“Yes,” I said, already heady from one sip and a night that’d barely begun. “Quite well.” “Then yes, I am.” His eyes danced with amusement as I went back for seconds. “You’re turning red, mia cara.” I was extremely sensitive to red wine, which was why I usually stuck with whites and rosés. Even those made my face glow crimson after a glass or two, but the DRC was too exquisite to waste. “It’s not my fault,” I said, embarrassed. “It’s the tannins.” “It’s adorable.” He brushed a thumb over my flushed cheek. Warmth curled low in my stomach.
