“Sure.” Carrie flashed a distracted smile, deep in conversation with the two guys seated next to her.
Hayden joined Beck at the end of the bar. He reached for her hand as she approached him and tugged her through a door that led to a dim hall. Her heart banged against her sternum. What the hell was she doing, going somewhere with a strange man?
A super-sexy and smart strange man.
She followed along as he held her hand and led her past the bathrooms, past a door with a window—through which she caught a glimpse of the kitchen—and into an office. He flicked on the light, and closed the door behind them.
“This is where we keep the good stuff.” He moved to an oak cabinet in the corner, opened it, and pulled out a bottle, holding it reverently. “Don Alvaro Extra Añejo.”
She smiled.
“This beauty is aged for six years in white American oak barrels. It’s sustainably produced, organically grown, and made with no preservatives. On the nose, there are notes of herbs, cinnamon, and spices. In the mouth, it’s sweet yet spicy, with a fruity finish.” He displayed the bottle. “This is the perfect companion to a steak dinner.”
“As opposed to a nice Cabernet.”
He grinned. “Cab’s good too. But this is special.” He reached for two glasses, similar to the ones they’d used in the tasting, and poured a small amount into each glass.
As she’d been taught, she held the glass up to the light. Beck watched, nodding approvingly.
“Color and consistency,” she murmured. “It’s a deep amber color, and seems heavy.”
“Use all your senses,” he encouraged her. “That’s good.”
She next took a small sniff, then swirled the glass gently and sniffed again. “Spicy…yes, cinnamon.” She sniffed once more, then tasted. She closed her eyes to better savor the taste. “Cinnamon and…and caramel.”
She opened her eyes to see him watching her, his eyes hot and fixed on her mouth. She licked the taste of tequila off her bottom lip.
“You’re fascinating,” Beck said roughly.
Her eyes widened. “Me? Why?”
His head moved slowly from side to side and he sipped his own tequila. “You’re all analytical and serious about it, so practical and scientific. And yet…there’s a sensuality underneath all that…I don’t know if you even realize it.”
She blinked.
“Try it again,” he urged her. “Give yourself over to just the sensuality of it. The pleasure.”
Jesus, he could be talking about sex. And her pussy responded, tightening and heating and tingling.
Pleasure wasn’t something she spent a lot of time on. She was focused, driven, caught up in her work—her endless to-do list, her meetings, and her mission to help people. She was practical, precise, and serious. But at that moment, she felt caught up in something beautiful, a shimmery web of sensation. Beck’s eyes on her had her lower belly tightening, the low, husky tone of his voice made her toes curl, the sweet spice of the tequila tingled on her tongue, and the heat of the spirit spread throughout her body.
“You sound like you know a lot about pleasure.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners and his white teeth flashed against his dark beard. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Life isn’t just one big party. Or one big tequila tasting.”
“No?” One eyebrow lifted. “Why not?”
She didn’t even know how to answer that without sounding like a repressed, nerdy virgin. Which she sort of was. Okay, not a virgin, but when it came to sexual pleasure, she was definitely inexperienced.
That tingle low in her belly deepened, and she found herself with an inexplicable feeling of longing…wanting something more…wanting pleasure. “Life is serious. And hard work,” she managed to say.
Beck moved closer. Her skin prickled everywhere and her nipples tightened. “Sure,” he agreed. “But life should be fun too.”
She studied him, his face now so close, his eyes so deep…and hiding something. Behind the lazy smile and sex appeal were shadows and darkness. With an unfamiliar pang of intuition, she sensed that behind his words there was a lesson he’d learned the hard way.
She was used to figuring things out with logic and reason and facts. Not a gut feeling that couldn’t be relied upon. But she was having a lot of feelings at that moment, and a peculiar sense that she knew more about Beck than he wanted to let on.
She lifted a hand and stroked her fingertips over his beard. His eyes darkened. “I just wanted to know how it felt,” she murmured. “Rough or soft.”
Curiosity was another of her traits, and usually she saw that as a strength. It was what made her ask questions and seek out answers, what had helped her discover innovative medical solutions that had the potential to help millions of people. But sometimes curiosity could be a flaw and get her in trouble.