Shadow's Edge by J. T. Geissinger Read Free Book Online Page B

thirty-nine-page wine list.
    It was only there to add gravitas to the wine program; no one in their right mind would spend that much money on such a rare wine at a restaurant. He’d have no way of knowing if it had even been cellared properly. A true collector, someone with both the pocketbook and the palate to appreciate a thing so rare and valuable, would purchase it through a reputable auction house or directly from the château, ensuring the chain of care and the wine’s integrity.
    Even the movie people and the rappers, who were the restaurant’s greatest consumers of fine wine with the least appreciation for it, wouldn’t go for the Latour. It would be the Moëlleux or the Screaming Eagle.
    Besides, with even the most careful cellaring, a 1961 vintage was most probably past its prime—years past, in fact. It was ridiculous. It was
beyond
ridiculous.
    Leander lifted his eyebrows. “Do I detect a hint of surprise?”
    “
Surprise
?” she repeated, the two syllables lengthened with disdain.
    He had interpreted her ridicule as surprise? As shock? As—heaven forbid—awe?
    So: another egotistical, entitled jerk who liked to throw his money around like confetti to impress the unwashed masses. She guessed he treated women in a similar fashion.He probably thought her dim-witted and out of her league. Number four for the day.
    With a poof that was almost audible, Jenna’s patience evaporated.
    “Of course I’m not surprised. It’s the perfect choice for you,” she said, the slightest accent on the last word. She ignored the ghost of her mother’s warning voice in her head and granted him a smile, small and deliberate.
    A fleeting frown crossed his features. It was quickly replaced by an expression of placid neutrality.
    “For me?”
    He leaned back into the soft leather of the booth and draped one arm casually over the top of the banquette, his gaze never leaving her face. The muscle in his jaw twitched once again.
    The waiter materialized silently at the tableside and presented an oval platter with three mouthfuls of food nestled in tiny silver spoons all surrounded by an elaborate drizzled pattern of cucumber-infused froth.
    “The
amuse-bouche
, sir.” He pointed out the bite-sized portions. “Kumamoto oyster with cucumber gelée, mille-feuille of smoked salmon with Osetra caviar, roulade of bluefin tuna with pickled fennel.”
    He reached to set down the plate in front of Leander just as Geoffrey appeared, wearing a smile that would have looked at home on a shark.
    “And how is the wine selection coming along, Your Graceful Lordship? Would you care to hear any of this evening’s specials?”
    Neither Jenna or Leander acknowledged him. Their eyes were still locked together.
    “Yes,” Jenna said acidly, “it suits you perfectly. The ’61 Latour is the ultimate penis wine.”
    Geoffrey gasped, the waiter fumbled the plate of
amuse-bouche
and sent it clattering down against the table, but Leander remained taut in his chair, gazing at her, a wintry little smile curving his lips.
    “Really?” he said, controlled and calm. “How very amusing. Pray
do
enlighten me.”
    “My Dearest High Majesty, I apologize
completely
! Let me assure you Mélisse in no way condones this type of—”
    Leander made a sharp, dismissive motion to Geoffrey with the hand that was draped over the back of the banquette and kept his wolfish gaze on Jenna’s face. “No apology needed. Leave us.”
    Out of the corner of her eye, Jenna saw Geoffrey’s face turn an interesting shade of eggplant. He clutched the waiter’s arm and dragged him off toward the kitchen.
    “You were saying?” Leander said.
    “I call them the penis wines,” Jenna replied, keeping the same tone of lightly contemptuous civility though her blood was boiling. She knew there would be hell to pay for this, knew her job was most likely kaput, but for the moment she could not care less.
    “They are the ridiculously expensive wines purchased as a show of