after she’d gotten back from a trip to the Napa Valley. Xander had dropped by the store, and she’d filled him in on some of the new wines she’d discovered.
“Must be a tough life, going to the Napa Valley several times a year on business,” Xander had teased her as he perused the store’s shelves.
Jordan had chuckled as she handed him a glass of a new pinot noir she’d just opened, not disagreeing with him. “Oh, and you have it so bad. You go wherever you want, whenever you want.” She should know, he bragged about his exotic trips whenever he visited the store.
Xander took the glass of pinot from her. “Yeah, but Napa’s different. That’s not the kind of place you want to go alone. You should be with someone who can appreciate the experience.” He took a sip of the wine. “It’s good.”
“A waiter recommended it to me. I liked it so much I had two cases shipped back here.”
Xander followed her over to the bar. “Where did you stay while you were out there?”
“Calistoga Ranch. Have you been?”
“No. But I’ve heard good things.”
“It’s amazing,” Jordan said. “I stayed in a private lodge overlooking a canyon. Every morning I had breakfast on the deck as the sun came over the hills, and at night I sat under the stars drinking wine.”
“Now tell me that wouldn’t have been better with someone else there.” Xander folded his arms across his chest, as if daring her to contradict him on this. He wore a crisp black designer shirt with the top two buttons undone, charcoal gray pants, and a brand new Jaeger LeCoultre watch. He was a good-looking man, but he had a certain air about him that occasionally rubbed Jordan the wrong way. He seemed very eager to show off his money, particularly around her.
Because he was such a good customer, she smiled, humoring him. “Maybe next time. There’ll be plenty more trips to Napa for me. I already have one planned for the beginning of March.”
“Why wait until then?” Xander pulled out his cell phone. “I can have us booked first-class in two minutes.”
She laughed. As if she could drop everything right then and hop on a plane. “I wish it were that easy.” She grabbed a couple bottles of the pinot and carried them to a bin near the front of the store.
“Jordan.”
The serious tone in Xander’s voice stopped her. She looked over her shoulder and saw that he had the oddest expression on his face.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
Just then, Martin strolled into the room, having finished checking inventory in the cellar. “I think we should order another case of the Zulu. People have been going crazy for South African wines – oh, Mr. Eckhart, I didn’t realize you’d stopped in.” He paused and looked between them. “Am I interrupting something?”
Jordan thought she saw a flash of irritation in Xander’s eyes. But then it was gone, and she assumed she’d imagined it. Xander liked talking to Martin; the two of them had very similar tastes in wine. She saw no reason why he would be bothered by her store manager’s presence.
Xander waved off the question. “No interruption. Just enjoying this new pinot.” He gestured to his glass. “What’s the price point?”
“Thirty dollars a bottle.” Jordan continued to watch for any sign of the tension she’d seen on his face a moment ago. But there was nothing – he appeared as relaxed as always.
“I might have to start carrying it in my restaurants,” he said.
The three of them discussed the wine’s Robert Parker rating, and Martin’s belief that it had been unfairly undervalued because of Parker’s preference for big, bold reds. Shortly after that, Xander had left and Jordan didn’t give a second thought to that one odd moment.